Haeo

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@Ladypug, Yeah. I was figuring that if Skurr was noticed at all then it would have been more the spear that would have caught the eye. There aren't many short spear users in the city with metal strips running down the length of the spear. Of course, by now that spear isn't very shiny.

Conversation would be a good thing, I think. Skurr will probably be looking for a career change as a result of some off screen life events of his.

Ascension: Monster Farm

@Rai, That's the problem I was running into as I was thinking about it. Though, it would be an interesting concept for a recovery based monster. It would simply need to have a symbiotic relationship with another monster that had more of an aggressive or defensive combat role. It could even be colonial, much like ants. In any case, I'll leave it at that for now. We'll see if I can come up with a less exhaustion addled concept later.

Ascension: Monster Farm

... I'm debating the viability of a monster inspired by LARP ... ... foam-like weapons and thrown sandbags included.

Fantasy RP - For those that want to 'Jump - In '

@Ladypug, what would be the odds that Cassius would notice Skurr as he was picking off Hellhound Knights during the run to the chapel?

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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...

Fantasy RP - For those that want to 'Jump - In '

Name: Skurr Nippled-Bottom
Age: 19
Profession: Fisherman
Appearance Notes: 5'8", Brown hair, Brown eyes, Tanned skin with an assortment of small scars from hooks and fish that have teeth. Handsome but not swoon-worthy. Typically wears his working leathers over a simple tunic and leggings. One long, healing cut from above his left ear to the back of his head from a nearly fatal axe strike.
Experience Notes:

-contributed to the defense of the gate in the Siege of Tamberle.
-pursued several invaders through the streets, picking them off while avoiding pitched battle.
-suffered the loss of his fiancé during the battle when fire spread to the ship that was carrying her and her family. (Will not willingly reveal this IC. But, it can be revealed by others who knew the family or the couple.)

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@Lucius Cypher, Eh, that's fine. It'll be easier to roleplay with... well... other characters... who don't fail to notice mine due to the chaos of battle.

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Skurr had dealt most of the damage he could. There were few defenders on this part of the wall, most had gone below or fallen to crossbow bolts. He was almost entirely alone. That wouldn't bother him normally. Most tavern brawls were much the same. However, he had gathered far too much attention. For all his ability as a fisherman, he was no soldier and certainly no hero. He didn't care to die and staying here meant death.

He had killed his last opponent at the top step of the stairs on this side of the gatehouse. Of all the places to use a flail, fighting up a slope is one of the worst. If the man had succeeded in getting to the top before he used the flail then Skurr would only have had about two feet on his sides to use for dodging. But, the man was still below him on the stairs and was flinging his spiked ball up that slope at Skurr. The fisherman, used to bad footing and small boats, had the entire length of the wall on either side to use for evasion. He simply took a step to the side and then lunged before the man could react.

But, this time he didn't go for a kill.

These men were acting feral, they were mad with battle and the only way to stop them would be to either break them from their madness or kill them all. He couldn't kill them all. But, just maybe, he might be able to have a greater effect by inflicting suffering... permanent suffering. He lunged low and deep, piercing the man's torso just under the ribs of his left side. The tip of his spear emerged from the man's back smartly in the center, through the spine. The wound could be fatal, but death was not guaranteed. However, the man would never use his legs again. The shock and confusion on the man's face as his legs seemingly disappeared out from under him made Skurr's gut twist but he had no time to hesitate. He kicked the man off his spear, causing him to tumble down the stairs into the legs of the men behind him. The resulting confusion and falls brought about many injuries and a delay of nearly a full minute before the next reached the top from that side. He didn't wait that long. As soon as the crippled man began his fall, Skurr began his flight back along the wall, staying low and fast while seeking a good way down off the walls.

The other stairs by the gatehouse were less effectively defended.

A couple men had managed to make it to the top in spite of the remaining defenders and their best efforts. Several of those who had tried lay dying or had fallen below. But, the defenders were being forced toward Skurr's side of the gatehouse. They would be pinned soon if they didn't move. Thankfully, one of them had the wits to call for a retreat from that position and the perception to realize that they had to flee along the wall. The two who still stood followed that order and disengaged from battle but one wasn't fast enough and was cut down from behind. The smart one and the survivor were pursued instantly. Still, they fled quickly and were able to catch up to Skurr, instinctively forming an improvised squad.

