Johnathon had to stop and simply look at the mountains they were about to tackle. He'd seen them from Aldrun, of course, you couldn't look inland from Aldrun and not see one, but up close the snow covered peaks seemed menacing, even. Of course, that wasn't where they were going, his gaze shifted downwards towards the passes and he counted his blessings with every meter removed from the summit the passable areas were. By the time he looked back towards the group, he'd been left behind some and Adrian was down in the snow. Protesting legs ignored, he rushed forward to see what hat happened but by the time he closed the gap the boy was already on his feet and continuing the march. What luck, a group that started chases with guards and wouldn't stop marching even if you knocked them down. A wanderer from the south wasn't cut out for this line of work, but that was why he was paying Crom and tagging along with Griff and Adrian. "Easy there, no need to rush on such treacherous ground," He said meekly from the back, half concerned for Adrian and half concerned for his shins. His interest and his talkativeness had been piqued by Crom's question, and he added to the man's speech. "Yeah, let's share some stories, that'll pass the time." He had a few stories himself, although he'd have to fish them out of his bag. By his estimation of the group, Crom and Griff seemed less likely to want to talk about their life, one was obviously a hardened mercenary of some sort, but maybe they'd be lucky and have enough conversation to see them through their journey.

Griff trudged along with the group. He'd never liked travelling though mountains however it was unavoidable if you had to travel any great distance in Estovet. The mountain range running right down the centre of the continent made sure of that. At least it keeps the Arcarti contained somewhat. He thought to himself. There was obviously always travel by ship but that often meant sailing the very long way down and round Cape Hanvui at the bottom of Estovet. Tuning into the conversation, Griff broke off his train of thought. "Stories are always good." He said, hoping to find out more about his companions. There could be a problem if any of them turned out to be an agent of the Empire. "I have a few good ones, but I'll save them for later." He added, hoping to get the ball rolling. There was a strategic reason for finding out more about the party but also there was the fact they had a long way to go and he'd rather not walk it all in silence.

Not slowing down for idle conversation, Adrian kept his pace as they advance into the mountain pass. Paying no attention to the obviously tiring John, Adrian trudged forward. "I ask myself that, a lot." Adrian replied to Crom, not bothering to face him. The group was looking for some form of entertainment, but Adrian didn't have any to tell. Was he to tell them the heroic story of him taking care of the family stables? Or maybe spin them the tale of how he once bravely squired for a knight in a tournament. He didn't have anything worth the group's time. Adrian turned his head, slightly, to look at Crom, "Have you ever......" Adrian trailed off. "Killed someone?" Adrian finally asked, as he turned his head back around, keeping his pace. Adrian had see a dead body once. He was beheaded for striking a woman, and attempted rape. Adrian was far to young to believe he was mortal, but also far too smart to put himself in a clear cut life-or-death situation. He had heard tales of battles, and stories of champions. They never told stories about the men who laid in the mud, unable to move as their armor only served to kill the wounded knights, nor did they tell stories about the men whom defecated themselves as they watched their friends torn to bits. Adrian could tell that Crom had seen many of a battle. He looked far more grizzled than his family household guard, whom he knew had fought plenty of battles.

Crom stared off into the distance for a moment as the boy asked the question. His pale blue eyes scanned the mountaintops aimlessly. There was no point in hiding it. He had been a knight, and had fought in two wars, he had certainly seen his share of death, and had been the cause for a fair amount of it. He looked down at the weapon on his hip. It had been his closest friend through many conflicts, and had saved his life more times than he could count. He wasn't particularly proud of all the killing he had done, but it didn't weigh too heavily on his conscience. He had simply done what he had to do. After a moment he replied. "Aye, lad. I've done my share of killing. It's a soldier's profession, after all." The soldiers voice was as solid as ever, but without the warmth that had emanated from it in the tavern earlier. Killing was serious business, far more so than drinking, and he had no intent of glorifying it. The soldier continued walking, keeping in stride with the other members of the party. He looked around, pondering Adrian's question. Clearly the boy had never killed anyone. It seemed doubtful that Johnathon had either. Griff seemed as though he had seen the darker side of the world, Crom expected that he had likely taken a few lives, and the newcomer, Soah, had a certain air about him. Crom had very little doubt that he was familiar with killing.

