A Sense of Balance - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: A Sense of Balance (/showthread.php?tid=11265) |
- Saluce Tremblay - 06-28-2010 (ooc-Since Saluce isn't apart of this pact wasn't sure if I should break protocal and make it private. So I just tagged the two players I've involved in this plot.) There he was standing on the western edge of the Whisper Beach just to the north of Dahlia Lands (although he just knows that he’s north of a pack land ic). With quiet resignation he studied the ocean quietly knowing he wasn’t seeing the pacific but it still didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine for a second that he had journeyed all the way across North America. The thought was pleasant as he considered the stories he would return back to England with. He could be thought of as a hero, the wolf equivalent of Marco Polo. But as was the case such dreams where shattered with the sudden realization that he had only traveled a very small percentage of the continent and was very aware that he was going to have to turn north into the lands called the wastes before too long to continue westward. With no boat this ocean inlet blocked a straight approach so he would have to take a detour. With a resigned sigh he strapped his bag across his heavily muscled back, checked to see if his swords where nestled securely in their sheaths and started out. He was in a more care free mood today; the scenery brought back pleasant memories of Normandy. His nose inhaled deeply letting the salty ocean scent fill his nostrils all the while closing his eyes to take it all in. Loosing himself for a moment he took an awkward step forward his eyes only half open as the shock and realization of his folly hit him. The cliff wasn’t too high but the disturbed pebbles under his foot rocketed down the cliff. Franticly he fought to keep his balance under shifting ground before his massive frame teetered off balance toward the cliff. His form stood perfectly still as if resigning him to the coming fall before the loose footing he found himself on gave way sending him plummeting downward. His claws flayed around at the cliff wall trying to find something to grab a hold of, his legs franticly kicking for hold as he slid further downward picking up steam. Somewhere on the way to the bottom his leg caught a hold but he was going too fast and with no other hold to grab onto his shin turned in an awkward way as the bone broke outward and pierced through his fur. Pain seared through the wolfs mind as he for the first time let out an awkward yelp, the yelp though was quickly subdued as his form hit the sand with a thud. The force of which causing his head to fly backward against a sharp rock cutting open the back of his head. The world faded to black as he laid there his body resetting itself. Some few moments later the rushing noise of the ocean flooded his ears causing him to awaken suddenly unsure of where he was. “Normandy?” his voice cracked as he tried to sit up but the pounding in his head told him to just wait a moment. For a minute he was content to sit there letting his senses come pounding to him. With a stubborn deep inhale his frame lifted up in a sitting posture and immediately his paw came up to hold his head, eyes finding his leg in horrible shape. The wolf was filled with a mixture of rage and pain, quickly blaming himself for his foolishness. “For the love Nature what in the world was I thinking” he repeated to himself. Soon his mind started working on how to fix his leg, being wounded was the worst possible scenario for him, especially a broken leg. He slowly brought his leg to him in an Indian style jester his lips curling back in a snarl of pain as his eyes looked for anything to fashion a stint, and something to use as a bandage to help cull the bleeding. - Cwmfen nic Graine - 06-29-2010 [html] I’ll have Cwmfen call Conor in after we post for a bit, ^w^ And Cwmen is in lupus form right now.
