Post by The Stranger on Apr 27, 2008 19:49:39 GMT -5
Robb was in his tent at Duskendale, relaxing in the cool shade that the shelter provided. He was attempting to ignore the loud noises coming from all around him in the tourney grounds, but it was not working thus far. The jousts championship was currently underway, but Robb had no initiative to go and watch it. He had never considered himself a great jouster, but his defeat to Ser Galwyn Fell had bothered him, anyways. He did not like to lose.
He rose and drank deeply from a cold flagon of wine, before returning to his makeshift bed and sprawling out. Just as he was beginning to fall into sleep, Ser Meryn Flowers entered, being none too quiet about it either. Robb wearily lifted his head and then let it fall back onto the pillow with a groan. "What is it, ser?" he asked, annoyed.
Ser Meryn, usually swift and to the point, hesitated before entering. "Really, what is it, ser? You are my guard but you do not need to sleep with me," he said, with a slight grin to ease his words. Finally, his personal bodyguard lowered his head and handed him a folded piece of parchment.
"News from Dorne, milord," Ser Meryn said simply, then turned and left the tent. Groaning, Robb rolled over onto his back and unfolded the report, holding it above his eyes with both arms outstretched. "Fuck!" he said, crumbling up the paper and tossing it angrily towards the opposite end of the tent. Speaking to himself, he said, "Loren... the fuckin' old man whose wife baked me cookies? He tried to kill Alexander? What the hell is wrong with these people?" Shaking his head, both angry and bitter, he knew that Lord Irwyn's near escape was his fault, too. He had learned his lesson. Upon his return to Dorne, the villagers there would not find him have so friendly or accomodating. They didn't deserve it. They deserved to die, everyone of the dornish snakes--- but he would never be allowed to carry out that justice. Rising, he dressed and made ready to go the feast in the hall that night.
He was not merry at the table as he had been the previous week. Instead, he ate his food slowly, finding the many jests and colorful jokes to be excessively annoying for once. He pushed his plate away and held Lysette's hand, thankful for her company. He had gotten used to the many men gawking at her full lips and curvy body, and no longer paid it any mind.
He noticed some commotion towards the lower end of the hall, and heard loud shrieks from a few of the women. A maester entered and escorted a few children out of the hall and everything was quiet again. "Children," Robb said simply, when Lysette threw a questionly glance his way.
Not a few minutes later some more women began to shriek, and even the usually cheerful Graham Blackwood appeared to be pale and shaken. He stalked out of the hall without a word. "Now what on earth is going on?" Robb said to Lysette, who shrugged. Ser Meryn did the same upon being asked the question.
A woman, some highborn lady whose name Robb could not present recall, was sobbing loudly down the hall. "They're dead! They're all dead! The children!" she wailed, collapsing to her knees. Now every guest was rising, looking around for answers. A few people barked questions to Lady Royce in her chair, but no explanations could be made. Suddenly, Ser Grant Connington's wife, who Robb had met briefly upon his arrival in Duskendale, doubled over in pain. She was clearly in her early stages of pregnancy, and her young husband moved to her side protectively. She was rushed out of the hall to the maester's chambers, and a few other young women followed. The guests broke into general chaos, some exiting the hall and all others trying to shout over them. Suddenly a terrible thought hit Robb. "Lysette," he said, gripping her arms. "Are you okay? You do not feel sick, correct?" She nodded, scared. "I'm fine, Robb, I promise." Robb, relieved, nodded and then took a seat, trying to ignore the general anarchy. He gripped his stomach as a sharp pain tore into his stomach and lower body. "Oww! Fuck," he said, reaching for Lysette to steady him. His friend, Lord Oliver Bulwer, sitting to his left, appeared to be in the same state.
Ser Meryn rose. "Maester! A maester!" he shouted. "It's Lord Tarly! He's got it, too. And Bulwer!" His shouts were drowned out by the noise and he jumped up onto the feast table and repeated it, slicing the hall into silence.
