Bankor

The heat was scorching. Cole had caught a ride in the direction of the city after the holocall about the prisoners came through. There was nothing he could do to help while the sniper forces hovered over them and he decided that prudence was the better part of valour, staying in cover until the snipers left, or patients came to him.

OOC: Contested area please roll Resilience or Stealth.

OOC: forgot about that part.

D4 EA: Resilience, Hard: 1eP+1eA+3eD 0 successes

4 Wounds

Free Stimpack from Standard Medpac used to recover Wounds.

Two republic troopers hauled Craw to the medic, dragging him by his shoulders as he screamed and cursed them out horrendously. They threw him down next to the good doctor and turned to leave. Before they could Craw sat up, supporting himself with his one good arm and yelled at the other trooper.
"Give me my fucking rifle back you worthless motherfucking excuse for a soldier!"

The trooper turned around and threw Craw's rifle at him. It hit Craw with a thud, and the mandaloriand fell back on the ground. Craw turned his head toward the doctor and asked "You a medic? Yeah? Good. I need some painkillers ASAP." Craw's left shoulder was a mess of blood, meat and bone, torn apart by an unlucky blaster bolt.
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Healing thread Resilience roll: 4eA+3eD 1 success, 1 threat


Craw has 16 wounds and 1 Crit (3 Difficulty dice)

Azura was nearby, weapons in hand, ready to protect the medics. They were likely to be busy, and there was plenty of snipers around...

(OOC - open for interaction. Only 1 wound taken so don't need healing, just being a protector at this point)

D4 EA stealth in contested area- hard difficulty: 3eA+1eP+3eD 1 success, 3 advantage

Cole knelt next to the yelling warrior, running the mediscanner over him before picking up a hypospray and loading it. He placed the hypo against Craw's neck and administered a strong painkiller. The surgeon seemed to be in his element, even with the sand and the heat, reassembling the shredded muscle and flesh, mending blood vessels, and laying synthflesh over the area.


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D4 EA: Crit-Craw; Medicine, Hard, Reduce Difficulty (Medpac): 2eP+2eA+1eB+2eD 3 successes, 3 advantage

Critical Injury (Crippled Left Arm) removed.

D4 Ea: Heal-Craw; Medicine, Hard, Physician Bonus: 2eP+2eA+1eB+2eD 0 successes, 7 advantage

+1 Success Medi-Aid Patch, +1 Advantage Physician Bonus
4 Wounds, 8 Strain Healed.

Craw leaned his head back and moaned as the painkiller was administered. "Ahh yeah that's the stuff..."

A few bedraggled POWs, looking rather in need of medical attention themselves, come into the triage center. It's a bit chaotic, but it turns out they're helping a Republic medic transport a stretcher, presumably to let another soldier stay on the firing line.

On the stretcher is the unconscious form of a tall human woman in dusty and scorched armor and robes. Her only injury seems to be a single blaster burn to the shoulder and upper chest, but it's a lucky one (or unlucky, depending whose perspective you take), boring straight through an armor plate.

((15/14 Wounds, 3/14 Strain, one Easy critical injury.))

Cole ran a hand through his hair and pulled on fresh gloves as he moved to attend the unconscious woman. The nature of her injuries were delicate and fiddly, sweat streaming from his forehead and dampening the collar of his desert fatigues. He wiped his face on his forearm and loaded up a stimpack, injecting the dark-skinned Jedi.


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D4 EA: Crit-Tethys; Medicine, Easy: 2eP+2eA+1eB+1eD 4 successes, 2 threat

Critical Injury (Stinger) removed. Cole suffers 2 Strain.

D4 EA: Heal-Tethys; Medicine, Hard, Physician's Bonus: 2eP+2eA+1eB+3eD 0 successes, 1 advantage

No Wounds healed, but stable.

Stimpack applied - 5 Wounds Healed

Tethys's eyes blink open in her dusty, sweat-streaked face, focusing slowly on Cole.

