The sounds of reconstruction and continuing salvage efforts were muffled by the thin wood walls of the worn building.  Little more than a shack, it had been Skurr’s home for some time.  Skurr sat on his single small stool.  His hair was clean and his wound was closed but it was likely to scar.  His hair might never properly cover that line where the axe had struck.  But, that truly was unimportant.  He had never made his way in the world by his looks in the first place.  But, could he make his way in a broken city that had earned the ire of a powerful man?  Could he stay?

At his feet was a travel sack with all of his small collection of possessions.  His spear stood against the wall with one thin ray of outside light glinting on its blade.  There was a sheaf of harpoons and a smaller one of javelins leaning against the simple bed beside it as well.  His eyes had not strayed from that sight since before dawn.  He had meant to only get his things in order while ordering his thoughts.  Before he knew what he was doing he had packed as though he was never coming back.  Then again, he didn’t have a reason to come back once he left.  Maybe his body knew something that his mind hadn’t come to realize yet.  His head didn’t hurt much anymore, just a bit of an ache if he moved to aggressively.

He had nearly joined her in the afterlife.  No… he wouldn’t have been with her, not even there.  They weren’t joined so firmly as that.  He had done his best, he knew that beyond a doubt.  But, he had still failed to truly accomplish anything.  No… he had saved a few lives.  He had ended the lives of some who needed to die.  He had survived.  It was just disheartening that he had failed to do anything that he had actually set out to do.  In fact, he had only survived thanks to the determined skills of a stranger.

Even with her help, it had been close.  His memories of those days were vague and confusing, a blurred mix of memories, nightmares, and fleeting moments of consciousness.  Those memories… had been vivid enough that he thought he was going to join them.  But the nightmares were even more potent.  He thought that he had gotten over his fear of them.  Perhaps that was impossible.  No fisherman… could truly escape his fear of the shadows in the deep.  Even in his brief moments of lucidity, he had been driven by the dregs of that lingering fear.

After he was finally well enough to be left alone he had begun rebuilding his strength as fast as possible.  His days were a determined cycle of hard work, rest, and food.  Though, he had been careful to avoid letting his healer spot him working.  He knew that she would be worried if she knew how hard he was working to recover his strength.  Still, he wasn’t a fool.  He knew that danger doesn’t sleep or flee when good people become weak.  He needed his strength back, and quickly.  That may have been his first battle but it wasn’t likely to be the last.  It seemed like the balance of power was shattering like poorly maintained skiffs in a storm.  The shadows will feed well for the next few years it seems.

A sudden change in the noise outside disrupted his thoughts, words in a voice that was vaguely familiar.  Then a knock at the door and a familiar call.  It was time for his daily treatment… and he had company as well.  The time for thinking seemed to be over.  He had left the door unbarred so he simply waited for a break in the conversation outside.

“Enter… all of you that will fit.”  Skurr said loudly as he turned his focused brown eyes on the doorway.  His tone was calm but his voice was pitched to carry well.  They probably would have heard him clearly even if the door and walls weren’t full of gaps.


[@Zaphander] [@Strange Rodent] [@Royaletutor59]