[Phase 2]Two Down [Closed]
May 23, 2019 14:04:54 GMT 1
Daeron Wildfyre and Titus Blackbriar like this
Post by Laena Pyre on May 23, 2019 14:04:54 GMT 1
[Chronologically, this thread starts near the end of Ser Mikel's duel with Ser Jonothor, and shortly after Ser Symon kills Ser Nestor Flowers the day after Ashara's murder.]
[Auto-failing both Vindictive and Proud]
Laena was crying alone in her tent, with strict orders to not be disturbed. The servant Florence, however, was discreetly observing the duels between those who came to a dead girl's funeral solely to insult her and those who held to at least a minimum standard of basic humanity.
Two Down - Deception (Disguise): 6d6k4 19
It was in Ser Mikel's duel with House Bridges' Ser Jonothor Wellbeck that she found what she was after. She couldn't afford to wait to see who came out victorious, but it was clear that whoever did, both parties would be severely injured.
Wasting no time, Florence made her way back into Summerhall, to the base of the maester's tower, where she discreetly joined the servants ferrying stuff up the tower to the top, where the maester tended the injured, with the higher elevation meaning less cold, less damp, and less rats.
Two Down - Stealth (Blend In): 5d6k3+4 16
Taking such a demeaning role rankled at her pride, but it was necessary. For Ashara. She had to do this *herself*. She lugged the bowl of hot water she'd ended up with up the tower, discreetly grimacing, sweating, muscles aching, light gasps scratching at her throat. For Ashara.
Finally, after getting to the top of the tower, which was a *lot* higher on the inside than it was on the outside, she entered the treatment room, sighing in relief that it was well-organised. If they ended up here, there was the possibility of bad blood remaining, so there was a clear division between the beds for knights of the two sides.
Using the unconscious bodies already there to guide which side she needed, she found the next empty bed and placed the bowl of water down on the bench next to it, where conveniently, equipment lay ready.
With a glance to confirm no-one was paying her any attention, as she carefully laid the bowl on the bench, she slipped out of her sleeve a small piece of paper, sealed with a touch of wax. Silently breaking the wax, she swiftly shook the contents of the paper into the poultice ready to be applied to Ser Jonothor's wounds - tiny brown grains, almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for them amidst the rest of the poultice.
Let's see how well that poultice works with the addition of some shit.
Wasting no more time, she hides the paper again before turning around to leave. Her legs almost collapse underneath her when they get the message that they have to carry her all the way back *down* the stairs, but fear and excitement keep her motivated enough to power through.
There was no guarantee her plan would work. There was no guarantee there wouldn't be consequences, for others, if not for her. But she didn't care. She had to do something, and this was the best she could come up with.
For Ashara.
[Auto-failing both Vindictive and Proud]
Laena was crying alone in her tent, with strict orders to not be disturbed. The servant Florence, however, was discreetly observing the duels between those who came to a dead girl's funeral solely to insult her and those who held to at least a minimum standard of basic humanity.
Two Down - Deception (Disguise): 6d6k4 19
It was in Ser Mikel's duel with House Bridges' Ser Jonothor Wellbeck that she found what she was after. She couldn't afford to wait to see who came out victorious, but it was clear that whoever did, both parties would be severely injured.
Wasting no time, Florence made her way back into Summerhall, to the base of the maester's tower, where she discreetly joined the servants ferrying stuff up the tower to the top, where the maester tended the injured, with the higher elevation meaning less cold, less damp, and less rats.
Two Down - Stealth (Blend In): 5d6k3+4 16
Taking such a demeaning role rankled at her pride, but it was necessary. For Ashara. She had to do this *herself*. She lugged the bowl of hot water she'd ended up with up the tower, discreetly grimacing, sweating, muscles aching, light gasps scratching at her throat. For Ashara.
Finally, after getting to the top of the tower, which was a *lot* higher on the inside than it was on the outside, she entered the treatment room, sighing in relief that it was well-organised. If they ended up here, there was the possibility of bad blood remaining, so there was a clear division between the beds for knights of the two sides.
Using the unconscious bodies already there to guide which side she needed, she found the next empty bed and placed the bowl of water down on the bench next to it, where conveniently, equipment lay ready.
With a glance to confirm no-one was paying her any attention, as she carefully laid the bowl on the bench, she slipped out of her sleeve a small piece of paper, sealed with a touch of wax. Silently breaking the wax, she swiftly shook the contents of the paper into the poultice ready to be applied to Ser Jonothor's wounds - tiny brown grains, almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for them amidst the rest of the poultice.
Let's see how well that poultice works with the addition of some shit.
Wasting no more time, she hides the paper again before turning around to leave. Her legs almost collapse underneath her when they get the message that they have to carry her all the way back *down* the stairs, but fear and excitement keep her motivated enough to power through.
There was no guarantee her plan would work. There was no guarantee there wouldn't be consequences, for others, if not for her. But she didn't care. She had to do something, and this was the best she could come up with.
For Ashara.
