1d100:  = 40
1d100:  = 58
; JiC d20:
1d20:  = 6
Skill Roll Paramedic:
1d100:  = 32
Olive, up in the gantries, is tense as she watches the fights spill out from the gate grow more and more chaotic. Her ears folded back, she can't help but whine as she sees the loss of human life in front of her. She remembers her professionalism a touch late, and is quite glad that she is up in the gantries. Mane would never let it go if he heard me whining at this,
she thinks bitterly to herself. She gently chides herself for thinking ill of her feline companion, but her thoughts are cut short as the swarm begins.
At first sight of the devilish bats, Olive instinctively brings her helmet over her head and shuts it in. Her psionic senses are dampened by it, but all she can smell at this distance is the stench of the portal itself, anyways. The first wave of bats roll over her, and thankfully in full armor she is not affected by their attacks overmuch, though her single shots don't do much against them.
Her sensitive ears hear a cry from below, the instantly recognizably human scream grabs her attention away from the bat-things, and she looks down t the ship below. Her eyes widen as she sees several of the bats having winged down on Private Alexander. Without thinking, she leaps and bounds her way down the gantry to the deck of the ship, firing precise shots at the bats to drive them away from the man. Expecting him to be roughed up, she slows for but a moment before she sees the glint of crimson on his form.
Her speed redoubles, and in a flash she is down beside him, hands pulling at his armor as he groans. "Shit, Alexander, what happened?"
she calls to the man. She is shocked to discover that his armor is only half-assembled over him.
"Fuckers caught me on a bio,"
he replies, coughing, and smirking. "Wasn't about to let that stop me from helping out you lot out here."
The doggirl shakes her head.
she says, though she can't say she wouldn't do the same in her own position. She quickly radios in to Howlett. "This is Private Snow. I'm off my position on the gantry, Private Alexander is hurt. Patching him up now."
Pulling off his armor, she winces at the state of his chest and stomach, gashes and gnawing bites sinking through the skin and exposing the muscle beneath.
She quickly and easily identifies the damage. Internal bleeding, broken rib, might be a deflated or punctured lung,
she thinks to herself, biting her lip, her sharp tooth quickly drawing blood from the gesture. She winces, and focuses. Can't fix this without more equipment.
She spins, her eyes scanning to find the nearest soldier she can find. She hoists up the injured man carefully, his boyish face lax as he slips into unconsciousness. She dashes over as carefully as she can. "You!"
she calls, forcing confidence into her voice as she tries to get attention off the bat-swarm onto her. It takes butting the woman with her shoulder to get her to focus on Olive. "I'll stay here. Get another sailor and get me a kit for triage."
As the woman blinks, Olive continues forcefully with, "Now!"
That gets the woman to move. Now out of her reverie, she dashes into the ship to gather supplies, as Olive pulls Alexander to a shaded spot, wishing she had time to sanitize the area. After a painfully long time, though in truth only a couple of minutes pass, the sailor returns with a medikit and another sailor. Olive takes the kit immediately, and shoves her gun into the second sailor's hands. "Cover me."
She stares as the sailor blinks, and seems about to say something, but she cuts him off. "It's either shoot the bats, or you can take the needle and thread,"
she jerks her head to the Private. He takes one look at the wound, blanches, and turns to fire out.
Olive, at least somewhat confident that her back is being covered, sets to work on her friend. It's extensive work, but the need to help her companion necessitates focus. She closes her inner ears, allowing her to focus solely on the man in front of her and tuning out the gunfire around her.
It goes well, for some time, and once the swarm is passed, she can fully relax and not have to fight to do simple suture work. She is confident she can close up Alexander's chest and sanitize everything, until the brodkil attack.
Mindless bats are one thing, but the frightened sailor she had forced her gun on was not about to fight an organized(-ish) group of raiders. He continually prods Olive as he comes under fire to take back the gun, and finally with a growl, she stands. "Fine,"
she says, stepping away from Alexander. The female soldier, having been relegated to cleaning bloody equipment thus far, is given the thread and needle. "You need to finish this. You've been watching, do what I did,"
she says, taking the gun back and giving the second sailor she recruited a glare. "You ever sew? Just like that. Keep your needle moving slowly, keep your sutures even."
The entire bandit attack she spends half fighting, half awkwardly shouting orders at the two sailors to finish the triage, so her mind isn't fully in the fight as she tries to keep precise shots on the brodkil to wear them down for her allies to finish off.