(121-07-27) A Maester and Master of Hounds to the Rescue
A Maester and Master of Hounds to the Rescue
Summary: A Lady of the Evening Collapses. Garth and Tellur come to her aid.
Date: Date of play (27/07/121)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-29-cloth-and-cakes http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-30-disturbance-at-a-party http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-30-discovery-in-starry-street

Tellur is currently over at one of the food vendors, nosing around them thoughtfully. Eventually he selects something with bright vegetables and some heat, and sizzling meat there as well. At his heels is a half-grown pup, one of the massive coursers from the North. She gambols lightly around, barking, while Tellur laughs as he steps away "Too hot for you, my dear," he says to her as he moves towards the shadows. He has new clothes on, the Northman does, black and red, and his pup has a brand new bright collar in red against her shaggy, lupine neck.

Either the Citadel isn't feeding its Maesters as well as it used to, or the one who picks his way through the bustle of Oldtown Square is just that hungry; Garth has a rather rustic looking loaf, all brown and craggy and a bit burned on the bottom, held in one hand. The bread's been hollowed out and is filled with some sort of brown stew - he uses his other hand to dunk another piece of bread (probably the guts of the round loaf) into the gravy. There are some drops of the stew around his mouth and more of the crumbs down the front of his robe. He's a little way off from the Northerner and the dog, at the moment, but they are within sight of him.

It is a warm night and despite the hour, there are still vendors out selling refreshment to the mostly drunken clientele frequenting the square this evening. A curvy fair skinned woman with Targaryen hair clearly from a bottle, judging by her roots and eyebrows, steps from the alley by the bawdy bard. She is wearing the latest fashion in gowns, only cut considerably lower and tight around bodice and hips. Her silks are startling in their brightness, clearly some new import. The gown itself is an unnaturally vivid magenta with sky blue trim, and bottle green underdress and wrap. She walks with head tilted up, clearly trying to look noble as she tries to lure passing men into the establishment where she works, her origins given away by the effort she is making to hide her own accent in the stilted syllables of her pitch. As a man pulls away from her, she stagers three steps and with a moan, collapses. It is not a ladylike faint. It is a hard fall onto tthe cobbles and her head gets a good crack when it hits a stone stair. She lies sprawled there, passerby stepping on her hem.

Tellur is not the sort of man to dash over to any noise in the crowd, in great care and concern. He glances up, around, uncertain if he heard anything, and lowers his head to begin on his delicious food again. His pup, however, whines, her great flag of a tail beating rapidly, and then she nudges his hand "Mmh, Grace?" asks Tellur. The girl is already down, under the heads of the people moving back and forth, but eventually Tellur spots the figure and ambles on up. Mostly, it is Grace's keen interest that has his own piqued.

Garth pushes a gravy-sodden chunk of bread into his mouth and chews, his expression one of satisfaction at the simple but sustaining fare (regardless of the lack of quaity, possibly, in some of the ingredients). He swallows down the last bit of chewy meat as he turns his head to survey more of the scene around him, the mixture of people, the way that they mill and move, some with purpose and some without. The woman that came out from the alleyway … well, her bright clothing paint her as a bright flower on a manure pile. He cannot help but watch her, the fit of the clothes, the sway of her hips. Ahem. But then there's a man with her… which figures. Even the Maester knows enough of worldly life to have enough of an understanding of what the woman's profession likely entails. He looks down into his food, going for more, and then once the bread's dunked he looks up again… back towards the blonde's direction… she's gone. He frowns.

The woman is in her late twenties. She is wearing thick white makeup to mimic the pale skin of a princess, but around the edges of the powder, her skin looks flushed. It is a very warm night, but her silks are very thin and fine. She does seem to be breathing normally. Her lids are not entirely closed, but no pupil is visible through the slit. Her eye makeup matches the bright hues of her silks. Her shoes are rather sturdier than the slippers that would normally go with a dress this fine.

