Characters:

Projects:

Other Stuff:

Like what you see?  Don't like it?  Just enjoy writing emails?  Regardless, send me a message at

icefire_147@yahoo.com

I'll probably write back, if it's not spam or random flames.

Back to Logs:

Harper's Tale 3 - Wednesday, July 24, 2002, 7:42 PM
---------------------------------------------------

Hold Infirmary and Healer Hall
With a faint smell of redwort, the room is astonishingly clean, even for an infirmary. Recently made tapestries cover the outer wall of the cavern, protecting the patients from the weather outside. Shelves line two of the walls, with healing supplies neatly placed on the labeled slots. Cabinets are above them, where herbs and medicines are stored, a few with locks that only masters have access to. Cots line the remaining wall, with sheets that can be pulled around the bed for privacy or surgery. Glows are fastened everywhere, giving this room an intense brightness.
You see Master Maladi, Melanie, Infirmary Cabinet, and Sign - List of Cabinet Contents here.
You notice 4 people asleep here.
Kurt is here.
Obvious exits:
Healer Passage

Kurt is sleeping peacefully, tucked neatly beneath a comfortable amount of blankets. All he seems to do now is sleep, not noticing that he's in danger of wasting away from lack of strength. A couple of apprentices hover around, not really in the mood to disturb him, although it's their turn to check his vitals.

Morallen strolls in, off duty, but checking up on Kurt anyways. He makes no move to take over from the apprentices, instead arranging himself on a stool by Kurt's bedside, a large and new-looking book resting casually on one knee. His Journeyman's Project, apparently, half-finished but apparently interesting enough reading as he waits for Kurt to wake up.

Kurt gives Morallen plenty of time to read but eventually he does stir from his slumber. He opens his eyes, otherwise remaining silent, and looks around ,orienting himself. He then senses that someone else is nearby and turns his head to regard Morallen with a curious look. WHat's he doing here?

Morallen offers a friendly smirk as he peers back at Kurt. "Oh good, you're awake," he intones, closing the book, and pausing a moment to caress the cover lovingly. His. "I'm off duty, but I figured I might as well drop by and see about setting you up with some initial excercises." he continues, casually resting one ankle atop the other and wriggling his toes. "Now that your conscious again, no reason we can't start rehab early, the small stuff anyways."

Kurt nods slowly,shifting his shoulders to get more comfortable. "What do I have to do?" he asks. "Can I walk around?" as if he could.

Morallen taps his fingers on the book's cover, before slipping it into his satchel. "No walking today," he notes. "You're more likely to topple over. In a few days, though. Today, we're just going to see exactly how weak you are, and what muscles need the most rebuilding. I'll be putting you through a series of excercises, asking you questions, to see what your limits are, OK?"

Kurt nods. "Ok." he's curious to see just how weak he is as well. Of course in his mind he's still invincible and could spring a few cartwheels right now. "Now?"

"If you're feeling up to it," grants Morallen, already fishing in his satchel for something. And what he produces is a child's ball, one of the sort that's vaguely squashable. He hands it to Kurt along with the instructions of "Squeeze this as hard as you can, I'd like to see how much you can compress it."

Kurt feels the ball in his long fingers and attempts to squeeze it. He puts a massive amount of effort into it but alas, the excersize isn't as productive as he would have liked. He barely makes an impression in the thing.

Morallen doesn't critique or praise the attempt, just simply makes a note in a record book he's conjured from somewhere, nods a little, encouragingly, and says "Right, just like that. Now, switch it to the other hand and try it... which is your dominant hand, by the way?"

Kurt switches it to his right hand and tries again, getting much the same response, except this time he seems to be out of breath. Oi. He looks at Morallen for comment, brow lifting.

"That's about the level of debilitation that I figured," grants Morallen. "Perfectly normal. Now, which one is your dominant hand, again?" he repeats, quill poised over the records book.

Kurt looks at one hand, then the other, then finally lifts up his right hand a bit. "Right...you expected me to be dibilitated? That's so insulting..."

Morallen chuckles. "Don't be insulted," he advises. "It just means that you're a normal human being. And you're definitely not the worst I've seen. So, right hand dominant, gotcha." That notation is scrawled down in handwriting that's ligible only to himself, before he extends his hand for the ball. "Right, then. Let's work on testing your other arm mucles, now."

Kurt nods, reaching out and handing over the ball, letting his arm drop back to the bed. "Ok..."

"Lift your forearm," directs Morallen next, making the desires movement himself to demonstrate. "Like you'd do if you were trying to flex your biceps. Now, I'll take hold of your forearm, and try to pull it down. You try to resist me. Got it?"

