(514-06-20) Trouble in Sarum 1 Part 2
Summary: The aftermath of Battle
Date: 514-06-20
Related: This is the 2nd part of Trouble in Sarum 1
lysanor perin martyn acwel rose amalthea caerwyn huw malcolm cyndeyrn 

Lysanor checked her firstaid at 14, she rolled 2.
Lysanor checked her firstaid at 14, she rolled 19.
Lysanor checked her firstaid at 14, she rolled 11.
Lysanor rolls 1d3 and gets (1) for a total of: (1)
Lysanor rolls 1d3 and gets (1) for a total of: (1)

It doesn't help that these knights are always busy, even when they need to sit down and rest, so there are some who Lysanor somewhat struggles to tend to for they can't stop moving and gesturing. When it is Acwel's turn, the knight's squire has already removed his armor, making it that much easier for the Dinton healer to do her job. Coating his bruises with a salve while cleaning out the open wounds with vinegar, she works overhears some of which is being said between her brother and the Woodford. "You are both heading out again so soon?" As she begins to bind the Woodford knight with long lengths of clean bandages, she does shoot her brother this stern, yet worrying look. That is until she notices her cousin in the distance, looking just a touch pale, "Thea, we're over here."

Hearing the news of Aeryn, that Rose is sorry, Perin gets up. Disbelief, mingled with his own failure abound, "Aeryn!" He calls out, no answer, he wanders a little, "Aeryn!" Of coures, it probably wouldn't be long before he found her body of course amongst those healing. And he'll rush there to collapse over her, as if hugging that body would restore life to it. The man is touched with a convulsion, his face unscene, but those could be sobs as the realizes what has happened. Rose had told him, but the reality slaps him again in the face.

Looking around for a little while longer, Martyn finally finds his own horse. "Oh, there you are…" he offers to the beast, looking around rather carefully. Trying to lead the animal off, his steps take him over not too far from where the wounded are tended to.

"Sir Malcolm," Acwel greets the Wylye knight, "That is my hope as well." He nods to Cyndeyrn's words regarding volunteering the Dinton and himself, the Woodford knight unable to refuse any such patrol; his obligation as a vassal knight will not go unfulfilled. And yes, his squire is just as dutiful as his master, which means that his armor is out by the time it's about to heal him. He doesn't utter so much as a grunt as Lysanor pours vinegar into the wound, feeling the acid burn where iron has cut his armor through, but the salve makes it all better. Or at least, numbs the pain somewhat. And then he is duly bandaged, to which he thanks the Dinton maid with a quiet, "I appreciate your assistance, Lady Lysanor. And yes, we are. It is our duty and we must not shirk it." Hopefully by now the relief army he has secured from Marlboro is marching south, engaging the Saxons and fulfilling the task the Woodford set out to do several days ago. Perin's sudden startling and rushing to Aeryn's body draws a legitimately remorseful look from the man, his eyebrows furrowing. Before his journey, he had gone to their wedding. Now this.

Rose moves to try and stop Perin, but then she is just trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself anymore. Once he has found Aeryn and collapses on top of her, Rose can only close her eyes and say a silent prayer before she kneels next to her grieving brother. If allowed she will wrap her arms around him, for comfort of course, but to also shelter him from view of the others.

Amalthea, torn between vomiting and keeping it down, ultimately decides that her breakfast is better unseen. The lady instead approaches her cousin with long strides. "Ah, thank goodness you are both all right." She expels a breath, some tension releasing around her dark eyes. "And others? Kamron? Sir Martyn?" There's a pause. "… Sir Rowan, perhaps? Was he here?"

Caerwyn checked his awareness of 5, he rolled 12.

The figurative bomb still hasn't hit the Burcombe family yet - Caerwyn, bloodied by his kills, rides back into camp, making his way to meet the party gathered around Sir Earc, Knight Commander of the City of Wilton. He dismounts with a bounce in his step - grim but full of the cheer of a man who has opened veins and -liked- it before strolling up to the commander. "I downed two on their way, the fleeing bastards, Sir Earc. What is the plan now? We reinforce the gate and send fast riders on healthy horses to check the eastern gate? Is the city being held? We need to make contact with the men within. I'll bring the Burcombe detachment around and send word to my cousin Morag - she is a fantastic healer. We have resources at your disposal - clean water and bandages, only a half hour's ride southwest of here. My cousin, I'll need to find him, but we ride for the glory of Salisbury," Caerwyn says, adrenaline making his words pour out skittishly, like frogs from the sky during God's judgment. For now, the Morrigan has supported the Burcombe house.

"I know that you speak the truth, Sir Acwel." Lysanor says, that hard frown still on her lips, "But it does not mean that those who worry after you, your family and friends, have to like it. Though we do accept it for what it is." As with any medic, the auburn-haired Dinton is familiar with death for it's impossible to save all lives, but that does not mean that the deaths of their courageous and brave does not leave her shaken still. When Amalthea draws near, Lysanor takes a quick look around the already crowded room, "I've not seen Sir Rowan yet, perhaps he was assigned to the other gate, very much the way Kamron was." Though when Martyn is mentioned, there is a flicker within her blue eyes, "Actually, Sir Martyn, I believe I have seen." Though she is far too busy to go seeking him out. "I'm afraid that at this moment, I do not know how he fares, but he must be around somewhere."

