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When no one had approached the dying rogue Charlie came through the crowd and approached the enraged Pinky. He had wanted nothing more to do with this rogue, but that didn't mean that he wanted him dead.

His hazel eyes locked with the bandit King as he took the rod from his hands. Not in challenge of his decision, but rather showing him he was not scared and was willing to spare Dantes' life.

"I'll do it." He spoke plainly as he knelt before the unconscious Dantes and pressed the hot rod against the nub that was once a tongue.

When Charlie approached, Riot rotated his shoulder and arm to hand off the rod to the rogue. He let the bandanna stay with the hot rod.

Well there was one that cared about another's life. It was a lesson and a harsh one for the fool to not watch his words and neglect the warning of his comrades. Not only did he lose his tongue, and a good zoid, but respect as well.

Riot turned from the sight as it was finished. His bare back shown to the crowd as he moved over to a table of collection of liquor that was set to be packed up.

The smell of another man's blood wasn't pleasent. Dumping some of the bottles and left liquor fulled mugs he dumped it over him and used it remove the collected blood on his chest and face. It stung like hell, but water was to precious, and Riot didn't enjoy the smell of blood either. No mind the looks, it was a long night and he didn't care...

As men walked passed carrying objects to load in the cargo zoids. The whole camp, moved back to work after the little event passed. It was like watching a carnival of misfits packing up to move to the next town.

Setting down a mug after Riot poured it over his face, his hand fallowed to wipe off the blood splatter that had collected on it. His other hand propped himself up and held on the egde of the table as he hunched his weight on it still standing.

Feeling a gaze on him, Riot opened a eye past the streams of booze on his face. He looked up and strightened to see her. It was the chick from before...

Grabbing a shirt that was left on the chair, he moved it over his face and torso like towel. He watched the chick in her silence, his face was still hardened from the scene from before, his blue gaze matched her glare.

What was she looking at...

Turning his head finally, Riot tossed the shirt to the table and turned away to his tent. He needed to pack up as well...

With the whole ordeal over, Blade watched for a few seconds as the rogues dispersed to do whatever they were doing moments ago. From there, he speculated whether he should try to help the gang pack up or head on out himself. Either way, there wasn't much sense in standing around.

Turning about as he thought on it, a small glint of light in the sands caught his attention. Drawn towards it, he went on over to see what it was. Once he was closer, he saw what appeared to be a knife or dagger of sorts, half buried in the sand.

Not that big of a surprise, as he was certain half the people around here carried such weapons. Reaching down, he lifted it up carefully, looking it over.

As the hour passed, The camp was picked up and the freshly killed where left to burn in a silently in a fire. It was the best Burial a rogue could be given in the desert and on a 'cursed' land.

The working zoids and salvaged parts where lead out by a single mechanical stead. What was left a few useless parts, those that chose not to fallow, and the rotten corpses. The party had ended and the camp had moved. Ebony's whisper faded off into the sea of sand.