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Post by Skipper on Mar 12, 2009 17:27:06 GMT -5
A young otter sat alone a room cleared of all objects excepting only that of the chair upon which he sat. Truly, though, he was less alone than previously mentioned, for two large paws covered his eyes to deprive the otter of sight.
"What do you see?" asked a gruff voice, evidently the owner of the calloused paws. Barr scanned the empty room as he voiced the question, noting that all distractions had been removed. Lachina had done well.
Before his thoughts could continue, the young, momentarily blind otter answered. "I can't; ye're covering my eyes."
"Not now," came the stern reply, "before. With the weasel."
The young otter then understood. He was to remember, not focus on the present. "Ferret," he corrected, "It was a ferret. But what am I to remember?"
"Figure it out."
Lachie thought hard for a long moment, recalling every scene from the previous day. What was Barr asking for? It couldn't be the location of the stolen ships...Lachie chuckled inwardly at the notion of attempting to steal four ships without being caught -- very audacious and naive. He shook his head (or at least as much as one could with two strong paws restricting one's head movements). No, what was it? The ferret's name? The number of boats "stolen"? Lachina's interrogation with the ferret? The color of the fur of the accomplices of the ferret? (Oh, right, he had none. Idiot.) Or the -- . . . Of all things!
"Lachina," he growled accusingly.
The guilty shuffle of paws could be heard from the doorway, followed by muffled laughter. Within a moment, the two were racing from the room, Lachlan in pursuit of Lachina. The shouting and taunting echoed back through the room as Barr shook his head in amusement and listened.
"Give it back, Lachina!"
"But what fun would that be?"
"Lachina!"
"Shan't!"
Barr waved a paw as he departed from a very unamused Lachie, though whether the wave was that of farewell or dismissal he left up to the imagination.
"Not fair!" yelled Lachie from the Infirmary, still within eyesight of Barr.
Half-ignoring the comment, Barr continued to walk away, having already descended the stairs leading up to the Infirmary. Once Infirmary Keeper Tirael examined Lachie's condition, Barr would do all he could to help his son walk again, but for now Lachie would have to bear it and remain in the Infirmary for a day or two. Lachie stared down at his father from atop the staircase, complaining in good-natured mock anger, just as he had done during the entire time spent getting him to ascend the stairs in the first place.
The young otter added one last smart remark before ceasing and making his way to a small window placed in the wall beside a locked cabinet, presumably stocked with various herbs and the like. Wherever they were stored, it created an unidentifiable yet unmistakable scent that wafted lightly through the air. It wasn't really a pleasant smell, but it wasn't sickening either; in grown beasts, it seemed somewhat relaxing -- in dibbuns, it struck fear.
The other side of Lachie's mind wondered where the Infirmary Keeper could be, and when he would return.
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Post by Tirael on Mar 12, 2009 20:20:35 GMT -5
Tirael nodded his thanks to the mouse who let him in the gate. Looking about the grounds, he sighed happily; it was good to be home. He enjoyed those rare times when he got to leave for a short time, but coming back was always the best part. Walking along the lawns, he reached the Abbey building and pulled the door to Great Hall open. Walking through the relative cool of the building, he gave a smile to Martin as he passed the tapestry. His ears perked as he began trudging up the stairs; somebeast was yelling. "Not fair!"Tirael recognized the voice as Lachlan's. But that didn't make sense, Lachie used a wheelchair, what was he doing upst-- The infirmary. of course. Though a little surprised that he would have something to do so suddenly upon returning to Redwall, he didn't mind. In fact, he loved his job, so it was really no problem at all. Coming around a bend in the stairs, he came into view of Barr, and further up, Lachlan. "Morning Mr. Barr, Lachlan. Something I can do for you two?" His brow furrowed slightly as he asked, accompanying the slight tilt of his head. His usual behavior when asking a question like that. [[Sorry about the misunderstanding...  ) |
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Post by Skipper on Mar 13, 2009 20:15:31 GMT -5