Soah hung towards the back of the group, easily keeping up with the group as they trudged through the terrain. Soah wasn't really paying attention to the idle conversation the group had struck up. Soah tried his best to wrap his cloak around the entirety of his body, and was doing fairly well at it, as he wasn't nearly as cold as he thought he'd be. The scarf he had been 'given' by Johnathon was also doing it's fair share of keeping him warm. The group seemed nice enough. Johnathon was definitely the nice guy of the group, while Adrian was definitely filling out the role of naive kid fairly well. Crom had his sagely warrior advice, and Griff seemed content with playing ti safe around them. Soah eyed Griff for a moment. The man looked like the kind that had secrets. Soah would know. He had a few of his own dark secrets.

As the talk turned to killing, Griff went silent. He preferred not to reveal that side of himself unless he had too. The journey they had ahead of them would be treacherous, and not just because of the elements. War brought out the worse in people, There was a chance they could encounter bandits, then perhaps Adrian and Johnathon would have a killing story of their own. Griff thought back to the first man he had killed, an Arcarti soldier. The days of the empire in Griff's home city were numbered and the soldiers were deserting left right and centre. The man had broken into their home looking for anything he could steal. Griff came home to his Mother being raped and grabbed a knife. The soldier must have had over 100 holes in him, Griff couldn't remember what had happened exactly, it was all a blur. He'd expected someone to come looking for the dead man, but no one came and the empire was soon gone from the city.That was before he'd been recruited by The League, since then he'd killed more men than he could count. It never bothered him, it was all in the name of the cause and as far as he was concerned, the freedom of the masses was a cause worth killing for. "These are dangerous times. You reach an age when you're likely to have killed. Otherwise the other man would be standing where you are." Griff said, feeling like he should add something to the conversation.

He was glad to hear that Griff had stories of his own, but John's smile drooped into a slight frown as the topic of the conversation immediately took a turn for the worse. Now that he thought about it, it was almost a certainty that Crom had killed before but that had never been amongst the criteria he judged the man on when they met in a tavern. He was salty, big, and frankly the only candidate. Hearing him admit it so simply was unnerving, to say the least of it. The shiver that ran down his back might have just been the cold though. Death was something he didn't have much experience with, hardship and violence sure but Wenigsten was a man who knew well enough to cut out before people starting getting cut up. He looked around the group, casting glances and wondering what the others were thinking. Of course, there were killers among them; there weren't too many people who made it out on the road. People with clean slates grew rarer by the day but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. He walked along, thinking for a moment rather than speaking. He didn't want to agree with Griff, that violence had won out in the world, but it wasn't as if a man who'd just weeks ago been let out of stockade could argue against that truth. Walking in silence didn't suit him, however. "Hopefully... we can get over these mountains without having to kill anyone, eh?" He said, looking around and trying to smile.

Adrian listened as the group all joined in on the conversation. As Adrian kept leading the march, he turned back and looked back at John. "I had a older brother." Adrian started, as he turned his head back around and kept on with his march. "He was a warrior. My father wanted him to become the greatest knight our family ever raised. Day and night he'd train with sword, axe, shield, and lance. Hardly ever slept or ate, all in the pursuit of learning how to kill another man." Adrian went on, adjusting his cloak to cover the front of his body, eyes still locked ahead, "I once saw him cleave an entire charging bull in half, protecting a girl that had entered the pens. He was the strongest person I had ever seen. He was gentle, too, though. He never used his strength to get what he wanted. His manners were as impressive as his skill." Adrian stared down at his feet for a moment, before going on with his story, "One day, a couple of thugs attempted to rob a store my brother was visiting. They were armed with just daggers, nothing more. You see, secretly, my brother had detested killing. He never wanted to be a gallant knight, who rescued fair maidens from heathens. He wanted to be a actor, a travelling one, who crossed the lands and put on plays. Well, he confronted the thugs, and attempted to reason with them, instead of drawing his sword and putting their banditry to a stop." Adrian paused for a moment, as his marching pace slowed for a second. "The thugs took advantage of my brother's resilience to killing." Adrian stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, before righting himself, and hurrying to take his place back at the front of the group. "When my father arrived, he was already dead. Stabbed in the sides and neck. Stripped naked, and left to die on the store's floor." Adrian finished, with a somber voice. "I was 7 at the time. From that moment onward, my father would always tell me 'Remember, Adrian, those who heistate to take another's life, will always be slaves to the one's who don't.'" Adrian remained silent for a moment, as the group pressed on through the snowy path. "They never did find the two thugs that did it."