Tellur tilts his head as he approaches, but the man _is_ something of a healer, in the end - even if he is no Maester. Grace is whining a little, and she steps forward to lick the woman's face as Tellur crouches and squeezes a hand "Miss?" he enquires, his voice rough with a Northron accent "Miss?" A little shake of that hand "Can you hear me, miss?"

Some of the people move out of the way of the little drama as it unfolds, some others crowd in closer either out of curiosity or some other motive. The shift in bodies now allows Garth a view of those colourful silks sprawled on the ground. He hurridly pushes a chunk of bread inside the warm, gravy-filled, interior of his loaf and then strides across to the scene. "What happened?" He asks as he crouches down beside the fallen woman, the hem of his robe bunching up around his feet on the dirty cobbles. "D'you know her?" He asks Tellur, seeing the other man is showing concern as well. His accent isn't a refined one, though he has a Maester's chain around his neck.

The woman moans as she is shaken and starts to come to slowly. Her pupils are huge, but the flickering light of torches might account for it or might not. She seems to have trouble focusing on Tellur. Her hand flutters at Grace. "G'off…." She starts clawing at her bodice as if trying to get it off.

"No," says Tellur, who's dog is whining and pawing a little. He frowns as the woman starts to push at him, and he shifts back, but then says "…she's not drunk. I can't smell it on her breath. Has she been struck in the back of the head?" As the woman pushes at Grace, the dog slinks back a little, and then Tellur's face colours. He has…very little social sense in some ways "Ah, wait. What are you doing?"

Garth grunts something in reply to Tellur, most likely just an acknowledgement that he heard him, and then drops the food to the ground beside him - Grace is welcome to eat it if she wants (and her master permits it). He tilts his head to one side to get a better look at the woman - the dyed locks, the copious amounts of makeup to lighten her skin etc, the strangeness of the shoes with the otherwise impractical clothing. "Too tight for her, for a start," He says, all business-like. He wipes his hands on his robes and then leans forward, over the woman, and peers at her gown - looking for some obvious means of fastening at the front, some way to loosen it without resorting to cutting it open.

The women mumbles, "Itches…" As is often the case for folks with no made who must get in and out of clothing quickly, there are front lacinges as well as the ones at sides and shoulders meant to allow adjustments in size.

Tellur sits back a little and then says "It doesn't look…" He shrugs, stopping his commentary on her clothing, and then he puts his hand on Grace. She whimpers, and he says "She doesn't seem to look right. Is…hello?" A glance around to see if anyone is paying attention. Anyone in alleys, for example.

Garth's fingers start work on the central lacings of the woman's bodice "Stay calm, Misstress… I'm a Maester, you can call me Garth," he tells her, whether she's conscious enough to hear and understand him or not. Even as his fingers work he's looking her over; he makes an appraising sound. "For one she's hit her head, see… blood. Itchy?" He wonders aloud as he pulls on the lacings of her bodice some more, so that she can breath more freely and perhaps get some more air. "We should get 'er off the street. This isn't the place to be treatin' a woman." He turns his head to get a better look at Tellur. "In there, y'think?" He gestures towards the Bawdy Bard.

Some drunks have stopped to mock the downed lady of the evening, and some others are gawking, as one does, but for the most part, no one seems to care much what is going on. A patron of the Bawdy Bard steps over her on his way inside. The alley has no other denizen. If she had company, he's long blended back into the crowd. She keeps clawing at her bodice in an uncoordinated fashion, until she discovers Garth's hands there. She tries to focus on him and giggles, "Pay me first, Love…." From her accent she's local and likely from a worse part of the city, her looks letting her move up to fancy silks and a better patch.

"I don't think _that_ is the right place to treat anyone," Tellur says, eyeing the place, with a dubious expression. Then he says "If you've got the arms for it, lift her towards the Lysene Baths. The proprieter there is very understanding, and a healer herself." As the woman comments, Tellur digs in a pocket and comes up with a few coins "Here. Come to the baths with us. No yelling."