.ascend b {font-weight:bold; color:#000007; letter-spacing:.0px; } .ascend-ooc { font-style:italic; padding:15px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; text-align:center; } .ascend p {text-indent:20px; padding:3px 10px; margin:0px;} .ascend {margin:0 auto; width:330px; background-color:#6f6e70; background-image:url(http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... ble_02.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #2e2f32; padding: 10px 0px 280px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; color:#2e2f32; line-height:10px; letter-spacing:.0px; text-align:justify;} </style> [/html] - Saluce Tremblay - 06-29-2010 (Ooc- Beautiful post btw, enjoyed the read immensely) “The crimson liquid so franticly spilled. Blood letting the stringent voice, to beckon my soul” (meshuggah’s-bleed) Blue orbs studied his leg for a moment as his mind was having trouble putting thoughts together. The sea itself was retreating from high tide as if it was abandoning him. His paws searched his waist to untie his belt so he could free himself of the ornately decorated broad swords he never parted with. Lifting one out of its sheath his mind still flooded with pounding of blood through his ears as his heart continued to surge with the adrenaline coursing through his body. The sword could act as a sort of crutch for him to look for a long branch to use as a stint after setting the bone… his mind hadn’t completely failed him as his hand brushed against something wet on the back of his head. Passing it off as water he continued to sit and rest for the moment, willing his body to calm down so he could get a handle on his breathing. For awhile he sat eyes closed as he tried to overcome his sense of panic and pain so he could think clearly. The pounding in his head never ceased and if his mind hadn’t failed him, his nose and ears certainly did because the voice that spoke to him caused his eyes to flash open. His left arm was quick as it always was in these situations, and its movement to grasp for his dagger was all he had ever hoped it to be. But when his paw reached for it he grasped nothing but air. Sometime during the fall it must have been stripped off and so thus ended his only real close quarter’s weapon except his teeth and claws. The wolf was a she and didn’t have an all unpleasant voice, it was rather sweet and inviting but yet the words spoke volumes. The wolf sat there his eyes following the voice. The she wolf was marked oddly for his foreign eyes but it wasn’t unpleasing to his soft blue orbs. The pounding in his ears returned as did the headache which caused him to shut his eyes once again. The wolf just didn’t care if she was friend or foe his head was forcing him to react to it and not her as a paw came up to steady his head and rub his temple. Saluce forced out a reply hoping for the time being it would be enough to not spur her into attack. “Traveling west” was his reply, simple but it was all he could force himself to come up with. His normal soft and velvety voice was ragged and rough, laced with a little bit of fear. He was being stubborn as well “I will not be causing your “pack” trouble” he said with an inflection that hinted that he was asking if it was her pack that he had sensed earlier to the south. “Just passing through” where his words full of stubborn male ego as if saying that he would be alright if she just where to move along. - Cwmfen nic Graine - 06-29-2010 [html] Thank you!
.ascend b {font-weight:bold; color:#000007; letter-spacing:.0px; } .ascend-ooc { font-style:italic; padding:15px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; text-align:center; } .ascend p {text-indent:20px; padding:3px 10px; margin:0px;} .ascend {margin:0 auto; width:330px; background-color:#6f6e70; background-image:url(http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... ble_02.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #2e2f32; padding: 10px 0px 280px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; color:#2e2f32; line-height:10px; letter-spacing:.0px; text-align:justify;} </style> [/html] - Saluce Tremblay - 06-29-2010 The male’s eyes didn’t miss her movements, even his dulled senses where still working on scenarios of quickly changing circumstances. With a grunt he let his injured left leg straighten out as if to study it while she approached closer. The bone was clearly broken, the evidence of it staring him in the face. The thought of changing to his feral lupus form crossed his mind, four feet instead of two, well three instead of one. With a quiet resignation as the she wolf talked his head nodding from time to time in response but giving no answer yet he stretched forward letting both his arms take a hold of his leg. One quick jerk and the wolf forced the bone into submission as the blood came forth unsettled by the change. He showed nothing on the outside no hint of pain but his mind continued to thump harder now. The warrior’s eyes closed once again obviously unable to fight all the pain. Her presence though was starting to have a positive effect on him. At least he wasn’t alone. “I came from England, I was trained to be a Knight but never let myself take the name… They turn out to be mostly talk” his lips curled back in a subdued laugh, but as was the case it wasn’t because he wasn’t deserving of it. “No I am from across the ocean, born of dual loyalties to two countries; neither one fitting me. I am English but name given to me by my French father.” Talking helped take his mind off everything for the moment. The she wolfs actions hinted that she wasn’t a threat to him. “I came here to find my own life; I wanted to travel west to the Pacific Ocean. I’ve heard that it’s as beautiful as the Normandy coast line” His eyes lifted open again at her, the fear that had swirled in them earlier gone as he looked over the female. Her marks where of interest to him, they were much different from anything he had seen. He himself had no marks, only the darker gray patches of fur that he was given from his father. Other then that the grey wolf was nothing more than a hulking frame offset by his soft voice and brilliant blue eyes that never hinted at malice, which gave him a sense of a great contradiction. On the other hand the she wolf was stunningly beautiful to him but again he fought the urge to be suspicious. After all he was in no condition to outright challenge someone. “I think if I can fashion a splint for my leg I’ll be able to continue after a few days” he was being over ambitious and he was well aware of it. It would be weeks before his leg would be in any shape to travel let alone count on it to hunt and fight with. He let his paw reach back to again hold the back of his head out of nervous tension feeling the same wet feeling as the last time this time realizing that he had another injury to contend with. - Cwmfen nic Graine - 06-30-2010 [html] 500+
