camp DOCTOR WHO // raid aftermath check-up

[VULTUREMASK]

Vulturemask had been waiting patiently for the raid party to return back to camp, mostly because he was wondering how it had went. If anybody else has died or not. If they would return with more loss then a victory. How many would be hurt and how badly would their injures be?. Could he even fix all of them?. Did all of them even deserved to be saved by his paw?. The medicine cat waited inside his den preparing his stock which would soon be...less meaning he would have to head out again after this to refill his stock to make up for everything he was gonna use today. Like always, Vulturemask didn't step out to approach them, to welcome them back. If they wanted his paw and herbs for help...to be healed by him they knew where to find him. Vulturemask never went to them. They had to come to him if wishing to be healed. All he would do was to be ready to heal those who needed his assistence.

// go ahead and post in here for a check up when you have finished posting in the RC raid! make sure to let me know your cats injures/wounds in a occ post though! (:


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[TIGERFROST]

Tags and Information

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Blood-smeared and battered, but nontheless victorious. The first wave had done their job, has crashed through RiverClan's defensive, leaving the second wave to plow through whomever was still left standing. Hyacinthbreath hadn't been killed, as far as Tigerfrost was aware. But... that RiverClan Lead Warrior had one paw in the grave, and she hadn't been alone. The red-painted battlefield had been dotted with the unconcious or dying bodies of fallen RiverClan cats. It had been a bloodbath. Tigerfrost is exhausted and aching, but he still manages to stumble back to camp through tired eyes. He knows he's been badly injured, knows that if he wants to be on his paws again as quickly as possible, he'll have to visit the medicine cat. It's a sour thought. He hates the idea of resting for the next few weeks.

He blows out a sigh, but makes his way across the clearing anyways, giving a yowl to those who returned alongside him, "Get your wounds looked at, if you need to. I don't want anyone bleeding to death in our camp." Concern masked with gruffly spoken vocals. Tigerfrost approaches Vulturemask's den on heavy paws. What a mess he's made of himself. He's not even sure how much of the blood is his own, and how much of it belonged to Cindershade.

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Deep lacerations down his stomach.
Deep claw wounds across his chest.
Deep scratches on the sides of his neck.
Moderate lacerations on one of his shoulders.
Minor scratches down the side of the other shoulder.
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[SUNNVAR]

He is luckier than most. His opponent had been fierce, and her support seemed endless, yet all were weakened by the first onslaught. Though claw marks dot his russet-striped pelt, he is steady enough to fulfill the greater part of his duties without pain. And in times such as this, when their lives are thrown about in the chaotic aftermath of war, that was all that mattered. That they come back without further losses is a grand success on its own– he supports the wounded throughout the long trek back, yet does not help carry the deceased. After Juniperfrost's limp form had stained his shoulders that fateful day, he does not think he could stand to have another so soon. Tigerfrost seems to be the closest they had gotten. He supports the chimera when allowed, but allows him freedom when he wants.

His paws are fully independent by the time that he heads towards Vulturemask's den. He looks first to the dark tom, nodding a tired respect. "Tend to the others first, I am here only to assist you where you may need it."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: minor scratches all over with a larger one on one shoulder and a tear on his upper back!
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[Azaleafrost]

She returned with the rest of them, beaten and bloody, but unbothered by it. Perhaps Reedstrike had taught her something useful after all, the ability to remain unflinching in the face of an assault. Endurance. Pain tolerance. She'd thank him, if she cared. Some cats around her were tired and ready to fall over. Not her, she wouldn't let her tiredness show. She strode with confidence, even on her injured paw. She'd probably be limping on it tomorrow, but she would not give any of these cats the chance to mock her.

She fought well. If anyone told her otherwise, she was in the mind to taunt them back.

She paused to look towards the medicine den. She didn't know if she could trust Vulturemask, but she needed his help, so she made her way over to him. She didn't say anything. What was she supposed to say? Hi, Im bleeding, can you fix that??? He already knew that!


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Scratches on face
Deep scratches on left flank
Injured paw from a bite
Deep chest scratches
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[GRAVELSNAP]

They don’t have any inclination to seek out Vulturemask, don’t trust the older cat as far as they could toss him. Gravelpaw doesn’t plan on getting treatment for their wounds at all, actually, until they hear Tigerfrost’s voice. It would be a bad look if they were to bleed out in camp, wouldn’t it? Especially when they’re expecting their warrior ceremony soon—reluctantly, the black-patched apprentice hobbles over to join the other WindClanners around the healer’s den.

"Just don’t touch me," they grit out, fixing the healer with a sharp look.


// treatable injuries:
- deep laceration over left eyebrow
- bite on front paw, limping
- gashes on stomach
- deep lacerations across left cheek, just beneath the eye
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[HEATHCLAW.]

