Kru’ll Rage

Everything was in pain. His eyes still stung, his muscles ached, and now the metal in his arm seethed with agony.
Tarmen was tired. He had been trying to play a nicer role out here, understand the people and their ways or finish a fight quick if they didn’t want to be pricks. He had opened up to others and had been trying to find his place among them. He could also see he had become soft from this, able to be drugged,bound, and beaten by three worthless rats. In Kru’ll, he had been respected and feared. Free to do as he pleased with no regrets, no one’s judgment to worry about.
The last year had been nothing but one failure after the next, one loose end after another, and always another damned quest from mystery ‘gods’.
Tonight was a breaking point and he wanted someone to suffer, to become the savage he had been just once more.
The woman had landed near the shallow pool and Tarmen trudged his way over to her with a cold fury.
Thankfully the tumble had winded her as well, sucking in air as a red color flooded her hair. Tarmen could feel a few trickles of blood himself, but didn’t pay them any mind as he wrenched the assassin by her hair.
She clawed out of instinct, scraping bits of skin from his arm as he hauled her in the water. The kicks that began let him know she wasn’t stupid and took joy in how the sand betrayed her as well. She gained purchase once, only to be dragged below the once calm waters, mostly eating sand as it had yet to pass his shins. The low level didn’t bother him in the slightest, having learned young that you didn’t need much of the vital liquid to end someone.
She still clawed, a particularly rigorous thrash allowing her claws to dig into his cheek. Reeling from the strike, she only got a breath before Tarmen stomped on her back before grabbing her again, this time around her throat.
She tried to claw, but Tarmen wasn’t going to allow that again. She didn’t have the air to cry out as her hand was left several digits lighter. He then began smashing her face into the wet sands, a pent up well of frustration and anger being let out with his feral howls.
When she finally quit struggling, he took a moment to breath amidst the reddened pool, still gripping the body in case it wasn’t quite done yet.
Appreciative as he was for the brief moment of solitude, it did make him nervous and he left the woman’s corpse to look around for the man with the whip to end this. Reaching their now ruined camp first, he came upon a small glimmer of light in this storm as he saw his machete amongst the other scattered supplies. Glad to have it in his hand again, its touch brought some calm to his roiling mind and he figured the best place to look would be the girl. Feeling the pain in his arm rise again, he cursed and moved towards where she had last been.