The group stepped out to find people shouting and running around. No blood seemed to have been spilled yet, but groups were clearly forming for the impending battle. The camp was split roughly in half as the teams coalesced, split behind Tonkins and around the large tent that served as Tintin’s palace of sorts.

The din quieted down as Tonkins called out, “Tintin! Come out of your filthy hovel you call a tent and face your band! We have had it with your shit ways of leading and demand new blood!”

The group that was around her tent broke out in anger, hurling insults and curses at Tonkins. His side followed suit, screaming obscenities at the side that supported their chosen leader until the noise decayed into general screaming. The two groups still stood apart, but the tension in the air was thick enough a dulled butter knife could slice through it with ease.

Tonkins raised his hands for silence and his group fell quiet. Some of the group opposing fell quiet, but more than half still threw curses and in some cases, spit, at the man. They finally calmed down when the flap of the large tent began to move. A tanned hand came out and the near naked consort followed it. He came through and turned back, everything exposed as Devin saw the loincloth only covered his front, and pulled open the flap for his queen.

A filthy lump of flesh slid into the bright sunlight. The offal covered human known as Tintin followed through, probably leaving the tent for the first time in days, perhaps weeks. Devin swore he saw her shrink back from the sunlight as it crossed her face and a small hiss escaped her. She frowned heavily and glared at the group around her. Everyone had now fallen deathly quiet.

“Who dares to interrupt the leisure time of the Queen of Brigands, Tintin?” Her child-like voice rang through the clearing, shrieking like metal scraping against metal. Her piggy eyes swiveled around in the sunken holes of her head until they fell on Devin and his group.

“And who let the prisoners out? I did not decree this! How dare any of you defy my orders! How dare you defy the Queen? I need to know who is responsible for this, Right! Now!” She stamped her foot with the last couple of words, her legs shaking with each stamp.

Always the asshole comedian, Devin heard Murton mumble, “Gonna kill her own people with her breath if she keeps that up.”

He could not help but try to suppress a grin. He even heard what could have been a small chuckle escape Shia behind him.

“I do!” Tonkins stood defiantly apart from his group. The two factions had formed a circle around the fire that was still blazing. He stood just to the side of the fire, sword in hand and glaring at the current leader of their band. The flames of the campfire danced against the clean steel sword, making it seem as if it was alight itself. Devin wondered if he had stood there specifically for the effect or it was just dumb luck on the brigands part.

Tintin’s eyes swung around and fell on Tonkins. A look of disgust overcame her and she spat, “I should have guessed it would be you who tried to usurp me from my rightful throne!”

“Quit talking like you're some queen of a kingdom! You’re just a flea ridden woman who happens to lead a group of well armed bandits! You didn't even get the weapons or armor for us, it just fell into your lap through sheer dumb luck!”

“Silence! Silence you mangy cur! I’ll have you put down like the animal you are!” Tintin raised her right hand and snapped her fingers, though the sound was less of a snap and more of a sliding of flesh. “Kill him, consort!”

The nearly naked man dropped the flap behind the queen and nodded to her. He stepped in front of her and towards Tonkins. The bandits were in a full circle now, with small gaps between the opposing factions, and the air was still save for the crackle of the flame.

As the consort approached Tonkins murmured, “Don't do this Grevor. You know you don't have to do this. I know you cannot stand being that pig's playtoy. You have no armor and are carrying a spear. Please, you do not want to do this.”

Grevor raised his head to meet Tonkins gaze, Devin could see the sadness and defeat written all over the man's features. This was a man who was broken, so far broken he did not think he could be redeemed.

“I am sorry, Tonkins,” he whispered, just barely audible over the fire. He swung the long bladed spear around with remarkable speed, aiming to cleave Tonkins in two. Tonkins was just able to fall back and avoid the blow. The surprise quickly melted into anger as he gained his footing.

Grevor was on the attack and followed his swing with a downward blow. Tonkins parried the spear, sending it sideways into the dirt. He spun and tried to close the distance to get close enough so that the length of the spear would be a hindrance rather than help. Grevor leapt backward with remarkable agility and brought the butt of his spear up to counter the slice from Tonkins. A loud clang of metal on ironwood filled the air around them.

“Please Grevor, I do not want to hurt you. You know she is terrible for us, look what she has brought us too! For god's sakes man, you're a fucking slave for a pile of filth that doesn’t even bother to clean herself, let alone her nether areas! Does she have you clean that for her or does she make you swim in the filth?”

Devin could see tears streaking down Grevor's face, stripes of clean skin against the dust that was beginning to float around them as they fought. They circled each other, weapons still locked, and Devin saw tears were running down Tonkins face as well.

