((Anchor focuses inward and extends his awareness around him, putting his faith in his God to grant him sight to any celestial, fiend, or undead around him. Spending a moment on this he receives nothing in response seemingly as no creatures nearby run afoul of his divine senses.))
"Incredible." The orc laughs as he sizes up Anchor before him, the massive imposing form of a goliath doing nothing to change his demeanor. "To have your reputation precede you….I can see why the other Lords were so reluctant to give it up. It's nice. Right."
Tarak removes his hand from the pommel of his sheathed sword and the flames leaking from it seem to dim and sputter. He interlocks his fingers and cracks them, moving his head side-to-side to produce a similar sound. After flexing his hands for a moment he balls his right fist and connects it with his left palm, throwing a sharp grin at Anchor.
"You want to fight for her? I'll give you a fight. Hell, been a few days since I last got my hands dirty and I could use an easy kill for a warm up. You're wrong about one thing though, boy. The Sea doesn't control anyone, especially once I get back what's mine. She was made to be controlled, used, like a sharpened tool guided by a Captain's hand. My hand."
The orc's eyes widen slightly as he settles himself into a fighter's stance, recognizing the golden shimmer that now hangs around Anchor's form as Bakresh's magic takes root to protect the goliath. With a quick eye the Captain darts from the Elders to Damakos, Serene to Anchor, until finally-
"Osah, vras"
Having up until now just silently sat and stared at the would-be distractions towards its master the red and brown hawk lets out a quick screech before launching itself into the air at the command of Tarak. Though not an imposing bird of prey the creature is fast and precise, somehow knowing which attacker its master had intended for it to seek. Flying upwards to ten feet in the air the hawk circles once before letting out another shriek and diving downwards towards the gold skin of its prey. Once close enough to Bakresh's face it splays its' wings out and stabs its beak towards the dragonborn.
((Beak: 1d20 + 3 = 1 + 3 = 4))
Only to completely miss its target. With a cry of frustration it hangs in the air level to Bakresh's eyes, reading itself for another strike.
As his pet leaps into action, so, too, does Tarak. With a speed that is unbefitting of an orc of his size he quickly closes the gap between himself and Anchor. With a quick motion he plants his foot on the ground and carries the remaining momentum upwards, thrusting the majority of his weight to a fist that now dives straight at the goliath.
((Unarmed: 1d20 + 4 = 10 + 4 = 14. Anchor's AC is now 20 so uh...no))
And with a growling rumble of a cry he continues this momentum, planting another foot forward as he throws another attack to dislodge Anchor from his path.
((Unarmed: 1d20 + 4 = 18 + 4 = 22. That'll hit))
((Damage: 1 + Str Mod = 5))
If the orc felt his fist connect with Anchor he made no sign of it, continuing his aggressive forward push and keeping close to his opponent.
----
Ignoring the boasts of Tarak, the cries and jeers from the oncoming pirates, and a distant rumble of some kind of battle or large event, Bakresh focuses his attention and concentration to that of the Red Dragonborn Elder. He focuses on the incantations, the rise and fall of his voice, the spacing of the words themselves to decipher what he is doing. It takes a moment of listening but the related spell jumps to his mind: the Gate spell. A very powerful and intricate conjuration magic that can be used to create a window to another space any plane or realm of existence, allowing any who travel through it to be taken there.
Escape. They are trying to escape.
As that thought hits Bakresh so, too, does a force of fury, feathers, and terror. The large Blood Hawk seems immense and terrible in its shrieking rage as it appears before him and attempts to attack. In the midst of its assault and terrible flapping of wings the razor curve of its beak seems to miss entirely, leaving the bird to make nothing but a lot of noise.
----
As Serene focuses she notes a half dozen...no, a dozen. No, two dozen figures scrambling, yelling, hollering, and running across the planks being set up towards the land. That was only the number that were already making their way across, not accounting for the large amount still on the ship's deck or working on the large contraptions still being reloaded. Not to mention the unknown number of individuals below the ships deck and deep into its depths with however many that may be.
Thirty to forty people just from a good look would be a conservative guess on Serene's part, not even accounting for anyone that may be below deck. The size of the ship alone could account for anywhere between fifty to over one hundred people if she had to take a guess.
Her attention towards the ship is broken by the combined sound of guttural growls in front of her and the shrieking cacophony of an attacking hawk behind her. Though Anchor's form and shield hides most of Tarak she can still make out the grunts and sickening thuds as the orc launches his assault towards her newly-found friend. From behind her is nothing but the shrieking and mad flapping of some sort of bird. A very, very angry one.
