TRAITOR GAME || open, injured

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    Crispus was lucky to go this long without being bullied.


    Everyone else had been hurt by another person at one point. He hadn't. And now it was his turn. A few NPCs had walked along, only a bit older than the tiny felid. He couldn't place a name on any of the three who had him pressed up against a wall, sneering up at him. He felt one of them reach up a paw - almost the size of his head and neck combined - and press his forehead against the cool surface. Another one gave a small chuckle as his growling faded away, and then he saw their paw extended into the air, and drive down onto one of his ribs. The fabric in-between the two body parts didn't help anything, the pressure placed down was harsh and heavy. A crack sounded.


    He tried to scream, but found himself unable to, gritting his teeth as another blow came to his nose, feeling himself being wounded. Skin popped open at the contact of claws, and his nose began to dribble crimson blood. Crispus felt thin, red tears gather at the tip of his brown optics. The three other children kept on slapping and hitting, smashing him into the wooden wall like a bug. Some of the nails on the wood jutted outwards, and he felt himself being dragged over to the edge of the small hut. The sharp nails pierced into his back through his sweater as the beating paused. He immediately began sobbing, yelling out, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?" Quiet, mocking laughter met his questions.


    Crispus was scared, fearing why the others had stopped. What were they planning? It couldn't get any worse, his mind processed. He thought too soon. One of his legs bent backwards, off the corner of the wall onto the other side. The serval began squirming again, not screaming until his flexibility couldn't help anymore. He felt his leg go over his head, and then start to creak. With another loud screech, it popped out of it's socket, dislocating the limb.


    While his screaming was loud, it seemed to come from the other side of camp, the exact opposite that he wasn't in. It was a strange thing. The place he was beaten up in was out of direct sight and took lots of searching to find. Nonetheless, Crispus was set somewhere on the side of camp afterwards. He was bawling, his black sweater stained with blood, tears and spit. The culprits were nowhere to be found.


    His nose was slightly crooked, he had broken one rib, and his back had punctures in it. His right hindleg was twisted at an awkward angle. He wasn't in good shape. Soon, he stopped, only uncontrollably sniffling. His breathing was warped with the fast inhales that sometimes interrupted. Crispus had blacked out, laying in a small pool of red, two twin trails steaking down his face. When he was hit, he had been hit hard.


    Before he had slipped into unconsciousness, cutting through his loud crying, was the repeated words, that became more messed up and terrible the more times he said it,


    "Why, why, w̨͢h̷̨̧̕͢y̡̧҉̀̀,̸̧͠͡ ̴̡ẃ̢h̸̶́́y̛͞҉̧."


    info | updated aug. 21st 2016

    [align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; font-family: arial; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #000; padding: 0px][i]❝ i'm just a sucker for pain ❞[/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=#75A1D0; width: 305px; height: 5px; padding: 0px; border: none][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 5px; line-height: 98%; text-align: justify]Arthur had been bullied a lot by his siblings as a young kit. He had been a very sensitive child, not taking minor injuries or teasings very well. He usually ended up in a sobbing mess on the ground with his two siblings standing over him and laughing. Sometimes, he could still hear them calling him a 'crybaby'.




    Only the third and oldest of his siblings, Zacharie, had ever stuck up for him. He would often consul him or treat his little scrapes, which helped- until he was made fun of again. Arthur just couldn't stick up for himself, even now as an adult.




    Pathetic. He was pathetic.




    He had been napping in his hut when Crispus' screams rang about the camp, causing him to jolt awake. Pushing his way through a group of frantic NPCs, he eventually found the battered young boy, lying unconcious on the ground. This was one of Tama's sons, right? "O-Oh dear..! Oh n-no..." The tom stammered, rushing over to young servaline's side.




    Gently, Arthur would place an ear to the boy's side to ensure he was still breathing- which he was. That was a relief. Turning his head, he would attempt to do something he didn't do very often; yell. "SOMEONE FETCH TAMA AND MARY!"