.ascend b {font-weight:bold; color:#000007; letter-spacing:.0px; } .ascend-ooc { font-style:italic; padding:15px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; text-align:center; } .ascend p {text-indent:20px; padding:3px 10px; margin:0px;} .ascend {margin:0 auto; width:330px; background-color:#6f6e70; background-image:url(http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... ble_02.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #2e2f32; padding: 10px 0px 280px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; color:#2e2f32; line-height:10px; letter-spacing:.0px; text-align:justify;} </style> [/html] - Saluce Tremblay - 06-30-2010 The truth of his injuries was clouded from him as he was stuck in an uneasy peace. Stubborn and proud the fog in his mind filled before he was really able to contemplate the position he was in. Forcing him to take mental stock and reassess his injuries after discovering the blow to his head. He found that he was in much worse shape than he had realized. The world around him had somewhat dulled before he knew it and suddenly he felt cold. Was this death he thought? What a cruel joke to be played out for him if this was indeed dying. Victim to a false sense of balance; the thought infuriated his sense of pride. “Oxford… Just south of...” he realized she had left for the moment, he hadn’t even realized she had said anything. The odd sensation to give in slowly crept into his mind. But he forced himself to try and continue fighting it. Trying to shift his position his muscles didn’t respond as well as he expected, he almost gave up but she had arrived once again to stir his mind. Then like a light switch being flipped the fear came back and the stubbornness gone. His head turned to look at her, his eyes somewhat glossed over, the onset of shock coursing through his veins. The wolf’s heart thumped with a vigor that was sure to cause it to bounce out of his chest. “This is… Not the way… I wanted it to end!” he blurted out unable to filter the shakiness in his voice. The great forearms of the wolf flexed as his claws dug into the earth as if he was fighting himself. His eyes closed for a moment as his breathing and forearms relaxed still straining to gather together the strength to ask for help. It was not in his nature! He was the one who gave help not received it, but here the proud warrior was in a situation which if no help was given he wouldn’t survive. “I” he fumbled with the words obviously never having had to speak them in such a long time. The thoughts of a soft nuzzle pushing his eyes open to see his mother before him. The last time he had asked he was a mere whelping and of course he had run to his mother. Her soft and reassuring voice coed at him and calmed him the last time. The victim of being picked on because of his name. Then it was more of an emotional toll then it was physical but the emotions still played out like fireworks in his mind. “I need help” the words escaped his lips before he realized they had been spoken. So soft they were spoken as if he was that child again, the child that had so long ago been replaced by the behemoth he had become. Size had afforded him the protection of being picked on. Size and cunning where his trade, much more cunning at times then size, practiced to intimidate or extricate him from any situation he found himself in. “If I am too much of a burden at least do me the favor of fetching my knife so I can die at least with some honor. I am not very fond of bleeding out due to foolish wounds received while letting the ocean unearth long forgotten memories. I’d much rather die, a warriors death” Again his voice was soft with a quiet strength to it. For such a big wolf he didn’t let his voice over power his words. “If I am beyond saving” - Cwmfen nic Graine - 07-01-2010 [html] You can post again after this or wait for Libri to post with Conor, ^=^
.ascend b {font-weight:bold; color:#000007; letter-spacing:.0px; } .ascend-ooc { font-style:italic; padding:15px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; text-align:center; } .ascend p {text-indent:20px; padding:3px 10px; margin:0px;} .ascend {margin:0 auto; width:330px; background-color:#6f6e70; background-image:url(http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... ble_02.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #2e2f32; padding: 10px 0px 280px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; color:#2e2f32; line-height:10px; letter-spacing:.0px; text-align:justify;} </style> [/html] - Conor Soul - 07-02-2010 [html]
Conor’s path stood clear and concrete before him as he heeded her song a second time. The soft melody was not the same, however, and the male’s long limbs would know haste well before he was to reach the location of the former Adonis. Slung around his neck and left shoulder danced the gift from Susquehanna noisily against his coin speckled fur. While the official rank of the healer stood empty, Conor was one of those closest to a doctor in these lands. His grand-aunt had taught him well, and useful acquaintances and friendships all across ‘Souls was teaching him this beautiful art of mending the flesh and healing the mind. Out from a burning desire to turn from his father’s path of death and suffering, Conor had chosen to find new ways to embrace life, and to help others hold on to it still when heavy obstacles wanted to tear them away.