"If there is anything I can do, let me know what service I can be." Malcolm states to Acwel, before he js looking to the other accumulated, both Sarum and Wilton knights. "Almost unbelievable we did it. Gid was truly on our side." He will likely dismount and allow his squire to check over his mount before checking for wounds and his own weapon's edge.

The accounting of the dead and living, and those who survive for uncertain whiles with wounds still lingering, this is a grim part of the aftermath that surely Cyndeyrn finds no joy in, although he may not be quite so touched by one scene as Sir Acwel, not having attended the wedding ceremony that so briefly preceded this slaughter. "How were things inside the city?" he will instead decide to ask Lysanor, looking for useful information from a vantage point he lacked on the battlefield. Obviously her state of dress attests to there being trouble, although not to the full extent of it. "And yes, we may ride soon, depending on the Lord Knight's thoughts and the disposition of the enemy. If there is ought to be done to aid the other gate, we should make an effort, but there may yet be other Saxons on maneuver in the vicinity here."
Bryce pages: Will there be another round later?

Actually, the mentioned Sir Martyn is not too far away. As the horse he was leading has desired to come to a full stop, he sighs at the animal, shaking his head a bit. "Ah, you big stubborn…" he begins, muttering the rest under his breath, as he turns to look around now. Seeing some familiar faces, he starts making his way over in their direction, steps rather slow.

With the rush from the end of the fighting dying down, Huw has time to tend to a few more gashes, then turn to see if any of the healers require an extra pair of hands. Noting Lysanor first he heads in her direction, giving both the lady and the knight she converses with a slight bow in greeting. It's to Lysanor that he speaks though when he says simply, "my Lady, my hands are once more free. Task them as you will for I see there is work still ahead of us."

"Unless you need my help, I shall go and be of service to the mounts needing tending," Amalthea replies to Lysanor, though she does look worried for the other woman, and lingers a moment longer, watching her. "Promise you will not over extend yourself? Where would we be if we lost you, Lys? Nowhere good, I'll tell you that much." And then, she is stepping back to let her cousin heal the humans, and off she goes in search of the injured animals.

"The raiders had lit some of the homes on fire and we worked together to put those flames out." Lysanor says to Cyndeyrn, downplaying the event somewhat, as she busies herself with her next patient, a large knight (very much like her brother) whose side is more than a little battered and bruised. It's a difficult task to attempt to bandage the man alone, so she is relieved with Huw joins in, "Yes, thank you, Brother. I may need an extra hand here, actually." Standing on one side of the man, she reaches over to pass edge of the bandage to where the monk now stands, so that they may work in unison and make quick work of this patient. But it is Amalthea's words that gets her to smile, if faintly. "Do not worry for me, Amalthea, though…" She then asks Huw, "Brother Huw, have you seen Sir Martyn? My cousin was looking for him."

"Sir Martyn," Huw repeats slowly as he winds the bandage a half turn round the knight and passes it back to Lysanor. He considers for a moment then nods once, "I believe so, just moments ago. That or there is another of his look and demeanor over yonder." He tilts his head towards Martyn, to keep his hands fre for their work, "the gentleman it seems is having difficulties with his mount, but both he and it seem hale enough."

Cyndeyrn notes both Huw and Amalthea joining Lysanor in her good works, from which he stands back as to not make himself and obstacle! "I am glad the fires did not spread too far," he will continue on to answer his sister, holding their conversation at some mild distance while she works upon her patient. "We will have to survey the damage in Dinton as well, although that may yet have to wait. Sarum in the anchor of all Salisbury, and if the other gate is threatened or compromised, we will either ride to their aid… or perhaps have to enter the city on this side and try and reinforce the bailey." A grim thought, but not one beyond possibility.

Martyn has turned back to the stubborn horse, shaking his head a little as he does. "You stubborn troublemaker…" he says to the animal, a bit louder now, as he shakes his head once more. "Sometimes I wonder why I even…" Trailing off as he grimaces now.

A look of relief crosses Lysanor's face when told of the Baverstock knight's whereabouts and that he was more or less fine, "I am relieved to hear and I'm certain that my dear cousin will be just as relieved as well." Once their giant of a patient is covered enough does Dinton healer tuck the bandages securely in to ensure that they are sturdy and firm. Washing her hands out now in a bowl which one of the other healers holds out for her, she does finally comment, "You showed much bravery today, Brother." Her eyes alight on Huw once again, "You risked your own life to save another. I was inspired by just that image alone."

"I thank you, both of you," Amalthea replies, dipping a quick bow, stuck in a tunic and tights as per usual. The tall brunette turns, then, and begins her trek across the way and almost runs right into Martyn as she does. Relief cuts quick as a lightning flash across her plain features. "Sir Martyn! Ah, thank goodness you are alive." She eyes his horse a little more warily, oddly enough. "Are you hurt, Sir?"

