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Askold and Bethero had been on the road for five days now, ever since they left Brennen village. The two of them had more than enough food to last them until they arrived in Durem, sure. But there hadn't really been any trouble the entire time. The young adventurer was growing bored, wanting to at least run into something to kill. Something that wanted them dead, in particular. Ever since his fight with the troll at fifteen years of age, he was an adrenaline junkie of sorts. Fighting with one's life on the line always brought out the best fight in the young man. And he wanted to put his strength to the test again.

As if the merchant could sense the lust for a fight in the young man, he let out a sigh, lifting one hand and wagging his pointer finger at him. "I know you must be bored out of your skull, what with not being able to bash in any heads lately..." He paused, turning his head to face the adventurer, with a serious look in his eyes. "But don't go wishing for trouble. You might just get more than you can handle, and we don't want that."

Armand wasn't worried about just his merchandise. After all, he had practically been taking care of the young Askold since he found him on the road. So in a way, he felt sort of like the boy was his responsibility. He was still young and reckless. Not only that, he was on the naive side as well, virtually completely unknowing of how the world worked. Seriously, the merchant had seen orcs with more common sense. Then again, they didn't hold their liquor as well as the young adventurer did, and that was always fun to watch. Though in hindsight, he did some crazy things while under the influence... Like throwing a grown man ten feet, and through a door.

Askold just laughed a bit, bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his head. "I know, I know... It's just so boring, being out here all this time and not running into any sort of fight." The young adventurer ceased his laughter after speaking, letting out a soft sigh. He couldn't help but want to fight. It was in his nature, and as such, it couldn't be denied. So for now, all he could really do was hope that there would be someone who wouldn't mind picking a fight with him in Durem. Like the game they had played at the bar in Brennen.

The road they took was a winding one, leading through the large northern forest. The place was normally teeming with wildlife. One who came through here might hear the birds chirping over head, singing their beautiful songs in the tall oak trees. Squirrels would climb up the trees as well, stockpiling their food stores. Deer could usually be seen from the road, but only on the rarest of occasions. They were shy creatures, after all, and would only show themselves to humans under certain conditions.

These were but a few examples of things anyone passing through this route might find. But something seemed off... The merchant's ears perked up a bit, slightly disturbed by the lack of any sounds. This was a bad sign. Suddenly, both Bethero and the young adventurer heard the sounds of shuffling footsteps in the distance, taking cover behind threes and shrubs. The scare was getting the better of the merchant, but the largely built man grabbed his woodcutter's axe and made ready, wearing a rather sadistic looking grin. "Heh. This should be fun." Perhaps there would be another big monster for him to kill.

However, these were no creatures lying in wait. Askold stopped in his tracks when he heard the rustling of a shrub. Suddenly, a small hand axe flew through the air and went right by the young man's face. The projectile in question was only eight inches away from hitting its mark. Instead, planting itself in a tree on the opposite side of the road. Before the adventurer could comprehend what had just flown by, a series of uncoordinated shouts could be heard from the treeline. Their assailants had come into view, three unkempt-looking men, brandishing swords and wearing nothing but pelts and fur boots. Bandits, from the looks of them. An enemy he had never encountered before today.

Bethero the merchant let out a scream when he saw the crazy men charge out at them. He jumped into the back of his wagon, as if he was hiding. The stronger young man, however, stood shocked for a moment. When he saw they had weapons, his grin returned. That meant they were here to fight. With axe in hand, Askold let out a shout that shook the trees, and made the bandits halt in their tracks for just a second. The adventurer charged them as fast as he could, closing the distance in little time. He brought up his axe and swung from the right, planting the blade directly into the side of the first enemy he reached.

The first bandit let out a cry of pain and tried to get his assailant back. Before he could do this, however, Askold brought up his other hand and pushed the man off of his weapon. Though the person in question was not dead, he was bleeding out rather quickly. It wouldn't be long now. In order to exact vengeance for their ill-fated friend, the other two bandits jumped the young man before he could fully recover. Though Askold jumped back to escape being killed, one of the swords had cut across his right shoulder, the other made a large but shallow gash across his left chest.