((It's completely understandable -- I could've been clearer.  ) "Morning Mr. Barr, Lachlan. Something I can do for you two?" "A good morn to ye, Brother Tirael," replied Barr, a little too formally for his comfort. With his good eye, the half-blind otter caught a glimpse of Lachie, who shifted slightly, a forewarning that the loud-mouthed young one was about to speak. Despite this, Barr trusted Lachie to explain well enough, and, knowing that he would likely later regret the decision, gestured to shift Tirael's attention to Lachie. Not wishing to remain within earshot of Lachie, which could be equivalent to bowshot at times, Barr excused himself politely to escape to the kitchens. Lachie studied Tirael's expression as the Infirmary Keeper posed his question. A tilt of the head, and slight furrowing of the brow. Probably habitual, or mayhap forced? Both unusual, though possibly characteristic of a less talkative creature. It was too soon to say. Lachie also caught the look of discomfort on Barr face, but before he could say anything, the father had left the area. Ah, Barr knew him too well. "Aye, there seems to be a problem." Lachie returned to reality to reply to Tirael. "You may not be able to notice, but I seem to be having a little trouble. . .well, walking." Come now, it was good-natured sarcasm. . . All right then, enough of that. Placing a paw on either wheel of his chair, he pushed the right wheel forward, and simultaneously pulled the left back. Thus he rotated counterclockwise to face Tirael. "I suppose I'm s'pposed to ask for a diagnosis. . . See, I could walk up until half a season ago, so I thought maybe it's a problem that could be fixed. . ." Lachie shifted nervously in his self-titled "wheely-chair" as he awaited Tirael's reply. He remembered what he had said on his ascent of the stairs; "Here's my prognosis of his diagnosis: I can't walk!" Dry though his remark may have been, he still felt uneasy. He went on to explain the details of what he knew of his condition, that being quite simply that he randomly collapsed the day he and his father entered Mossflower country, suddenly unable to move his legs easily -- and when he could move his legs, it would be accompanied by intense pain. Lachie, himself, had never heard of anything like it before, nor had anybeast he yet knew of. Except maybe Tirael... ((Sorry, not my best. I'm still rather busy, and today will be the only free day I'll have to post until Tuesday, at least.)) |
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Post by Tirael on Mar 17, 2009 19:55:13 GMT -5
"A good morn to ye, Brother Tirael."
Tirael followed Barr's gesture and looked up at his son, who was looking back at him, as well. Glancing back at Barr briefly as he headed down the stairs, the infirmary keeper trudged up the last few steps. Lachlan turned his 'wheely-chair' toward him as he did so, and began to speak.
"I suppose I'm s'pposed to ask for a diagnosis. . . See, I could walk up until half a season ago, so I thought maybe it's a problem that could be fixed. . ."
Tirael nodded and pushed the chair into the infirmary as Lachlan spoke. He noticed the way that the otter shifted nervously in his seat; it was obvious he hoped for some kind of answer, something that made the healer nervous. After all, he hadn't ever heard of anything quite like this. Of course, he had heard of and read about numerous beasts without the use of their legs. Unfortunately, where there was explanation, it was usually from battle-wounds, and he didn't recall any real treatments being mentioned. Sitting on one of the empty beds in the room, he closed his eyes and searched his mind more thoroughly for a solution.
An old reference suddenly popped into his head. A haremaid, she had been wheelchair-bound too...but his heart sank as he remembered she had been handicapped since birth, not in a sudden onset like Lachlan. As he recalled, she was also healed by a random miracle, something Tirael couldn't make with all the herbs in the world.
Looking up at Lachlan, the infirmary keeper sighed, and gave him what he could. "Well, to be honest, I've never heard of anybeast randomly losing control of his legs like that. Usually it's from wounds, or poison, or something similar. Nor have I read about any special medicines to help." Hope creeping into his voice, he continued, "Of course, that doesn't mean all's lost. Somebeasts have healed on their own, with time. It can come when it's meant to. If you want to try and speed the process, I suppose we could try some activities to get you some use of your legs back. It'll be hard, and probably painful, but if you're willing to do it, it's the only option off the top of my head." He made a mental resolution to do whatever he could for Lachlan, though deep down, he feared that wasn't much.
[[No prob, do what you have to do, I'll still be here Tuesday.]]