    /wow suddenly i have muse?? cool
    also poor cris :c




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    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px;][justify]Injuries had been an awfully common thing when Beekeeper had been a loner. He couldn't step forwards without encountering a sobbing animal, blood seeping out of their wounds. Bee always ended up helping them, no matter what. Sometimes he could do nothing about it. Sometimes he could only watch helplessly, unable to provide a slightest point of comfort as the animal slowly passed away, pulled into the dark abyss known as death. He hated those days. But now, in a clan, he had thought those awful days were behind him. But, as the cries sounded out in the territory, he realized that he was wrong. A clan did not guarantee safety, ever. It just meant you had walls, friends and food. But the stuff that got you hurt, the bad people, would always be there. No matter where you went.


    Beekeepers gut twisted in a horrible way as he headed quickly in the direction of the crying. His yellow eyes were neutral, pupil dilated as the adrenaline set in. For him, this was the battle. Not the one that fought claw with claw but the one that fought life with death. Hold on, hold on. If Mary didn't turn up, Bee could help. But Mary was the Medic, the Official one. She held all the power and all the knowledge. He could help though, he couldn't just stand and watch a clanmate bleed out. The blood hit his nose first, clogging and iron-like. He was too desensitized to the smell to react properly as he rushed forwards, pulling wads of moss from his small brown satchel. "While Mary gets here, we need to staunch the blood flow. I'm gonna put this to the puncture wounds. I'm sure she'll be here soon and she can fix all of this." He knew that a calm voice, in a situation like this, was needed.


    The orange and white feline attempted to gently press the moss to the puncture wounds and any other open wounds, gritting his teeth. He could do more, he knew it, he felt it. He wanted to reach into his herb satchel and bring out all the necessary equipment but he didn't have the power here. He had to learn that. He breathed out through his nose, calming himself. "Okay.. okay."


    TAGS — updated 08/27

    "W-What h-happened???" he wasn't sure if his voice sounded worried or angry, seeing those were the feelings that were going through his body right now. Worried because Crispus didn't look good at all, angry because someone had done this to the guy in their own camp, which probably meant it had been a clan mate... Or clan mates. Sure, it could've been a spy, but... He didn't think that was the case. It just didn't feel like the Exiles to do it this way.


    If he ever managed to find them... The vice would have to hold himself back to show mercy. He didn't even know it himself, but he was quite ruthless once triggered. "Y-You'll be alright, C-Crispus... we'll get y-you b-better." he finally said as he got closer offering the child a small, encouraging smile. Hopefully, Mary, Tama and MAtty would be here soon...

    [shadow=#D59253,left]...Çelina[/shadow]


    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 400px; ;font-size:8pt;margin-top:-9px;letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 98%;][justify][img width=10 height=10]http://vignette1.wikia.nocooki…/latest?cb=20140106142324[/img]Çelina had never been bullied in her life, so she didn't quite understand how a BlizzardClanner could hurt another clanmate. Following the sounds of screams and discovering a small group surrounding an unconscious Crispus. She wasn't at all sure what she could do, Bee already got taking care of the blood until Mary were to appear.
    [align=center][shadow=#D59253,left]But She Pressed On...[/shadow]

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    Dear August,


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    Sliding against the green-blue grass, Desmund found himself on the scene even before someone had alerted the medics properly. Crispus, what had happened to him, and why? In the kit's eyes Crispus was the sweetest tom, a precious cinnamon bun with a need for affection- why did someone think this was his worth? Swiveling back ears as voices emerged around him, the small frame pushed through the group, satchel flinging to the ground as he made room around the young kit. "Guys, can someone please fetch Mary? I can't handle this by myself," concern coated his words as the small paws worked at getting the material from his bag. Desmund knew how to handle this stuff, he had been through a lot, but he still wasn't as good as the snake queen herself.