Yes, a man stepping over the patient is enough to make Garth agree with Tellur - the baths would be a much better place. "Heat's addling my brains, forgot the baths were just over that ways. I know Mistress Peri - she's a good heart and a caring nature. To the baths it is," He nods and then shifts himself around so that he can carry the woman towards the bath-house; there's a fair amount of strength to the man, he's no weakling but he's not powerfully built either.

The lady's lacings being loosed a rash is visible on the delicate skin thus revealed. She makes several grabs for the coins, finally getting them on the forth try. She clutches them tight, "Nice Gentlemen…" Half her teeth are missing, but she has most of the front ones. She attempts a coquettish giggle, but winces, and tries to touch the wound on the back of her head. She is pliable as a rag doll, and as likely to be moving under her own power as one, just now.

Tellur is himself built light, lithe, and more like a lean son of a bitch than much else - neither is he as tall as many Northrons. His expression is intent and wolfish, however, and he pads behind the Maester, apparently willing to help "The fucking heat is the trouble with everything," he grouses, in his rough accent, though at the rash, he grimaces a little and says to Garth "It's like the rash from a nettle or…the one some people get when they eat snails." A bit of a shrug and he steps into the baths.

You go through the tiled doorway and enters the Lysene baths.

The bathhouse foyer is a relatively small room. The stone walls are stained a peacock blue shade, and the floor is decorated with mosaic of a nude woman picked out in tiny coloured tiles. She closely resembles the one stamped on the coins of Lys.

An attendant will take one's coin here, and guide one through the appropriate door. There are five. Near the entrance from the street are those for the penny baths, one for men and one for women, and these seem to be the most popular, serving the smallfolk as they do. However, two other doors further back and atop a set of three stair-steps lead to more luxurious accommodations, and the fifth offers access to a storeroom or other private area.

"With as many things as there is to eat, can't see what the appeal of snails is as food," The Maester says as his thoughts on that one as he and Tellur get the afflicted woman in towards the bathhouse with its mosaics of artfully depicted nude ladies. He finds a place to put the woman down, a bench of sorts that's likely there for those who're waiting to go into the baths proper. Once she's set down he furrows his brow a bit. "Head wound needs cleaning and treatin', for a start… it's an obvious thing. Mistress Peri's bound to have some basic supplies…" He turns his attention back to the patient, checking that there's not been any deterioration in her condition. "You still hear me, Mistress?"

The woman is clearly disoriented and tries to paw at their lacings under the impression they are clients. She is in less distress with her lacings loosened, though she starts scratching at her arms and chest. Mistress Peri does have very good supplies. Odds are the attendant on dutty will let you use them. The women is still stuggling to focus her eyes properly, "Both of ye at once's double…."

"I like them with garlic," grins Tellur "But there have not _always_ been all the things to eat for me." And he regards the woman, and says "Does she have a purse on her? Mayhap it was a rob attempt. Who would hit someone like this anyway - jealous lover?" He shakes his head, and then he says "It's like a reaction to food, though - or that sap that some marsh plants have. Is there anything on her skin, or her mouth?" He simply ignores the comments.

Good luck finding any lacings on Garth to grope for - his robe can hide all sorts of things! He gently pushes her hands away from him and, like Tellur, ignores any suggestions about the price of serving two at once. When one of the baths' attendants comes by he sends the woman to fetch some cleaning things for a start, a bowl of warm water and some cleaning cloths.. that kind of thing.

"Unsatisfied customer? If we can get her more alert maybe she can give us some answers…" Garth mutters as he looks down on the prone form of the woman again. "Look at her clothes, don't seem to fit with her somehow… I don't mean they don't fit her measurements, more like… she doesn't seem the sort to 'ave such fancy stuff, see her shoes, not got all of her teeth. The rash too—" He pauses to peel a bit more of the silken cloth back from the woman's body "seems to only be where her dress is. I reckon we should get the rest of it off her. We can always cover her up with a bath-robe." It sounds like he knows quite a bit about the workings of this place and the things it has in its wardrobes.

