*Etamsin rides into stonard clinging to his dreadsteed with aarows in his back he falls off and lands in a puddle rolling over he stares in the sky thinking "is this the end" while his brothers and sisters scramble around him the aarows have snapped and the wooden ends lay in a puddle with a note attached to them* "Etamsin!" yells many members of the grin. *Now with blurry vision Etamsin looks at the faces around him many holding bandages or casting spells he spits blood up from his mouth and falls back limp"
((Feel free to reply))
"I want him under strict medical supervision" sais Ashenrock
*Others add in to the conversation while Etamsin lay in a room hanging onto his life by a fingertip his eyes blink*
As the healers switched positions, doing their best to heal the internal injuries, the medics switched as well, as they had been trying to stop the almost continuos flow of blood. Vord stepped in to put his knowledge to use. The arrows had gone in deep, and their appeared to be some sort of poison or magic on the arrows that kept the flesh from mending properly, meaning that it would take some doing to keep the grunt alive. Vord took his bandages out and went to work, and managed to keep Etamsin from bleeding out and helped the healers stop the internal bleeding as well. Vord spoke with the healers, "It looks like the arrows hit a kidney, and the other narrowly missed his spine. He must've been in a great deal of pain on the ride back." One of the healers nodded, while the other spoke, "He seems to have stabilized, at least for now."
Yagyu walked over to where his former Kagh'rok soldier knelt, trating Etamsin's wounds. Watching the orc working with the skill of a battlefield medic, he allowed himself the faint traces of a smile. It was good to see that the Grin had lost none of their taste for war.
Examing the growing pool of dark blood beneath Etamsin, Yag put his hand on Vord's shoulder.
"The color o' that blood don't look gud. Better git Yalim or Felora down here to look at it."
Picking up one of the snapped arrow shafts, Yag turned it over slowly in his hands. It looked to be an Alliance arrow but which race crafted it, he could not tell. Perhaps when Etamsin...if Etamsin...recovered there would be more to learn. For the moment, the orc went to his trunk to gather what netherweave he had left to help the medics with their bandaging until more could be done.
Vord felt his former CO's hand on his shoulder, "The color o' that blood don't look gud. Better git Yalim or Felora down here to look at it." Vord looked down at the blood pool, then turned Etamsin on his side to look at his injuries. Vord cursed, heavily and mostly silently, at what he saw. The thick, blackening blood was pooled, having seeped out from a wound Vord had just finished treating. "Damn, the clot must've broken loose. And it hit his lung too..." He took a closer look at the puncture wound, "Yagyu was right, this is no normal wound, there's something here that maybe...."
He turned Etamsin on his back to try and get the blood out of his lung when he saw a grot walking by. "YOU!" Vord shouted at the grot, "Bring Felora and Yalim here now. If I find out you aren't there in the next two minutes, I'll see to it you're given a one way ride to the twisting nether!"
As the grot sprinted to find the Sythegore, Vord reached into his bag to grab what bandages he had left and resumed his work with renewed fervor. "Too many dead," he thought, "We've lost too many to get here." He thought of Faquarl, dying for his clan. He thought of Gorfrunch, how he had fought by his side in what was to be his last battle. He thought of the countless dead they'd lost in Ironforge, in Outland, in all the conflicts he'd seen. "Damnit!" he cursed as the bleeding resumed, this time fresh red. As he cursed, he saw Etamsin's eyes open slightly, words forming weakly on his lips.
((Hey, sorry if it seems a bit detailed, my parents are docs and I've got quite a few anatomy and physiology books around my room. Tell me if it bothers anyone))