Board Thread:Warhammer 40k Roleplay/@comment-24821739-20140702040002/@comment-24878368-20140819022641

Ragnar falls to the ground in a heap, the wound to his chest burning and exploding with pain. His eyes drift down to the Lictor talon embedded in his chest, and scowls. Wincing in pain as he stands he quickly surmises that pulling the talon out would cause more harm then good at this juncture. He growls loudly as his combat knife slices down with force into the talon sheering it off about 10 inches from his skin, tyranid blood pouring out of the newly freed stump. He turns to look behind him as Draven's vox comes over his speaker and sees her. His constant companion and truest battle brother laying on the ground with a gaping wound in her torso, the chest plate visible through the oozing blood. Ragnar runs to her side and begins to check the wound, desperately trying to figure out a remedy. His hands move quickly despite the annoyance that is the lictor talon protruding a few inches out of his chest. He reaches behind him into a side container and pulls out a flare. Striking it a few times he finally gets it to ignite, causing Kaila to lift her head in concern and whine. Ragnar looks to her with a pained expression and softly speaks in the gutteral tones of Fenris. "hratt kæri systur. Allt vel. Þetta mun meiða og fyrir það ég er því miður" His voice, although harsh, sounds soothing and calming as he brings the flaming end of the flare towards the oozing wounds and begins to cauterize them. He reaches his hand up to hold her head down as Kaila thrashes at the new pain brought forth to her and Ragnar's voice raises in volume and pitch as he continues to try to soothe her. "Haltu hratt systur. Kyrr." His voice is still as soothing as he can make it, but there is a touch of sadness in it.

The wounds finally cauterized Ragnar reaches into his pack again and produces a small pouch of herbs and berrys. Looking around he finds a small piece of steel that could be used as a bowl and drops the items into it and begins to crunch the items into a poultice, he then takes the flare and heats up the bottom of the makeshift bowl. The stench coming from the bowl could be described as horrendous if you lacked imagination. While waiting for the poultice to heat Ragnar can be heard speaking in his language again, sadness very evident in his voice. "Allt faðir heyra mig og hlusta á son þinn. Þetta eitt getur samt berjast fyrir heiðri þínum, hún getur samt koma dýrð þinni. Tími hennar er ekki í gegnum og ég biðja um að þú láta hana með mér." Ragnar's pain and sadness radiates from him as he spreads the poultice over her wounds to the sounds of her whines and soft cries. He sits back looking at the wound and realizes he needs to sew it shut so it does not get further infected. He looks to the two surviving humans in their party. Ragnar speaks softly but the sorrow is still evident in his voice, "I need a needle and thread, i have to sew this up or she will die." He looks to the humans then to the rest of the squad, a slight pleading expression behind the fire in his eyes.