    Yet Desmund found himself useless in the situation, Beekeeper taking over. Biting back a small grunt, he still went to help. It bothered him really, how Beekeeper was much like the kit but older. He knew herbs, he took charge, he even had a leather satchel much like his own- but overall the other feline was a whole lot smarter. Desmund forced himself to breathe out the air he didn't know he was holding in, realizing it wasn't something he should have gotten jealous over, he was just as capable- right? Hoping to help a bit more, he found himself settling beside the older tom, giving a coded nod of appreciation before taking over. "You're really good at this stuff," Des noted softly to the other, searching the burdock out of his bag before working it into a clunky paste. It was all the feline could offer, he didn't have any powers to take away pain, he wasn't that amazing- not quite yet. "I like the use of moss, but try using a different substance next time. Moss has higher rates of infection, try bandages," was he- teaching him? This wasn't like Desmund, this wasn't something he would ever do yet ,"uh- I mean- never mind."


    As soft pads worked the burdock paste into the molded flesh, Desmund couldn't help but cringe. The flab was so thick, some of the skin pulling off if his paws rubbed too hard on one spot. Not wanting to hurt him anymore, the feline went to reach for the bandages before something caught him off guard. A rib, its bones shattered, he could see it's misplace under the cream fur. Sucking in a breath, he found himself awaiting the appearance of Mary- she was the only one who could fix this right? But he was losing blood, the use of a bandage could hurt the ribs even more, and he was losing blood fast. Meeting warm eyes with the shut ones of the serval, he found himself murmuring words whilst searching his bag for any supplies upon broken bones.


    "Come on Crispus, you got this, I know you got this."




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    bio & opinions & journal & plot

    TAGS | 8/24/16

    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px;][justify]Oh good, someone who likely held more of the power needed to heal this kitten. His big yellow eyes were full of worry as he turned to Destinykit, nodding gratefully. "Bandages? Alright. I think I have a few of those." He spoke, tail tip twitching anxiously but very grateful for the new addition of knowledge. He really enjoyed learning more about something he loved. "You're the medic apprentice, right? Nice to meet you. I'll go fetch Mary." The orange and white feline gently moved his paws from the moss and straightened up, the blood scent still clogging his nose. He was pretty glad that someone else had taken over; he wanted to rest his paws; the male began to run into main camp calling the Head Medics name over and over. "MARY!"


    TAGS — updated 08/27

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    He felt trapped as he laid there. Trying to move but failing, he tried to weakly grunt out, but failed. The serval felt pathetic and weak, he felt as if he was a burden. He thought he was just a waste of precious time. Stuck in only his thoughts and not his physical form as he waited so he could wake up. Several voices rang at his ears, and he felt the blood gushing out and being absorbed by his sweater. There was something being packed into the wounds where the rusty nails once had been, and he tried to cringe, frustrated that he couldn't do anything.


    All he could do was soak in the pain, and he wanted it to stop, but it didn't. The shattered rib had made a small dent in his lung, but it hadn't broken the material. His head pounded, jolts of pain firing up his skull. Crispus wanted to scream out and accidentally say the word he vowed he wouldn't say. But his mouth couldn't move. The words being exchanged around him were audible, and some of them were encouraging, but he was scared.


    He had never thought of killing himself, never, but he didn't want anyone to care for mysterious reasons he couldn't explain. The child feared these invasive thoughts, they scared him. All he wanted to do was be left alone to rot away in some corner in camp. The pain that shot through him was beginning to become... normal, as if he had known it all his life. This would go away soon, but the rhythm of the tight squeeze shooting up his head began to temporarily sync to him, and he focused on the pattern. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It was better than trying to get away from the feeling of the injuries. For now, however, he remained unconscious, trapped inside his head.


    info | updated sep. 2nd 2016

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    Dear August,


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    Desmund bit his tongue as Beekeeper gladly took the knowledge, the kit swiveled ears back. Guilt and worry rushed through him, flooding his mind for the split second. No no no, don't be glad to know me, his private thoughts snapped at himself, body turning back to the fellow kit to help his best with what he could. "Thank you," Desmund lifted his rounded head to call out a sound or gratitude to the tom before hovering back to work on Crispus. Ideas and options flooded his mind, all seeming quite risky. But then again just leaving him like this would let him bleed to death and that was not- no, never an option.