"That is not good," Tellur says, with a bewildered look. He looks just like his dog for a moment, his head tilted, and then he does something very, very odd. But he _is_ a Northerner. As Garth peels the woman out of her dress, he helps - but not before burying his nose briefly in the fabric and inhaling.

Her purse is sewn into the bodice, the coins are still in it. "Garlic..?" The rash is across her torso and all down her arms. Her mouth has the usual accouterments, but no strange substances not found in the stew Garth just ate. The attendant, being someone Peri hired is quite willing to lend a robe for a good cause. The woman is squinting at them now… "I… I'm not sure what we were about to be doing? Was it a huffle or the sheet hornpipe?"

Garth grumbles as he considers the woman without her dress. "Well, not robbed… so that wasn't the motive. Head wound was from where she hit her head on the step as she went down, so much as I can figure," he says before the woman's words reach him, he shrugs them off for the moment and leans in to get a closer look at her rash - he gently rubs at her skin with the pad of his thumb, looking to see if there is some correlation between where the skin-whitening makeup is and where the rash is.

When the attendant returns with a cotton bath-robe and the other requirements, Garth sets to work. He dips a soft cloth into the warm water and then begins to clean up the woman. "Smell anythin'?" He asks Tellur.

Tellur wrinkles his nose, a bit irritated by whatever he smells "Yes. Something wrong. I can smell her, and…green triweed - that's the green garment, but. All of the clothes smell odd. Wrong."

The stricken lady moans at the rubbing of her rash and starts trying to scratch at it with long fingernails. It bleeds easily, the pale heads of the tiny pustules that make up the rash breaking off and oozing blood and pus. The make up only extends to her cleavage, and comes off when rubbed.

Garth swats the woman's hands away when she scratches at the little pustules. "Don't scratch," he says, maybe a bit more forcefully than he had intended. He stops washing her skin for a moment to consider what Tellur's telling him about the woman's clothing. He dunks the cloth back in the water and leaves it there as he reaches out for some of the woman's clothes. "Here, let me 'ave a sniff…" Here we are, almost back to that Huffle… if not in the way that the woman had been intending. "Strange smell about her clothes, itching pustules… dialated pupils…" His thoughts tick over, trying to combine the symptoms. "Delerium, to some degree.."

Tellur says, "Toss her into the penny pool," Tellur says "That looks awful. Soap to wash away the irritant." He sneezes suddenly. Grace is whining, herself, her ears flattened, her puppyish eyes wide. Why? Why does Master make her stay near something that smells this bad? Tellur shifts from one foot to the other, and shakes himself "This is - why did she _faint_, though? And hit her head? How did _that_ happen?""

The lady's eyes go wide as Garth snaps at her, "I don't go for the rough stuff, Love. Maesters! Always wanting a bit of the lash!" She looks down at herself and starts to scream in real terror and will fight them to start slapping at her damaged skin.

"As I said, figure she hit her head on the way down… not certain it's to do with the rest of—-" Garth starts to say but by this point the woman's gotten far more agitated about her condition and he frowns by trying to hold her down, one hand on each of her shoulders. "Stop, Mistress. You will only hurt yourself more… and I will find some other way to restrain you, if I need to." He takes a deep breath. "I'd guess some kinda poison… no idea what though." He looks frustrated. "I need some kinda salve for the skin, comfrey… clover.. that kinda thing. I left my kit in my room, I gave Mistress Peri some similar stuff not too long ago but for somethin' else."

"I'll go and get it," Tellur says, regarding the woman with a faintly nervous expression. He rises up, fluidly, and his dog snaps to his heels. Tellur steps to one side to call an assistant and be directed to go and get the necessaries. He is _far_ more comfortable doing that than dealing with the hysteria on the floor.

The poor woman is clearly terrified, "Get them off! They're burrowing under my skin!" The attendant is happy to let Tellur root through the medical supplies what with the clearly distressing thing going on.

