Expedition The Urk Expedition: Water Logged

[FinnianBrightfur]

Water Logged​

[ Thread forked from "Aggressive Negotiations" ]

[ OOC Preface: This can be a delicate thread. Lots of drama, a decent amount of grittyness, etc. Let's try to keep things to a PG-13 level. The most important part here is having fun. If you'd like a little less intensity, or want to change things up, feel free to hit me up on discord! ]

Finn tore through down the decks with all urgency. He'd received not just one, but two orders from the captain -- and reveled in the chance to prove himself useful. Not even for selfish reasons! It just felt good to be a part of something larger than himself, and be able to help. To have people depend on him.

Not to mention, how well he'd perceived the battle to be going. Decisive, perhaps even flawless victory over vile savages. But Finn's youthfulness had a rather simple view of what was actually happening -- a fact he ran head long into as Gyles gave the order for a broadside.

The first shot knocked him off his feet, and he stumbled to the ground, covering his ears. He had no clue what happened, but with each passing second the thundering blows got closer. Finn scrambled to get out of the way, until he looked up and saw the cannons firing. The awesome sight caught him by the throat, and shook his youthful confidence as it threw him to the ground again. The Hide was a powerful ship indeed, and that power could be utterly terrifying.

Sulfur and smoke filled the air, and it took the dazed kit several seconds to get back to his feet. Remembering his assignment, he scrambled off to the infirmary with his ears ringing.

"Mr. Barrett! Mr. Barrett! Cap'n sent me down, said to prepare to receive wounded!"

"How many, Finny?"

"At least one! Mr. Songfox fell overboard, and they're rescuing him!"

The surgeon thought pensively for a moment, drawing on his years of naval service. Finn's answer was a start, but naïve. If he had to wager, there would be a second patient coming with hypothermia -- the rescuer. The captain would have staged his Marines high... gates. They'd be firing right down on the Songfox. And this crew lacked discipline. Gates, they'd killed their own, hadn't they?

"Finn, go get some blankets ready. Crack that steam vent, and get them warm."

"Aye sir!"

I told you he's not ready for this. There's not time to teach him everything. He's just a kit. He cares too much.

"...Finn, listen closely!" he barked over the din of the battle outside. An expression of frustration and anger spread over his face. Triage was one of the most difficult things to do.

"We're about to have more patients than resources. Not everyone can get treated. Some might just be too far gone to save, and if y'waste time on 'em, you'll lose the ones you CAN save."

This was indeed a new thought for Finn, and it soured his stomach. "...wait! You mean you'd just let them die!?" he cried out in shock. He had only ever thought of the pine martin as a good doctor, but this sounded cruel.

"That's war, Finn. And if you don't listen to me, I'll throw you out of my infirmary, and bring in someone else. Do you understand?" he roared in anger. Though if he was honest, his anger wasn't directed at the kit.

Bad leadership caused bad discipline. Bad discipline got people killed. And if today went badly enough... Well. At least he could try to do something if Finn had caught a crossbow bolt. The surgeon couldn't do a rotten thing if Finn's nerves were shattered after the first skirmish. Perhaps the best thing would be to shield him from it.

Finn was taken aback. Mr. Barrett did have a short temper, and brusque manner at times. But he was a good teacher, and seemed to be pleased with him -- at least, when he wasn't smearing honey over patients. The kit couldn't decide what he feared more: watching someone die, or failing at his job. (Was there even a difference?) "But, I--"

"Yes or no, Finn! Can you do this or not?"

"A-aye sir!"

"What did you say?" said the pine martin, rejecting the kit's timid answer.

Finn didn't miss what was happening. "AYE SIR!" he fired back, regaining his confidence.

The surgeon still seemed angry, but less so. He'd done all he could, given the circumstances. "...good. Fill that wash basin with hot water, Finn. And fill the final inch with cold. We're going to have some water logged beasts coming in shortly..."

 

[Morgan Liu]

The first one came in.

