Ziost - Crown of the Sith Empire

Tyr’s ship, the Midnight Howl, seemed pensive in its docking bay. How could a ship be moody? it was a thing of metal and electronic components, but still there was a fell mood about the vessel, it seemed to crouch on its supports, loading ramp down, but somehow not invitingly so. The cockpit was dark in a tense slumber, feeling abandoned, haunted, and yet ready to pounce.

Xal stared at the ship for a moment. He was no engineer. He had little understanding of the ship's design or capabilities. But, he knew it was just a ship, likely one of many of that model.

It still made him think of Tyr.

"Tyr? I'm outside. May I come aboard?" He asked over his comlink.

The door at the top of the ramp was opened, very quickly considering no one was expecting him, by a human in his 40’s. the man had strong hands, and looked like the type who was accustomed to showing courage in the face of danger. His expression said danger was imminent. “Mister Kimlya, welcome to the Midnight Howl.”

"Thank you." He walked up the ramp. "Take me to him, please."

The pilot’s expression didn’t change, though perhaps his eye twitched, or he glanced aside, “certainly, if you’re sure that’s what you want.” He stepped into the circular corridor and indicated to the first door forward of the ramp, “Mister Tyr is in his quarters, the door is open,” it wasn’t, the man meant unlocked.

Xal gave a nod and went to the door. "Tyr? Are you alright? Remmington had some severe wounds."

The pilot opened the next, and last, door forward of Tyr’s. “He won’t answer, Mister Kimlya,” the man had obviously seen such behaviour before. “You could go in, I wouldn’t recommend it, though.” Having said so, the pilot disappeared into the room he shared with his navigator, the door swishing shut behind him, a man hunkering down during a storm.

There was no hesitation. He walked in.

The quarters were roomy, for a spaceship, there was a bed and a desk with a large monitor mounted on the wall. A small shelf held and artificial plant in perpetual bloom. Opposite the entrance were two doors: one shut and the other open, between was a stand that displayed Tyr’s armour, it was clean but awaiting repairs. On the desk was a massive claw, blood and flesh and sinew still clinging where it had been ripped from the paw of its previous owner.

Through the open door came soft, rhythmic sounds. Moving parts that made gliding sounds, clicks as parts interacted, like a piece of machinery left running.

"Tyr? How are you?" He moved towards the noise.

The small room, intended for storage, had been converted into a very basic gym. Tyr was naked, or as naked as a shistavanen could be, covered from head to toe in dense fur. He’d bathed, but there was an open wound on his arm, seeping blood, and probably a dozen scrapes and bruises unseen behind his hair. The source of the noise was a piece of gym equipment, the massive wolf-man’s face frozen in a snarl, a rivulet of saliva coming from one side of his mouth, with every butterfly press the jagged wound on his arm gaped, showing the muscle beneath, violently red against his black hide.

Eventually he finished his set, coming to a rest, the noise chasing apart from the soft, steady panting coming from Tyr. Getting to his feet, he noticed Xal in his doorway and paused, hackles rising instantly. His pupils were constricted, eyes wild, seeming not to recognise the arkanian intruder.

"You need medical treatment. You should have come to me." He folded his arms.

Xal’s voice broke through the angry fog in Tyr’s mind, “it’s fine, it’s nothing,” he grunted tersely, turning back to his machine, changing its configuration and adjusting the resistance. He began a set of pull-downs, biting down against the pain it caused him.

"It's not as bad as Remmington, but your wounds will only get worse if they aren't treated." he protested. "Especially if you continue working out. Your tearing them further open."

Tyr stopped, the machine making its soft click as the weights returned to the neutral position. He turned, eyes flashing, growling, “fine, if I let you look, will you stop buzzing about my ears, annoying fly?”

"I will leave as soon as I'm done." he promised. "Now stay still."

He injected himself, as he had earlier. Once he felt his mind awaken, he began cleaning and binding Tyr's wounds.

- - -
Rolled prior to day flip.

[D5 EN] The Midnight Howl , Stim Application to Increase Xal's Intellect, Average Medicine,: 1eA+3eP+2eD 1 success, 3 advantage

Description on Orokos got mixed up with prior rolls.
Advantages used to Boost next roll.

[D5 EN] The Midnight Howl, Treating Tyr's Wounds, Average Medicine, 2 Boost (Medpac, Advantages): 2eA+3eP+2eB+2eD 8 successes, 4 advantage

8 Wounds, 4 Strain Healed

Tyr tolerated the ministering with silent poor humour, letting Xal close the gash on his arm and inject the drugs to ease the pain of the internal battering he’d taken where his armour had stopped the monolith’s claws from penetrating.


-
Stimpack used.

Wounds: 19 (max 21)
Strain: 14 (max 14)

"There. Was that so bad?"

Tyr growled in response.

"As I promised, I'll leave you alone now." He packed up his equipment.