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The Kerenyr lake was a calm place, its crystal clear waters stretching well beyond any man's vision. The watery body which had a narrow, but stable connection to the oceans via the Rawen river, was large enough to secretly follow the curvature of its celestial body. This was unknown to the most common men, the world and the continent in particular had other troubles than worrying about the true nature of its geometry and propagating this knowledge down the hierarchy of society. It was rumored that it had been a very flat joke that had triggered this conflict, but if that story indeed was true than it was more like the stupidity of its creator who had targeted it at Grom III. that was responsible. It was common sense that the entiry Grom dynasty was comprised of more or less intolerant persons who required very careful handling. However, whatever the trigger for the war between his kingdom and the neighbouring Meridin had been, the fertile ground on which its potential had been growing for long was much more simple: greed.

Marrsak was a highly militaristic society, its people under almost constant pressure to maintain a tremendously large apparatus consisting of army and a fleet of warships that had been idling around for years. While the kingdom was large, so was its population. Large numbers of solidiers meant that there was less time to seed and harvest crops or raise cattle while more food was needed to keep the troops from starving. With such a large fraction of the general population essentially doing nothing economically productive for years of their lifetime it was no surprise that the kingdom's internal welfare wasn't very advanced. The opposite of which could be said for Meridin: The land was not only what was deemed to be much more liberal, but moreover it took great benefit from the Ithjr volcano. While the fiery mountain devastated its immediate surroundings on an almost regular basis, any peasant further away could appreciate the light rain of ash fertilizing the soil. It was something Marrsak could barely have any hopes of participating in since the Hastue mountains were blocking the path of any high winds. Yet it was also said that Meridin aristocrats could be quite the arrogant bunch. As stable as the country was on the inside, together with Marrsak it formed a highly delicate arrangement. This arrangement now was fighting it out with only little regard towards any smaller neighbours. Those were faced with the difficult choice of either joining the cause of one side or remain completely isolated. Almost needless to say that the human king of Marrsak had decreed to invade the dwarven realm of Kol right away in fear of a second front stabbing into his back at a less pleasant time. By now the southernmost part of the continent was said to already have been conquered almost completely.

Two years earlier the Kerenyr lake had been populated by an abundance of small fishing boats and even larger ships carrying cargo the direct way from one coast to the other, but now with so many thousands of men already slain and rotting away on the battlefields it was not too unusual to experience the end of a clear, almost moonless night with no activity along miles of the shore at all. Bardek and Ferthyr had made camp in an abandoned hut near it -- one of the more comfortable nights the two had experienced over the last weeks since they had been caught in the conflict. Two people, one looking like a perfectly capable soldier who maybe had deserted and was on the run and the other looking like one of those wicked, unknown creatures that were said to live in the forests of Vahald , were an all too tempting target for any patrol to pick up and put into custody. Not that any of them was eager to endure that... Ferthyr was still asleep on the wooden floorboards, wings tightly wrapped around his torso as a replacement for a blanket. Bardek had been able to take what had remained of the bed, but right now it was his term to stand guard until his companion had regenerated from his shift and they could walk on.

The section of coast the hut was residing at was surrounded by hills. Their gentle slopes led down towards the lake. The grass was tall since it had been able to spread completely uncontrolled by anyone for months, making the early discovery of any approacher more difficult if one had opted for staying on the ground level around the hut. Armed men were approaching. Two were carrying a typical combination of sword and shield with the king's emblem on the latter. Another one apparently had experience using a bow and the fourth... one couldn't really tell. Unlike the others his armor did not appear to have any parts made out of metal and if it was leather it probably wasn't all too thick either. Maybe it was a person the other three were escorting, or it was a mage ? They were approaching on horses and they were doing so at a mediocre speed. So far the men didn't seem to have discovered anything that was worth their attention, but even if they decided to stay on the muddy road and not make any derivation towards the hut they'd be able to see what was happening there with ease. The small building soon was within their vision and one of the men, a rather large and broad-shouldered one with a stomach bulging underneath his armor, pointed at it...
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Bardeck sat up, leaning against the outer wall of the tiny, abandoned cottage. His Axe rested against his burly shoulder, and he scratched the dark fuzz that threatened to become a beard now engrossing his chin. He knew why the fact he was watching was a must, but in the serene lake with the tall, soft grass that covered the rolling hills around him, he could not help but feel relatively safe and secure. The battlefields over the rise might have the skeletons of a thousand warriors, but here, violence did not seem natural.

