RP:Dungeon of Scientific Horrors, Take Two

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Big IC Secrets! After his mother pushed a guy off a balcony in a fit of magical rage then broke down, Macon decides it’s time to pay Muzo a second visit for a more aggressive rage treatment. While there, the monarchs learn that Muzo is excited for Reginae’s coronation, and suddenly feel compelled to attend when they had been planning all along to just send a gift basket. Furthermore, Muzo confirms Macon’s fears that the unborn heir will likely suffer the same rage affliction as his father and require painful, debilitating treatments.

Secret Royal Laboratory

Muzo dusts, polishes, and inspects his equipment, tongue flicking absentmindedly as he works. Shined, primed, and already warmed up, the chair is no less intimidating an apparatus that it was on the last treatment session. There's been a few modifications (improvements!) since Macon was last buckled in, but the general gist seems pretty much the same with needles, pipework, and tanks all gleaming at the ready. Muzo himself seems a bit more chipper than usual, and he hums something cheerfully inane as he double and triple checks the de-raging apparatus.

Macon recalls very well the pain of the previous treatment, though there is no visible nervousness on his features when he and his queen make their way through the fort and past the guard perpetually on duty guarding the door leading down to the Royal Scientist’s Lab. Instead he looks determined, almost angry, more so than his usual resting Rage Face that is. Of course he is not in his armor, dressed for comfort as he knows discomfort is coming. When this appointment was made, word was sent ahead that this round of treatment is expected to be more aggressive. Relapses like the one that caused the fit from Augusta Jauzon and led to this revisiting of the Fury treatment will not be tolerated this time around. Nothing like that can be allowed to happen again, at all costs.

Josleen joins Macon for moral support. There’s very little she can contribute aside from a cool hand on his face and a reassuring presence. Unlike Macon, she appears content, not because she is looking forward to his treatment, but because since the news of her pregnancy it has been impossible for her to be anything short of content. Indeed, she is typically elated, but given the seriousness of the matter which brings the Royal Couple to the cellar laboratory, her elation took a dip to mere contentment. Gone are the jitters she possessed during Macon’s first treatment. Yes, the procedure will hurt and she’ll be there to help him through it, but is the procedure dangerous? How can it be when the doctor is Muzo, a bonafide genius who made a half-breed fertile. The naga’s cheer only reassures her further that all is well. “Well you seem chipper, Muzo!” she chirps by way of greeting as she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze to say hello. “What has you humming so?”

Muzo looks up from his prepping to spot the royal couple. "Your majesties," he greets them with a needle-fanged grin. "Machine's ready, everything in order, everything but the king." His attention lands on Macon, and the grin turns apologetic. "Thought I might at least be able to make the treatment, ah, prompt." One last, compulsive check and he steps away, allowing the king ample room to sit and, if he so chooses, secure himself. "Chipper? Oh, yes," he buzzes with brief laughter, "silly me. Showing my excitement. The coronation in Alithrya, very soon now. Eager to see Reginae's hard work come to fruition. Eager, too," his scaly brows raise as he looks between the monarchs, "to see Larket represented, assuming the treatment goes well, of course. Which," he hastily adds with a cough, "it will, undoubtedly."

Macon is used to Muzo’s oddness by now. So it is not nearly as offputting as it might seem to hear him laughing and humming before this very serious procedure. Not even a growl comes from the Rage Knight in response to the Naga’s cheerful mood that is in stark contrast to his own. The coronation is brought up and the king turns his slate stare towards Josleen. He is not convinced that it is necessary for the queen to attend the coronation in Alithriya. They have had poor luck with visiting foreign regions together not named Frostmaw or Kelay. On top of that she does has a bun in the oven, and the only ways the king knows of getting to the Naga city are not exactly walks in the park. (A whirlpool?) Indeed, if they can think of any way to not attend that will not be considered an unnecessary slight by the incoming monarch, then they will not be present, or at least not Josleen. Macon gets himself into the chair, and fails at securing one of his wrists with only one hand to work with. The restraining will be left to the queen. Muzo says he will make this quick, and the king will appreciate that if it is true, “Le’s get this over with…”