Crom continued walking with the group. Griff added in his opinion on the matter. Crom couldn't really disagree with his position. In such times, violence often was the only answer if one wanted to stay alive. Johnathon seemed uneasy about the conversation, confirming Crom's suspicion that he wasn't much for fighting. He seemed hopeful they'd make it through their journey without getting into a fight. "I certainly hope so, it'd be a damn shame to have to spill blood out here and mar the scenery." He looked around at the trees again. Tranquility. It was something he'd missed for most of his life. Adrian began to talk about his older brother. Crom listened closely to the boys story, guessing the ending as soon as the boy mentioned the bandits. Cutthroats weren't the type for civility. He frowned when he was right. It was something he'd seen all too often in the world; good people killed for doing the right thing. The boy finished his story, visibly bothered by recounting it. The warrior strode on a few feet before looking towards the boy. "Your brother sounds like he was a good man, lad. As for what your father said... he wasn't wrong. But you have to know when to spare a life as well. Killing is easy, but get lost in it and you'll destroy what makes you human. You have to know when to show mercy." The soldier continued walking. Despite his fall from grace, he still carried the honor of a knight within him.

Soah scoffed at Crom's words. "No wonder you're a mercenary without a job." Soah said, as he stared off to the side, absentmindedly. Soah was finally started to truly feel warm, but the caked on blood on his hands and arms was starting to bother him. By the time they got to place where they could clean themselves, it'd be a chore to get the blood off. "Your brother sounds like a nice man, but meeting violence with reason isn't how the world works. He was stupid for thinking it worked any other way." Soah added, as he turned to look forward towards the group. Soah still trailed behind the group. "Sparing a life does nothing but let those that wished to hurt you in the first place a second chance. Reason is met with reason, violence is met with violence." Soah added, as he slowly increased his pace, but still made sure to keep a fair distance from the group proper. "Why do you think we're on the run? Because no one in this world can be reasoned with. Every cunt and his mother is so caught up in the politics of this world that some people start blowing up ships. If power could be reasoned with, there wouldn't be a need for killing." Soah finished, as he wrapped his cloak tighter.

He started unsure of where the boy was going with his story, but just the tone of his voice put an anxiety in Johnathon and intuitively he knew that he would not like how the story ended. He walked on in silence, listening in rapt attention and coming to understand what Adrian meant by telling this by degrees. A sad frown overcame his face little by little. What a terrible thing for a family to experience, a little boy especially. "Sorry," he muttered, looking to the ground. Once more he'd gone and said something without thinking about it. He did feel sorry for the boy, but the apology was spurred by a sense that he'd just been reprimanded. The other group members spoke up in response. As the banter between Soah and Crom continued, sadness changed to discontent on his face. The wild looking man they'd recently picked up certainly had a nerve about him, in the tavern that would have started a fight straight out. But this was the road, and they had a great distance to go before they could start squabbling without great risk. The snow was slowly thickening, the group's loud, crunching footsteps were no longer reaching the soil. Ahead, even the passes were now looming above them. At the largest, most open and lowest pass a silhouette could occasionally be made out crossing the apex, the dark-clothed travelers stood out against the white slope in places. The others seemed far more sparsely populated.