The trek from Wolfville to the whispering shores of the beach was not as quick as what was ideal, but the four legged predator moved swiftly through the well known territory, heading north-east. Past time or no, his soft paws travelled from lush forest to finely corned sand and finally on to the rockier floor that indicated that the best part of the beach lay behind. A red, invisible cloud of injury invaded his nose in a wave of heavy fragrances. His snout tickled excitedly, but lavender eyes saw a scene different from the instinctively ideal setting. Eyebrows did not care to rise. Loners were frequently found by the borders. Some sought a place to call home. While many of them turned away and severed the loose bond of fealty to Dahlia, there seemed to be a lazy, continuous stream of fresh blood to the pack. That was life, always pulsing and changing, impossible to control.
There was blood, but the strong, vibrant colour often fooled spectators. Then again, Conor was not one to judge in such an arrogant, all-knowing way, and he quickly killed off the little amount of distance left between him and the two canines. While he felt the natural need to frown, his face could almost match the tranquillity of Cwmfen’s, but of course not quite. The stormish gray male’s sapphire hued eyes were blurry, and the amount of red beneath his broken limb spoke well enough without words. It was not before now that Conor’s face knew emotion – and he was puzzled. The blood on the male’s hands was the quiet proof he needed. It was impressive if the man had managed to set the broken bone straight on his own. It was plain to see that it had been an open fracture. The lavender eyed male shook the medical purse off swiftly as his own bones started to bend and pop to allow his body to take a less natural shape.
It was a pity that the man still held on to some consciousness. Pain was great, and though it could be soothed, there was not a lot of time left to be wasted. Comfort was important if it was possible, but Conor’s first priority was to maintain that life that was slowly pulsing out together with the thick blood. ”If necessary, Cwmfen, please try to keep him down.” The moment his shift into optime was more or less done, cream painted fingers pressed eagerly around the injured area where the bone had gone through. Within moments his hands were slick with blood. Unfortunately, due to Conor’s travelling time, the leg was quickly swelling and it was hard for him to determine whether or not the bone had been set back right. The thought of having to re-break it was not appealing, but his mind quickly moved on to limit the damage now when he finally was here. He gave Cwmfen a sharp nod to prepare her before he skilfully pulled the entire leg upwards, lifting it from the ground and placing it on his knee.
Blood was still pouring out, but the main blood stream would not travel so forcefully out of his injury if it had to travel up and against gravity. Holding the leg firmly in case of a kick from the loner, the young male let his other blood soaked hand reach down into his bag and fetch a most precious bottle of alcohol. Now frowning, he turned the cap open with his teeth and let the fiery liquid splash down into the wound without mercy. His muscles trembled with the effort of keeping absolute hold of the other man’s leg. He was uncertain how much good it did with the red stream so strong, but the only downfall about this move was the male’s pain. A splinter of wood was already nearby, but he did not take time to wonder if it was mere luck or the efficiency of his fellow Dahlian. Fingers seemed stiff with inexperience in this urgent situation, but the male did his best as the occupied hand attempted with a few flexible fingers to position the piece of wood as the other hand started dealing with the yellowy white cloth bandage retrieved from the bag of wonders.
Quickly, yet too slowly for his liking, the bandage was wrapped around the leg. He was not oblivious of the seaweed brought fresh from the wet shores, but he had no knowledge of its uses in this situation. Therefore he continued, wrapping the cloth tight around the wound oozing with red. There were many things he should have done better, but at the moment his mind believed this to be the fastest way to stop the bleeding. - Saluce Tremblay - 07-02-2010 The oddly marked female’s worlds rang in his head like church bells. Would the death he spoke of come? His mind wasn’t given much time before the truth of her words became apparent. Her long elegant howl spoke volumes to his headache filled mind. The temptation to lift his muzzle and join was absolutely tempting but the answer came as he had to close his eyes once again to shut out the light that magnified pain. The head wound itself was more of a distraction for anyone trained to deal with such wounds. It was a cut and had swollen but as with all head wounds it bled profusely, looked horrible but wasn’t much worry as it was already starting to clot. The leg itself was a compound fracture (fracture of Tibia-the shin bone) the top half of the fracture had pushed through the skin while the lower half of the shin bone had slid underneath. His actions earlier of setting the bone had been just that, he had pushed the bone up at first extended then set it. But none of those actions had done anything to help with the bleeding. As they sat and waited for help to arrive his senses would come and go matching the level of fight he still had within him. Saluce had slowly started to wonder if help would arrive at all and as the minutes passed the doubt crept into his mind. As the doubt continued