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Post by Skipper on Apr 5, 2009 20:33:54 GMT -5
((My goodness -- I forgot to title my last post.
. . .Heh, "my goodness," . . . ;D))
"Well, to be honest, I've never heard of anybeast randomly losing control of his legs like that. Usually it's from wounds, or poison, or something similar. Nor have I read about any special medicines to help. Of course, that doesn't mean all's lost. Somebeasts have healed on their own, with time. It can come when it's meant to. If you want to try and speed the process, I suppose we could try some activities to get you some use of your legs back. It'll be hard, and probably painful, but if you're willing to do it, it's the only option off the top of my head."
"From wounds?" Lachie asked, suddenly curious. Simultaneously, the spark of a memory reentered his mind as though for the first time.
. . .He gingerly brushed his paw along the long gash that marred his left leg. Odd, why hadn't he noticed it there before? . . .
At this point, two questions made themselves prominent within Lachie's mind. The first was of his flashback. Lachie hadn't remembered that scene until the moment of the flashback. Why hadn't he been able to recall the memory hitherto? He had never had difficulty remembering anything for...well...as long as he could remember.
Despite having been posed prior to the former, the second question concerned Tirael's previous mention of the various causes of lameness. Lachie voiced the latter. He continued. "I do, uh, recall one particular wound. I noticed it just before my father an' I left for Redhall, a nice long gash on my left leg, but I thought little of it, treated it like anybeast else would. . . So, that can cause lameness?" Lachie didn't want to sound ignorant, but he was a bit limited in his knowledge of such things. All he was raised to do was to notice and remember things -- or rather, everything, to more accurately put it.
((Sorry, it is rather rushed, but then [again], today is the first day I've had to relax at all in a few weeks. But of course, excuses, excuses, the fact is, but I've posted now, so I'll stop babbling...))
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Post by Tirael on Apr 10, 2009 19:14:50 GMT -5
Tirael looked up at Lachie as he mentioned the 'nice long gash' on his leg. His mind churned into full action, and before Lachie had finished his explanation, the infirmary keeper had realized what was wrong. "That's it! The wound, that's what's doing this. See, if the damage extended into the muscle, that would explain all the symptoms: the pain, the lameness, it makes so much sense now!" Now unable to contain his excitement, which was a mixture of relief at having solved the puzzle and joy at being able to fix Lachie, he stood up and paced as he chattered. Stopping, he paused and tried to put it in terms his patient could understand.
"As I said, the problem is the damage to your muscles. For some reason, they didn't heal properly, and now they don't work. When you stand, they try to, and that's why they hurt, why they can't support you." He sobered a bit as he realized how unpleasant the treatment would sound. "The good news is, I think I can cure it." Looking away, he sighed, then continued. "But it won't be easy. I...I'll have to reopen the cut, then set it so it can heal properly. You'll have to stay in the wheelchair until it does, but once it does, you should be able to stand and walk." It didn't sound so hard, but he had to know exactly how to cut, where to stop, how to seal the wound again...it would be touch-and-go, but he could do it.
After all, wasn't that his job?
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Post by Skipper on Apr 13, 2009 20:13:28 GMT -5
"That's it! The wound, that's what's doing this. See, if the damage extended into the muscle, that would explain all the symptoms: the pain, the lameness, it makes so much sense now!"
Lachie tilted his head slightly, listening as Tirael continued.
"As I said, the problem is the damage to your muscles. For some reason, they didn't heal properly, and now they don't work. When you stand, they try to, and that's why they hurt, why they can't support you."
Now his mind began to stir as it tried to process the new information. So Tirael could judge what happened inside a beast? That was true insight. Lachie listened with an increasing curiosity.
"The good news is, I think I can cure it."
Good, good...
"But it won't be easy. I...I'll have to reopen the cut, then set it so it can heal properly. You'll have to stay in the wheelchair until it does, but once it does, you should be able to stand and walk."
Lachie's stomach churned at the sound of that. He didn't very much like the idea of having a gash in his leg again, never mind for how long. On the other paw, Tirael's enthusiasm for his work was impressive, and the speed with which he analyzed Lachie's condition showed that the healer knew what he was about. What was Lachie to fear with one of such experience healing him?