Robb, struggling, walked towards the doors, but his knees buckled and he fell on his face. He did not feel the embarrassment, however, just a burning pain and an ever-tightening grip on his throat. He passed out.
He awoke, groggy and weak. He sobbed softly when Lysette informed him of the events, the death of the children, women, and his friend Lord Oliver Bulwer. "Tomas," he said softly, shaking his head. He went in and out of sleep after that, always finding his wife at his side.
Finally, the following morning, he felt strong enough to sit up and talk normally. After loving words with his wife, he called for Ser Meryn. The man entered seconds later, apparently having been standing guard at his room. "I am here, milord," he said, looking concerned at Robb lying helpless in bed.
"Come, sit," Lord Tarly said to his friend and bodyguard. "You have some knowledge of poison and you know how to detect it. I want you to tell me of every type of poison you know and what are the symptoms. I wish to know what it was that nearly killed me."
"Of course, milord," Ser Meryn said. They spoke for close to two hours, Ser Meryn exhausting every bit of knowledge he knew. He was not sure of the kind of poison that had struck the feast the previous night, but the symptoms sounded oddly familiar to him. He had already been to the library the previous night during the waiting hours, learning even more about the subject. Robb shook at his head at each description. "No, that is not the one," or "That is not what I felt, ser." He soaked in the descriptions from Ser Meryn, wanting to learn all he could about poison after what had happened in Sunspear and Duskendale.
Finally, without dismissing Ser Meryn, Robb's strength ebbed away again and he fell back into a deep sleep. The knight rose and informed Lysette that she should return to wait on their lord's waking. He himself traveled to the training yard, where he spent three hours firing his crossbow at the targets. He was already a good shot, but should any assassination attempt come to his lord, he wanted to be absolutely ready. Finally, his hands callused and his arms sore, he returned to Lord Tarly's room, where he saw the man speaking softly to his wife. Satisfied for now, he took up watch outside the door, observing all he could.
Results:
Ser Meryn improves to apprentice Poison Lore (its uses & how to detect it).
Ser Meryn improves to expert (twice improved) crossbow.
Robb Tarly improves to apprentice Medicine and Poison Lore.
He rose and drank deeply from a cold flagon of wine, before returning to his makeshift bed and sprawling out. Just as he was beginning to fall into sleep, Ser Meryn Flowers entered, being none too quiet about it either. Robb wearily lifted his head and then let it fall back onto the pillow with a groan. "What is it, ser?" he asked, annoyed.
Ser Meryn, usually swift and to the point, hesitated before entering. "Really, what is it, ser? You are my guard but you do not need to sleep with me," he said, with a slight grin to ease his words. Finally, his personal bodyguard lowered his head and handed him a folded piece of parchment.
"News from Dorne, milord," Ser Meryn said simply, then turned and left the tent. Groaning, Robb rolled over onto his back and unfolded the report, holding it above his eyes with both arms outstretched. "Fuck!" he said, crumbling up the paper and tossing it angrily towards the opposite end of the tent. Speaking to himself, he said, "Loren... the fuckin' old man whose wife baked me cookies? He tried to kill Alexander? What the hell is wrong with these people?" Shaking his head, both angry and bitter, he knew that Lord Irwyn's near escape was his fault, too. He had learned his lesson. Upon his return to Dorne, the villagers there would not find him have so friendly or accomodating. They didn't deserve it. They deserved to die, everyone of the dornish snakes--- but he would never be allowed to carry out that justice. Rising, he dressed and made ready to go the feast in the hall that night.
He was not merry at the table as he had been the previous week. Instead, he ate his food slowly, finding the many jests and colorful jokes to be excessively annoying for once. He pushed his plate away and held Lysette's hand, thankful for her company. He had gotten used to the many men gawking at her full lips and curvy body, and no longer paid it any mind.
