"Oh for fu-" a fist cracked into Kor'Ak's jaw as his eyes darted open, teeth cutting into his tongue as blood began to fill his mouth. It was hard to tell what was going on, his vision was blurry and his mind felt slow, he pulled his neck away from the blade that was pressed to his throat, and another meaty strike cracked against the side of his head. He was forced to the ground, deft hands and strong arms quickly pulling his arms behind him as he felt a rope tighten and fasten them together.

A thin blade slipped past Kor'Ak's steel collar and pressed gently against the nape of his neck, urging him to go forwards. He complied, slowly bringing himself to his feet and stumbling out of the wagon, unable to keep himself well balanced or to even get himself up onto his feet properly without his hands.

The first thing he saw was Steal, dangling upside down and screeching up a storm, his tiny leg clutched in a brutish looking man's hand; his hood had been pulled away, and it was clear as day to anyone that could see that the wiry little creature was a goblin. Which otherwise would have been cause for alarm for their employer, if the wizard didn't currently have his hands bound behind his back and a knife to his neck just like Kor'Ak.

The wizard must have been caught by surprise before he could cast a spell, otherwise Kor'Ak was astonished that he hadn't been awoken by the crackling of lightning or roar of an inferno.

The idiot wizard probably wasn't looking out properly, and with his hands bound, there was no way he could cast most offensive spells that could get the party out of this situation.

In other words, they were fucked.

This thought was only consolidated when his brain finally registered the sixteen men stood around them; the largest of them stood taller than Kor'Ak at about eight-foot. The thick scales that covered his skin did not shine or glisten, no, they were a dull grey, like stone. Massive muscles rippled beneath his scales, a body far more developed than Kor'Ak's. His head elongated into something similar to a short, scaly snout. The creature didn't wield a weapon, but instead, thick, sturdy claws sprang from his thick fingertips. Slitted, yellow eyes looking down on his captives.

He was a Drauga. He was a Dragonman.

Kor'Ak quietly concluded that they were, in fact, super-fucked.

All of them, including the Drauga wore a variety of mismatched armour, ranging from common clothes to old, battered helmets and chestplaces. Some clutched tightly to spears, others awkwardly gripped shields, brandishing axes, sickles and hammers at them in a pitiable attempt at intimidation. A few of them had swords, though even those looked well-worn and ill-maintained. Two of those few currently had those very same blades pressed into Kor'Ak and Kelvin's backs. 

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They looked like peasants, farmers and craftsmen. Men not cut out for the whole 'banditing' business. The majority of these bandits likely wouldn't cause any real trouble for even Steal, less adept than even novice adventurers. It was the Drauga that was the real issue. The last time he'd saw one of those Dragonmen in action, he'd saw them headbutt a man to death.

Admittedly, being bound was also a humungous problem.

One of the less-armoured men made his way past Kor'Ak, after a few seconds, he could hear the sound of cloth drapes parting and then the noise of hasty rummaging, bags being tossed out from the wagon and hitting the stone road.

A loud clatter as the metal box bounced off the stone and hit the ground hard, Kelvin glanced over at the box, his face drained to a porcelain white, and his eyes wide with concern, or possibly, probably terror from their current situation. The young wizard voice seemingly couldn't help himself. "N-n-no! be careful with that, it's valuable!"

Kor'Ak glared at the young man, they were going to take everything anyways, probably even their lives, so why even waste the time singling out an item, at the very least, he could have let them think it was worthless, damaging whatevers inside would decrease it's value; he could atleast spite these bandits profiteering from the afterlife.

The Drauga took a step forward and called out, a voice that seemed to constantly be snarling with every syllable. "Bring it here!" the snarl was directed to the robber that was currently pilfering Kelvin's wagon, as the boy picked up the case and started shambling towards the Drauga, the giant of a man looked to Kor'Ak and Kelvin "If it's valuable enough, we might let you live. After taking everything of value of course. You can keep your underwear and enough food to make it back to Veera, I'm an honourable man after all."

Kor'Ak roared back "Go fuck yourself"

The boy let the metal case down by the Drauga's feet, but he merely pushed it behind him with his scaly, clawed feet.

"Ah, a brave one? Djaalic man, like I said, I am a man of honor. I am Groka, proud Drauga, I will let you challenge me, if you win, you and the other's can leave." The Drauga snout curled into a smug grin "When you lose, I will execute you, this weedy blonde man, and your annoying goblin pet."

It should be noted, that this entire time, Steal had been constantly screaming, attempting to bite and lunge at the rather large man that was holding him at arm's length by the ankle.

Kor'Ak grinned back at the Dragonman "Cut me free, and I'll beat you to a pulp you scaly fucker"

The Drauga, Groka nodded, Kor'Ak felt a blade saw through rope, the gentle vibrations as the rope was cut travelled up his arms until he finally felt his hands come free. The bandit behind him backed off a few feet, and a dozen men formed a circle around the Drauga and Kor'Ak, weapons brandished to create a makeshift barrier, forcing the two combatants into an arena no wider than twenty feet, it was possible that either of the fighters could try and break out from the arena, but they'd probably be wounded, and if Kor'Ak ran, both Kelvin and Steal would be promptly killed.

Speaking of which, Kelvin had been brought to the floor, head poking out from beneath one of the bandit's legs, forced to watch the fight with a blade still held to his throat. Steal was treated rather insultingly, two of the robbers had managed to hook his clothing onto a spear, and held him aloft, overlooking the duel about seven feet in the air, still squirming and howling.

Groka took a step forward, the Dragonman's scaly fist sprang forward, Kor'Ak brough his arms up to guard against the blow.

That was when the Djaal felt every bone in his forearm shatter simultaneously.