"I will treat you as best that I can. You are among people who will help you," Garth tries to reassure the woman, though it certainly won't be easy in her current state of agitation, he keeps his hands firmly on her shoulders as he tries to stop her thrashing and scratching at her rash. "Shh.. shhh… can you tell us your name?" His voice has a scratchy quality to it, most likely connected to the horrendous scarring down the left side of his face. He listens for sounds of Tellur fetching any supplies that can be had. "If we can get her at least calmed down… there will be others at the Citadel who'll have more experience, will know better what afflicts her."

Tellur pads back - he is _very_ quiet of foot - and he says to Garth "That, we can do." He hands the healer a small flask, which smells of wine and poppy "Won't knock her out - will knock her down. And here, someone made this from the herbs you left." And he fetches out a little container of salve, and offers it to the man - it smells good, sweet, and fresh. Tellur regards her, and then he frowns, and he says "Maester, you're the better healer here - I mostly treat beasts. I am going to leave you and go pad around where she was, to see if other ladies might have similar problems…and to ask her bawdy-house if she got new clothes recently, and where from." And he leaves. Just like that. Because social graces? No.

She is so distracted she almost answers honestly. "An-Lily! My name's Lily! Get them _off_!" She stares at Garth in horror and screams, "You're rotting! Maggots _everywhere_!"

Yes, those are good questions to be asking, good things to be following up on…but really? Did the Northerner have to do so now? The Maester lets out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding. "No. I'm not rotting, I'm just scarred. It was a fire," he tells 'Lily,'. "If I let go of you, Lily, will you hold still so that I can get some of this salve on you… you should feel less itchy then," He slightly relaxes his grip on her, to see if she will take any notice of him.

She launches herself at the damages side of his face. The allarmed attendant tries to help grab her.

Garth makes a startled sound as the woman launches herself at him, or rather at the mass of scars down the side of his face. He feels her fingers against his face, her long nails scraping against the red and puckered flesh and the rim of the empty eye socket. "Stop it…Lily, stop!" He forgets the ointment or the wash-cloths for the moment, all of his attention focused on trying to catch her by the wrists, to stop her.

"Someone open the flask!" It's the one that smells of the poppy, some sedation is certainly in order, it seems. He hopes that one of the attendants will pluck up the courage to come and help him out here, if only to try and stop the scene from escalating even further.

An attendant grabs her shoulders, another tries to pour the sedative wine into her mouth. It gets pretty much everywhere, but the afflicted woman is too busy sputtering and trying to swallow rather than drown to keep up her assault on the Maester, so that's something.

"Swallow, yes… swallow it Lily, you'll feel better, shh..shh… calm down… calm down…" The young Maester looks a bit flustered, but then that's understandable given the current situation. He could do with following his own advice a little, his heart hammers against his chest. As soon as the assault slackens off he nods and mouths his profuse thanks for the attendants help in getting some of the liquid into Lily - hopefully it will be enough. "Here, now let me get some of this salve on you, stop you wantin' to scratch your skin off, then we can get you covered back up better and moved to somewhere they'll help you get better, alright?" He slowly reaches for the pot of sweet-smelling stuff again.

They manage to restrain her as get more poppy laced wine down her. She begins to drift, eyes unfocusing again. There are better lamps in here, but her pupils aren't reacting to them, being the same size they were when the men found her on the street. The attendant asks, "Will you be wanting to bath her?" The stricken woman is murmuring to herself and trying to pet the gown she'd been wearing, "Pretty… so pretty…" She doesn't fight him over the salve.

"Think washin' her down with cloths 'n water will do. Not sure that dunkin' her in the bath would be the best idea, at least not until we're sure what's afflictin' her." Garth explains to the bath-attendant. He washes his own hands in the bowl of warm water before he finishes washing Lily's torso and arms. Then he slathers her all over with the ointment. "Need to get her up to the Citadel, I'll be takin' that as well…" he nods to the discarded dress "might have somethin' on it that will tell someone what's up with her." The man wipes his hands on a towel, rather than his robes this time.

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