Josleen’s brows lift in surprise at Muzo’s sudden interest in politics and monarchs. She recalls when they first met, and indeed several times since then, how Muzo’s stare would glaze over if the conversation veered into politics. He even expressly said that who reigns what is not his concern. “And you support the new queen?” Josleen moves to restrain Macon, using soft cloths as a cushion between iron band and flesh. She carries on her conversation as she sees to Macon. “Good to hear, though I must say I am surprised. You’ve always expressed disinterest in politics. What about her draws your support?” Josleen binds Macon’s head last and gingerly fans a thumb over his cheek when he’s all set. “Is that comfortable, love?”

Muzo waits for Macon to seat himself before slithering back in, twisting stopcocks and sending arcane engines asputter. "Hmm, the queen? Of course, or, I ah," as Josleen pushes Muzo for reasons, his hands freeze, and he must re-rail his train of thought. "There's, that is, ah, the treatment, my queen. The treatment, forgive me." The needles chime in his hands as he gathers up the hoses. Closing his attention wholly upon his patient, the "doctor" wastes no time and begins inserting his hypodermics one at a time, in the neck, shoulder, arm, and wrist. "Understand that there was reason for, ah, for..." He drifts off as his fingers dig into the humming, pulsing interior, and he hoses jump to life, jerking in place as inky rage begins seeping into the serum tanks. "...more aggressive treatment."

Macon nods as much as he can with his head restrained towards Josleen and responds, “That will do,” in a somewhat playful tone that suggests it doesn’t really matter if the restraints are comfortable, thanks to how rigorous the treatment is known to be, and it should even be amplified from the last time given the orders for increased severity. Muzo is very transparently flustered when talking about, or avoiding talking about Reginae, and this prompts the king to shoot The Queen of Larket a sideways, knowing look like, ‘look at this snake’. “Indeed,” Macon replies to the scientist, “do whatever you ‘ave to t’make sure it does not come back this time. It cannot.” He is becoming less and less attached to this little remnant of the artifact he once held, and is much more sure than he was before the last treatment that he would like it eradicated from him permanently.

Josleen grins at Macon’s tone. Better playful than morose. She pulls up a chair to sit beside him and removes her rings like last time so that should he squeeze her hand, the rings won’t press painfully into her bones. She mirrors Macon’s knowing look, ‘mmm-hmmm.’ For whatever reason, Muzo seems excited by this new queen, though romance doesn’t enter Josleen’s short list of conjectures for obvious reasons that are gleamed just by casually observing Muzo’s interests and eccentric character. Muzo the Casanova? Of literal Queens? Ha-ha-ha! Snek jokes. Thus she assumes this naga queen has tapped into Muzo’s scientific interests and bought his loyalty the same way the Jauzon monarchs have. Thus his loyalties, if push ever came to shove, may be compromised. It seems more urgent than ever that she and Macon make an appearance at this coronation. The treatment progresses from the machine-sputter to the king-sputtering phase. Grimacing in sympathy, Josleen squeezes Macon’s hand.

Muzo dials and tunes, hands on the ever noisier device, eyes on the king. As the chugging and buzzing and whirring climbs ever higher, the inky rage tints red with visible streaks of blood climbing up the hoses. "Looking very good," Muzo shouts over the din to reassure the royal couple. If he's going to get all the rage, then all parties can expect a few of Macon's bystanding components go get sucked along with it. He explained all this before hand, didn't he? Muzo blinks, re-rails himself again, and nudges the arcanogenic alternator just a couple notches higher... for good measure.