Of course, that didn't mean that what was natural would occur. It took him a moment to see the figures, but a small retinue of armed and armored men from a faction he couldn't quite tell was now making their way through the forest of tall grass toward their position. They spoke to themselves in hushed tones, the curious looking one in the center of them appearing to be a specially skilled one.

Bardeck stayed still for a moment longer to make sure they weren't simple travelers just passing through, but he knew that wouldn't be the case even if he wished to make sure. With a sigh, he got up as slowly and cautiously as he dared, and moved in a low crouch to wake his new ally. One that had been trustworthy so far, despite his demonic appearance.

He made it inside without being seen, as far as he knew at least. "Wake up," he said to Ferthyr, placing a big hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly. "Four armed men heading this way. Now."
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Ferthyr had found the last few days to be quite an exhausting endeavour, so it probably wasn't all too surprising to see him having succumbed to a deep slumber that had already lasted several hours. Bardeck's hand, large as it was, didn't make him wake up immediately. It was only after several seconds of additional heat transfer between it and him that he finally opened his eyes. "What's up ?" he asked, a little bit unnerved and impatiently. Ferthyr, in his sleep, had not recognized his companion's sentence about the four men.

Those however didn't fail to make themselves noticeable again. The sound of hooves impacting onto the halfway soft ground that hadn't seen any rain for as long as two weeks came closer and a change in its frequency could be heard. The four riders were coming down the other side of the hill, approaching the hut in almost the most direct way possible. The elongated downward slope made them more cautious and slowed them down.

"Please tell me this isn't true!" was Ferthyr's comment as he battered his eyes to clear out any excessive fluid that had accumulated in these early hours and blurred his vision. Then the demonic looking man flipped around, turning himself onto his belly before pushing his body up to its full and not that impressive height. He flapped his wings to dust those off, too. "Any suggestions ?" Ferthyr didn't feel fully prepared for a fight, however if those men would come here such a thing most likely was inevitable.

Bardeck's companion thudded over towards one of the small windows the hut had been designed with, but he didn't dare to stick his head out. "Can't we hide somewhere in here or something ? Or maybe at least could you try to give me a leg-up to the roof as long as there's time ? Up there I'd be in less of an immediate and close-range trouble." Or maybe they both could surprise those men from above once they were down the hill ?
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Bardeck nodded, giving a smirk at Ferthyr's excitement and mounting anxiety. Not that he enjoyed his companion being worried. More like he thought it was a bit funny that they both didn't question that if they were found, things would inevitably lead to bloodshed. "I'll help you on the roof, but I'll stay below. They must have seen or heard one of us, already. You stay low though, just in case..."

With that, Bardeck led his demonic friend just outside of the door and knelt down so he could boost up his companion. Once Ferthyr was up there, Bardeck would ready his shield and his axe, and though armed, he'd do his best to talk to whoever these men were and see what it was they wanted. Or, wanted other than the loot Bardeck and Ferthyr had on them. The tilt of the rise in the cottage should give Ferthyr sufficient cover to hide up there, provided he controls his wings.

With a sigh, the broad shouldered warrior stepped out from the cover of the small cottage wall and stood waiting for the four men who approached, Axe hanging from his grip loosely, though his shield was hefted just in case. There was no mistaking that they had seen them now, and Bardeck merely waited for them to approach. He could sense bloodlust and malicious intent in their eyes, but he wouldn't act just yet.

"Well met." Bardeck said to them, simply. "What is it you want?"
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Out of the four men, three remained seated on their mounts. Only one of them, the largest and bulkiest, dismounted and stepped towards Bardeck. It soon became pretty obvious that he didn't care much about one's privacy -- he came significantly closer than one normally would when trying to engage in an ordinary conversation. His hands rested on his hips, clenched.

"What do we have here..." he started to murmur from underneath his half-long beard. His eyes started to scrutinize Bardeck, scanning Ferthyr's athletic companion from top to bottom and shoulder to shoulder. Then he turned his head briefly towards the other three and gave a nod. The others subsequently dismounted as well, but didn't follow up.

