Haeo

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

Well... I guess the next question... is when will another start? Or, do you want a break for awhile to recharge, @Jangel13?

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

Indeed. That can't be complained about. And, even if things were to end here, I have developed my character enough to possibly transplant him elsewhere in some form so it hasn't been a waste from that perspective either. Though, maybe I'll be lucky enough to get in on one of these at the beginning next time. That would probably be a bit more fun.

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@Strange Rodent@Zaphander@Royaletutor59

Skurr watched the three women enter his tiny home. It briefly crossed his mind that this was the largest number of people the building had ever held at once, to say nothing of the number of women. There was the bed and one chair. Other than that, only the floor remained for seating options and a certain part of that was occupied with his packed belongings. He had little to say at this point, these had their reasons for coming. They would get down to it when they were ready. A fisherman knew how to wait for the other to move first. He didn't know what would bring these three to his door.

One at least was a regular visitor, her presence made sense. He sat on the chair without a word as the healer did her work. His eyes, however, focused on the other two. One was a complete stranger. The other, though...

"You beat him after all. The brute at the gate." He said without preamble with his eyes locked onto those of the warrior woman. "He was a tough one."

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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

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Things are getting really busy right now and I'm going to have trouble posting until... probably May 1st at least. I have already started on my nest post and I intend to finish it soon but I can't promise speedy replies for awhile. Family is coming and I'll have another little baby to care for in less than a month. Busy times.

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Life is exhausting right now but I'll try to get a post up before work tomorrow morning.

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@Royaletutor59 That would work as well. The strongest impression of a person is usually what people remember first so, in Annabeth's case, it's his fighting ability and the fact that he survived. In the case of someone who arrived later it would probably have more to do with his surviving infection and delirium. It could also include rumors about him, either from those who saw him hunting enemies through the streets or from those who might be in-the-know about the death of his fiancé and her family.

A key part of any story is the difference in perspective between characters. I'm hoping to strengthen that a little by encouraging people to draw information from events that their characters did not directly witness but could have heard about, filtered by the opinions of others of course.

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@Zaphander Actually, of all of the Player Characters, she would have been in the best position to see his skills in action since he and she fought at the same gate. While she was concentrating on her own battle, I doubt that she had such tunnel vision as to make her blind to the number of enemies that were felled from behind or diverted to the wall by Skurr's attacks. Also, what is only barely seen in the heat of the moment can be recalled more vividly, and in greater clarity, in hind-sight.

The last she would have seen of him would have been him fleeing along the wall in the company of two guardsmen and pursued by several of the enemy. Under those conditions, she likely would have not held out much hope for his survival. The fact that he lived might be enough to bring him to mind when she's thinking of hunting partners, to say nothing of his skills and profession which you have already mentioned.

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@ArkmageddonCat A claymore would be more effective for armor crushing. Only show claymores had sharp edges.

Given the time skip, Skurr's injury will likely be manageable. That is to say, he'll be up and about. Though, he won't be at his best. Things are chaotic on my end, in real life, and my future plans for Skurr had centered on Cassius and the Princess. I'll have to... rethink things before I try to post again. Those who were passingly acquainted with Skurr or who would at least take note of his condition during that week could do me a favor by adding their character's perspectives on him.

Those perspectives, as far as I can tell right now, could possibly include: references to the way he fought as related by witnesses, descriptions of him experiencing delirium and surviving infection, general knowledge about his conduct and competence before the siege by others related to the fishing industry.

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Much to our patient frustration.