Slip and fall
Solo seasonal
10-10-2023, 02:01 PM
W inter was undoubtedly the harshest and most difficult season to survive through in northern Boreas. The cool, temperate land was turned into an arctic wasteland in the colder season, daylight barely lasting for more than a few hours, and that was assuming the sky was not covered in a thick blanket of clouds or a blizzard had not kicked up. Unfortunately for Requiem, both circumstances had happened to befall him at the exact same time. The day had begun gray and overcast, with a cool chill in the air that signaled a coming storm. That had not stopped the brute from making his way out into the dense northern forests in search of his poisons and herbs. He was determined to find something to help relieve that cough Lurid had been unable to shake, so he would search the ends of the earth, come hell or high water.
I n this case, it was the hell that came for him. Just after midday, a light flurry of snow began to fell. Over time, those flurries grew heavier and heavier, the wind picking up in intensity, until a veritable blizzard had formed all around him. In near white out conditions, the crimson brute trudged onward, fighting against the sharp wind that screamed in his ears as he forced his paws to keep moving forward. He had to get back to the Antiox or risk freezing to death out in the woods. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself against the bitter cold wind, Requiem trudged forward, his paws crunching in the deepening snow. Fat snowflakes whipped in front of his eyes, nearly blinding him. He could no longer see the trees in front of him, and he could barely see beyond his own paws in front of his face. But he had to keep moving. Stopping meant dying. Moving meant surviving.
F orcing himself in the direction he believed the Antiox was, Requiem counted his steps to keep his mind active and focused. One. Two. Three. Four. Gods, it was hard to see! His sixth step, however, he found no ground, and all of a sudden gravity shifted as Requiem went tumbling forward. He yelped in surprise as he slipped down the embankment, tumbling about in the snow. He tried to brace his paws on the ground, but they found no traction in the snow and ice, so down, down, down he slipped and fell. Requiem watched his world spin, and then saw the bark of a tree trunk coming at him. Too late, can't stop! The brute's body impacted the side of the willow tree with a grunt, a dull aching pain radiating from his side. That pain was nothing compared to what came next. While lying in the snow, groaning in pain and disorientation, a flicker of something shiny overhead caught his eye. High up in the tree's branches, a veritable chandelier of icicles hung above him, swaying on their branches from his impact. No sooner had he realized what he was looking at, a couple of those sharp shards of ice broke free and dropped right down at him.
F uck! Requiem barely had time to think before his reactions kicked in and he was scrabbling about in the snow, diving forward to get out of the ice spears' way. Two of them impacted harmlessly into the ground where he had been moments before. The third managed to find purchase along his foreleg, cutting through his skin just above his wrist. Requiem winced and snarled as a sharp pain radiated through his leg, droplets of red dripping down his paw to spatter and stain the pristine white snow. "Fucking hell..." the brute muttered under his breath, wincing again as he tried to put his weight on his leg. Pain ran up his leg like lightning, forcing him to collapse back to his haunches again. Shit, he wasn't going anywhere fast now. Now stuck in a dire and dangerous situation, Requiem began to assess his surroundings. He would need shelter from the cold and something to patch his leg up if he was to survive.
T he latter problem was a fairly easy solve. Looking back at the tree he had collided with, Requiem was elated to see some hardy moss and lichens growing along the base of its bark, unearthed from the snow when he had crashed into it. That would serve nicely as a makeshift bandage. Rising up and limping over to the tree, Requiem began to pull chunks of the moss away, followed by one of the willow's flexible branches to help bind it in place, holding it in his jaws as he began to push his way through the snow in search of shelter, albeit much slower going than before. He had to force himself to ignore and override the pain in his foreleg as he walked, scouring his surroundings for shelter. Eventually he came across a hollowed out tree, large enough to fit himself and protect him from the wind. Not much for warmth, but so long as he was dry and out of the snow, it would do for now.
L imping his way into the hollowed out tree, Requiem allowed himself a breath of relief as soon as he felt solace from the buffeting winds. He hadn't realized how cold he truly was until he was out of the storm and his aching muscles began to shiver on reflex. There was no time to wait for his body to warm up though; he had to tend to his injury before it got exposed to infection. Setting down his supplies, Requiem licked away the excess blood from his fur to expose the cut. The warmth of his own saliva felt good against his frozen flesh. With his area of work cleared for him, the brute began to pad the area with the moss, using the spongy plant to absorb the blood and help it clot much like gauze. He used as much as he needed to cover the area and to have a bit extra in excess, just in case. The injury wasn't life-threatening, but it could certainly become that way if he wasn't careful. Taking up the bendy willow branch, Requiem began to stretch it around his leg, using careful teeth to twist it together enough to brace the moss in place. This would do long enough to stem the bleeding. With his wound tended to, Requiem relaxed back inside the tree trunk and just stared out through the curtain of willow fronds at the blizzard outside, thanking his lucky stars for his resourcefulness.
