Grayell looked at Zane with a stern face. He looked about the fire and grabbed a couple more rocks - large ones.
Since you're so smart, I guess you won't mind a few more pounds then.
Grayell took the stick and added the rocks to the weight and did indeed move the bundle to the end of the stick. He tied it tight and got to his feet with a grin.
You're obviously bored so we are going to change it up a little. You use one hand at a time. Your free hand can support your working hand's wrist. 250 in each direction, each hand.
And as you've got it figured out champ, you don't break til you're done with each 250. If that bag so much as touches the ground, you start over. And no, this isn't a puzzle. 250 one way, take a break, 250 the other. Have fun.
Grayell smiles and walks away in silence but laughs on the inside. Zane had spunk but his impertinence needed some tempering. Grayell also remembered his own frustration in his training though - and knew just how much harder the days ahead would be.
He couldn't force Zane to see his training through and true training took years. Perhaps he was wrong to push him to such extremes, Zane might not be wanting to study for such a long period of time... but Grayell would honor his master's own methods.
The first 250 came, threatening to cause Zane to finally collapse. His wrist would be swollen, weak. But 250 meant a break.
Zane drops the stick, hard, and quietly goes to the river, and soaks his painful wrist in the river
"If this doesn't end soon, I may not be able to take it... I'm a doctor dammit... While I'm sitting here in the woods, good men are dying without me there to heal them..."
Despite his misgivings, Zane heads back to camp and goes to his 'bed'.
"I'm going to sleep. When I wake, I'm going to start again. Thanks for helping fix up this thing, by the way."
He crawls inside and goes to sleep. When he's fully emerged, he proceeds to work on the other arm
Another 250, another break. Grayell has cooked pheasant this day and after having made a quick trip back to town, has brought some seasoning and wine. He invites Zane to have his share.
You switch directions. Two hundred and fifty, opposite to your last rotation. When that's complete - well you'll have earned yourself a deserved break. Pause at 250, revitalize before the last leg. It will be the hardest.
The first 250 comes slowly, his body can take little more of the punishment and his free hand can barely manage to reinforce his main hand. It requires a lot of grunting, shuffling feet and cursing - but Zane finally sees the one arm done. Break time.
Zane looks at his swollen wrists and then looks back at Grayell
"Had a thought. Up until now I've not used any of my magic to aid me, but as I have access to healing magic, would it not be prudent to heal my own wrists? Of course, if that is counter-intuitive to this, then just say so and I won't consider the idea anymore."
You won't gain any benefit if you simply mend yourself as you were. You need to train your body to do something alien to you. There is only one way to do that.
"Makes sense to me. Alright, I'm going to go let my wrists soak some. I'll return later, rest, and then get back to it. Sitting around dreading it does very little to help."
He makes his way along the very familiar path to the river and spends a great deal of time there rinsing and soaking. Upon his return he goes to sleep, and when he wakes, instantly goes to the stick and begins the last part, trying to take full advantage of the sleep.
The last leg of this exercise is hard, his re-invigoration sees him a ways through but by the end, Zane's body is nothing short of tired and beat. His mind has taken on a numbness, the counting down comes from his mouth without so much as a thought and the repetition has weathered his ability to care. His shoulders are rhythmic, fluid though.
By the time the end draws near, his arms, wrists and hands are trembling. His legs no longer wish to bear his weight and his back is a steel trap.
Zane's breathing is ragged, his muscles strained, and his brow sweaty. As he ticks off the numbers, his eyes, while tired, still show the same traces of his somewhat defiant nature, and his refusal to give up
"248... 249... 250. Done."
He drops the stick after the 250th, and grins that same grin that everyone has likely grown tired of by now.
"So, turns out that doing that tends to make your arms hurt. But not gonna complain, it was hard work, but it also feels good..."