You could see in the way that the sweat poured from every gland on their bodies that they were at the very end of their endurance. A pair of swords clashed in the middle of the field, golden sparks causing a slight wince from both of the men. A leap back and it was over. “Good fight bro. You’re getting good. You nearly had me a few times there. But you can never beat my Gunblade with that crappy piece of army surplus shite.” Sean, looking a tad dejected, could only agree.

The years they had spent together showed. They knew what each other was thinking at any time, had trained as warriors since before they could remember, knew true pain together. They were the commanders of the mighty army opposing the evil Han rule. Sean may have been 2 years Muzza’s junior, but he had risen through the ranks of warriors as meteriocally as his closest companion and fellow outcast.

It had only taken a single word spoken against the Han in the hallowed halls of the precincts to have a reward placed on their heads. Sean had never forgiven himself, but Muzza had. Sean was all he had, and he’d be damned if he’d lose him too. They now had no family to return to, they had been killed as soon as that word had been uttered. They lived only for revenge. To collect their blood debt from the Han himself.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the two training on their off-duty hours were slowly wandering away. All but one. He came running up to the both of them. “Hey, hey sirs. When can I join your personal squads?” This one was Rad. A hopeless waste of space who only made his way into this army at all because he had links in the city in positions of power. “Uh, soon as we have an opening we think is right for you” Sean replied.

Rad ran off, happy with his answer. He didn’t hear the extra murmur added by the pair. “Too bad there ain’t anything right for you.” This was a game they played between them. It was called “Who will accidentally let slip that Rad is an irritating turd who”s life is truly pointless’. So far it was a draw and no slip-ups each. They both bit their tongues fit to bite them off. The loser bought the other’s ale for a moon.