"Can it be that we've found a deserter ? Hm! What do you say ?" The large individual's voice was harsh and somewhat cold as he addressed Bardeck again. If one looked more closely one could see his hand slowly wander towards the hilt of his weapon. The other three so far did not appear to do the same, but they all were watching very closely.

In the meantime, Ferthyr had found what little chimney there was on top of the hut. His clawed hand clinged around one of its edges as the roof he was standing on had turned out to be somewhat slippery. He couldn't afford to be seen openly, so he kept as low as he could without losing visual contact completely. There was a bad feeling coming up in his stomach...
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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.
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There was a characteristic noise coming from where Ferthyr, due to his position, could more assume than really know his companion Bardeck and the man he was talking with were standing. The exchange of words that had preceded that noise had already been quite indicative of what was bound to come, but with one bone shattered there was no way back for certain. What did massively add to the winged individual's discomfort however was the simple fact that it was two against for, or, maybe, two against three and a half by now.

Ferthyr's feet slipped over the steep decline beneath them. Over the years the tiles and wooden boards had become covered by a layer of organic material that, combined with a bit of water, was quite slick. With the help of his hands and the chimney however he managed to pull himself up onto the crest from which he could unleash his magic.

Naturally the first target was the bowman. From his positon on top of the roof this guy was the only one that could pose an immediate danger to him and his companion, making the rather unfortunate soldier a priority. The man had already spotted Ferthyr's sudden appearance and was drawing his bow when a fireball impacted onto his chest. A rather primitive spell with too little power to kill, but enough for inducing a lot of pain on unprotected skin and -- most importantly -- quick to create. The distinctive odor of burnt hair started to spread immediately.

Ferthyr stayed close to the chimney in case there'd be another attempt to shoot him -- better slip down on the other side and bend ones ankles than being pierced by an arrow. It was a race of magic against obviously well-trained archery, one of the men channeling forces beyond the boundaries of regular physics while the other tried to beat him from within just those.

Much to his misfortune Ferthyr received the lession as the projectile slammed right through his wings, that large area of attack behind his very V-shaped back he couldn't hide. Dark red blood started dripping onto the moss, a suppressed scream emanated from his mouth. At least the heat was ready. The archer was tossed off his feet by yards and one could easily see the further progression of the schockwave as it made the high grass wave helplessly. Given the multitude of nasty sounds some things inside the archer's body had given way. Blood was coming out of his mouth as he tried to put out the flames that had appeared on his leather clothing.
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Bardeck was glad Ferthyr got the attention of the archer. With his shield he felt confident one on one with the bowman, but not with two of his companions bearing down on Bardeck's position. The muscled man backed up as the two men closed, one wielding a large, two handed sword, and the other with a shield and a flanged mace.

Bardeck felt the scrape of the sword run across his round-shield first, and decided to attack back with a thrust of his axe, the weapon fortunate enough to have a spike on the end of it to give it a spear-like quality when need be. He didn't hit anything with the thrust, but it caused the man to give him enough room to then block the mace wielder's strike. Bardeck spun, hacking back with his Axe blade but finding it blocked on the man's shield.

What followed was a furious melee between the three, the highwaymen attacking savagely and Bardeck doing his best to merely stay alive and find an opening. Ferthyr would hear chops and the clang of metal on metal from across the way. It was only when Bardeck managed to hook his Axe behind the leg of the mace wielder did he get any respite, tripping him to hit the ground. He then, with a roar, launched himself at the swordsman.
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Given the clashing and clanking sounds one didn't really need eyes in order to determine what was going on. However as Ferthyr still had decided to use them for the sake of details, he couldn't help but find a niggly, tiddly, shitty little problem to exist: Of course he could once more allow his magical talent to roam freely and invoke the very next spell his mind would come to in order to assist his companion. Also it was very likely that Bardeck would be able to hold out long enough for the completion of the process. However would the man survive afterwards ? Fire didn't exactly care about whose flesh it was consuming and with that little of a melee distance between the fighting men Ferthyr didn't see a chance to launch a strike precisely enough.

Yet there was another method available, one the elevated position he was standing one was providing him with. Even with that small hole in his left wing there still was plenty of lift left to prevent him from crashing into the ground straightforwardly when jumping over the ledge. So Ferthyr did, gliding towards the area of battle with hardly any noise to be heard over those of the weapons. What he could hardly predict though was who'd be standing where when the time was right, so the next best way of attacking would have to do.