Morgan's breaths were wheezes and gurgles, the half-drowned beast leaking mixed seawater and blood both from her mouth, and from an arrow wound to her back that had evidently punctured a lung. She was soaked and clearly near hypothermic as well, drifting in and out of consciousness. Vihma and one of the other crewmates who doubled as a surgeon's aide were carrying her by her arms and legs, a trail of water and blood following them. "Critical condition!" the aide exclaimed, hauling her in. "Punctured and flooded lungs, she's barely been able to breathe, and she was in the water for far too long, onset of hypothermia I'd say." The ferret looked like death itself; her eyes were rolling back in her head, and she was clearly hallucinating at this point. "Crazy beast swam under the keel," the aide explained as he hauled her. "How she didn't drown, I've no idea."

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn was busy running hot water in the tub -- when suddenly there was a tremendous groan from the Hide as her boiler was evacuated. The steam vents warming the blankets spit and sputtered, and the water flow slowed to a trickle. But before Finn could mention anything to the surgeon, the first patient came trundelling in.

"Finn! Bring a blanket!" ordered the surgeon. The tone of his voice had changed. It was commanding and clear, but lacked anger. Dressed in a leather apron, Mr. Barrett fetched a pair of shears, and handed them off to his assistant. "Cut all the clothing off, from foot to head. The cold water will kill her if we can't get her dry." There was no mincing words in the infirmary. Finn had yet to realize who the patient was, and quickly set to shearing up a pant leg.

Meanwhile, the primary concern was respiratory. The pine martin rested a paw on Morgan's chest to make sure she was still breathing, before ripping apart her garment where the arrow entered. With that, the hulking pine martin stood up on the foot railing along the table, planted his paw over Morgan's breastbone, and firmly pressed downwards to express water from her lungs.

By now, Finn had arrived at Morgan's hip, and had still yet to realize who she was. Blood and water was dripping down on the floor... And it was the most blood he'd seen in his life. The foxkit steeled himself, and began to cut upwards along her pantleg. Finn wasn't half bad at this task, though he struggled to cut through the belt. As he pressed and squeezed at the sheers, he glanced up to see who it was. "M-morgan!?" he called out, startled at how deathly she looked.

"If you care for your friend, don't stop, Finn. She needs you to keep cutting." said the surgeon in a cold, efficient voice. He let off Morgan's chest to see if it would rebound -- and assuming it did, he'd go for a second press, watching closely to see how much water was coming out of her mouth and shoulder wound.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan wanted to scream as she was brought back to consciousness by the surgeon pressing down on her chest, but she couldn't get the air to do so. Instead she wheezed and choked, spitting up blood and brine, a terrible gurgle echoing from the wound as sanguine salt water pulsed from it. When the surgeon let up, she took a ragged, desperate breath. She could feel her lungs feeling with the sweet taste of air - then she started vomiting salt water. She turned her head, trying to get it clear of her mouth. She could still feel some fluid in her lungs, though the punctured one was at least mostly drained, save for the blood still flowing into it. As she breathed, she could feel the air escaping her, leaving before she could fully absorb it.

She took another ragged breath, managing to raise her head enough to see Finn working to cut her soaked and frigid clothes free of her. Well, this was going to make things a little awkward, Morgan reflected. She supposed it really would be the entire crew had seen her in her skivvies. Then she coughed up blood again, and she focused on just trying to keep breathing.

 

[Greeneye]

Two more beasts came into the infirmary. Greeneye was carrying Silvertongue, the latter completely unconscious.

"Help Silvie- Please!" Greeneye croaked, laying Silvertongue in the half filled bath. "He'll catch his death of cold- 'e was in der water fer too long."

Greeneye tried to clumsily remove some of Silvertongues soaked clothes, before collapsing onto the floor, his blood pooling out from under him as it leaked from multiple wounds.

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma was still in shock. Having helped carry Morgan down to the infirmary had put purpose to her mind, forced her to focus on a task. Now that she was down on the surgeon’s table she could feel herself pushed aside, the surgeon, the aide who’d helped her, and even the young kit Finn taking charge of her, cutting her soaked clothing away and seeing to her wounds.

The sight put fear and cold in her chest like nothing else had.

Somehow, when she and Morgan had been put soaked and unprotected up in the crow’s nest she’d figured for a time that would be the last time the ferret would come so close to death. It was actually quaint, now, in comparison. The waters of Urk were so much colder than anything got in the harbour back home, and she hadn’t been coughing up blood then.

