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Sorry it took me so long to actually get it out, I got called away when I was halfway through the post.
The fight had been his best in quite a while, and his worst, also. He had fought four people at once and not received damage so grievous...though that battle had left him in a bad way, also. Why am I thinking about that at a time like this? He wondered if blood loss was contributing to his wandering thoughts. It could be that, or just the fluctuation of chemicals through his body as the shock of his injuries and the drain of adrenaline took place. He could feel the right side of his face was bleeding...it was inflamed, his skin tingling on the edge of every gash left open by SteelRose's blade...it had been her left one that had done all the damage there. He had been fortunate that he'd brought his shield, otherwise he was unlikely to have lived through that ordeal at all.
He was still trying hard not to think about his right arm, the one which throbbed where it had been pierced. He felt saturated with pain, he couldn't turn his attention to any one wound, there were just too many. He had held it together long enough to finish the fight, and even now remained outwardly stoic, not wanting anyone to worry. Seeing her die had been...a strange experience, he wondered...No, I need to remain focused on what's ahead.
Lubomir's call for leaders had not gone unanswered, and it hadn't been long before others had come to the site of the battle, SteelRose dead on the ground, and the bronze warrior looking like he might belong there, too. Luckily, he hadn't taken any wounds to the trunk of his body, otherwise he would be in a life-threatening situation right now. Her swords were long and thin, a thrust could have sent one of them all the way through him...all the way through a lung, his heart, or some other organ. He had met up with Pilot at some point, and was now beside the white wolf, wondering what the younger white wolf could do for him in this condition.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Don't worry about it. The anesthesia that Pilot is going to use will temporarily knock Skoll out. So based on how this thread goes, feel free to play out dreams/thoughts/whatever, haha. Short posts are good too![html]
He had all sorts of things sprawled out on the ground and he was thumbing furiously through the pages of one of his many medical books. On the ground a volume of plants and their properties was flipped open, but for the moment forgotten in Pilot’s haste to discover some bit of information inside the book he held. Various jars and gathered herbs were spread out on cloths on the floor, next to some metal tools he had found in the human city. He had already applied some cloth bandages to some of the wounds to staunch the bleeding. They were only temporary until Pilot could figure out just what it was that he needed to do. First was first – he had to assess which wound was most critical.
He figured he'd work on Skoll’s arms first, as the thick maroon of his blood had thoroughly drenched the golden fur. He could imagine that the pain was not pleasant even though clearly Skoll had a tough soul. Some of the wounds would need a few stitches, and that was not going to be easy. Pilot had the supplies at hand, but knew the pain would be excruciating. The tips of his fingers flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. Kava.
He turned to the herbs he had ready. Sorting through he found what he wanted. Kava would be used as anesthetic while Pilot treated Skoll’s wounds. If he could get the amount right, Skoll would go into a sleep while Pilot stitched the wounds closed. Upon wakening, he'd find his sleep restful and with no physical side effects. That was the nice thing about Kava’s properties. However, it could potentially cause euphoric dreams which could lead to movement on Skoll’s part. But as far as Pilot was concerned, it was the only option he had. Willow bark also had similar anesthetic properties, but he knew kava would be the best choice.
He quickly set himself to building a small fire, cursing himself for the time he would have to waste in waiting for the flames to take root. He was going to use a set of traumatic needles he had discovered in the city, but was well aware that he would need to sterilize them first. While the fire was slowly growing, Pilot prepared the Kava for Skoll’s consumption. "You really got yourself in a fix, huh?" He asked, though not intending for a reply so much as to just hear a voice among to silent air.
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Shorter post for the win!
"I've had worse," he said after a moment. He had...though rarely, and he had never gone without some form of attention afterward. The fight with Bron and Lyv had left him worse off, even though there was no steel involved in that fight, berserking on four legs wasn't as good for him as keeping his head on two.
"My opponent hasn't, though, I shouldn't think. It's always weird watching someone die, even if you've seen it a lot before...some people die normally, pleading or crying, afraid and desperate, but when they don't...well, I don't know." He was losing quite a bit of blood, but he was beginning to think that his thought processes weren't muddled enough for that to be a major problem. She hadn't hit an artery, which was good. He would survive, barring an infection, but he knew that Pilot had to do this anyway.