It was the man with the mace who was lying on the ground. Temporarily immobilized he soon wouldn't be able to participate in the fight anymore. At least the sound of Ferthyr halfway impacing on him sounded pretty nasty, clearly indicative of ribs having been broken. Rolling off from the man beneath him, Ferthyr quickly tried to get away again. After all there still was a probably very well trained swordsman out there who could try to chop things off of him.
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Bardeck thanked all the Gods he had a sturdy shield. Even with heavier armor, he wouldn't feel entirely safe against such a large and sharp looking weapon that the swordsman carried. It even seemed to glimmer in the sunlight. It had an enchantment if Bardeck was a betting man. He wasn't however, nor was he one to take chances in many other parts of his life if he could help it, and the muscled northmath kept his shield up and only struck when he was sure he wouldn't be hit in retaliation.

A yelp and grunt from the side drew the attention of Bardeck and the two handed sword wielder for a moment, both somewhat curiously watching the demonic mage-fighter doing his best to scitter away after smacking into the mace wielder's chest. It was Bardeck that recovered and attacked first however, probably because the swordsman was both worried that he was now alone in the fight, and surprised to see the demonic ally that had appeared out of nowhere.

The Axe blade cut deeply into the swordsman's bicep, causing him to suck in his breath in pain and do his best to get his guard up. But his defenses, while still strong, were noticeably slowing as they continued. At the last moment, he threw his sword at Bardeck and sprinted off, clutching his bleeding arm as he stumbled and sprinted for his life. Bardeck blocked the throw sword, but didn't pursue. Instead, he went to question the man on the ground with the broken rib.

"Are you working for anyone?" Bardeck asked, kicking him in the chest. "Are you with an outfit? Or are you simply a bandit."
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"How dare you!" was all Bardeck would find himself confronted with at the beginning. The soldier was defeated physically, but he left no doubt about what he considered himself to be on the layer of psychology and honor -- quite the opposite. "What the hell do you think I am 'working' for ? Don't you even recognize the most primitive of uniforms ?" The man bared his teeth and met Bardeck with a facial expression completely filled with anger. However it was rather obvious from the remainder of his body language that he was also suffering from very considerable pain.

At least there were no attempts to secretly reach for his weapon and stab the muscled man while he was so close. "Oh yes, go on and kick me! Once I'm dead you won't know anything, fool!" One deep, heavy breath was immediately punished by violent coughing, causing blood to spill out of the man's lightly bearded mouth. It took some time for him to recover and continue speaking: "We're a simple escort, and you won't be amused by the fact that we've been escorting a regional administrator!" Well... a very 'small' regional administrator in the metaphorical sense, but still a person of more than average importance. Nothing Bardeck and the reddish monster needed to know. "You could have triggered more attention than you might be able to handle!"

In the meantime, Ferthyr found himself confronted with a little dilemma: Should he kill the one trying to get away or let him go ? While the latter option certainly was more comfortable, it also held the risk of unnecessary bits of information leaking through. Whomever this man would report to, that one would know when he and Bardeck had been where. Of course they could alter course and do whatever pleased them, but still it caused concern in Ferthyr's mind. Yet he was less of a monster than he looked like and opted for being lazy. Turning his head here and there in order to reassure himself that the man was heading away, he approached his companion and the defeated with the broken rib.

"How are we doin', hm ?" was what Ferthyr asked, directed at the injured person and with a sarcastic smile written on his face.
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Kings men had deserted before, and you'd think those who escorted someone would be less inclined to incite violence like they had. Their job was to get whatever prominent member they were escorting safely to the next destination. Bardeck didn't have the time, nor the inclination to hear the battered man complain or yell anymore. "I really don't care what you were doing. I simply wanted to know what I should mark on your gravestone."

With that, Bardeck lifted his axe to strike the man dead. "Wait!" the prone man cried, holding up his hands. "I do have information! Please!" Bardeck's axe stopped short, and he hesitated. In all honesty, he wasn't as keen on violence as most would think either. But this world bred violence as a necessity. Still, if there was a way out of this, he'd take it. "Speak up." He said to the man, who began to blather in turn. "There's supposed to be a meeting between administrators a few miles south of here. They're discussing plans on tricking Meridin into complacency with a huge cache of gold, on its way there now."

