Rakvald knew from experience that Balthazar could handle himself. In that distant dream in the past, he'd sussed out his physical prowess pretty early on, and hadn't been disappointed as they laid to waste the Fartlord. Rakvald knew he could count on him. But what of Rakvald's own capabilities? He could throw a haymaker and do a few moves here or there, but most of his strength was wrapped up in his... well... strength! He was certainly strong!
He didn't have long to think before the men came down on them. He dropped his staff, since the man said no lethal force. Rak could easily bust a skull with that piece of wood. So he would resort to his fists and feet. In and out with his breath as he advanced, until three men came at him from the front. Balthazar was lost in the crowd momentarily.
Rakvald grinned at the men and shouted, "Hi! I'm Rakvald!" Then he grabbed the nearest man's face with his meaty hand, and began gripping. "Graah." He glowered at him, The next man grabbed him by the left arm, but Rakvald squirmed out of the hold by slipping out of his sleeve. Once off, his tentacle arm was on full display, blackened claws and suckers and all.
The arm whipped at the man who came from the front, keeping him at a distance from Rakvald with his rubbery appendage. Not spoiling for time, Rakvald threw the man whose face he held in a grip, and tossed him over toward the man who stole his sleeve. Those two tumbled on the floor, end over end until they slid halfway across the room.
By then, the man in front had resolved his wits and began rushing at Rakvald, throwing hook punches from side to side. Rakvald took the first punch in the ribs, and it did crack. He grunted in pain, but was well disciplined enough to force himself forward. the second hook landed to where he barely felt the impact of it.
Rakvald wrapped his arms around this man, and grunted again, giving him the biggest bearhug he could manage. A couple of good squeezes, and he was tossed to the side, breathless and out of the fight.
After the business with those three, a man sneaked up behind Rakvald, taking advantage of his distraction. He walloped him with a large wooden plank on his back. Perhaps he'd been reaching for Rakvald's cranium, but it didn't get so far as his neck. It just impacted off of his hide armor and the thick hide of the mutation that covered his back.
It only served to fill Rakvald with more blood lust. He turned, and spun, whipping the plank-wielder with his tentacle. The curly appendage wrapped around his face, and stifled his breath for a moment. Rakvald focused much of what strength he could muster for that rubbery limb, until the man's eyes began to bulge from the force of the constriction.
His eyes went wild, and he made the next, most logical move. The man bit down on Rakvald's tentacle, drawing blackened blood from the mutation. The Lotharro roared in fury, releasing the man from his tentacle grip, and bringing his good hand forward to straight punch him in the chin.