Red Handed [Honora] Feb 2, 2015 19:10:47 GMT -5
Post by James Colt on Feb 2, 2015 19:10:47 GMT -5
It started off with the best of intentions; a friendly spar between hunters to let off some steam. It probably would have stayed that way if James had managed to keep his mouth shut. As it happened, a few well placed taunts had the other hunter seeing red. This made the spar more fun, sure, but it also made it far more likely to end in injury.
That didn't stop him from grinning as he dodged one of the black bear shifters massive paws, shifting himself and twisting around to deliver a smack to the other hunter's head, careful to keep his claws retracted. Of course, bears couldn't retract their claws, so what probably would have been a glancing blow to James' shoulder if they were both fighting with fists managed to open up four slashes. With an angry yowl James pounced the bear shifter, driving his paws into the chest and roaring in his face. The roar was enough to surprise the other shifter into staying still, and after pinning him for another few moments, James stepped off to let him up and shifted.
The other hunter frowned at him, "You're bleeding." He said, pointing at the trickle of blood that was snaking down his left arm. James twisted around, trying to see where the blood was coming from. It wasn't too much blood, he'd certainly had worse before. "Don't worry about it, just a scratch," he grinned, "It'll take more than that to get the better of me."
He wandered away with a careless wave, testing his shoulder to see how much he could move it. It didn't feel too bad, he suspected only the middle two claws had done any real damage. Still, he should probably see about trying to clean it out and bandage it. It'd suck if it got infected and stopped him from hunting, especially with things so tense in the Carna; the last thing he wanted was to have to explain to whoever ended up in charge of the hunters that he'd injured himself goofing off. Reluctantly he headed towards the medical ward. It wasn't that he didn't like medics, it was just he was so used to letting things heal more or less on their own it seemed like a waste to go to them for every little bump or scrape.
Poking his head into the ward he saw it was more or less, empty. There were a few half conscious wounded and a medic watching over them, but no one was really paying attention to the entrance. He grinned to himself, better and better, he could just slip in, grab a bandage or two and fix it up himself. No need to get a medic involved, no need to answer pointless questions like 'how did you do this?' and 'what were you thinking you moron?'.
Walking up to the closest pile of medical looking stuff he began rummaging through it to find what he needed. Ah, there was a bandage that looked like it would do the job, he held it between his teeth so he could keep his hands free to hunt for something to clean the wounds with. Antiseptic, alcohol, heck, clean salt water would be better than nothing. Now where did they keep it?
A noise from behind him, someone clearing their throat, interrupted his search, and he turned around, doing his best attempt at looking innocent with a bandage between his teeth.