Bardeck blinked, and looked at the man with a barely suppressed disbelief. "You're lying." Bardeck said, to which the man vehemently denied. "I'm not. It's on the southwest road, with barely more guards than the administrator had. Please, I'm telling you the truth." Bardeck wasn't sure if he was genuine, but he seemed genuinely scared, if nothing else. He looked to Ferthyr for his opinion on the matter.
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"Why not try it out ?" came Ferthyr's voice, somewhat annoyed and certainly with impatience in mind. Bardeck's companion drew closer towards the scene, resting assured that noone else was around anymore who could pose any threat.

"If I understood it correctly we're not planning on staying much longer here anyway. If there's such a meeting we could at least try to get there in time and watch from the distance. We don't need to engage." Ferthyr was honest with saying this. While he had interest in finding out if they were being told the truth since there was hardly anything else with real purpose they could do, he had no interest in deliberately maneuvering himself into yet another fight.

Clearly, Ferthyr was speaking towards his companion and not to the man on the ground. That didn't stop the latter from being an issue though. "What do we do with him ? I don't see any reasonable point in killing. We will never be able to clear this place from any signs of a recent fight anyway. So maybe just give him a chance and let him go ?" Ferthyr doubted that the man could go fast anywhere anyway, given the massive injuries.

"I suggest we just use those horses they've gladly left behind for us..." Each time Ferthyr grinned, a row of razor-sharp, small teeth became visible even to the less attentive observer. He turned around, walked towards one of the steeds that had not run away during the fight, put his left foot into the stirrups -- and inadvertently demonstrated that there could be some serious issue with his weight.
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Bardeck nodded after a brief hesitation, seeing the logic in it. He was usually level headed, but a certain ferocity often creeped up and overtook his mind during and just after he's had to fight for his life. It kept him alive in combat, but he needed a small bit of time to calm down without making rash decisions. "Good thinking," he said, and pommeled the prone man in the head with the haft of his axe. He didn't care if he lived or died, but the man had confessed what he wanted to know.

"We best hurry. Grab what we can from the hut and get going." Bardeck said, glad the horses hadn't run off particularly far. He went in to grab half of the equipment. Cooking pots and the like. Before long they were mounted on the horses, cresting the hill and leaving the lake and bodies behind. The day had just begun, and the sun would be reaching its zenith in only a few hours.

Once they made it parallel to the roads, still within a distance away, they rode for an hour. It almost seemed like the man had been lying to Bardeck, because for most of the morning they would see hide nor hair of any caraven. That it, until a voice was heard. A call, from one man to another. It was indecipherable what he said, but past a few trees, Bardeck could just peek enough to see half a dozen men-at-arms walking beside a cart that held a chest. The dirt road was well trodden, and the trees loomed over the men, and they seemed confident of making it to their destination.
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Ferthyr was glad to see that his companion managed to control his rage -- with a little, frightening bit of dead time though. Luckily, there wasn't much to be collected from the hut they had passed the previous night in. If Bardeck was right with anything then it was that they needed to hurry. Frankly, had there been any day in the past weeks when they had not experienced the need to be fast ? He couldn't remember, so all that was left to do was to get back onto 'his' horse's back and pull at the reigns to get it going. Over the hills and away.

Over the course of the next hour, Ferthyr wasn't exactly sure if they should actually pursue the goal they were pursuing at the moment. He didn't feel much of an association with that region or its inhabitants, at least at the moment. But if they could help prevent some foul trick with little effort, why not ? What he really hoped for was that Bardeck wasn't after that cache of gold. First of all the thing would slow them down, and secondly they were in no position to go to any merchant and convert the noble metal into anything really useful. And there was fear that this could be a cleverly laid out trap that could bring their downfall after what right now appeared to be victory. Great care was to be taken, that was sure in his mind.