    Working to unravel the bandages again, the kit tenderly allowed his paws to position them around the stomach to prevent bleeding. Despite how much he knew he still couldn't do anything about the broken rib yet, he didn't have the supplies nor the full knowledge on it. Instead he finished covering the wound and turned to work on his leg that was obviously dislocated, limping down on the ground like it never had connected to the body before. Inside his time with Mary he hadn't been taught yet in his time as a human he knew very well on helping legs like this, hence his weight shifting so paws laid on the dislocated limb. Three, two, oh gosh no. Paws pushed and the leg made a horrible cracking sound resembling it getting back into its place. Well, that was two out of the four injuries, half way done.



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    bio & opinions & journal & plot

    TAGS | 8/24/16


    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][font=arial][size=8]"I'm here," Mary murmured, having heard Beekeeper well. She had been in her den, and hadn't witnessed the event, but she could smell the blood. "What happened to him? ...No, that's not important," she had begun to ask, but she had something more important to do than ask questions. The feline couldn't really do anything about the broken rib - it would have to heal on its own. "Desmund, do you have any poppy seeds? Crispus... it'll hurt for a while, but you have to breathe deeply," the medic said, before turning her attention to the dislocated leg. That was the reason she had asked her apprentice for the poppy seeds - popping that back into place would really hurt. The least she could do, aside from fixing it, would be to ease the pain.
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    [sub][align=center]TEMPLATE © WINNIE
    #maryyk


    [spoiler=tags]
    general info
    mary xerses — idk how old she is anymore — female — septemberpaw xx lilypaw — medic of blizzardclan — "snake queen" — ghoul — 1/4 medusa — adopted sister of tama


    powers
    eye color manipulation
    memory manipulation
    all free powers


    battle tags
    physically medium; mentally medium — ask before u capture or severely injure — attack in [color=#0099CC]#0099CC

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 350px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; color: #ecc7a9; margin-bottom: -5px]Mercy was about ready to find whoever did this and mash in their skulls, but Crispus needed help. She could only stand by in a measly track post as the masters did their work, but she was idle to do what she could. Mercy hated seeing someone so young be hurt like this, in fact, it brought tears to her eyes.[/fancypost]


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    Dear August,


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    The sound a familiar voice soothed the kit's head, his eyes flickering back towards the quarter medusa medic who was sauntering hastily over. Des turned everything into white noise, the murmurs, the silent tears of confusion- focusing solely on the wise words of his mentor. Poppy seeds? Crap, he didn't have those. "I- Um. I don't think I have any- I'm sorry," panicked, the kit searched through his bag though didn't find a single reveal of the item. Usually Tama had beat him there and healed the fellow, him only working the wounds. Where did they even have poppy seeds anyways? "I can check the willows? I have some stuff there- I'll be right back," though the words faded as they pooled over his shoulder, paws heading straight for where he spent his afternoons.


    Within a short period the tom was back, fur fluffed and messed, paws dirtied by the drying mud. "What should I do? I don't think I can offer much more help-" Des sighed, handling the seeds over to the snake queen herself. Although quite sad, he was right. The kit didn't have the power she possessed, he wasn't that smart yet. All he could do was sit and watch, learn and note- he had already put the knowledge he had learned to the test and it was holding up okay. Yet he forgot poppy seeds? What useless little medic forgets poppy seeds? Apparently he did.



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    bio & opinions & journal & plot

    TAGS | 8/24/16