Festival of Roses

Near the field, squires and healers and maesters are tending to combatants. Though the melee was fought to first blood, bruises, fractures, and concussions abound. Squires and runners move about like ants, helping the fighters with their weapons and armour, fetching and carrying. The scent of boiling wine is in the air, heady with the coppery tang of blood and churned dirt.

A sudden cry goes up, “help! Maester Hubert!” Eyes turn towards the squire shouting.

He is standing over the form of Ser Harben, the tow-headed young knight. Though the man had done well enough to leave the field under his own power, he now lays in the dirt, eyes rolling back wildly. Vomit is smeared across his chin and cheeks, and splatters the front of his loosened, misshapen armour.


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Deadly! TN16: 6d6 23
-4D Athletics, Harben is Paralysed.

Still resting after his wound had been tended, Terrance saw the fallen knight and moved towards him as quickly as he could. He wasn't a healer, but he might be able to help move him or whatever else might be needed.

Hubert recognised the desperation in the squire's voice, leaving the knight he was treating to the assisting healer and scurrying over. He took one look at the youth, "maester Simon, your assistance over here."

"Aye." Simon quipped, rushing to join his colleague. "What happened to him?"

Alicent ran down from the stands toward Harben. "Oh, what in blazes...?" She was quite past the point of caring if she was asked for.

With the help of the maester and the young woman, Hubert examined Harben carefully. "Gods be good," he whispered. He stood abruptly, face almost as ashen as the knight's. He pointed to a servant, "salt water, warm, lots of it, now," he barked. Turning to Simon, "lavage his stomach, just, get it as clear as possible. Have him brought to my chambers. I have to..." he trailed off absently, before setting off at a jog to fulfil his unspoken mission.


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Deadly! Healing, +2B Diagnose, +2 Miracle Worker, +3 Assistance: 6d6k4+5 22

"Water. Lots of it." Simon yelped at the servants. "And a water skin." Herben woudn't enjoy what was about to happen to him. Then again, what he was going through was likely worse considering maester Hubert's diagnosis. Biting his lip, he recalled Kevith's discovery earlier that day. Poison. Poison was weapon of women, he had been told at the Citadel only to be told that said lie was often promulgated by crafty men. Nervously, Simon looked around and then shook his head. He had more pressing issues at hand. "We're going to make him drink until he throws up again - and then, then we'll take him to maester's rooms."

Terrance nodded. He was beginning to understand. "I'm not fast enough, with my wound, to help with the water. But, I'll help if there's anything else I can do."

Grimacing, he knelt beside Harben. "Should we get the rest of his armor off?"

Alicent was already in the process of getting the armor off of him in a moment of complete focus. Poison? Where had it been delivered? Either way... She looked up at Terrance. "Send for salt, too." She had just dealt with an overdose of poison not two days previous. "Someone get a fire going to warm the water. Make him drink what we have until then."

She frowned. "I hope Maester Hubert has charcoal waiting up there."

"Alright." He set his waterskin down and staggered to his feet. Terrance called for runners to fetch salt, as much as possible, and he made his way over to one of the stoves being used to boil wine. After convincing a few squires to help, they moved it closer.