Sketti would have thought the others gave a good reckoning of themselves in this fight, but unfortunately (for the enemy perhaps) the Slayer had gone to the forefront of the fighting. So close that many of the Norscans had leaped over the walls of the ship and completely passed him. Before hand, the ones that had seen him as he approached were smote by pistol shots that cracked in the air, smoke mixing with the spray of the sea and the spurts of blood. 

A few turned and saw the burly, albeit short killing machine that was splitting open their comrades from behind. "Ignore me, will ye?" he growled. To the onlooker, the Slayer's tall crest would look very much like a shark fin amid churning waves of Norscan bodies as they attempted to overwhelm him. His metal appendage swung too and fro, so thick was the crowd about him that every swing broke bone and sent Norscan's crying out in annoyance and pain. 

Their fury was not to be denied however, many blows landing on Sketti's tough body. It was all he could do to keep fighting, his arm serving as a shield for much of the brawl. His Axe tore through legs and cut up stomachs, and with one last desperate attempt he launched himself at the last remaining raiders, using his tough, heavy body as a projectile and bowling them over, beating two of their heads in with his metal arm. Their skulls popping open like split melons. 

A huge gash could be seen on his forehead as he stood up, a large cut crossed his burly stomach, and various smaller cuts covered him. Even a bit of his Mohawk was shorn. Aside from that, his bruises and blood matched well with his Khazalid tattoos and made him seem that much more crazed and menacing to those around him. He wheezed. "Who's next, eh? You're lucky I didn't have my explosives ye blasted Chaos Spawn!" He shook his remaining fist at the rest of the Norscan's brawling.