Endre says nothing as the others say a few words and quickly do what they can to ease the pain of those they have known passing. He leans quietly against a dilapidated sand scored cabinet, quietly cleaning his rifle of carbon scoring and the thick cloying dust that seems to get everywhere. He is relatively new to the band, finally tiring of his self imposed exile and seeking out the companionship of those who do not hate him for what he is. At least for a little while. He knows that this is not likely to last for long, eventually words or bullets will fly and he will be back alone on the dusty road until loneliness forces him to seek companionship yet again. 

Finally when the others begin speaking of plans her shakes himself from his melancholy and begins to reassemble his rifle with clean practiced movements that speak of a relative lifetime of muscle memory. He nods to Mercy as his hands continue to work at his weapon.[color=ed1c24] "They were desperate, I doubt they left any men behind. They attacked us with the ferocity of cornered animals. If there is anything of value left in their camp, wherever it may be. Chances are that it is water, water is heavy and hard to transport. Prey to your god, and if they are good perhaps they had some kind of heavy foodstuffs as well."[/color] He thinks back to the desperation of the attack, and the whipcord thin bodies on some of their attackers. [color=ed1c24]"Though I would not bed our survival on it. I will take my bike back. It should have enough fuel to get me there, and it has two empty jerry cans if I find a water source. And I have cords if they have some nicely prepared for us."[/color]

He turns towards the door slinging his rifle over one shoulder before running his roughly calloused hands over one of the horns sweeping back beside his head. [color=ed1c24]"Make sure that you search our fallen allies vehicles, friends though they may have been many will still choose themselves over their comrades."[/color] Turning his demonic visage away from the others he heads quickly towards his bike, slowly checking it over before mounting it with ease. Lifting his canteen to his lips he takes a small sip, hearing the liquid within it slosh and feeling it's deceptive weight. In this heat? It will not be enough, not nearly enough. Finally he kicks his leg down savagely once, and then twice before the satisfying roar of his powerful beasts rends the air with its fury. He calls out over the roar, barely audible over the savage noise. [color=ed1c24]"That firefight was long and loud, they know we are hurting. Watch for the vultures."[/color]