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Post by Lord Harold Tully on Sept 19, 2013 8:54:36 GMT -5
Several Maesters and aid have remained in the main camp to tend to the fallen of the battle, to where there are many. But as expected, nobility has their own private area to where they are seen to privately.
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Post by Lord Harold Tully on Sept 19, 2013 8:57:13 GMT -5
Lord Tully is sitting down in a chair having his wounds addressed glad to not be dead. He tests out the feeling in his arm glad the arrow did not cause too much damage.
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Post by Ser Leyton Hightower on Sept 19, 2013 9:11:01 GMT -5
Leyton Hightower was carried into the tent, the crossbow bolt protruding from his foot. Only gritted teeth and a steel will prevented Leyton from crying out in pain. Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought with the terrible sensation of the bolt in his foot. He wondered how they would remove it, and suspected it would hurt a great deal. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced in the training yard, but Leyton was able to find some comforting the fact that he had done his duty, and that Lord Aurane lived due to his actions.
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Post by Lord Harold Tully on Sept 19, 2013 9:21:59 GMT -5
Harold looks over to Leyton. He noticed the Lannister Sigil of the squire, he had seen Leyton time to time during the war, never new his name.
"Your Lord Aurane's squire are you not?" He asked Leyton.
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Post by Ser Leyton Hightower on Sept 19, 2013 9:24:54 GMT -5
Leyton nodded, opting not to speak as he kept his jaw clenched to fight the burning sensation in his foot.
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Post by Lord Harold Tully on Sept 19, 2013 9:27:28 GMT -5
He waved to the Maester. "Get the damn arrow out of it foot." He ordered them.
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Post by Ser Leyton Hightower on Sept 19, 2013 9:29:45 GMT -5
Leyton managed what looked like a smile of thanks at Tully, although it could quite easily be mistaken for a grimace.
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Post by Flex on Sept 19, 2013 11:03:31 GMT -5
Lord Aurane strode into the tent and made a beeline for Leyton.
"Are you alright?" He asked the young man, his face passive though his voice hinting at concern.
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Post by Lord Harold Tully on Sept 19, 2013 11:06:57 GMT -5
Lord Aurane strode into the tent and made a beeline for Leyton. "Are you alright?" He asked the young man, his face passive though his voice hinting at concern. "Lord Aurane he is being seen too," Harold says from his side of the room. "I had the Measters get to his wounds at once." |
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Post by Flex on Sept 19, 2013 11:17:22 GMT -5
"The boy saved my life," Aurane replied, both to Tully and the Maester tending to Leyton. "He had best not lose the foot." He added, before stalking back out of the tent.
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Post by Lord Donal Stormshield on Sept 19, 2013 11:22:29 GMT -5
Donal enters the tent carrying the still unconscious form of Ser Oswyn. He looks around frantically for a free measter and unable to see one picks the one closest to them. "Measter, come see to see Ser Oswyn he fell off the walls of the keep during the battle and has yet to awaken." He claims his voice tense with worry. As the measter arrives and starts tending to his brother the wounds and blood loss start to catch up with Donal and he has just enough decency to pass out trying to fall on one of the cots rather then hitting the ground.
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Post by Ser Leyton Hightower on Sept 19, 2013 11:54:21 GMT -5
"The boy saved my life," Aurane replied, both to Tully and the Maester tending to Leyton. "He had best not lose the foot." He added, before stalking back out of the tent. Leyton had passed out as the maesters began to work on his foot, so had not witnessed the exchange between Lord Aurane and Lord Harold. (OOC: Seemed like the most logical option based on how your conversation went) |
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Post by Edric Stark on Sept 19, 2013 14:08:40 GMT -5
Edric stepped into one of the tents, holding a soaked rag against his forehead, which had unfortunately been sliced open. The small part of his face that remained visible under all the blood had lost its colour completely. "Can someone patch this up?" he demanded, his voice sounding a lot weaker than he meant for it to. He sat on one of the cots and let the approaching healer do his job.
Havoc followed soon after, licking his nigh crimson snout. He seemed quite content.
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Post by Tynian Lannister on Sept 19, 2013 14:22:31 GMT -5
A very harassed looking Maester arrives at the side of Edric "Take a seat, Ser. We'll get this looked at before it becomes infected" his matter of fact tone and professional manner reassures Edric, though the bloody apron the man is wearing over his robes most likely does not. A young assistant, looking very pale and nervous comes up along side the Maester with a bowl of hot water and some clean linen bandages.
The Maester firmly moves Edric to a chair near the tent entrance, and uses the light from outside to examine the wound carefully "Hmm, looks worse than it is" he mutters to himself, moving the flap of loose skin back into place, causing some pain to Edric as he does so.
"No milk of the poppy for you, young Ser. We have barely enough for the seriously wounded as it is. Would you like some wine before we begin to deaden the nerves?" he enquires, as he fumbles around for a sewing needle and some thread to stitch up the gash on his forehead.
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Post by Edric Stark on Sept 19, 2013 14:33:00 GMT -5
"Not a Ser," managed Edric in response through gritted teeth, his eyes darting from the bloody apron to the sewing needle. The pain was agonizing so he nodded, wincing at yet another jolt of pain that went through his head by moving it against the man's fingers.
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Hope you all are well and happy.