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Harper's Tale 3 - Friday, July 19, 2002, 10:43 PM
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Shainman Rehearsal Hall
The largest room in the Istan Harper Hall, save the Ballroom, this room has wonderful acoustics that make sound bounce off the walls just so. From lessons to rehearsal to just listening to the marvelous sounds always filling the room, there's always a surplus of people about, harpers of every rank, and even a few holders. Tiers fill almost every wall in the room, the choir levels on the right, the orchestra one directly in and other smaller areas for more specific group rehearsal on the left. The room is spotlessly clean and only completely empty in the early hours of the morning when most harpers have to tear themselves away from their work for a few winks of sleep.
Watching from a high ledge are two firelizards.
Kurt and Extazia are here.
Obvious exits:
Main Hall

Kurt blinks. "Harmony needs help? What sort of help? I don't remember if I gave them the right book or not." he wipes his forehead again. "Maybe you're right. I should get some sleep. Sometime."

Extazia waves her hand in front of his face. "My melodies are /bland/, and they sound real weird with nothin' else supportin' them. An' uh, I didn' say anythin' bout books. Yur /really/ out of it..." She shakes her head, then notices an enterance. "Who'r you, an' this Master needs some help." Grin. Trust Tazi to go bounce around to tell everyone that her new Mentor is acting like he just got as woozy as a drunk.

Morallen blinks. "Me...?" he inquires, the young man clutching at the large number of hides and scrolls that are threatening to escape his grasp and run off to colonize Pern. "I'm... just trying to find a copyist. Senior Apprentice Morallen, with Healer... you again?" This last caused by the Healer spotting the Master, handing the scrolls off vaguely in Extazia's direction, and eyeing Kurt with narrowed lips. "How long has he been like this?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, closing them as he gets a little dizzy. OPening them again to look over his shoulder at the healer he lifts a brow. "How long has... I'm sitting right here...I'm not an invalid. Extazia, please take Morallen's scrolls and set..." he lets out a wracking cough. "Set them over there so they can be copied. Healers always have terrible handwriting ... so we'll save it for the Journeymen..." he hacks once more and nods. "Hooler-err-Harper Master Kurt. You can pick up the fluff in a couple of days." he pushes himself to his feet with an effort and slowly walks toward the Healer.

"Stuff and nonsense." intones Morallen sharply, stalking over and taking Kurt by the elbow. Vaguely-formal Fort bearing and accent have taken over, as the normally happy beach bum of a senior apprentice shows his serious side. "You're weak, I /don't/ like the sounds of that cough, and you look feverish. Not to mention that you're tripping over your words, and I've never seen a Harper do that that wasn't sick or drunk. You're coming with me to the Infirmary, and I'll message your wife if I have to." Muahahaha. The ultimate high card.

Kurt stumbles, confused. "Huh? Hey, unhand me you...You." he wipes his forehead with his sleeve, stopping to try and shake off the healer so he can cough. "It's just a cold..." he says, reaching a hand out blindly to lean on something solid as everything starts getting a little wobbly. "You came to get hides copied...not boss me around..." he slurs.

Morallen shakes his head, and keeps a firm hand on Kurt. Being considerably larger, this shouldn't pose a problem to him. "Just a cold, my great aunt's fanny." he notes. "That's not 'just' a cold, and I'm a Healer. You need medical care, and I'd be failing in my Oaths to ignore that. Now come along. If I'm wrong, you'll be able to go home in less than half an hour." Slowly, he begins to steer them towards the door.

Extazia has disconnected.

Kurt takes a few steps then halts again, holding up a hand to the healer, indicating he needs a moment to orient himself. "I..." he tilts his head to the side to try and clear it, his mind trying not to ponder Morallen's aunt's cold fanny. "Hold on..." he whispers, turning halfway to reach to lean on the back of one of the seats when his knees give way, his body spontaneously going completely slack as if someone had shut him off with a switch.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Extazia off to bed.

"Just a cold..." mutters Morallen with a touch of exasperation, as he's left catching a falling sack of potatoes also known as a Harper Master. "My /arse/." Heh. Now that he's passed out, he can't call him on language. "But, let's get you to a cot, ooof, sheesh, what've they been /feeding/ you." And with another mutter and a shake of his head, the Healer simply scoops Kurt up and carries him away.

You go to the Main Hall and Ballroom.
Kurt is carried in by Morallen.

You go to the Great Hall.
Kurt is carried in by Morallen.

You walk into the Healer Hall.
Kurt is carried in by Morallen.