"You can come with us to patrol the eastern gates," Acwel offers to Malcolm, pulling a rustic-looking crucifix necklace from within his armor and pressing his thumb against it, closing his eyes. A prayer of thanks, perhaps, private between himself and the Lord. He places it back inside its original shelter within the armor as he looks to Lysanor, waiting for her answer on how things were inside the city.

There's another look to Perin, should he still be there, but he doesn't move to speak to the man. No, he will afford the Steeple Langford knight to his private grieving, the more decent and Christian thing to do at present. "I do hope Woodford is alright."

Huw washes his hands after Lysanor, then glances down to his habit. Thankfully the dark colour hides the worst of the stains and he doesn't look quite so bathed in blood as some. As he's address though he looks back up and smiles a little shyly. "Thank you, my Lady, but I merely did what I could to protect those who could no protect themselves." It's just possible that the tips of his eyes are slightly red at the compliment, but he presses on, "you were very brave yourself. I doubt many could have organised the bucket lines so quickly, nor soothed so many hurts. The Lord was truely with us."

"God hopes all our homes are fine." Malcolm says softly he watches the roman Christian, Malcolm himself merely has some poor iron cross neath his armor and tunc it's weight keenly felt. "Aye, count me in for hands, Sir." The country knight states before moving on. Likely to

"God hopes all our homes are fine." Malcolm says softly he watches the roman Christian, Malcolm himself merely has some poor iron cross neath his armor and tunc it's weight keenly felt. "Aye, count me in for hands, Sir." The country knight states before moving on. Likely to give Perin and others some room to grieve.

Pausing a little as he's almost ran into, Martyn is unable to hold back a brief chuckle, probably just as much out of relief as anything. "Lady Amalthea. It's very good to see you as well." A brief grin, and he adds, "It would seem that many of the times we meet, one of us almost run into the other…" At the question about if he's hurt, he grimaces momentarily. "I think I was lucky. I only took a few hits…" A brief pause as he adds, "One sent me off that brute there, though." A gesture to the horse.

"Sometimes your heart and courage take over before your mind even realizes the danger one may be placing themselves in." Lysanor says warmly, her eyes still lingering on Huw. "It was all that I could do to help prevent so many from losing their homes. In the end, it was a concerted effort and one that I am pleased to play a part in." When the priest speaks of their Lord, she does go on to say, "Just your presence here has brought me comfort enough as I'm sure that any of the Faithful would agree." And yet, despite their having patched up a single patient, she does voice the obvious, "And here our work is never finished. Let us sooth the pains of our brave so that they may rest through the night with a comforted mind."

Amalthea's smile dims a little as she hears of MArtyn's tumble. Her eyes sidle to his horse once more, and she gives the creature a distrustful look for a moment. "Still giving you trouble? Hm." There's a rummaging in the pouch at her side and it produces a small, scarred apple. Still an apple, though. The thing is extended ooooh-so-carefully to Martyn's horse as she continues to speak in soft tones to its owner. "I was very worried. Would that all this fighting would just cease," she frets quietly. "So much death…"

Amalthea checked her horsemanship of 15, she rolled 16.

"To be fair, I blame that Saxon that swung a sword at me more than I blame him, though…" That him being the horse, as Martyn shakes his head at the animal. Watching as the apple is offered, he nods at Amalthea's words. "One day, hopefully, there will not be need for us to fight, but until then…"

Amalthea blanches a little at the mention of Saxons and swinging swords at her friends. Her uncertainty drives the horse to the same end, already wary of the Dinton stablemaster for some strange reason. For her efforts at making friends, the apple goes untouched and the horse snorts at her, stamping his hooves. "Fine, fine," she tells the beast, tucking the apple away. "But one day you /will/ listen." It's grim determination. Then Thea turns her regard ack to Martyn. "Might I help you with anything, Sir?"

Shaking his head as he sees the horse's reaction now. "Stubborn brute…" he grumbles towards the animal, although it's said with a bit of affection. There's also a grin offered at the Dinton lady's words, "So, this will basically just be a battle in stubbornness between you two?" he asks, sounding much more amused now. At her question, he offers another smile. "You already are, you know."

"It will," Thea tells the horse, more than Martyn, giving the stubborn creature a long, measuring look. Her head swivels back once more. "I am? How am I? I've yet to do anything truly helpful, believe me. I have been holed up with the spare horses this whole time. I've no healing skills for humans, nor any great skill for battle." She casts her eyes out to the field. "And not much to be done for the horses out there, it seems." A great frown marrs her brow for once and the Lady dips her head in a whispered prayer.

"Well, you're here," Martyn replies, before he offers her a quiet smile. Considering for a few moments, before he adds, "Tell me, why is it that the horses trust you, aside from this idiot over there? Is it just something that can be trained, or something in the way you are?"

Amalthea ponders the question seriously for a long moment, tipping her head in a rather birdlike manner. "I think," the lady says, after those silent moments of consideration where the only noise is the background of a battlefield being cleansed, "that at least most of it is training. Why do you ask?"

Martyn smiles, "But not all, right?" A brief pause as he considers, offering her another smile. "That is how you're helping not only the horses, but me as well. From the part that's not just training…"

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