His body seared with pain from the wounds, blood pouring out of them and staining his clothes. But still, the young man kept his smile. His axe was in his left hand now, out of caution. He didn't want to open that wound on his shoulder any more, after all. When the bandits charged him again, the one on the right was going for an overhand swing. On the left, an attempt to pierce his heart. Askold side stepped the man on his left and rose his right arm, grabbing the sword arm of the other bandit. The pain shot through his shoulder again, but he wouldn't let go.

Since one of them was contained, Askold could focus his attention on the one not in his grasp. That bandit had slipped on the wet, snow-covered road and was struggling to get up. So the adventurer brought down the axe in his left hand, driving it directly into the back of the bandit. He wouldn't be moving anymore. Now... All that was left was the man in his grasp. Seeing as he couldn't pull his weapon out of the paralyzed bandit's back just yet, he settled for trying something else.

So he tightened his grip on the man's wrist, causing him to drop his weapon. But the last remaining bandit wasn't going to let himself be killed so easily. In his desperation, he managed to reach out and drive his thumb into the wound on Askold's shoulder. The young and wounded adventurer could feel the intense pain shoot up through his body again. He let out a scream and loosened his grip, letting go of the bandit. His enemy scrambled over to his sword again and struggled with himself to stay and fight. Before he could decide whether to run or not, the larger, younger man charged him without a weapon.

The last living bandit out of the group brought up his sword to attack, but swung too early in his panicked state. The blade only left a shallow wound diagonally from Askold's right shoulder, all the way down his right chest. "You're gonna pay!!!" Askold, now enraged and running on pure adrenaline, grabbed the bandit by his throat and slammed him on the ground. His enemy had the wind knocked out of him, but that's not what he was trying to do. Without hesitation, the adventurer stood back up and brought up his right foot. With all the force he could muster, he stomped down on the bandit's chest. Ribs cracked under the pressure, and the man let out a blood curdling scream.

But the adventurer wasn't done with the injured bandit just yet. He brought down his foot once more, stomping hard on the same place as before. The ribs cracked under the pressure again. Bones were broken and lungs were punctured. The man was now coughing up blood, but Askold didn't let up. Twice more, he brought his foot down as hard as he could. After the third, the man was dead. Once the fourth came around, it was just good measure.

The man standing here now, with clothes bloodied and boots stained red was not the usual Askold. His breathing was heavy and his gaze was filled with rage. His broad shoulders heaved up and down with each heavy breath. And he just stood there, staring down at the last bandit he had killed. There was no talking, no joking, no reacting to the rather gruesome scene before him. The adventurer's large fists were clenched as well, as if resisting the urge to mutilate the corpse even more.

The merchant popped his head back up once the sounds of combat had stopped, his eyes finding that Askold was still alive. It was surprising, really, but the boy had done well. "W... Well done, Askold! I can't believe you actually managed to take out all three of those guys! You really-" Bethero ceased his talking and praise, instead, leaving the wagon to approach the young man. When he was close enough, Armand moved to look the young man in the eyes, finding a bit of trouble doing so.

When he did mange to, however, he noticed something off. A sight he never imagined he'd see from the young man before him. Askold's eyes were filled with water, as if he was on the verge of tears. The adventurer fell to his knees, leaning over the body of the last bandit he had slain. There was a large foot-shaped indention in the man's chest. And it disturbed the young man to see it.

Bethero the merchant sighed, extending his arm toward the young man. He reached out, gently touching his shoulder to provide some form of comfort. With the boy's tendencies towards fighting, it was easy to forget that he had just recently left home. This was his first real fight, and he had just killed three men. The smaller man decided to give Askold some time to calm down. After all, the young man was scared. It would take some time for the young adventurer to put this past him. From here on, it'd probably be an awkward trip to Durem.