You go to the Hold Infirmary and Healer Hall.
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 2 people asleep here.
Kurt is here.
Obvious exits:
Healer Passage
Kurt is carried in by Morallen.

"Ooof, my back." This is Morallen's oh-so-Healerly comment as he tips the unconscious Kurt onto a cot in an isolated corenr of the room with at least an attempt at gentleness, and then proceeds to dash off a message to the nearest ranker, before scrubbing up with Redwort and taking himself, a thermomenter and his listening tube back over to the Harper Master.

Kurt was /fine/ not that long ago. What could have struck him down so quickly? And with Kristopher nowhere to be found there's no danger that the overeager Sr.Apprentice managed to poison his brother (again). Here and there a couple pair of curious eyes watch the Healer and the Harper.

Altair blinks in from ::between:: with a chirrup.

Curious eyes including those of a rather old, toothless auntie who's a couple beds over from the harper. "Shells, buchall allus 'urtin' ye'selves!" She observes in a thick accent, tucked up to her chin in blankets. Perhaps she too is suffering from the same thing? Either way, she appears some what cold and her wrinkled skin is pale and somewhat pasty. "Kids." Snort.

Kurt furrows his brow slightly, perspiration positively pouring down his temples and neck. The old auntie might be cold, but this Harper is burning up. Another pair of eyes come from a much younger patient, who probably should be asleep in bed by now.

Morallen, of course, having just run across Kurt and the master's mentee having run off elsewhere, can't really know how fast the Harper's been struck down. But he's still doing his best to follow procedure, muttering to himself as to his findings, and laboriously scrawling them in his hideous handwriting on a chart. "Pulse... erratic and high. Respiration... shallow and rapid. Unproductive and heavy coughing noted earlier. Complaints of dizziness. Fever of..." The thermomenter is removed from it's tube, eyed, shaken down, and placed carefully under Kurt;s tongue with a mutter of "Now what... think think think..." he mutters. "Ah!" and he's off to collect and ready some cold compresses while he waits for the thermometer to take it's reading

A couple of cleaning apprentices pause in their quiet duties to watch the Sr.Apprentice working quickly. They haven't seen any emergency action, and can't seem to keep their eyes off the unfolding drama. Who knows? Maybe they'll learn something.

A particularly small apprentice -- perhaps just a kidlet that runs about the hall -- peeks up beside Kurt's bed where he scratches at his sandy-haired head. "Whatcha /doooooin'/?" He asks of the Master Harper without heed for the poor man's plight. And of course, while Morallen properly busies himself with other things. Wouldn't want him to get /caught/ or anything.

"Psst, hey you, c'mere and give me a hand." Morallen's spotted the apprentices, and, in the absence of a ranking Healer having arrived at his summons, pulls a little rank. It doesn't mater which one of 'em comes, he's just expecting one or two to reply at random. "Come help me get this fellow changed into a gown, and sponge him down. And the rest of you keep back. We don't know if he's got bad food poisoning or plague, and we can't /ask/ him 'til he comes 'round." It's all Kurt's fault for fainting and stopping the information flow, y'see. Bedside manner is only applicable when the patient is actually /conscious/. He whistles as he examines the thermometer reading. "Faranth, that can't be right."

"How high is it?" the braver of the cleaning apprentices asks as the other one scuttles off. She hasn't noticed the young boy yet, but hesitantly retrieves a gown from the cabinet. Whoever else is helping can get the sponges. Good thing the Master is easy on the eyes, or else this could be scary.

Perhaps the boy didn't notice that Kurt was out cold. Either way, he's still waiting attentively for an answer. In any event, there /is/ another helping and this one gulps uncertainly. Surely we don't have a squeamish apprentice...do we? We hope not. At least this one's getting some sponges and the red-haired twittering girl fetches them, returning to Morallen's side and, with a gulp, offers the sponges to the senior apprentice. Gulp. And did I mention gulp?

Morallen turns to thermometer so the other apprentice can see it. "One-oh-two," he comments. "Not the highest you can go, but this guy apparently has a weak heart to start with... we need to get him cooled down. Either of you seen any sign of rankers around? This... is a bit much for us, kids." the lanky young man pronounces, even as he works at getting the young Harper Master's boots off. Shirt follows, and he notes to his helpers "Try and prop him up so you can get his shirt off, then put the gown on him, then go for his pants. That way, he's less likely to fuss if he wakes up while we're working." Leaving the younger apprentices to it, the senior sets about soaking his sponges in a basin of cool water, and wiping down Kurt's face and neck.