Luckily, once the encounter happened, a bunch of trees impeded the line of sight. Ferthyr immediately brought his mount to a halt and hopped to the ground. He patted Bardeck's muscular leg to silently tell him to do the same thing. With their profiles lower to the ground they'd be less visible and exposed. He tucked his wings tightly behind his broad back. "These are six men. Are you sure we should try that ?" Ferthyr squinted while whispering this, doubts blatantly visible in his facial expression. "We probably have the moment of surprise on our side, but I seriously doubt that a chest full of gold would be escorted by anyone but very, very experienced fighters. This could be a trap, laid out by the vanquished."

So far the men did not seem to have noticed their observers. Their backs were already halfway turned towards them as they were virtually encircling the treasure -- or whatever really was in that reinforced box. The path was well beaten, but that didn't stop them from making considerable progress.
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Bardeck hopped off his horse from the prompting of his companion, keeping his horse steady so as to keep it calm. One neigh and their position would be compromised. He spent a moment patting its snout, before tying it to a tree and hunkering down next to Ferthyr, tucking in his broad shoulders as much as he could. He had to admit the escort of the gold was both smaller than he feared yet larger than he'd hoped for.

He saw his friend's logic, but Bardeck was nothing if not stubborn. "We didn't follow them to leave it be." He whispered back to him, though he hesitated regardless. He'd need to ponder on any movement when it came to six skilled men. Likely as skilled as Ferthyr was worried about. Briefly, he wondered how much they could do with the element of surprise. Bardeck could perhaps kill two, though most likely it was one kill and a wounding, to then be surrounded by at least 3 men while Ferthyr handled the other 2.

Perhaps they could take out one each, and then flee. The men would certainly be less apt to continue their travels. Or even better, kill one unsuspectingly somehow. If Bardeck could get behind a tree, he could wait until they just passed him and he'd silently dispatch one. Rinse and repeat before Ferthyr attacked with shock and awe with his magic? He voiced his thoughts to his companion quickly. "What do you think?"
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Ferthyr glanced over towards his bulky friend, compiling what he had proposed. Still the first thing he could come up with was another humble begging for... well... not mercy, but reconsideration. With his usual chesty, but low voice tunneling through the air between them the words "Are you sure you want to pull this off ?" were raised. It dawned upon Ferthyr that the answer could only be much more affirmative than he honestly, though in silence, was hoping for.

"It's damn risky... I think that the element of surprise is our only chance. You're better at taking people out silently than me I guess, so I think you'll have to go ahead." Ferthyr raised his head, looking at the line of trees that was separating them from their moving target. "If I start off from a greater height I could move much faster for the initial phase of the fight by gliding from tree to tree. Also I'd be safe from any melee attackers and have many leaves to obstruct the vision of those that aren't using swords on my side. If they spot me up in the treetops they'll have less eyes for the ground and given my appearance they probably won't suspect that there's a human around and on their attacker's side."

Ferthyr didn't stand while waiting for Bardeck's answer, but got moving right away and approached one of the massive trunks. "I hope they don't hear this..." and his one hand that was riddled with claws was slammed into the tree's bark. It wasn't exactly elegant how Ferthyr was climbing, but at least it appeared that he could defeat gravity. "It won't take long until I'll hit the ground again. If you have any better suggestions I'd be happy to hear them now." Last but not least the men were still on the move. If they'd wait to long this tree would be too far away to be of any use.

"Say... can you fight from horseback on tight corners ? If I am to attack first you don't need to go in slowly I'd guess, but do it with speed and power. Those steeds can barely carry me but I guess you are considerably lighter ?"
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"It's a good suggestion, but I'm not that good of a rider," Bardeck lamented as he stared at the approaching caravan through the brush, placing a large hand on one of the stout trees as he watched. He shook his head, knowing that to second guess themselves now was as much death as anything. The second you started to doubt yourself, was the second a sword slips past your defenses and you lose your life. He'd seen it happen to many men before. Men who died with fear and doubt in their eyes, even as death took them.

"If we can take out three of them through surprise, the next three we can handle. The last one will probably run for it." He remarked, walking himself through an ideal scenario, which he had to admit wasn't an impossible task.

Moments slipped by, and the creaking wheels of the Caravan became an audible tune in the still forest air. Bardeck was afraid his breathing was far too loud, but that was merely his anxiety getting the better of him. This was something he and his partner could do. And if they succeeded, they'd save a few dozen, if not hundreds of lives in the process. Not to mention gain a fair amount of coin. "Go high." He whispered to Ferthyr, and Bardeck began to wade through the wooded expanse between them and the road just as the men were marching past their position.

