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[+] Kursha Vidari

Keeping low and moving fast, Kursha pressed west through the swamp. He zigzagged north and south at regular intervals. Reeds lashed against his sides and mud splashed up over his boots as he ran. He looked no better than when he had staggered out of the caverns. His hair hung limp over his back, his clothes were drenched with sweat, and his breath was beginning to leave him in short bursts. He had been run ragged. The hot swamp air offered no relief for his burning lungs. On the bright side, most of his wounds remained closed, so he was not at risk of bleeding out. He might have been at risk of dying from sheer exhaustion however. He had spent the past two nights relentlessly pursuing the remainder of the rebel forces. With nothing to go off of but the knowledge that the coast was at his back, he had the whole eastern half of swamp to cover. So he pushed himself to his limits. Beyond them. It seemed that one way or another, he was drawn to self-destruction. But there was no alternative.

The captured rebels had been a decoy—even with his fumbling, sleep-deprived reasoning he could work out that much. They had split up to distract him from his real goal. There was no other reason he for him to have caught Byakko so easily. No other reason she would have responded in the way that she did. But Kursha was not deterred. He had a mission to carry out. While everything else may have fallen apart, he still stood a chance to redeem himself. He just had to succeed in this one thing: killing the mother grub.

Regina's orders had been clear. Eliminate the mother grub. Make it look like an accident. Unfortunately at this point, an accident would be difficult to manufacture. But such measures would not be necessary. There would be no witnesses to tell otherwise.

The rifle bumped against his back. It was heavier than his old gun but Kursha hardly felt it. He hardly felt anything any more. Not the pain from his injuries, not his weariness, not even the anger he stoked to keep his will burning. The journey and all its trials had rendered him numb. Maybe that signified he was near his end. The flock of mosquitoes that chased him like a shadow of death seemed to think so. Or maybe they just knew an easy meal when they saw one. Either way, it meant nothing. All of his being was focussed on the horizon where his target awaited him.

Literally, as it turned out.

Kursha drew to a stop, squinting at the dark shape in the distance. His pupils flickered and after a moment the shape became clear. It was the mother grub, being carted along in a wagon along with all her spawn. Kursha straightened. Unslinging the rifle from over his shoulder, he moved across the field to intercept the caravan. He stopped at a dry patch. Gun lowered, he waited. It would only be a matter of time before they saw him. Let them. Three nights of hell was enough. The games were done.

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 20
Eagle Eyes: 2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

It was not until he heard the voice that he saw the figure racing towards him. Deep beneath the layers of accumulated numbness, Kursha felt a stirring in his bile sack. He knew that voice. He recognised that silhouette. His pump biscuit clenched, overtaken by a sudden flash of heat. A raw, tight feeling settled in his digestive cavity. Like a hot iron it steamed his insides, until it boiled over.

Of all the worthless, meddling...

Every hair stood on end. His body turned rigid. Lips curled to show his clenched teeth. His placid expression transformed into a snarl. Around the barrel of the gun, his fingers were white. Not once had Ganyma crossed him, not twice, but three times. Three times the tealblood had interfered and come out on top. Three times Kursha had been robbed of retribution.

Absolutely unforgivable.

That it seemed was not enough though. Crushing his pride, stealing his vengeance, and shedding the proof of his significance had not been enough for Ganyma Callow. He also had to obliterate Kursha's one chance for redemption, destroying everything he had worked for. There was no use pretending otherwise. Ganyma would only find satisfaction in Kursha's ruin.

Kursha's hands trembled. It was so selfish. He had never heard of anything so selfish. Ganyma was motivated not by any desire to win or any moral obligation, but by pure spite. Spite for Kursha. The realisation tapped deep into the root of Kursha's anger. Ganyma did not understand. Or maybe he did and he just didn't care.

How dare you... How dare you!

Kursha did not remember firing the first shot, the second, or the third. One moment he had stood there, captivated by rage as the tealblood barrelled towards him, and the next he was feeling the heavy bite of the recoil in his shoulder. He drew in a shaky breath. The sound of gunfire rang in his ears. Yet Ganyma was still coming.

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 20
Eagle Eyes: 2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

20/20
Regen: 3/3
Offensive B Trinket: 1/1
Ganyma does 0 damage! lol

There was no time to wait for Kursha to open up – it was either now, or the Mother Grub was done for. Ganyma cursed under his breath and shot out of the underbrush. He was too late to get a hit in, but not enough to barrel into Kursha from the side and knock the gun out of position before it could damage the broodmother. He shook from the small but sturdy impact and tried to brace himself for what was to come. There was no telling what Kursha could do at this range; the best that he could manage to retaliate was to hope for the best and be as evasive as possible.

16/20
Regen: 3/3
Offensive B Trinket: 1/1
Ganyma does 2 damage!

“Nngh!” Ganyma was hit. He cursed under his breath. The only option now was to disarm Kursha and lock him in before he could take a step back. The tealblood winced against the sharp sensations in his shoulder. He had braced himself. He couldn’t feel himself putting his flesh back together yet, and it was cutting at him. He had to wait – there was no telling what else Kursha could deliver.

He swept towards Kursha, bringing his arm into the greenblood’s torso. No tricky play with his gun yet – with any luck he’d knock some wind out of his foe and buy time to do more damage. That was the hope.

14/20
Regen: 3/3
Offensive B Trinket: 1/1
Ganyma does 5 damage!

Ganyma was knocked back, his skin splitting open where the hard rifle hit. He squinted with the pain reverberating through his horns and stumbled – his breath now uneven as the struggle to regain his senses accelerated. Ganyma backed off enough to make a short run and leap into Kursha, struggling to pull him away.

“Get away from here!” He shouted. “Just go! Killing them…!” Ganyma drew his fist back; in the quick fight Kursha may not have noticed that the blade had been retracted. The blow connected. “Makes no difference!”

In some part of his mind, Ganyma knew the rebels were already hopeless. All Kursha could do was take credit. In some way at least taking that away meant something.

11/20
Regen: 3/3
Offensive B Trinket: 1/1
Military +1

Ganyma does 7 damage.

Ganyma’s vision was filled with blood, but it would hardly stop him. He braced himself for the attack to his gut and jerked backwards just in time with a wheeze.

Kursha’s words made his blood boil. That was it. With a huff from his nostrils, Ganyma lumbered to his feet and clenched every muscle. It felt like pain – it felt like charging up to regenerate when there was nothing to gain. The click of the safety meant that there was no time to waste, but Ganyma knew that he was about to get a face full of lead. He didn’t care. He was ready to walk into hell, and he was taking Kursha with him one way or another.

“Don’t kid yourself. We ain’t never been on the same side. You don’t give a s**t about sides, ‘n neither do I.”

The tealblood stalked up to Kursha and went for the barrel of the gun, but this time he braced it at chest level with little attempt to push it aside.

“All you care about is being on the winning side. Have you won yet? Clearly not, ‘cos you’re still here. Shooting a giant, defenseless grub to make yourself feel better. Shoot me. See if you win.”