Skurr walked slowly toward the chapel from the direction of the docks.  The fires in the city had loosed enough sparks into the winds that the sails of several vessels had caught.  There were few ships that sank for this reason, but several had, and others had suffered significant damage.  Skurr had spent the night after the battle helping to douse fires and rescue the people who were stranded on burning ships.

But, that was only after he realized that he couldn't achieve what he had set out to.  He had been following the princess and her guards, picking off the enemies chasing them one at a time from behind, but he had never been able to kill the last of them before they called for more.  It had been a rough run through bloody streets.  When they reached the chapel, he realized that he wouldn't be much use trying to hold a fixed position.  He hadn't been able to do enough to really tip the scales at the gate and he hadn't been able to eliminate the pursuers of the princess.  He hadn't even been able to... well... it had been a long night for everyone.

He passed the corner of the building and found a crate sitting against the wall.  He leaned against it and slowly slumped to sit against it, letting his spear slide until it lay across his lap.  His working leathers were covered in blood, soot, and worse.  His bare feet were black with all sorts of vileness.  His hair was matted with blood from a close call with an axe.  It hadn't even hurt until he sat down.  But, the throbbing was getting troublesome.

Skurr looked at the chapel without really seeing it.  His gaze was blank, exhausted, and lost.  He wasn't blind, though.  The man sitting on the steps of the chapel, opposite his own resting place, was the very man who had been carrying the Princess to safety.  Though, it did take him a moment to recognize him.  Oh, gods... his head hurt...