Bardeck breathed in deeply, his large chest growing even more prominent. "I've never deserted anything in my life." He replied, and it was true enough. The entire regiment he had been apart of in the mountains of Ivar had been destroyed by an overwhelming force of Marrsk battalions, hidden in wait for a Meridin force that had been caught up in weather, causing their army to slow and making the Ivar's the primary and unknowing targets. Bardeck had slayed his way out and made it further southward to find some respite. 

"Likely story," the man said, and then looked past Bardeck at the cottage, before eyeing the muscled man again. "You been here long?" He asked. Bardeck shook his head. "Nope. Just passing through, and spending the night." 

"Ah, then you'll have stuff to eat." The brigand smirked, and swayed slightly as he gripped the pommel of his sword. It was a readying move Bardeck had seen more times than he could count, and he didn't wait any longer to see where this would inevitably lead. With a swift kick, the Ivar knocked the man down a peg by fracturing a lower bone in his leg. He let out a scream of pain, which was subsequently silenced by Bardeck's axe to his head. 

"Now!" Bardeck cried out to his companion, hefting his shield to keep at bay the very angry soldiers now brandishing weapons and advancing rapidly.