He wondered just what Pilot was planning to do. He had brought a wide array of tools and books, as well as other supplies. He had begun a fire, possibly for the sake of sterilizing his tools...Skoll had seen that before, though he had also seen the use of alcohol to the same effect...and urine, on a few occasions. Hopefully no one was going to pee on his wounds...he was glad that Pilot employed other methods.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Suhweet. The next post I make, I'll tackle the suturing so that you can have Skoll wakey-wakey. :][html]
He carefully unfolded a small pouch made from a sheet of folded paper. Inside was chocolate colored horse hair, folded and bound together in the middle by a strip of twine. Pilot carefully undid the knot and spread the hair out on the unfolded pouch. It was about eight inches or so in length – at least, that’s how long most of them were. He turned to poke at the fire some more, checking to see if it was ready. It seemed as if it would do the trick. He turned back to the Kava he had prepared for Skoll, listening all the while as his companion talked about his opponent and their death.
"I’ve never seen anyone die before," he told Skoll as he added a sprig of clove to help with the taste of the Kava. "Well, squirrels and such. But not anyone close to me. Not another wolf." He held out the Kava, so that Skoll could see what he was doing. "You’ll need to drink this. It’s going to work to eliminate the pain for a bit while I work on closing up your wounds. It’ll knock you out, but you shouldn't feel any side effects when you wake."
His right arm he knew would be of no use, but his left arm only had a slash near his shoulder. Either way, Pilot moved closer so that he could hold the bowl of Kava to Skoll’s lips so that he could drink from it. "All of it… to make sure it’ll take full effect."
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Suture time!
No...Skoll wouldn't have expected Pilot to have seen death before...from the young man he remembered, to the leader he saw now, he didn't sense the impact of death. He wasn't so intuitive that he would always be able to detect it, but Pilot just...well, the older wolf wasn't surprised he hadn't seen it before. He envied him a little...he would have liked to turn the clock back a little...maybe make some different decisions about some of the less obviously deserving people he'd killed.
"You're pretty lucky, then," he said, taking the bowl into his left hand and tilting it back until he had drained it. He grimaced as it went down. He wasn't fond of the flavor, but then again, he wasn't big on vegetation, even though he and his kind could digest it to some degree. The drink itself had a pungent quality he didn't care for, but it medicine, not something he was drinking for fun, so after gulping it down he relaxed, handing it back, resting his head back on the ground.
"I have no wounds on my back...just the one on the back of my right arm. Otherwise, what you see is what there is." He wasn't sure how fast the anesthetic would kick in, but he knew that Pilot would begin as soon as it did. He was quiet then, trying to let the process begin a little faster, let it take hold in his system...waiting to see what exactly it would feel like. He could talk more once Pilot fixed his damaged body.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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I hope I got everything! [html]
He held the bowl in his hands, listening as Skoll informed him of his wounds. He nodded, glad to see him recline on the ground so that they could wait for the Kava to take its effect. He placed the bowl on the ground and turned to the flame. Picking up one of the traumatic needles, he held the tip over the flame so that he could hopefully sterilize it.
He was rather surprised at how fast he seemed to thread the needle after it had cooled and Skoll had succumbed to the Kava. He placed a hand on Skoll’s right shoulder and spoke to him, discovering that the Kava had truly kicked in. With that, he began to stitch the skin closed on the wound decorating Skolls’ forearm. This was one of the worst and had bleed a lot. If Skoll hadn’t of bumped into Pilot somewhere along the way on his journey home from the fight, he would have surely run into dangerous consequences from severe lose of blood.
The stitching went rather smoothly, and Pilot dabbed the area around it with a damp cloth to clean away the blood and debris. From a bundle of cloth he had with him, Pilot cut a strip to use as a bandage. After applying a salve to the wound, he tenderly wrapped his arm so that the stitches wouldn’t be exposed. It was just an extra precaution so the injuries wouldn’t open premature of healing.
Next he concentrated on the wound between Skoll’s right eye and ear. It looked rather deep and judging from the maroon color the cloth he had temporarily placed over it had turned, it was bleeding fairly well. When he began to mop at the laceration, Pilot discovered that the cut went clear down to the bone. He quickly threaded the needle once more and went to work. This took longer than before only so that he could ensure the stitches would hold together such a deep cut. He employed the use of a different type of stitch and knot combination - sure to provide a stronger bond.
He returned to the other puncture wound on Skoll’s arm and easily placed a few stitches there to close the skin. Like before, he wrapped all the stitches in a bandage of manila colored cloth. The last of his wounds didn’t appear to be as severe, but he worked to treat them just as hastily.
The slash on Skoll’s upper left arm probably would have been safe to heal without stitches, but he went ahead and sutured it closed just to ensure healthy healing. There was no way to avoid scar tissue, which Skoll had plenty of, but the sutures would help to keep infection out. He tied off the horse hair thread, cutting the remaining bit with a small knife.