Adrian nodded as Crom spoke his wisdom. A quick flash of the hand, and Adrian wiped a tear from his eye, trying to make it look as if he was simply brushing dirt from his face. Adrian immediately stiffened at the sound of a scoff from the back of the group. Adrian silently listened to Soah's rant, rage building inside of him each passing moment. Finally, Adrian swung around, and stopped dead in his tracks as he heard Soah's words. Without a word, he charged at Soah's legs, attempting to tackle the man into the ground. Adrenaline rushed through Adrian's body. He didn't care that Soah was bigger, and even stronger. The man had just badmouthed his brother, and Adrian's new friend Crom. Adrian knew that it was likely the man was armed, but that didn't matter. Adrian wanted to hurt the man, he wanted to make the man hurt as bad as he could. In truth, Adrian had no idea how to fight, and was prepared for a straight up thumping, but he'd make sure to get a few punches in to make sure Soah knew what he had done.

Soah was surprised at Adrian's quickness, and ferocity, that he possessed as he charged towards him. Despite being surprised, Adrian was still a child, a child that Soah could handle easily. As Adrian went at Soah's legs, Soah brought his knee straight up, towards where Adrian's head would be when he attempted to tackle Soah. Soah was hoping to knock the kid out, before he really hurt himself, which could easily be accomplished by the swift knee to Adrian's face. Soah had no desire to actually hurt the kid, but teaching him a lesson seemed to be in order. Soah wouldn't admit it out loud, but Adrian had a spark that Soah was admirable of. Soah wouldn't doubt for a moment that Adrian would take on a giant, if the giant had challenged him. This quality could be respected, however, but that did not make it a smart quality, and Soah was about to impart this much needed wisdom on Adrian.

Crom shook his head as the boy rushed towards Soah. "Bloody fucking hell..." he mumbled, pulling his flask from his belt as Adrian went charging by. The mercenary turned towards the soon-to-be fight and took a long drink from his flask. He had learned long ago that if you fought every man with a smart mouth you'd be fighting half the population. However, he hadn't been particularly fond of Soah's response. Still, he doubted the young man had nearly as much skill as he thought he did, and there was no point in enforcing this point unless he became more violent. Crom watched the commotion with a sigh. He walked over to Johnathon. "Well, it seems our journey here didn't get very far without a bit of violence." He took another drink.

He'd still been looking down when Adrian blew by him on his way, turning up large puffs of snow as he charged. Johnathon flinched in surprise, his head shooting up as he spun on his heel in the snow, looking towards where Adrian was going. The look on his face hadn't been a happy one from what little he had seen, but even with only a fluttering cloak to look at his intentions were clear. Instinctively, Johnathon put his hand out to try and reel back the fighter, but Adrian was long gone and he couldn't have gotten between those two if he tried, at this distance. Crom took the words directly from his mouth, and a disbelieving "The hell?" slipped from his mouth as he watched the developing brawl. He looked over towards Crom, unsure of what to do, and saw that the other man was also opting to simply watch. A glance towards Griff yielded much the same. Letting the poor kid get hurt was definitely out of the question but in all honesty he deserved a shot at Soah for that comment. John took a hesitant step forward, unable to do anything and strangely content with that. "Shouldn't we stop this?" He asked the remainder of the group, a little nervous about his own inaction and their apparent disinterest.

Griff was a bit taken a back by Adrian's attack, but remained silent, standing with the others while the fight raged on. Glancing at Crom, Griff saw the man had gone for the same option as himself, however Johnathon seemed a bit more worried. "I say we leave them to it." Griff said in response to Johnathon. "Better for them to get this out of their system early on." He added, now in the middle of no where was much less inconvenient than it would be in a crowded town or city. Griff walked over to a large rock and took a seat, deciding to wait for the scene to play out in front of him. The end result was already clear. Adrain was just a boy and the new comer to their group looked like he could certainly handle himself. Griff could see Adrian didn't stand a chance.