It was a mind numbing amount of time, despite it being less than quarter of a minute's time. The northman edged himself to the edge of the forest, holding his position for a few moments before striding out of cover from behind them. He stepped as lightly as he could, his axe haft sliding down his hand before he gripped it near the bottom for a full force swing. His eyes gazed at the trees, hoping Ferthyr was there, before honing in on the men-at-arm's neck. It was lightly armored, and if he could just hit it full force...

Less than a stride away from the man at the very back, he swung his axe. Time seemed to slow, and within moments he knew this would bring the attention of the others. He'd have to finish this and finish the next man with the next attack, knowing the chainlinks would make a noise as his axe hit home.

The blade of the axe crunched into the man's neck, drowning out whatever cry of pain he could give. Catching the haft by his opposite hand and now holding the axe with both hands, even as the man's body dropped limply along the ground, Bardeck sidestepped. The other man-at-arms was just now turning to look for the source of the noise of that dull 'thump' before Bardeck's axe split his face in two by the open helm. The other four ahead heard the clash of the axe blade skidding past a steel helm, and turned.

"What in the Gods!?" One cried, and they all drew swords. Bardeck leaped and managed to wound the next, but he was suddenly backpedaling, his shield up and at the ready. He gave off a warcry as he prepared to defend himself.

Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Fetzen
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Ferthyr had sought refuge in a densely populated treetop, moving in the wind as was the entire plant. Not without a considerable amount of anxiety and inner tension he watched the scenario unfold far beneath him. It seemed that his companion had the intend to roll up the little caravan from behind -- admittingly probably the best thing he could do given the situation. In his eyes he was doing so quite efficiently, quickly assassinating two of the men before the other could even start paying attention to him.

It was at this point that Ferthyr started charging the spell. Magic was piling up in his more human looking hand and what had started as a three-dimensional spot of swirling air had developed into a fireball scorching the leaves above it once Bardeck started moving backwards, ready to defend himself. Hopefully he wouldn't be too distracted by what came next, and hopefully he himself would aim sufficiently well. His own rapid movements due to his post high up in the tree, the airflow between him and his target, gravity... all factors that had to be taken into account.

Bardeck would feel his hair move in an unexpected way and a massive surge of thermal radiation move rapidly well over his head. The blast splat onto the ground about a dozen yards away from him, tossing up dust and gravel and turning green grass into blackened remnants. One couldn't say the same for the two much more massive and more protective men it was intended to hurt, but there were severe burns in their faces that caused intense pain along with the fact that the blast wave had disrupted their rapid walk towards Bardeck, bringing them into not so comfortable contact with the ground below. Noses were bleeding and heads shaken in disorientation. The billowing cloud of dust and smoke brought with it the smell of burnt hair and skin as well as a loud scream from the one that had been closest to the epicentre.

Ferthyr could foresee that this most likely had been the first and last opportunity for him to do what he had just done. Those who could still fight, followed by those who could do so after some recovery, would be much closer to his companion the next time. There was no need to keep silence anymore, so he wasn't hesitant to dig his claws into the trees bark in order to slow his vertical descent. He started running towards Bardeck's position as fast as he could, although that wasn't very fast at all.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by POOHEAD189
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The explosion of heat from behind caused the charging men to halt for a moment, Bardeck having narrowly blocked a sword swing with his shield before he too looked past them. In a split second, the battleground was now an even playing field, though until Ferthyr made it to him, it was still two men versus one. And these men were competent swordsmen with well made armor. The Northman suddenly found him nearly being overwhelmed by a flurry of attacks from both sides as the soldiers moved in concert with their blades.

It was only by instinct that Bardeck managed to survive, blocking one swinging blade with a similar axe swing while thrusting his shield out to keep the other man at bay.

"You'll never get out of this bandit!" One of the men growled and stabbed at Bardeck's legs. "I'm not bandit!" He cried back, shield rushing him suddenly. He left his back exposed, but if he moved too quickly to be hit then it wouldn't matter, and he crashed into the man as his leg was cut, bowling him over with his great girth. If Ferthyr could get there in time, there would be a man attempting to make it over to his fellow and stab Bardeck into the back.
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