Even so, Lachie expressed some doubt. "You are certain about this?" Of course Tirael was certain -- that was his job! Lachie was still hesistant, of course, but at the same time, walking was a rather appealing prospect... He voiced another question, though a little too abruptly for his liking. "When - when would be a good time -- I'd, er, rather prepare meself 'fore I rush into anything..." His second remark made very little sense, in retrospect, and verged on being random. To be quite honest, he was simply nervous.
And what better way to cure nervousness than with more stuttering? "Th-that is to say, er, that I would like to give it a little more thought before I, erm, make a decision on the matter, n-not that I wantto refuse the offer, b-but just that..." This was getting him nowhere. He sighed deeply, and regained his usual composure. "What I mean to say is that I would very much like to be cured, but I'll need a liddle time, a day at most, er, to build up the courage to do so. So, er, when would be an acceptable time to return here?" Probably any time, Lachie thought -- Tirael wasn't the busiest creature alive...
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Post by Tirael on Apr 15, 2009 9:19:53 GMT -5
"You are certain about this?"
Tirael nodded. He felt sorry for Lachlan; he hadn't been pitched a very pleasant cure, but it was the only one the infirmary keeper could offer. He tried to appear understanding as his patient stuttered his way through some bizarre excuse to put this off, having witnessed similar things before. Just with less fractured wording.
"What I mean to say is that I would very much like to be cured, but I'll need a liddle time, a day at most, er, to build up the courage to do so. So, er, when would be an acceptable time to return here?"
Acceptable time? Looking around the infirmary, which was empty except for the two otters, Tirael shrugged and said, "As soon as you feel ready, Lachlan. Though I wouldn't put it off for too long." The faster they did this, the sooner Lachlan would walk.
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Post by Rocky on Apr 17, 2009 21:21:51 GMT -5
OOC: Its been a while since I've role-played with you, Skip. Glad I can have the pleasure of doing it again, right now. You, too, Tir. Always a pleasure.
BIC:
Rocky was, practically, bored. His sense of freedom in Mossflower died down as vermin starting roaming again, larger in quantity now, and some even better in quality. THe freedom was stripped from him, like clothes from a body, and just thrown away where he couldn't retrieve it again, unless he eliminated the threat. Even with Meko there wasn't freedom in the country. Only at Redwall was there really a sense of security. Still, even that may not be safe.
Rocky always looked for work, always wanting something to do to keep his mind occupied. He'd just helped a sister of Redwall lift some boxes into high places, and that was about it. Work around here was dieing down like grass in scorchng heat. It was just... Dissapating. Dissolving. Maybe it was because there wasn't much to do, because things were already done and ready. Who knows?
It was when he walked into the infirmary, ready to ask Tirael if he needed anything, when he heard voices. Familiar voices.
"That's it! The wound, that's what's doing this. See, if the damage extended into the muscle, that would explain all the symptoms: the pain, the lameness, it makes so much sense now!"
The words were Tirael's and looking at his patient for the time, Lachlan Stromness known as just Lachie. The otter was still young, as was his mind and his muscles and bones. However, the young creature was born with a disablility that made him unable to walk. Rocky felt bad for him, unable to run like others. Tirael's words passed through Rocky's ears and into his thoughts, staying there as Rocky worked out everything being said. It wasn't hard to interpret seeing as how Tirael explained it.
''Well, congratualtions, Tirael. Glad you found a cure for young master Lachie.'' He passed Lachie a smile, and he walked closer to the young otter. ''I can't wait for the day when I could fight by your side in battle. If you choose to follow in your father's footsteps.''
Something came over Rocky in the last few weeks. He had a better sense of things, and he was... kinder, and more compasionate about things. ''Dont fear anything, Lachie. In fact, I'll stand by your side when it happens. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you can, sir, if it would help.''
He turned back to Tirael, and finally asked what he came in for, ''First things first, I wish you luck on the surgery, which I have no doubt you will need to do. Second, I was wondering if you needed any help. Were there any boxes you need moved, or anything? Any food for yourself or Lachie? Medicine? Bowls? Ssspoons? Towels? Sheets?''