He noticed some commotion towards the lower end of the hall, and heard loud shrieks from a few of the women. A maester entered and escorted a few children out of the hall and everything was quiet again. "Children," Robb said simply, when Lysette threw a questionly glance his way.
Not a few minutes later some more women began to shriek, and even the usually cheerful Graham Blackwood appeared to be pale and shaken. He stalked out of the hall without a word. "Now what on earth is going on?" Robb said to Lysette, who shrugged. Ser Meryn did the same upon being asked the question.
A woman, some highborn lady whose name Robb could not present recall, was sobbing loudly down the hall. "They're dead! They're all dead! The children!" she wailed, collapsing to her knees. Now every guest was rising, looking around for answers. A few people barked questions to Lady Royce in her chair, but no explanations could be made. Suddenly, Ser Grant Connington's wife, who Robb had met briefly upon his arrival in Duskendale, doubled over in pain. She was clearly in her early stages of pregnancy, and her young husband moved to her side protectively. She was rushed out of the hall to the maester's chambers, and a few other young women followed. The guests broke into general chaos, some exiting the hall and all others trying to shout over them. Suddenly a terrible thought hit Robb. "Lysette," he said, gripping her arms. "Are you okay? You do not feel sick, correct?" She nodded, scared. "I'm fine, Robb, I promise." Robb, relieved, nodded and then took a seat, trying to ignore the general anarchy. He gripped his stomach as a sharp pain tore into his stomach and lower body. "Oww! Fuck," he said, reaching for Lysette to steady him. His friend, Lord Oliver Bulwer, sitting to his left, appeared to be in the same state.
Ser Meryn rose. "Maester! A maester!" he shouted. "It's Lord Tarly! He's got it, too. And Bulwer!" His shouts were drowned out by the noise and he jumped up onto the feast table and repeated it, slicing the hall into silence.
Robb, struggling, walked towards the doors, but his knees buckled and he fell on his face. He did not feel the embarrassment, however, just a burning pain and an ever-tightening grip on his throat. He passed out.
He awoke, groggy and weak. He sobbed softly when Lysette informed him of the events, the death of the children, women, and his friend Lord Oliver Bulwer. "Tomas," he said softly, shaking his head. He went in and out of sleep after that, always finding his wife at his side.
Finally, the following morning, he felt strong enough to sit up and talk normally. After loving words with his wife, he called for Ser Meryn. The man entered seconds later, apparently having been standing guard at his room. "I am here, milord," he said, looking concerned at Robb lying helpless in bed.
"Come, sit," Lord Tarly said to his friend and bodyguard. "You have some knowledge of poison and you know how to detect it. I want you to tell me of every type of poison you know and what are the symptoms. I wish to know what it was that nearly killed me."
"Of course, milord," Ser Meryn said. They spoke for close to two hours, Ser Meryn exhausting every bit of knowledge he knew. He was not sure of the kind of poison that had struck the feast the previous night, but the symptoms sounded oddly familiar to him. He had already been to the library the previous night during the waiting hours, learning even more about the subject. Robb shook at his head at each description. "No, that is not the one," or "That is not what I felt, ser." He soaked in the descriptions from Ser Meryn, wanting to learn all he could about poison after what had happened in Sunspear and Duskendale.
Finally, without dismissing Ser Meryn, Robb's strength ebbed away again and he fell back into a deep sleep. The knight rose and informed Lysette that she should return to wait on their lord's waking. He himself traveled to the training yard, where he spent three hours firing his crossbow at the targets. He was already a good shot, but should any assassination attempt come to his lord, he wanted to be absolutely ready. Finally, his hands callused and his arms sore, he returned to Lord Tarly's room, where he saw the man speaking softly to his wife. Satisfied for now, he took up watch outside the door, observing all he could.
Results:
Ser Meryn improves to apprentice Poison Lore (its uses & how to detect it).
Ser Meryn improves to expert (twice improved) crossbow.
Robb Tarly improves to apprentice Medicine and Poison Lore.