WC: 1096
"Requiem" | "Latin"
I n this case, it was the hell that came for him. Just after midday, a light flurry of snow began to fell. Over time, those flurries grew heavier and heavier, the wind picking up in intensity, until a veritable blizzard had formed all around him. In near white out conditions, the crimson brute trudged onward, fighting against the sharp wind that screamed in his ears as he forced his paws to keep moving forward. He had to get back to the Antiox or risk freezing to death out in the woods. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself against the bitter cold wind, Requiem trudged forward, his paws crunching in the deepening snow. Fat snowflakes whipped in front of his eyes, nearly blinding him. He could no longer see the trees in front of him, and he could barely see beyond his own paws in front of his face. But he had to keep moving. Stopping meant dying. Moving meant surviving.
F orcing himself in the direction he believed the Antiox was, Requiem counted his steps to keep his mind active and focused. One. Two. Three. Four. Gods, it was hard to see! His sixth step, however, he found no ground, and all of a sudden gravity shifted as Requiem went tumbling forward. He yelped in surprise as he slipped down the embankment, tumbling about in the snow. He tried to brace his paws on the ground, but they found no traction in the snow and ice, so down, down, down he slipped and fell. Requiem watched his world spin, and then saw the bark of a tree trunk coming at him. Too late, can't stop! The brute's body impacted the side of the willow tree with a grunt, a dull aching pain radiating from his side. That pain was nothing compared to what came next. While lying in the snow, groaning in pain and disorientation, a flicker of something shiny overhead caught his eye. High up in the tree's branches, a veritable chandelier of icicles hung above him, swaying on their branches from his impact. No sooner had he realized what he was looking at, a couple of those sharp shards of ice broke free and dropped right down at him.
F uck! Requiem barely had time to think before his reactions kicked in and he was scrabbling about in the snow, diving forward to get out of the ice spears' way. Two of them impacted harmlessly into the ground where he had been moments before. The third managed to find purchase along his foreleg, cutting through his skin just above his wrist. Requiem winced and snarled as a sharp pain radiated through his leg, droplets of red dripping down his paw to spatter and stain the pristine white snow. "Fucking hell..." the brute muttered under his breath, wincing again as he tried to put his weight on his leg. Pain ran up his leg like lightning, forcing him to collapse back to his haunches again. Shit, he wasn't going anywhere fast now. Now stuck in a dire and dangerous situation, Requiem began to assess his surroundings. He would need shelter from the cold and something to patch his leg up if he was to survive.
T he latter problem was a fairly easy solve. Looking back at the tree he had collided with, Requiem was elated to see some hardy moss and lichens growing along the base of its bark, unearthed from the snow when he had crashed into it. That would serve nicely as a makeshift bandage. Rising up and limping over to the tree, Requiem began to pull chunks of the moss away, followed by one of the willow's flexible branches to help bind it in place, holding it in his jaws as he began to push his way through the snow in search of shelter, albeit much slower going than before. He had to force himself to ignore and override the pain in his foreleg as he walked, scouring his surroundings for shelter. Eventually he came across a hollowed out tree, large enough to fit himself and protect him from the wind. Not much for warmth, but so long as he was dry and out of the snow, it would do for now.
L imping his way into the hollowed out tree, Requiem allowed himself a breath of relief as soon as he felt solace from the buffeting winds. He hadn't realized how cold he truly was until he was out of the storm and his aching muscles began to shiver on reflex. There was no time to wait for his body to warm up though; he had to tend to his injury before it got exposed to infection. Setting down his supplies, Requiem licked away the excess blood from his fur to expose the cut. The warmth of his own saliva felt good against his frozen flesh. With his area of work cleared for him, the brute began to pad the area with the moss, using the spongy plant to absorb the blood and help it clot much like gauze. He used as much as he needed to cover the area and to have a bit extra in excess, just in case. The injury wasn't life-threatening, but it could certainly become that way if he wasn't careful. Taking up the bendy willow branch, Requiem began to stretch it around his leg, using careful teeth to twist it together enough to brace the moss in place. This would do long enough to stem the bleeding. With his wound tended to, Requiem relaxed back inside the tree trunk and just stared out through the curtain of willow fronds at the blizzard outside, thanking his lucky stars for his resourcefulness.
WC: 1096
"Requiem" | "Latin"
Warning: Requiem is an explicitly mature character for violent and sexual content. Read his threads with caution.
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| 1. | Slip and fall | Weeping Woods | 02:01 PM, 10-10-2023 | 01:43 AM, 02-13-2024 |