"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.