The Usual (Post-Raid Healing)

The soft splatter of blood dripping to the stone floors echoed around the quiet corridor. From the foyer, Artorias limped his way down the halls towards the infirmary. After the raiders had been driven off, he and Ulric had taken their prisoner down to the dungeons and gotten him locked in a cell to sleep off his drunkenness. Artorias didn't fully know what he intended to do with the Hallows' first captive of battle, but he'd think of something. For right now, he just wanted to get his leg looked at and go back to bed. He'd already ordered the castle gates be closed in case the pirates tried for a second round to free their compatriot; at least now the Hallows could rest easy and heal up for the night.

Artorias grimaced as a sharp pain ran through his leg where the pirate had stabbed him. Though it didn't seem debilitating and the wound was clean, it still hurt like a bitch and was bleeding freely, leaving a trail of blood droplets and bloody paw prints wherever he walked. He couldn't put any weight on his leg right now either, half hobbling towards the infirmary where the sounds of action and commotion could be heard. The pain was so great that it drowned out the pain of the bites to his chin. The Aegis made his way inside the infirmary, taking a beat to look around at his wolves. No one had been severely injured, which was all he could have hoped for. He'd gotten he worst of it, and that had solely been because he'd gone soft on the pirate. So stupid of him...

Yet even as he simmered over the idea of anyone attacking his pack, his family, his home, Artorias couldn't help but feel a pride swell within his chest. When danger had come to their door, the Hallows had rallied together at met their enemies on their threshold. Everyone had fought with tenacity and strength, and together they had not only beaten their foes, but decimated them entirely. Artorias couldn't have been more proud of each and every single wolf tonight. Smiling like a fool drunk off victory, the young brute didn't realize he was leaving a small puddle of blood beneath his foreleg as it flowed from his open wound. He wanted to address his wolves, to congratulate them and celebrate with them—but maybe he should have someone patch him up first.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"