to fill the male he quietly started to drift in and out of consciousness loosing track of time. It was during one of his more drowsy states when his mind suddenly decided to wake up as pain wracked him. The new arrival had just lifted his leg and as he did alarm bells suddenly began to shake him. A low grunt like growl left his lips, not without a subtle tone of anger. His eyes flashed open to see the male who had rudely awakened him. Then as he was just beginning to accept this new wave of pain the wolf had pulled out a bottle of foul liquid. His nose picked up the scent immediately and his lips curled up in a preemptive snarl knowing this was not going to feel well. White fire gripped him and as much as the wolf tried to accept the pain his left leg betrayed him as it dug into the ground in reflex, muscles and sinew already beginning to push with leverage. “GOD DAMN” he growled furiously, not prone to use profane language but at this juncture it was all he could growl out. His paws clutched into fists as the burn deepened, his biceps straining to cope with the input declared necessary by his pain stricken brain. “MY GOD WARN SOMEONE” he growled instantly alert as if he had never been hurt. He didn’t however fight long the blood pressure spike had caused his headache to come rushing back to make him suddenly rethink his reaction. His voice was lacking any sort of threat more just filled with anxious pain. Then the pain subsided for the warrior, the alcohol numbing the wound. This new male was working quick as he started to splint and wrap the wound. Saluce was slightly impressed by his ability to work so quickly. His voice cracked as he uttered response to this new action “Make sure the splint is tight, the bone will want to break out until it’s started to mind”. The alcohol had waked him up and now he was able to assess and be an ass offering out advice like a dolt. - Cwmfen nic Graine - 07-07-2010 [html] I’m so sorry about the wait! (I don’t make IC posts on the weekend, and it was Independence Day, so it was a 3-day weekend… OnO) I was going to post yesterday, but it got up to 99 degrees (F) and I didn’t have the AC on to save money and it was just too hot to do anything!
As Conor completed his work, the tranquil features returned, the aggression smoothed away like the natural calming of water. When it was safe, the Dahlian pulled away from the loner, who was now fully conscious and speaking. White orbs considered the loner, contemplating him through that serene façade. What it was that she thought could not be ascertained; perhaps it was a mild displeasure that touched her soul, for arrogance was a crippling and disfiguring thing. After a long moment of silence, the lunar gaze turned toward the healer. “You have learned much,” was all that the alto melody sang, a compliment and one not lightly given. A faint smile seemed to touch her quiet lips, but imperceptibly. Conor had grown much since she had last seen him, and in a way that was beneficial to the pack. The older female approved, as if it were her place to do so. Despite her erected posture, the woman stood modestly before the golden male. She wondered if he would require her services once more or if she would be permitted to leave. Whatever he commanded, the Warrior was willing to do. .ascend b {font-weight:bold; color:#000007; letter-spacing:.0px; } .ascend-ooc { font-style:italic; padding:15px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; text-align:center; } .ascend p {text-indent:20px; padding:3px 10px; margin:0px;} .ascend {margin:0 auto; width:330px; background-color:#6f6e70; background-image:url(http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... ble_02.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #2e2f32; padding: 10px 0px 280px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; color:#2e2f32; line-height:10px; letter-spacing:.0px; text-align:justify;} </style> [/html] - Conor Soul - 07-13-2010 [html]
The man was forced out of his dreamlike state as Conor’s firm hands went to work, butt his was a good sign. He would have been more worried had the male not responded to the striking pain that with certainty jolted through his broken limb as the alpha put on the temporary bandage. The injured loner’s head seemed to clear enough for him to tell the unofficial apothecary to make it tight, and so he did, though not as tight as he could have made it. The leg would continue to swell, and he risked making things worse if he finished up with a bandage too tight. It was all temporary anyway, but this was needed before they were to move him.
The experienced woman by his side offered her short compliment, and despite the severity of the situation, warm relief washed through him at her soft tones. She always spoke truthfully to those that chose to listen, and he understood that she meant what she said. It would be something to revel in the future, but not now. When the leg was wrapped in crimson, pinks and yellow, the young leader turned to his member, and he knew that she knew that everything would sort itself out. Conor was no longer the little runt he once had been. His build was indeed similar to that of his father, but colours were brighter, smoother and his heart was not painted black.
”Thank you, Cwmfen, you may return to your duties.” She had done what had been expected of her and more. He would remain here for a little while, see when and if the bandage would do its job before picking up the task of carrying the injured loner back to Wolfville and the home where Conor had everything he needed to make sure the wound would mend well. If he survived, of course. |