The last thing Adrian heard was a sharp crack, then it was all black. After a moment, a sharp pain covered Adrian's face. He could feel the chill of the snow on his back, and he could also feel a warm liquid going down both sides of his face. Stars danced in his vision, only in the parts that weren't covered in splotches of black that also danced around. It was a circus in Adrian's vision. He felt sick, and he gingerly reach up to his nose, and dabbed the side of his face. He pulled his fingers back and a red substance covered Adrian's fingers. While the pain was substantial, Adrian did not feel the full effect. He was currently dangling on the bridge of consciousness. As he let his arm drop to his side, he let out a loud sigh. Adrian could see Soah standing above him, having no idea why he was there. Then, it suddenly hit Adrian. Almost as suddenly as he had been dropped to the ground, he was now back up on his feet, glaring at Soah. Without saying a word, Adrian reared back, and threw a weakened punch at Soah's nose. Adrian was in no shape to really keep fighting at this point, but Adrian drove on. He was completely ready to take a serious punishment, if he could simply land one hit.

Soah was impressed that the young man kept going. It was obvious he was very weakened by his current state. Soah was easily able to duck down slightly under the fist. Soah was focused on still teaching Adrian a lesson about picking fights. Soah went for a straight uppercut, trying to slam his fist right into the bottom of Adrian's chin. At this point, Soah would be even more impressed if Adrian managed to tank this hit and keep on going. Soah was no where near becoming worked over by this fight. It was almost near child's play, as it should be. Adrian had probably never even been taught how to wield a sword, much less how to handle himself in hand-to-hand combat with an opponent that was bigger than himself. Soah hoped this lesson would make Adrian think more carefully about whom he went around trying to fight.

Crom watched as Adrian and Soah brawled it out in the snow. Adrian seemed to be losing, that much was apparent, but his drive to continue even after taking a hard hit was impressive. Johnathon seemed very concerned about the altercation. Crom had seen far too many fights to get worked up over a simple exchanging of blows. Griff seemed to have the same viewpoint. "Aye, let them blow off some steam." The Esterlian watched closely. He knew Soah had a sword on him, and he thought he had noticed Adrian having a knife. That was where he'd draw the line. "If it gets too serious we can intervene, but stopping them now would just fan the flames." He took a swig from his flask before holding it out towards Johnathon. "Would you like some, mate? You need to relax a bit, there's nothing to worry about." Crom;s voice was warm and encouraging, completely masking the fact that he was ready, at a moments notice, for everything to go wrong. He knew anything could happen in the wilds. A fist fight was the least of their worries.

John took a step back, distancing himself from the intensifying fight. Soah's knee connected with Adrian's face and he fell backwards into the snow, visibly bleeding from the nose. Johnathon winced as he watched the spectacle unfold, having no real choice other than to listen to the wisdom of the other group members: let it be. It might not have been right but it wasn't his place either. Almost as hesitantly as he'd gone forward, John stepped back to join Griff and Crom on the sidelines. "Yeah, steam. I suppose so," he said slowly. Before he could progress Crom was holding out his flask to him, and for just once, perhaps because of the climb here or the fight there, a drink sounded appealing. "Thanks, Crom," John said, taking the flask and with it a quick pull of the alcohol inside, which was a warm reminder of why he did not drink. A bitter, vitriolic substance that burnt as much as it warmed. He puckered at the unwelcome taste and handed the flask back to the other man gently, shaking his head all the way. Like a punch to the face. It did clear his mind, though, and what better way to pass the time than think. Today he'd have to think with a few more minds than he was used to, on account of traveling in a group. Why not? It was the first time in a while. Once more, Johnathon turned on his heel, facing Griff and Crom with a renewed vigor obviously forced to distract himself. "I don't suppose either of you is carrying a proper map? We can't quite go ahead but we could use this time to think about where we're going." He smiled and reached into his bag, pulling out a handful of patches, most of which held stitched images of faces but the one he was looking for was a crudely copied map of Estovet embroidered onto a larger than average patch. With a gentle toss, it was set onto the snow where everyone could see it. The map bore no markings, names, or legends, but as an outline of the continent it worked well enough for the locals to tell him where he was on it, when he got there. "Not much... but it's what I usually plan on."