He cleaned the wounds on his snout and cheek, and applied the same salve he had used on the sutured injuries. With that, Pilot finished with the immediate treatment of Skoll’s injuries. He would have to follow up this minor operation with a daily change of bandages, as well as reapplication of the salve. While he waited for the Kava’s affects to ware off, Pilot prepared a pain killer which he would give Skoll in case his stitches throbbed unbearably.
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Dream and then awake again!
It hadn't taken long for the stuff to kick in, though he wasn't exactly aware of it when it did. While Pilot stitched and sewed his flesh back together, Skoll's mind awakened somewhere else, in another place and at another time, long before any of the Shadowed Sun wolves were born. The frigid wind blew across the barren landscape which somehow seemed familiar to Skoll's eyes, the scent of moose was fresh and new, but he knew that he couldn't go after it, though he didn't know why. A slightly smaller wolf, whose coat had the same gold as his, but was accented with more gray and black, stood at his side. The wolf was young, but Skoll didn't feel any older, himself.
"When do you think father will let us join the hunt?" he asked the other wolf, having drawn the words from somewhere deep in his memory.
"I'm not sure," the wolf answered back. "Probably when we turn a year old, that's what momma said."
"You should call her mother. It's more dignified." There was silence for a moment after he said this, unsure of why he'd said it at all.
"I can call her momma, there's nothing wrong with that!"
"You'll need to act dignified if you ever wanna be alpha instead of me!"
The dream faded out after that, but he wished it hadn't. It hadn't been euphoric, really, but he had a sense of elation and...there was something almost sacred about it which let him know he would remember it for a long time, even though it was just a dream. He hadn't seen his brother in a very long time, seeing him again was a blessing he had not expected to receive, even if it wasn't a wholly corporeal gift.
He opened his eyes some time after Pilot had completed his surgery, and noted that the drug had not made him groggy, oddly enough. Not yet trying to raise himself, he looked up to the white wolf, trying to read if everything had gone alright. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up to hear that an injury had been worse than he'd thought it was. Not reading panic or pain in Pilot's eyes, he decided he could relax a little. At that moment, pain began to slowly throb in his right forearm, where the blade had gone deepest. There was pain at every wound, but that one still hurt freshly and acutely.
"Good work. Glad I have you around Pilot, maybe you'll be able to hold this old body together better than I can," he chanced a slight smile, hoping that his humor wouldn't be answered with some kind of reprimand for getting himself so cut up.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Sorry for the wait! Thanks for being patient. [html]
Pilot cast a glance back towards Skoll, whom had awoken from the effects of the Kava. He offered a genuine smile, glad to see that he still had a bit of humor even after his ordeal. "Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?" He did a general sweep over Skoll’s various bandages just to check to see everything was still in order. With that, he turned back to finish the pain killer he was working on for Skoll.
"This should help with the pain," Pilot told him, as he finished mixing together the ingredients. He poured the mixture into a jar and wrapped the top with a piece of cloth and twine. "All you’ll need to do is take a cup of this with some food. Just make sure you’re stomach isn’t empty. It’ll probably make you feel queasy if you take it on its own." He settled a small metal cup next to the jar and turned to look back to Skoll. "You really did a number to yourself," he said with a grin.
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'sall good, man!
Skoll nodded before downing the liquid. He'd eaten earlier in the day...hopefully that would be enough. The pain was immediate, and he was in no condition to be hunting getting more food right now. He laid the bowl aside, and stared upwards for a few moments.
"Wasn't me that did this, though you should see the number I did to her. She cut her own wrists at the end, but she was plenty messy before that. No...a woman named SteelRose did this to me. A monster. An addled and depraved slayer. Maybe I'll tell you about the rumors surrounding her some day. One way or the other, she's gone now." He was surprised, though not displeased, to find himself alive after that encounter. He shouldn't be, he knew. He was also glad that it seemed like Lubomir would be alright.
"She wasn't the worst of them in that war, though...my first. The Four Pack War. There were ten of us, ten warriors of renown out of two hundred who would know the brutal lessons of that conflict. I wasn't even three years old yet..." He wasn't sure if Pilot wanted to hear ancient history...for certainly that is how it must be perceived...over four years ago, and hundreds of miles away...nothing more than a story, with two relics who had met here, of all places, to engage in a contest that hadn't been decided or even asked for in their last encounter.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Hope you had a good 4th! [html]
He watched as Skoll took some of the painkiller, knowing that with all of those injuries, his body must have been in some real pain. As long as he kept the salve on his wounds and kept taking the painkiller whenever he needed it, Pilot was confident that it wouldn’t take him all that long to recover. The more serious injuries though, such as his arm, definitely would be out of commission for a while.