The two men were wielding a sword and a spear that had lost some of its shaft. The swordsman also had a small shield but it was split and nearly useless. But, in spite of the poor condition of their equipment, they still had fight in them. They reached a place where a small stairway descended from the wall. The two soldiers were still following Skurr but they turned down the stairs, calling for him to return and follow them.

Skurr had passed the head of the stairs by only a short distance and did turn. But, he turned to attack. They still had pursuers, three of them. The leader had a sword, the second had an axe and the third was carrying a pair of oversized cleavers. All of their weapons were bloodied. This was a risk, but if Skurr kept running then he would end up being the fish instead of the fisherman. A deep lunge allowed him to strike the leader through the center of the chest before he could understand that his preferred prey were now merely a distraction. The spine was still the target and the strike was good, but this blow was higher. The man would not be able to breathe. It would not be a quick end for him. The ferociousness of the remaining two prevented any hesitation and Skurr was forced to jump backward to avoid a deadly slash from the axe. He had lost momentum but gained time and claimed the attention of these two enemies. They were focused on him now and heedless of the fact that with a few careless steps they had passed the top of the stairs and left their backs open to an emboldened charge by the two soldiers who had headed down below.

The resulting skirmish was brief and the two soldiers and the fisherman headed down the stairs and into an alley during the brief lull in the action that surrounded them. However, they had little chance to catch their breath. One of the soldiers spotted the princess being carried down the street. He also saw that she and her guards were being pursued. The soldiers were worried and lacked confidence in their ability to help. It showed in their faces and in their hesitation. Skurr broke the tension quickly.

"What're your names?"

They looked at him and blinked for a moment before they gathered their wits enough to answer. "Rod Kalehew." Said the one with the damaged spear. "Longton Ash." Said the swordsman with the damaged shield.

"Skurr Nippledbottom. Well met. Head back to the gate and help the best fighter you can see. Get attention and buy time. Stay alive. I'll help her." Skurr said flatly. He wasn't feeling great. His breath was ragged. His skin was pale. He had the blood of strangers on his spear. His bare feet were sticky with blood and worse, and was trying to not think about the fact that his odds of surviving this battle were dropping. He might need to flee and seek refuge on one of the ships before this was over. But, he had to try and achieve something or he wouldn't be able to gain passage. Even in these times, merchant vessels rarely did anything for free. He would need collateral or connections. Collateral was difficult to run with. Connections... if he could make an impact protecting the princess's life he might be able to secure his own survival at the same time. He pulled himself up straight without waiting for a reply and quietly dashed in pursuit of the men pursuing the princess's guards.

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Skurr had waited and watched as the first volleys from the mercenary catapults struck. He had heard stories about this kind of thing, trying to create disease and weaken the will to fight. But, the Karusians seemed to lack even this knowledge. They were storming the city without giving any chance for disease to occur.

They were impatient. It made them easy to read.

They had two towers for attacking the walls but they weren't complete and would need to be moved to the wall after they were finished. It would be at least an hour for them to move such things across the sucking ground of the fens and since the moat was still present the towers shouldn't be able to reach the wall without help. Flinging waste into the city was little more than a distraction but it did mean that the catapult crews knew their ranges and could hit the walls if they aimed for them.

Skurr grabbed his basket of weapons and hoisted it on his back, taking his spear in hand, before beginning to run along the wall toward the gate at as low a crouch as he could manage. He would stay up high and keep the battlements behind his back to block the enemy's arrows and sight. From there he should be able to throw his missiles down upon the backs and heads of the forces that were certain to breach the gate. He approached the section of the wall above the gate as the clicking of crossbow bolts against the stone of the battlements became an unnatural rhythm. He had barely set down the basket when a large stone smashed through a small section of the battlements along the wall. The hit was at some distance but it did strike another of those who had been waiting to guard the wall.

The man's fate was... clear. But, there would be time for coping with the mess later.

While he had been distracted by the state of the walls, the gate had been under furious assault. His attention was wrenched back to the matter at hand by the tremendous crack of the gate splitting to allow the enemy in. The leader was a brute, he attacked like a wounded shark. He seemed to protect himself only so as to harm others. Savage and strong. It would take those with other skills to stop him. However, the men behind him were a bigger threat. They followed his lead, slaughtering those who were stunned or distracted by the leader's powerful charge. They were causing more death than that brute was.