“You know I can’t,” Grevor whispered again. “I’m in too far, the things I’ve done for her.” He pushed Tonkins away and they both stumbled back. Grevor was quicker, recovering his footing, and leapt toward Tonkins with his spear pulled back. As he neared he thrust.

Tonkins twisted to the side but was not quite quick enough. The blade flashed forward and tore into the armor covering his left ribs. He let out a startled yelp of pain and brought his sword up. Grevor’s arm was overextended and caught the brunt of the blow. The blade cut deep into his arm and both men retreated again.

Grevor's arm was bleeding heavily, a small river of blood running down onto the spear shaft and being gobbled up by the dry, thirsty ground as it fell. Tonkins was clutching at his side with his left hand, blood welling slowly through fingers. He held his sword out in front of him and was closing toward Grevor warily.

“Give it up Grevor. We’ve all done shitty things. We all slaughtered that poor village, killing even the women and children. I dashed a crying infant's head against a wall! It is a time to start over, a new beginning for us.” He waved back toward Devin and his group. “They are going to get us pardons, let us start fresh! We can do things the right way this time.”

Grevor stood up straight and brought the spear up with him, held in front of him and covered in his own blood. He wobbled a little and Devin saw the cut was deeper than he initially thought. Small spurts seemed to escape the wound with each beat of the man's heart. Grevor looked Tonkins in the face and shook his head slowly.

“I can't live with the things I’ve done, Tonkins. I’m sorry you are the one that has to do this.” He brought the spear down low and charged in towards Tonkins. Tonkins raised his sword, parrying the swing that came up towards his face. Blood was arcing off Grevors arm as he whirled around, throwing everything he had into the assault.

Tonkins kept parrying the blows, swinging the spear around in an attempt to disarm Grevor.

“Dammit man! Please! I don't want to kill you!” he shouted.

Grevor did not answer and just kept swinging, tears now flowing freely. Tonkins kept parrying each blow and Grevor began to slow, the injury on his arm starting to catch up with him. Seeing the change in rhythm, Tonkins pushed forward after blocking a swing and shoved his shoulder into Grevor.

Grevor stumbled back into the dirt. He rolled backwards, back onto his feet, and transferred the spear to his left hand. Twirling it deftly, he leapt back into an assault with a renewed strength. He was talented with his left hand and arm, but the swings were clumsier and had less speed behind them.

Tonkins kept blocking blows from all around him. Sweat was starting to show on both men’s faces, the strain of a protracted battle and the blood loss catching up to them. Grevor brought his spear in a wide strike and Tonkins caught a nock in the shaft with his sword, He twisted his blade and swung down. Grevor dropped the spear and it fell to the ground with a muted clatter.

Tonkins immediately pressed in and shoved into Grevor's shoulders. With his right foot he caught Grevor's ankle and started to shove him down. He swung his sword as the man fell and cut his arm off at the elbow. Grevor screamed as he fell and Tonkins levelled the sword at the now prone man's throat. Tonkins was panting heavily and Grevor held his stump up slightly towards him, as if it would ward away the sword.

“Concede old friend. Please. Do it for me, do it for the band. Do it for Elsa.” Tonkins said softly. Blood ran down the sword and dripped onto Grevor's neck, pooling in the small hollow his throat made.

He lay on the ground, eyes glittering up at Tonkins with anger or fear, it was hard to tell what from Devin's viewpoint. His chin had a soft quiver and his head dropped back onto the ground. Tonkins let out a long sigh and moved the point of his sword away from Grevors neck.

“Come, friend,” He extended his hand to the fallen man, “Let us end this together.”

“Agreed,” Grevor said. Tonkins never saw the spear come flying up and collide with his head. The blade flashed as it passed through him and Tonkins was left with his lower jaw missing. He made a few gurgling noises in surprise and reached up to the missing part of his face. His eyes grew wide as he felt nothing.

Grevor drew the spear back and rammed it through the throat of Tonkins, killing him. The body of the man dropped, sprawling over Grevor. Grevor grunted as the heavy weight hit him. He tried to push the body off, but the pushes were getting more and more feeble. After a final push, he let the body just fall back on top of him.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” he whispered. Grevor’s head collapsed back onto the ground and rolled slightly. Lifeless eyes were now transfixed on the group of five. The entire camp was silent, everyone staring at the two men in shock. As the spell of what had just happened slowly broke, the sound of weapons being drawn from sheaths began to fill the air around the band of five.

“Oh shit,” Griff grunted.