Riiiight...good luck with that
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163 POSTS |
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Apprentice in Training
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22 YRS OLD
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Earth
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Yiga
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Post by Yara on Jan 31, 2018 4:55:30 GMT -8
I am immune to you. We are both sick souls with the same disease. Her eyes burned aggressively as she attempted to maintain eye contact. The urge to snap back with some half-assessed retort was exceedingly overbearing as it welled up inside her. However, the rushing blood did nothing for her cause and she stamped it down best she could. She knew she deserved every word of rebuke and disgust he threw at her. He was right…as always. No matter how much she hated to admit it. “Not very much,” her voice flat of emotion “rudimentary basics to stop bleeding and poor instruction on sewing it up so you can move quickly to get away in a pinch."
The initiate training basically taught them to get in there to fight and if they died…oh fucking well. Being a foot soldier meant they had no value beyond being grunts in the field and something for the superiors with complexes to stomp on. “If you would rather not risk a pathetic slack job of handling such a…sensitive task I can go make use of my ineptitude somewhere else.”
This wasn’t a statement directed at herself so much as it was a challenge to further slander her. She knew she had messed up, in probably many ways today. But she was not in the mood for pointless beratement that had no. constructive use. Not when they were bleeding and she had stomached her apprehension to show initiative.
MADE BY VEL OF GS
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I find it amusing how you think you're tough AND funny. Pick one or the other.
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140 POSTS |
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The Rage of the Yiga
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42 YRS OLD
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Earth
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Yiga
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Post by Axel Hagane on Jan 31, 2018 5:46:46 GMT -8
What an absolutely disgusting display of "skill" come back when you think you're actually worth something. ▼ NOTES:Yarahe's going to fucking sleep | "Hmph." was all he managed out, eyes burning at Yara before turning down to his own lacerations. Deep, multiple stab wounds seeped blood, not accounting what was happening to his arms and across his chest. He wasn't having it, the temptation to beat her around for what she said alone was too much, so he let his body language warn her for him. He didn't want to speak, hatred rolled off his shoulders as it would when he was on patrols around the hideout. Opening up his bag, Axel pulled out what he needed to clean and start on the multiple slashes on his arms. Skillfully, thanks to years of practice, he was able to clean and suture the wounds with just hand, using pressure from leaning the limb against a log to hold the wound shut.
As he cleaned, closed and covered his own wounds on his arms, he ripped his own shirt off over his head, dropping the soaked cloth and chain mail to the side, looking down at the clean slice on his chest. These wouldn't scar nearly as much as the jagged wounds he received as a child but it would certainly add to the numerous lighter scars dotting his body. Still silent, he cleaned the one on his chest and closed it as well. He had an extra change of clothes in his bag underneath the med equipment, hidden in a blanket. He knew how to prepare, he always carried an extra pair of clothes for when occasions like this went down. He did not need to be caught by a passer by while covered in blood or torn clothes.
Now onto the worst of the injuries. Looking down at both of his legs while finishing wrapping his chest, he grimaced at the blood still trickling. This would be a mess if he fucked up. He remembered to level his breathing so he could keep his heartbeat as slow as possible. He began cleaning each wound, grimacing at how deep they were. He made sure to pull the sutures tight but not too tight, allowing them to bleed into the squares of gauze as they needed to alleviate pressure, but not so loose that he'd bleed out if he should fall asleep at any point. Which he'd fight against. He didn't trust either of these two to watch his back, in fact, he trusted the Bokoblin duo to watch his back more than the others. Looking over to mot as he cleaned and finished the last of the multitude of stab wounds, he shook his head. "Can you watch?" he asked. He didn't want to let his face fall to a tired state, he didn't want to show weakness in front of others, but Mot could pick up on his master's fatigue. Quietly, the bear made a low noise of confirmation, shifting how he was laying.
As Axel wrapped the last of his wounds and just ignored the faint hints of dried on blood, signs of where he cleaned trickling through the light patches of red barely visible on his dark skin, he dug through his bag gingerly as to make sure he didn't jostle the stitches too much. He didn't want to bleed anymore than he had to. Pulling out the extra pair of clothes, Axel redressed his self and gripped the light blanket. The nights were cold, and while the fire was warm, he wasn't going to let his self be exposed to the cold. Grimacing, he laid against the large, protective bear. Every time something grabbed Mot's attention, it grabbed Axel's, even with the blanket draped over his self to help trap heat to his body, and his upper body pressed up against the massive beast, soaking in warmth through the thick fat and fur. He was comfortable and drifting to sleep. Anything that moved and caught mot's true attention as a potential threat would grab Axel's. |
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Riiiight...good luck with that
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163 POSTS |
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Apprentice in Training
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22 YRS OLD
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Earth
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Yiga
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Post by Yara on Jan 31, 2018 10:40:44 GMT -8
I am immune to you. We are both sick souls with the same disease. Yara growled softly to herself as she stalked off to lick her own wounds. She cursed him silently as bitter tears fought at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t need him or his foul attitude right now. She knew she had royally messed up with Jett. She could feel the agony of his wounds. What more punishment did she need than the gnawing guilt in the pit of her stomach and the absence of her familiar? If it wasn’t for Jett she would be entirely alone and right now she didn’t have him because she had failed him. She was his master and she didn’t exhibit the skill or competency to have that responsibility. She went over to the Bokoblins and gestured if they had a med kit or anything if that nature. Being bokoblins they looked at her confusedly and chattered amongst themselves offering her some course fishing line, a pot, and some gnarled fish hooks. This will have to do. She sighed to herself taking an offerred fish as well from one of the Bokoblins. For being relatively dense they did seem to have an enduring quality to care after the injured. Fish meant water, which meant a stream nearby to obtain fresh water to wash and clean her wounds. She got the directions from them, it was only a short distance away really and without taking a backward glance or notify her superior she slipped away into the dying light after grabbing her pack. She eventually found the little brook and she could still hear the chattering of the Bokoblins as she went about peeling the rest of her armor off. She set them to the side letting the cool air nip at her skin as she bathed the wound in the fresh snow melt and collected some water in the pot. Setting that to the side she pulled out her backup armor and pulled the pants on happy to have been smart enough to prepack at least the change of clothes. She then quickly rinsed her blood soaked armor and headed back to camp before she drew unwanted attention from any potential predators. When she returned to the camp she stole a glance over at Mot who stared at her as she reentered. He must have been on watch because he had tensed up at her appearance. “Sorry Mot” she said softly as she walked past him she wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon. Regardless of Axel having Mot on alert while he slept didn’t mean that she was going slack and leave him open to any threats. It was her job to protect those who stuck their necks out for her and she had behaved quite thankless after letting Jett get disspelled. The least she could do was lose sleep and keep her own silent vigil along side the large bear, even though he didn’t need her either. She managed to settle the pot near the Bokoblins fire to boil and she set to work on her own wounds best she could. She put the fishhooks in the fire to sterilize them before she began. She completely ignored the new recruit as she worked any sound or movement catching her attention, she would grab her sickle. Eventually she had sutered her own wound shut. It would have to do and she had done the best with what she had. It would scar deeply alongside the other scar in her abdomen from the gerudo’s spear the night Jett had saved her. The night Ganon had accepted her. She pulled her fresh top on and pulled her traveling cloak out of her pack, wrapping it around herself she left the fire to take up post near her sleeping master. She would have to behave better and take his lecture without stepping out of line. She was maybe 15 or so feet away from Mot and she watched him as he kept guard. MADE BY VEL OF GS
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