The weasel stepped back, started trying to tear her teary eyes from the scene, to go before she was told to leave, to try and put her mind somewhere else, to somehow remove herself from the sight of Morgan’s unresponsive body, flecked by blood and soaked with ice water. What was there for her to do here? How could she do anything but get in the way?

Before she could commit, Greeneye came stumbling through, a cold-soaked Silvertongue in his paws. He managed only so far before collapsing, just barely placing Silvie in the tub she’d once recuperated in.

Vihma swore, taken back but suddenly cognizant once more, trying to grab the rat as he fell. She remembered Greeneye fighting the shrews on his own, taking blows even from his own side in the confusing battle. He’d lost a lot of blood.

“Gates... ‘ang in there Greenie!”

She swore again, unslinging her bow to throw it aside, and tearing away some of the copious cloth wrappings she’d covered herself in to protect herself from the cold. She wasn’t an expert in treating wounded beasts. She knew enough – that one had to stop the bleeding, or a beast would die. And it seemed the rat had bled for a good long while.

Vihma had never known him too well – he was the close mate of Silvie, close being the operative word. Always looking out for him, ahead for him. They’d been inseperable, and she couldn’t imagine what would become of the fox if he lost him.

Still, the weasel wasn’t so fast that none of the more trained beasts around her couldn’t give her direction or take charge, seeing her trying to fasten makeshift bandages for the rat’s wounds – first his leg and then his tail, seeming the most severe.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn's ears folded back against his head. He'd seen someone bleeding from lacerations to their arm before, but this was the first time he'd seen someone bleeding from their mouth. The kit's stomach would have churned if it weren't for the sense of urgency to the situation -- it helped keep his focus elsewhere. With one final snip, the kit made it through Morgan's belt, and began working up her side and sleeve. "Done... I've got the blanket ready..." he said with a sense of determination. In a smooth motion, the wet clothes were replaced with a warmed blanket over her torso. Seemingly, the doctor had instructed Finn well on the importance of maintaining the patient's dignity -- something that Finn understood well after being so UNCEREMONEOUSLY flea bathed by one Aide-de-Camp who shall not be named.

The kit looked up as more patients swarmed into the infirmary, and looked helplessly up to the surgeon. He'd never treated this many patients before, and quickly realized what Mr. Barrett meant about triage.

The pine martin calmly surveyed the chaos in front of him. It was a tough choice to make between Silvie and Greeneye, but fortunately Vim was handy, and seemed willing to help. "Seabeast -- put pressure on those wounds. Finn, I need you to check Mr. Silvertongue. Make sure he's still breathing, and has a pulse. Then, fetch the sea beast here a tourniquet and fasten it tightly to Greeneye's leg. You may need to help him tighten it, seabeast, he's not very strong," directed the surgeon.

Finn, meanwhile, rushed over to Silvie, and placed a paw on his breast to check for a pulse and heartbeat. The foxkit stifled an whimper as he struggled to find a heartbeat for a moment, before looking bolt upright. "H-he's breathing!" he said triumphantly. "But... But it's weak."

"Leave him then, Finn. He'll last a little longer. Greeneye however, will not. The tourniquet, quickly Mr. Brightfur."

Finn was encouraged... He'd never been addressed so formally by the surgeon before. He quickly fetched the tourniquet, and wrapped it around Greeneye's leg, above the spear wound. That seemed to be the biggest. He wrenched the screw down several turns, before starting to struggle with it.

Having delegated care of the inseperable duo to Finn, the surgeon looked down to Morgan. She seemed to be breathing more easily now, but she was lungshot. Gates, she wasn't going to make it, was she? The surgeon lifted her chin to look at her throat, and noted the tracheal deviation towards the side that wasn't injured. Fluid had filled her chest cavity -- a tension pneumothorax. It had collapsed her wounded lung, and was crushing her good one. The fluid needed to be drained immediately.

"Sand, please! Seabeast -- there's a bucket of sand over there, spill it on the floor under the wounded. We mustn't have anyone slip on the blood."

Looking down at Morgan, he held her head comfortingly. "Hold fast, Ms. Liu. Hold fast," he urged her, before leaving to fetch a rolled up leather pouch.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan felt the soft weight of the blanket on her, and a small surge of relief. She'd never been shy; she'd grown up in a place where cadavers appeared seemingly at random, and had become desensitized to viewing the body as anything more than a vessel of meat and bone. Still, she knew Vulpinsulans didn't tend to view it that way, and she was relieved that Finn wouldn't see anything that would make their sibling-esque relationship more awkward.