The gate had to hold. All of the other attack methods would take far longer than this one. This was the priority and the fish were all gathered below Skurr, oblivious to the threat from above. He took up a javelin, aimed, and threw. Four paces behind the leader, one of the attackers fell with a gurgle as his pierced throat failed to serve its usual purpose. Another javelin followed, and another. The basket had been a little heavy but it still could carry only so many weapons. Eight javelins brought down eight enemies. Five harpoons also found their marks before one of the attackers raised the cry about the attacker above. That one could have dodged, Skurr aimed for the leader instead, hurling one of his last three harpoons at his low back. It was one of the hardest places to protect and an usual target for most. But, for a fisherman, the lower spine was a great target. If you could hit it, you could keep your catch far fresher and make better money at port. Besides, this guy wouldn't go down from one harpoon and a fisherman didn't need glory. He just needed to make the savage a little easier for the others to kill.

Several of the attackers had found stairs and were charging up to attack him. He had two harpoons left and precious little time to throw them. He quickly tossed one in a long, high arc over the wall. He hoped it would hit someone still crossing the bridge but he couldn't spare the time to look. If nothing else, it might stick and trip someone into the moat. There were things in the waters here that got... aggressive... when agitated. His last harpoon he trained on the head of the stairs, hurling it the moment his gut told him to. It hit a shield made of simple wood. They had known what to expect of a ranged fighter. But, they had failed to factor in one key difference between harpoons and arrows. Harpoons were as heavy as any other light spear and barbed so that they could not be pulled out. The lead mercenary found his light shield to suddenly be quite a bit heavier than he remembered. It slowed him down and threw off his balance. Skurr's sudden lunge with his short spear caught the man in the face and sent him screaming back toward the ground.

Then the fight began in earnest.

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Atop the walls were many figures. Seen from a distance, most would look alike with subtle movements and a stiff and nervous manner. Having to simply stand and wait for the chaos on the fens to spread and lash the city walls was a tough challenge for the young and impatient. But, fishing rewards patience, stillness, sure strikes and the waters around the shipping routes had a valuable bounty for those who had no fear of getting a little dirty. Though, in times like these, the men with the skills to reap those rewards were mostly gathered aboard the merchant vessels. Their skills would be useful on the waves.

One of them had joined the shapes on the wall. Perfectly still, he stood calmly. He had a tall basket of woven fen grass beside him on his right that was full of javelins and harpoons. Leaning against the wall on his left was a short spear with strips of metal running the length of the pole between the spike that tipped it and the steel capped butt that had proven useful in several dockside scuffles. He wore little by way of armor, a simple leather jerkin with detached sleeves that included gloves and thick leather pants that were long enough to almost cover the fact that the young man was barefoot. Boots could slip on wet stone as easily as on wet deck boards.

The young man was in a shadowed place between torches where the presence of lights made him all the more difficult to see. Scurr Nippled-Bottom was not a person with great prospects. But, he was handsome enough and he knew how to hide from the fish and the Black Squid of the deeps. He was almost ready to marry his girl too. It would be dangerous, but a little loot from the battle and he'd be able to afford that dress that Lita'd been wanting. It'd help soothe her father's doubts about him too. In the meantime, she and her family were busy securing passage with one of the more reputable merchants.

She'd be safe, at least.

His thumb slowly traced the pattern of a charm she had given him, a lock of her hair braided in a betrothal knot and secured with a strip of white linen. He tucked the charm in his belt, secure but out of the way, while being careful to not move anything that could be seen above the battlements. His stillness would make him seem like part of the wall rather than a defender. It should help him get the drop on the first enemies to approach. He swallowed hard. He had never killed a man before. He wasn't looking forward to it. He cast a sidelong glance down the length of the wall to where that noble lady was standing. She was a looker, he wouldn't lie, but there was something about her that put him off. Eh, he was happy with his Lita. But, maybe if he stuck just close enough to this lady he might be able to ride the shadows and make both his mark and his profit. Riding the shadows was what harpooners like him did best, skimming the edge of the most active fishing grounds and picking off the prey that were distracted by the commotion. Most of their catches were literally in the shadows of other boats, either right under their noses or hiding in the shadow cast by their sails. Hopefully, he'd be able to read the shadows well enough to not get caught up in the fighting too much. Death didn't bring profit... or ring wedding chimes.