Near the field, squires and healers and maesters are tending to combatants. Though the melee was fought to first blood, bruises, fractures, and concussions abound. Squires and runners move about like ants, helping the fighters with their weapons and armour, fetching and carrying. The scent of boiling wine is in the air, heady with the coppery tang of blood and churned dirt.
A sudden cry goes up, “help! Maester Hubert!” Eyes turn towards the squire shouting.
He is standing over the form of Ser Harben, the tow-headed young knight. Though the man had done well enough to leave the field under his own power, he now lays in the dirt, eyes rolling back wildly. Vomit is smeared across his chin and cheeks, and splatters the front of his loosened, misshapen armour.
---
Deadly! TN16: 6d6 23
-4D Athletics, Harben is Paralysed.