As the surgeon lifted her chin to examine her, she caught sight of Vihma tending to Greeneye. 'Gates, Greenie looked like he'd been used as a pincushion, and as for Vim... Even as she choked and gasped on her own blood, Morgan felt regret choking her as well. She'd promised Vihma that she'd been careful, and now here she was. Vihma deserved better than someone who was going to break their word and her heart at every turn. The worst part was that, even if she survived this, Morgan knew she wouldn't change. She would keep running into danger because that was who she was.

'Gates, it was hard to breath. Each breath felt shallower, the weight on her lungs even greater. The world was starting to get dark; she couldn't tell if the lamps in the room were dimming, or if it was just her. She focused on breathing, desperately trying to keep the motion going, even as she felt like she was drifting away, back into the waters that had nearly claimed her. So cold...

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue was entirely unconscious, and as Finn had stated his breathing was weak. Each breath was ragged, and took effort. His body was cold and wet still, and as he laid draped in the bathtub his face seemed troubled. Though, he was the only one that wasn't injured or bleeding. He stirred a bit in his unconscious state and whimpered, his body still trembling from the cold. He might have been on the verge of waking up, but there was too much chaos in the infirmary to tell.

 

[Greeneye]

Greeneye grimaced as the tourniquet was applied to his leg. He pushed himself up, grunting with effort. "Hells... bloody blue Hells... I really did it this time, didn't I?" He let himself collapse onto the deck again. "Can't move anyfink... losing blood fast. It don't matter none. Silvie is gonna make it- that's all what matters ter me..." He sighed heavily. "Just need to close me eye a bit... I'm a bit lightheaded."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma nodded at the surgeon's direction, trying to keep her makeshift bandages pressed tightly to Greeneye's wounds, and helping Finn tighten the tourniquet when he struggled.

She didn't expect the rat to suddenly try to stand up again, and made as though to attend to him again, only for the surgeon to call for assistance - to have her spread sand over the infirmary floor.

The weasel found the bucket well enough, liberally draining its content around the floor, where Greeneye's blood now stained the wood by the tub, by the entrance and lastly by the operating table itself, upending the bucket as it finally emptied.

Vihma couldn't help but look at Morgan again - tears in her eyes and her heart in her throat as she listened to the ferret's shallow breathing.

"Doc, 'er breathing's gettin' worse..."

She looked to the surgeon pleadingly, trying to find the words to get him back to the table quickly, with or without whatever tools it was he needed.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The pine martin was a blur of activity. He unrolled the leather pouch quickly, revealing a line of unpleasant looking instruments -- all the meanwhile, delegating various tasks to Finn.

Greeneye would also get a blanket to keep him warm after the blood loss, and a quick bandage for the other significant wound on his paw. Though a simple task, Finn would work diligently, and even dare I say proficiently? The adrenaline running through his system kept him going.

Mr. Barrett watched Vim carefully. She had been an excellent resource, and like Finn, seemed to be working in spite of her own fears and concerns. But what was about to come was terribly unpleasant, and hard decisions had to be made. If morale collapsed, it could put lives in jeopardy.

"Those able to walk, clear the infirmary!" he directed in a loud voice. "Seabeast," he said, looking directly at Vim -- regrettably there was no time for introductions. "You've done all you can. You have my assurance we will do everything in our power for Morgan. But you are needed elsewhere on deck. We've got it from here."

Asking the friends and loved ones to leave the surgical room was always a difficult task, and Mr. Barrett chose his words as carefully as he could. Truth be told, even Finn was reaching a limit, and certainly didn't have the stomach for what was about to happen. "Finn, get Mr. Songfox out of his wet uniform and under a blanket, and then go to the upper deck. Report to the captain or bosun the state of the wounded, and wait there until you are sent back."

Hopefully, that would buy him enough time to take care of the most critically wounded. Mr. Barrett exposed Morgan's side, and began to feel along her rib cage. Finding a suitable spot, he looked up. "Everyone who can walk, LEAVE NOW! We must work!"

[ Thread paused for a moment so we can regroup! ]