Kurt doesn't make much of a fuss at all. He makes a few small sounds, but otherwise retains the muscle tone of a limp ragdoll, easily maneuvered into any position they want. His long hair sticks to his face and neck, his pale skin glowing with perspiration. He's propped up, the gown being slipped on over his thin arms. "Tie it in the back?" she asks timidly, now noticing the smaller boy. "Are you helping?"

The smaller boy's eyes bulge outward as he's spoken to and with an impish snicker he skitters out of the way and, in fact, out of the infirmary. He's called attention to himself, and that's never good for /any/ type of bratling. Meanwhile, that timid apprentice over there gulps again and, once she's relieved of her sponges, moves for the harper's side to help push him up. One might notice that she touches him as little as she might, almost as if he burns her. "Y-y-y-yeah," She stammers, the lack of a ranker probably making her all the more nervous.

"This isn't good..." mutters Morallen, cutting himself off as he notices the timidity of the apprentices. Right. Set a confident example. He squares his shoulders and gives a nod. "Tie it, but tie it loosely as possible. He's likely going to sweat through more than a few gowns, if this keeps up. You're doing just fine, you two," he praises. "Keep it up while I send off another message to whoever is supposed to be on call tonight. He needs willowsalic and I don't know what other things to help break that fever, and I don't want to try and muck around with dosages myself."

The one apprentice looks over at the timid apprentice and sighs. But at Morallen's praise, she carefully and loosely ties the gown, just enough to keep it partly together. "What's wrong with him?" the Harper coughs a couple of times in his sleep, muttering incoherently to himself.

That timid apprentice merely washes her hands together, shifting from foot to foot and shifting her gaze between Kurt and Morallen. Gulp gulp. Who / has/ that much saliva, anyway? Fortunately for the red-haired girl, there's a distraction for a journeywoman bustles in through the door, her ample figure filling it quite nicely. She looks as if she belongs tucked away in the hills and married to some cotholder, not in the bustling healer hall of Ista Hold. The large woman bustles /right/ up to Morallen and cants her head to the side, "You called?" She inquries breathlessly, apparently from her quick movement here. Leisha isn't in the best of shapes, is she?

Morallen eyes the large vessel sailing in with an air of poorly-disguised relief. "That I did, ma'am. Harper Master Kurt here..." A gesture at the prone man being sponged down by apprentices. "Has just been struck down by a really rapid-onset fever. Temperature 102, heart and respiration rates up, sweating profusely, compained of dizziness and then fainted. Showed signs of impaired mental processes as well. He's also been coughing a bit, nonproductive, so I think we can rule out food poisoning..." He looks hopefully at Journeywoman Leisha. Do something? "Oh, and he's Master Aerrin's husband. In here fairly often, his file's about the size of a book..."

Altair wrinkles up her pudgy face into a grimace. You'd think a healer would take better care of herself. Ah well. "Yes, I know of him. Personally." Cue a scowl that most certaly scares the socks off that poor red-haired apprentice. "And you've sponged him, good. Well, you've mostly got to cool him down with all the proper herbs." A faint smirk resides on her features -- she'll leave him to figure it out for himself, it appears.
Altair ^ ers. Um. That'd be Leisha.

Kurt can't help it...he's an acrobatics instructor, not to mention rather prone to attract danger and adventure. But being Aerrin's husband ought to count for /something/. His narrow chest rises and falls rapidly as his body tries to cool down, struggling to breathe in the meantime, defeating the purpose.

Oh great, one of those 'learn to do by doing' sorts. Ah well. After a discussion regarding herbs and amounts, Leisha measures out a few doses as an example, and Morallen prepares to make up an infusion. While it's brewing, he returns to sit vigil with the other apprentices, still sponging now and again as he ponders. "Rapid onset... Rules out Plague. Firehead doesn't feature a cough... Too high a fever for pneumonia..." And on and on his pondering continues, as he tends to his patient and waits for the infusion to steep through. This is going to be a very long night. "Oi... you two, after you're done, go straight to the baths and scrub yourselves with that soap that has redwort in it... this may or may not be contagious."

"Contagious?" the apprentice gulps, looking at the other. "Mmmm maybe he just caught a really bad cold.." she can always hope anyway.

"We don't know for certain yet," repeats Morallen, a bit more firmly. "So therefore, we are going to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Now go take a /bath/, kiddo, OK?"

"Ok..." and the young apprentice grabs the other by the wrist and dashes out of the infirmary, leaving the aspiring Journeyman to attend to the young Master.