Kurt nods, and does as instructed, lifting a slender arm and folding his fingers into a fist. "Like that?"

Morallen nods in reply, wrapping his hand firmly around Kurt's forearm, but lightly enough so as not to cause bruising or anything like that. "Exactly right. Now, I'm going to start pulling," Which he does, "And you try your hardest to resist the pull, as it gets stronger.

Kurt nods, furrowing his brow. He tries hard, but only succeeds in struggling and not getting anywhere. He barely gives any resistance to Morallen's pull, making an irritated sound in his throat as if he were angry about it.

"It's all right, sir," attempts to soothe Morallen. "This is to be expected, and you /will/ get stronger a lot faster, if you follow what exercises I prescribe for you." He shifts his grip to the Harper's other arm. "The other side now, Master Kurt?"

Kurt lifts the other arm, looking to see if the healer's hand wraps all the way around his forearm. "Hmmm." he comments, and tries again, this time putting all the strength he has into it, including gritted teeth, and visible tensing of muscles around his neck and forehead. "Hoyaahhh..." but still, for all his efforts he barely creates any force at all.

"Good, good, that will do fine," is Morallen's comment, taking another note in his book. "I can see that we'll want to set up some upper-body excecises for you. Now, let's take a look at what your legs are up to, shall we? This loss of strength in fever victims is generally because your body has somewhat cannabalised your muscles, as well as from the system shock of fighting off the disease attacking you."

Kurt grumbles. Sharding healers babbling at people who have no idea wha they're talking about. "Oh." he says, preparing for the cooler air on his legs. "But how could it happen so quickly? I've worked for turns...." and he's still stick thin, but at least he did have a bit of muscle. "Can I walk around?" hey, maybe if he keeps asking...

The babble is all part of Morallen's plan to keep Kurt /just/ busy enough with thinking about just what the hell he's saying to keep from planning an escape. He folds the sheets back from the cot, and sets about gently feeling the muscles of Kurt's calves as he shakes his head. "No, not today," he repeats patiently, before picking up one of the Harper's feet. "Right. Now, what I want you to do is try and push against my hand as hard as you can, while I try and get your knee to bend."

Kurt frowns, almost pouting at the healer. He does as he's instructed, his muscles trembling with effort. But after only a matter of a few seconds he gives in, panting. "I can't..." he sighs. "Too tired..."

"Just one more excercise, and then you can rest while I tell you what excercises I want you to do." decrees Morallen. "Just need to check on the other leg. Ready, and go," He repeats the procedure.

Kurt gives the same three second effort, then gives up, turning his head to glare at the wall. "It's still there." he grumbles irritably, catching his breath.

Morallen scribbles some more notations, and settles back into his seat after drawing Kurt's covers over him again. "That it is. Now, our job is to get all your limbs back to full strength..." He reaches into his satchel again, fishing around. "Now, where did I put them...?"

Kurt frowns, almost not wanting to know. "What?" as if he could help him look for it. "Lose something?"

"Aha!! There you are," is the triumphant noise from Morallen, pulling the squeeze ball from his satchel, along with two interesting-looking objects that look rather like heavy duty beanbags, with strings attatched. "Er, no, found them. Well, first excercise I'd like to prescribe is working with squeezing the ball to increase your wrist strength. Try 5 minute sessions every couple of hours, at first, and work up to longer and more frequent."

Kurt nods, sighing. "I'm an acrobatics teacher...it isn't as though I've never done any physical excersize." he just doesn't get it. "I'm just...tired. Maybe a good night's sleep will bring back my strength."

Zara has connected.

Morallen looks as though he's about to correct Kurt on that point, and then simply shuts his mouth before speaking. He settles for a "It will help, certainly," before moving onto the next bit of equipment: the odd beanbag things. "These," he notes. "Are some light weights. You can wrap them around your arms or legs, tie them into place, and do some gentle lifts with them. Again, I want you to spend no more than 5 minutes per exercise, at intervals of at /least/ two hours, at the beginning."

Kurt lifts a brow at the beanbags, nodding. "All right..." well at least it's a start. He's determined to get back into shape as quickly as possible. But drowsiness seems to be kicking in. "I'll start in the morning..."

Morallen nods, and stands, leaving the training aids on Kurt's bedside table. "That sounds like a good plan to me, sir. Rest well... you're going to need it." And with that, the senior apprentice stalks out again, intent on enjoying what remains of his free time between classes and the night shift.