He is lucky to have made it out as he had. Not unscathed, but not injured to the point of great struggle. Tigerfrost looks about ready to collapse. Or at least– like he should be ready to. And yet he takes it upon himself to direct them to Vulturemask. Unnecessary– that stubbornness, but admirable all the same. He tended to keep a certain distance from WindClan's higher-ups. Not special treatment, he may say.

He nearly says something to him, but doesn't take them as knowing eachother well enough for such a thing. He offers no word to those around him, though he would nod to anyone who caught his eye. He saw his own injuries as nothin' to fuss over, but checks in out of obligation, none the less. "Don't worry about it if it's any trouble," he tells the medicine cat. 've been through worse is left unsaid, easily inferred by the scars across his face.

OOC INFORMATION

• injuries include slashes across the flank, neck bite, general scratches; more than willing to walk it off tehe
  
• — HEATHCLAW: he / him; cisgender male, 42 moons. moor - runner of windclan.
  — bisexual with no clear preference. single.
  — low, rumbling voice with a noticeable, but not overbearing southern drawl.
  — goes with the tides. if loyalty is what will benefit him, so be it. independent but amicable.
  
  — for windclan – a tall and broad chocolate tabby tom with half a tail. Smattered with smaller scars, the most obvious being a sharp cut across his lower jaw and eye, that of which is half-blind. Sharp-jawed with an intense hazeled stare; lost most of his tail due to an incident when he was younger.

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[SCORCHSTAR]

The retreat from RiverClan territory was brutal, perhaps even worse than the battle itself. But worse than both are the wounds to her pride. Scorchstreak has never faced an opponent she was unable to put down, but the river king trampled her like she was no more than a helpless kit. In the end, it was likely Weaselclaw who saved her life—if he hadn’t managed to take down Cicadastar’s mate (it was an assumption, based wholly on rumor, but apparently a correct one) then none of them might have made it out of that camp.

She blames her personal loss on the fact that the mottled leader has seven lives, while she only has the one. He has more room to be reckless, with extra life to fall back on. Yes, that makes more sense. There is no elegance, no smooth step to her walk as she makes her way to see Vulturemask. "It looks worse than it is," she says, though she isn’t certain whether that’s necessarily true.

They don’t have the clarity of mind to worry about the healer’s loyalty to his clan. They are tired and the sooner they get this over with, the sooner they can go tuck themself away in the tunnels and recover. Vulturemask could feed them deathberries at this point, and they would probably thank him.


// injuries:
- deep laceration across forehead, stretching from left ear to left eye
- puncture wounds on left cheek from a bite (teeth went all the way through her cheek in a couple spots)
- deep lacerations across shoulders, long claw wounds from right shoulder all the way down to her hip
- moderate lacerations across stomach
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​

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[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw limps behind Scorchstreak and Tigerfrost. Every breath he draws, every step he takes, forces him to wince in agony. The throat wound is beginning to itch fiercely, and he wants nothing more than to tear into it with his claws to sate the feeling. He won't, knows it will mean his death, but the feeling is driving him almost as mad as the pain is. His short tabby pelt is mottled with claw wounds, the fur stiff with drying blood in many places.

"This one's the worst," he mutters to their silent medicine cat. He can only hope Vulturemask will forget any animosity he's held for Weaselclaw in the past. He has children he must see become warriors before he dies.

// very deep bite/tear at the base of his throat
moderate cut on his face, just below his left eye
moderate cut on his muzzle
minor cuts all over​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

He was not part of the raid at all, nor did he need treatment, but that would not stop the boy from shadowing his father like a living silhouette. His face was fixed with an unwavering mask of malice. Tail lashing like his namesake as he takes a stiff seat beside the aching lead warrior. "Only for now." Adder murmurs to his father, tone low and curt. Still simmering over the location of said bite. Vurturemask would fix him, the ebony tinged doctor had to. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[cottonsprig]

Watching the battle party return had been something of interest to the grey kitten. She counts heads as they duck into camp, feeling relief come in bursts when her favorite warriors, apprentices, and family members peak their heads in. It's only when her father joins the crowd that she feels that relief wash away, shock instead filling its spot. Her father - he's strong! Unbeatable, even. He should be, at least, yet he seems to struggle holding himself upright, and his throat is borderline spilling. She thinks of Juniperfrost, of her worries that someone would return a husk like him, and grits her teeth at the idea of that someone being Weaselclaw.

It's wrong. It's very wrong.

Adder's first up to approach their father, and the youngest isn't far behind. She bumps her shoulder into her father's side, and though she's properly smaller than him, she sits as close as she can for right then, offering him support to lean on her should he need to. For once she's silent, waiting for Vulturemask to shoo them away and demand space.​