He swung around and went to grab at one of the wrists dragging on him and would attempt to sink his teeth into the mans hand HARD so that he would let go and so that the noble could get to his feet again.
He felt some color finally come to his cheeks in his shame when it was announced that he had been biting, but then he growled and forced himself up to his feet. When had he ever cared about playing fair?
He feigned that he would charge, squaring his shoulders and spreading his footing, but then Vandir smirked and aimed his palm abruptly at the ground in front of Olek. A sound, like a whip being struck against the deck could be heard before an ethereal wolf, a conjured familiar, would appear.
The conjured beast leaped up heavily with the full force of a fully grown wolf and growled as its teeth went to bite Olek's face, or if that moved away, his shoulder, trying to bring him to the ground with its weight and force.
rolled 1d20 and got 11
familiar bite
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 20. After the modifier of +1, got 21
-1 from base combat skill fighting an animal
Vandir wasted no time in letting out a rather flimsy battle cry and charging the back of Olek while he was busy, using elbow and shoulder to try and ram the man directly into the railings so that he'd perhaps crack some ribs and be winded.
"Call out to your ancestors, High-Born, let them hear your fight!" He stomped forwards with his left foot and threw out a hook with that arm at full reach, but the goal was to back him up further for breathing room. "Shor! Kyne! Ysmir! Call to Talos!" He bellows the forbidden name with pride and then he would stomp forth with a heavy right hook. "Honor your ancestors, High-Born!"
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 5. After the modifier of +2, got 7
General combat roll
He let out a loud laugh as he was shoved back, but as the right hook came he jerked out of the way quickly so that it only grazed his left shoulder and proud of his fluke dodge he followed through with a fairly rough punch towards the mans gut, letting out an almighty roar that was rougher (and manlier) than before.
"What is the meaning of this?!" called the boatswain in confused rage, seeing the bloody Nords in melee. It was as if Olekval did not hear her at all as he forced himself back to his feet - if Vandir had not taken hold of his pause as he was prone - and came with a rising left hook aimed at Vandir's stomach, and then a right straight at his head.
Woskir was in the front of the thick crowd that had gathered now as the undercrew had steadily flown from the cabins, thrusting his axe in the air and hollaring to the Gods with his comrade. "Honor to our ancestors! Honor to the warriors!" shouted Woskir, taking role of voice for his brother now thick in fight. "All hail!" he shouted, and "All hail!" echoed some of the other mercenaries around them.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 12. After the modifier of +1, got 13
General combat roll (winded)
He was so lost in his own pride after landing such a good blow that he wasn't ready for a comeback. He narrowly avoided the punch to his stomach but instead it struck him in the hip-bone in such a way that it stung horribly "Ah!" he yelled and was quickly silenced by a punch to the face that caused his gums to bleed and his lip to get a little cut on it before swelling up and bruising gradually.
He snarled and retaliated by swinging a hard kick at Olek's hip, roaring to the gods in his fury.
rolled 1d20 and got 15
general combat
"Yes!" calls Olekval in applause to Vandir's snarling roar, hips bending and ligaments cracking in great pain as he catches the kick and it causes him to stumble. When he fully gathers his stance again he beats his chest for a second time. "All Hail!" Olek bellows, and "All Hail!" is echoed by Woskir and the others again. And then he charges like a beast, whether or not Vandir is already coming upon him to strike him again, wanting to crash with him to the ground.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 9. After the modifier of +2, got 11
Tackle
rolled 1d20 and got 7
tripping
The spirit of the fight steeled the mercenaries and they refused the bosun's request to break the brawl apart, so she stormed below the deck, calling for the captain's aid.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 1. After the modifier of +2, got 3
Wrestling for advantage & possibly throwing a punch
When he felt the pressure on his chest he let Olek lift himself and put some distance between them before forcibly throwing the man off with a forcible punch to his jaw.
When Olek would fall from him he'd quickly scrabble to his feet and stagger backwards, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and panting as he waited for Olek to stand, unsure as to why he waited other than perhaps he didn't want to put his legs near the mans hands, in case he pulled him over again.
"Steady, boys," her captain growled, letting first mate take the reigns while he strode along the deck the last few moments before the ships met. The ship's bow was a thoroughly scarred, ugly looking iron skeever, and it was aimed for the Grace of Kynareth's side, in as much as a ship could be aimed. The crew had enough time to brace, seizing what they could for the impact. A good strike would send their unprepared enemies tumbling over the side and the rest of the lot could be wiped clean.
A tall orc, Rothwar stomped his good foot ferociously on the desk, bellowing loudly to the tense crew, "ALL ABOARD, GENTLEMEN! Prisoner's of those who can't fight, find a quick end for any 'heroes'!" The cry for battle was loud and ferocious, the crew charging ahead of her captain to mount boards between the decks and begin the battle. He limped not far behind, decked in modest light armor that might not have been intimidating, but the ebony warhammer he swung into his strong hands would prove that much more deadly to anyone who crossed him. The attack would already be under way when he crossed to the merchant ship, "Show us your gold and surrender, you might live!"
rolled 1d20 and got 4
Ship strike damage
But there was no time for that.
Woskir squinted at the two warriors as the snow mingled with the mist around them, with the fire-light showing off their blood and their bruises. His expression was contemplative, and he turned away from them to look starboard again. His eyes lit up wide.
The sound of two monolithic beasts of wood and metal crashing together was a heavy and deafening boom followed by discordant scraping; the water itself roared, seething up in a spray of mist; most of the torch sconces failed and fell to the floor, rolling as the ship tilted away into the mists and darkening the deck. And then the sound was people's screaming - those who were not just silent - the mix of terror and bloody battle cry. Not many were lost to the waters in the initial ramming, but almost everyone, unsuspecting, hit the ground.
Woskir was almost ready - his knees bent as if he were practiced, and his drop was almost quickly rectified, hands clambering to gather his axe from the ground, and then to right it in his shaking grip.
Oleksondair was prompt to his feet after hitting the deck hard. His eyes, finding connection with Vandir's and then with Woskir's were a glare. Of the half-dozen mercenaries, and the dozen more armed passengers and petty crew, though they weren't warriors- of the officers of the ship, rushing to the battle and hopelessly shouting drowned out orders under the rest of the sound, Olekval Ember-Headed met the enemies first. He wiped blood out of his eyes, his hand found his dueling sword with absolute ease, and he drew it in a cut just as he engaged.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 2. After the modifier of +3, got 5
Oleksondair's Battle Cry
The noble's body hit the deck and slid abruptly into the railings nearby. His heart quickly became overcome with panic and fear, two things a Nord should not express so openly, and he scrabbled quickly to his feet.
"By the eight!" he gasped in horror and watched as chaos exploded onto the deck. He spotted an opening, hoping that the pirates had not yet seen him through the madness, he bolted for the captains cabin but was unable to help himself looking back in the direction Olek had gone.
Her ship's captain hit the deck with a thud, studying his people for a moment before his eyes landed on the fleeing noble. There was no way he could miss that gleaming gold and shining gems - that was his target. "HEY," he bellowed, his voice thundering above the rabble taking place around them, "Come here, boy. I won't bash your head in if you surrender quietly."
rolled 1d20 and got 18
Argonian + Redguard attack
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