A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud.

Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest.

After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength.

Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward. 

The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free.

Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself.