Image courtesy of me A chill lingered in Tartarus's spring air. With a drowsy mind and clumsy feet, Xander stepped off his hay-stuffed mattress and scratched idly at a louse in his unkempt hair. The Thalassan lieutenant eased his weight back and forth on unsteady legs. His right leg still ached where a Gaian shortsword has punctured his calf muscle and just his own body weight was discomforting, to say the least. He glanced at his armor heaped on a chair. It seemed wrong to avoid wearing it, especially given his surroundings, but another twenty pounds of armor would only aggravate the wound only just fully sealed. It took over a month for it to heal properly because Xander continued to tear the struggling muscle open repeatedly. A good remedy for that? A few days doing nothing besides lying in bed. However, that did little to boost the ego or alieve the clumsiness Xander felt with his every move. His hands lumbered about too. With broken bones in his left wrist that rendered his ar...