"I’ll never be the one to fight in any sort of great battles. If anything, I’ll be on the sidelines trying to fix the broken." He screwed a lid onto the jar that contained the remainder of the salve and set it down next to the jar holding the painkiller. "A Four Pack War?" He knew people had their discrepancies, but a fight that massive seemed incomprehensible. "What started it?" He asked Skoll with interest as he cleaned his instruments and packed them away.
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"Murder." he said pointedly. "And famine. Bad upbringing, and fools." There was more than a hint of bitterness in his voice. "The four packs were one, originally. They were called a Kingdom then, serving under King Malros, a wolf who had won leadership by felling a feral beast who had been ravaging the land...my great great grandfather, actually. The King was murdered many years after he had won the throne, and his lands were split between his four sons...whose petty bickering during a time of drought caused two of them to kill another. It was only a matter of time before the wolves who had served the slain prince declared an oath of vengeance against their leader's murderers." What a waste.
"Politics split the other three apart. Of the three remaining princes, one hated his brothers for killing the fourth and waged war against them, swearing to unite the kingdom again when he was finished. The remaining two could not agree on who would reign supreme once they won the conflict, and so failed to ally themselves, either. By the time I arrived with my student, they were all gearing up for total conflict, a free for all with dozens of wolves on every side." He regretted ever even coming across those wolves...they had been friendly initially...and why not? He looked like a fighter, and they needed fighters. It would have been better if he had died before ever meeting Gronnor just to spare Art the price of his foolishness. It had been there that he had learned his deep dislike of politics...how it twisted valiance, how it manipulated bravery and sacrifice...how sordid ambition could twist the ways of wolves.
"Back then I was younger than you are now...and much more foolish. I did not understand the workings of political wolves when I joined a side."
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Probably end this one soon? :][html]
Pilot listened to Skoll’s tale with his ears perked in interest. It seemed like a fairytale – some mythical story conjured up to entertain the young minds of curious youth. It was strange for Pilot, the wolf who had grown up so naïve, that this tale was not truly that. Instead it was an account of something that had happened years ago – it was the memoir of somebody’s life. And not just one person – hundreds it seemed. As he wiped his tools with a spare cloth, he listened as Skoll described the kingdom and the four brothers whom inherited it.
Pilot couldn’t comprehend all of the sides and view points that the various people must have been facing. He wasn’t one for politics much and didn’t understand war on a personal level. He knew only of what he had heard in stories like this. Though the story really did interest him (as he loved hearing about things that were… after all, history and learning were what Shadowed Sun was founded upon) Pilot would never understand the brutality that the world was really wrapped in. Nor the greed and power. It was something Skoll had seen up close and personal, but something Pilot hadn’t (and probably never would) experience.
"Wow," Pilot responded. Having packed up all of his tools, he turned to fully face Skoll. "Power is a scary thing," he added, thinking of the authority he held in his position of leadership. It was scary. Pilot faced that everyday. He constantly wondered if he was acting appropriately in the name of his pack members and whether or not he truly deserved to be where he was. He had faced the same issues when Storm’s leadership had fallen on his shoulders. He supposed it was because he wasn’t a natural born leader that he felt these insecurities, but he did realize that his personality allowed for him to end up where he had. "I hope nothing like that happens to any of the packs here."
He put the bag’s straps up over his shoulders, and made to stand on his feet. With Skoll all stitched up, there wasn’t much more that Pilot would be able to do for him. "Well, Skoll, rest can only help you now. And remember, take a cup of the painkiller with some food if your stitches start to become uncomfortable. And don’t try to push yourself too hard. Especially your arm," he added, gesturing towards it with one hand. "Other than that, I think that’s all I can do for you, for now."
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Thanks for the thread Pilot, and sorry for the wait. We can end it here.
The wounded wolf nodded his thanks as he closed his eyes and squirmed slightly to find a comfortable position without upsetting the stitching in his arms. It would be better to forget about those dark times before he slept...he saw them often enough, but hopefully the kava would help him attain dreamless sleep...or even a nice dream like it had provided before. He didn't enjoy many of his dreams any more. He knew there had been a time when he wanted dreams. A time when the tales of other wolves in other places danced in his head and he believed that some day he would be a strong leader like his father. He had led the life of a warrior like in the stories, but he had never realized his father's hope...and deep down, a hope of his own had died as well.
"It's plenty. Thanks for helping, Pilot. And power is a..." he tried to yawn, but the skin on his face was tight, and he quickly gave him the prospect. "It is a very scary thing. I'm sure Tayui has plenty to discuss with you, you should see her." His voice fading, Skoll quickly drifted into an exhausted sleep. Fortunately, his sleep would be dreamless tonight.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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