"How many made it?" she slurs, fixing her gaze on him with groggy intensity.

Attention half on the information displaying on his spectacles, Cole discarded his gloves and ran a hand through his curls, damp with sweat. "We're still counting," he answered.

She accepts that, closing her eyes again for a moment and licking her dry lips. "All right. Am I allowed to get up?"

Her speech is already getting a bit more precise as the drugs from the stim push the cold, shocky feeling further and further away. You know you're really in bad shape when you can feel cold in a desert at midday.

Cole pressed a canteen into her hand, "sit up, drink. Then we'll see about getting you on your feet."

"Thank you." Tethys starts to press herself up to sitting with both hands, lets out a very, very faint grunt, and tries again with just her right hand--successfully this time. She raises the canteen to her lips and doesn't lower it again until she's drained at least half the contents. Licking her lips again, she sets it down next to her on the table and scrunches a hand through her locs, two frown lines appearing between her brows as she feels how much dust, blood, and other mysterious grime seems to have gotten into her hair.

"I really started to think they wouldn't get me. For a moment or two, at least." She winces and takes another, more restrained sip from the canteen. "That may have been the mistake."

The surgeon adjusted his spectacles and studied the Jedi's wounded shoulder as she moved, "you were lucky, but the good you did shouldn't be called a mistake."

Galen was brought in next, unconscious and unmoving.

- - -
26 wounds, 1 Crit (43)

Dr. Cole Ormont wrote:The surgeon adjusted his spectacles and studied the Jedi's wounded shoulder as she moved, "you were lucky, but the good you did shouldn't be called a mistake."

"That, never," she says firmly. "But not dodging faster, trusting too much to Jedi Zyn's device instead of my own instincts... maybe. I don't know--it all happened very fast."

The bustle as Galen is carried in draws her eyes. "He was out there too, just in front of me. I saw him save at least one before I... went down." Now that she's no longer unconscious or bleeding, she has more attention to spare for other people's injuries than her own, it seems.

Cole touched Tethys reassuringly on the arm to excuse himself, moving on to Galen with a worried expression. The damage was extensive, far more than Cole could address like this, in the ruins of a battle-damaged building, with just the dwindling supplies in his custom medpac. This far from the Strike Force camp, he was forced to fall back on stimpacks - which were around ninety percent adrenaline - just to get Galen to the state of walking wounded.


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D4 EA: Crit-Galen; Medicine, Easy, Reduce Difficulty (Medpac): 2eP+2eA+1eB+1eD 2 successes, 2 advantage

Critical Injury (Bowled Over) removed.

D4 EA: Heal-Galen; Medicine, Hard, Medi-Aid Patch, Physician Bonus: 2eP+2eA+1eB+3eD 2 successes, 1 threat

+1 Success Medi-Aid Patch, +1 Advantage Physician Kit
6 Wounds healed.

2x Stimpacks applied - 9 Wounds healed.

Galen slowly regained consciousness and looked arou s weakly.

"Did that prisoner make it?".

With a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, "thanks to you." Discarding his gloves, Cole ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his spectacles, "I hope you're more careful than this normally," the surgeon's deadpan humour probably didn't register as teasing, "who puts you back together when I'm not around?"

"Z, actually. He usually gives me whiskey, too." he chuckled softly, then coughed.

Cole produced his hip flask, “I don’t think I can afford the same quality on a navy stipend,” he offered Galen the whiskey.

"It's alright." he took a quick sip. "I don't think many can afford his tastes. But, I owe you again, Doc."

Cole shook his head, maybe it was the heat, or the brightness of the desert sun, but he looked paler than the first few weeks on Bankor. “I don’t want to hear any of that,” he ran his fingers through his blonde curls and tried to keep a lid on his insecurities. “Where’s Navi?”

"It's too hot out here for him." He explained. "He's safe in my bunk."