He realized then that he flooded Tir with questions and he quickly grinned and waved his hand, ''Sorry. But do you need anything done?''
It wasn't long before Arel walked in, the large sea otter leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. ''Don't let Rocky bother you, sir.'' The words were sort of directed to Tirael and Lachie. He winked at Lachie, then looked at Rocky. (Heh... That rhymes XD) ''Let 'im be, Rocky. Don't flood 'im with questions.'' He said this jokingly, which Rocky picked up immediately, but payed no heed to them.
''Please, Tir. Im really bored.'' Rocky said again.
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Post by Skipper on May 1, 2009 17:12:29 GMT -5
((By the way, Rocky, Lachie wasn't born lame -- he just lost the ability to walk soon after a shipwreck. No worries, though. ) "As soon as you feel ready, Lachlan. Though I wouldn't put it off for too long."Lachie half-sighed. He knew Tirael was right. Funny, he never realized how unsettling the prospect of surgery was to him... At that moment, Rocky burst into the room, talking as though he would lose his ability to do so the next morn. ''Well, congratulations, Tirael. Glad you found a cure for young master Lachie.'' He passed Lachie a smile, and he walked closer to the young otter. ''I can't wait for the day when I could fight by your side in battle. If you choose to follow in your father's footsteps."Lachie caught the pass, and returned it. He took a breath to speak, but Rocky quickly continued. "Dont fear anything, Lachie. In fact, I'll stand by your side when it happens. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you can, sir, if it would help."Sir? Lachie did quite like that. (But what on earth was a "hand"?) "First things first, I wish you luck on the surgery, which I have no doubt you will need to do."Now to Tirael. "Second, I was wondering if you needed any help. Were there any boxes you need moved, or anything? Any food for yourself or Lachie? Medicine? Bowls? Sssssspoons? Towels? Sheets? Sorry. But do you need anything done?''Fortunately, Arel interrupted.
''Don't let Rocky bother you, sir.'' He winked at Lachie, then looked at Rocky. ''Let 'im be, Rocky. Don't flood 'im with questions.''''Please, Tir. I'm really bored.''Evidently... Lachie smiled toward Arel and Rocky, and began wheeling his way out as he excused himself from the Infirmary. "I'll be back inna hour an' fourteen minutes, Tirael." Ah, random time intervals... Lachie wheeled his way to the stairs, then, the momentum still carrying him forward, braced himself just as he had done earlier that day atop the northern wall -- except this time, Old Brother Dinng would not be in his way. For such a crude design, the creaking wheely-chair was surprisingly sturdy. . . ((No need to worry -- he'll be fine.  )) |
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Post by Tirael on May 4, 2009 22:24:56 GMT -5
Tirael blinked in surprise. One moment he was alone with Lachlan, the next Rocky was begging him for something to do. Well, begging didn't quite cover it; it was more like being hit by a verbal tsunami. At least Rocky meant well, and Arel
''Please, Tir. Im really bored.''
Managing to regain his mental footing, the otter said, "Umm...well, there's not much..." Thinking it over a moment, he said more clearly, "If you can sew, there's some old coverlets and things that could do with some mending. If not, well...I guess the place could use some cleaning..." Tirael was stretching his mind to figure out something; an empty infirmary didn't create much in the way of job opportunities, and it really wasn't all that dirty. Giving Arel a resigned grin, he said, "Don't be too hard on him. Didn't y' hear? He might die if I don't give 'im somethin' to do." Not that I had anything to do before, anyways...
"I'll be back inna hour an' fourteen minutes, Tirael."
Arching an eyebrow, Tirael said, "How...exact. Well, see you then, I guess." Coming home had never been quite this odd...maybe something was bringing back that dozen-year-old slingstone to the head. As usual, the memory of how he had come to Redwall made the otter feel a bolt of sadness run through him, though once it made it through his rudder, he felt alright. After Lachlan left, he turned to the other two otters still in the room. "Well, I've got a patient and a time, now I just need one more thing." Tucking his paws into the sleeves of his habit, he asked, "Either of you know where I could find a nurse? I seem to have run out..." Surgery like this would be significantly harder without some kind of assistance.
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