Macon has been through all this before, albeit on lower intensity, but his response to the treatment is relatively the same. He remains calm as the machine starts to ramp up, remaining cool for the queen’s sake, but then the pain starts to creep past his threshold for tolerating it. Involuntarily The Rage Aura spikes and sends out a pulse that irks the guard above by the entrance to the lab and even starts a little tussle or two over food pellets in the fermin tunnels below the Hard City. He squeezes Josleen’s hand in response to the pain and veins start bulging out of his neck (which there is a needle in, like last time) as his whole body tenses. The pain increases continuously, but, showing the effectiveness of the treatment in real time, the rage aura dissipates the longer this goes on. There are points where the Rage Knight loses consciousness while struggling with the agony, but they only last mere seconds, in which Josleen is given momentary respite from his strong grip on her hand. Removing the rings was definitely necessary this time around.

Josleen’s own rage infection amplifies her husband’s signal, and she too grows agitated and restless, eager to pick a fight. She winces in pain as even without the rings the grip becomes too tight to bear. When the King’s grip laxens she removes her hand from it. Her fingers are initially blanched, then swell red as the blood pumps back into them. Too swole, Macon. Although Macon’s rage aura subsides, the Queen’s does not dissipate as quickly. When the tubes no longer leech inky rage from Macon’s body, but instead draw other vitae, she snaps impatiently at Muzo with a venom he’s never heard before, “Isn’t that it?! LOOK!!” She thrusts a hand angrily towards the tube, as if Muzo is asleep at the wheel and only her stern hand can get this ship back on course--though clearly Muzo is not negligent, but she is a bit tweaked. Realizing she’s furious without cause, she abruptly stands and paces across the room to the quaint livingroom model set where, with her back to Macon and Muzo, she takes a few breaths to calm herself. Her aura subsides and she returns to the King and scientist, smiling apologetically to the latter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted, Muzo.”

Muzo had begun humming to himself again just when the queen's sulfuric interjection ignites in his face. He gasps and recoils as though, of the two of them, she indeed is the viper. As she seats herself, Muzo begins easing back the throttles until, with a final puff, the rage-extracting apparatus falls lifelessly still. "Understandable," he defends her on impulse, even as his dexterous digits dance from needle to needle, carefully plucking them free. Indeed, blood and lymph seep from each puncture, but surely, no trace of the rage. As it had once before, the machine is already distilling the rage essence out of the serum, filling the waiting flask below to overflowing. "Mate in pain, stress response normal, expected, from healthy specimens of your make and condition." Muzo clears his throat and works busily to unfasten Macon's restraints. "Most thorough, King Macon, as you requested."

Macon watches Josleen leave his side and grits his teeth, curling his fingers that had been around the queen’s hand into a ridiculously tight fist before Muzo starts to dial the machine back. His breathing is heavy and labored once the pain has subsided. Almost immediately when the snake starts to remove the needles of the apparatus, the king asks, “Was tha’ enough?” Not quite remembering exactly how he felt directly after the first treatment, but not wanting to repeat the extended results of that previous machine session. ‘Most thorough’ from the alchemist answers that question, and he has no choice but to trust in the doctor whose brilliance cannot be denied given his work on the queen’s half-elf fertility problem. Speaking of… “Do you believe tha’ this infection is somethin’ tha’ might be transferred t’the child?” Macon has perhaps thought of this possibility before, but has not put a damper on Josleen’s elation by bringing up this concern yet.

Josleen wrinkles her nose in amusement at Muzo’s impersonal assessment of her rudeness. ‘Mate in pain, stress response normal.’ She likes that. She likes the image of herself as fierce defender of this man, on the rare occasion that he should need it, though in her mind she is much more effective in defending him than she would be in real-life. Everyone throws a perfect punch in their minds, even those who have never thrown so much as an imperfect punch in reality, such as Josleen. “Indeed,” she says to Muzo as she unbinds Macon from the chair. She looks over Macon’s condition with concern and is about to ask how he feels, but he speaks his question to Muzo first. She frowns at the question. Somehow, in her giddy state, she hadn’t even considered that possibility. She rests a hand on Macon’s back and looks to Muzo anxiously.

Muzo slithers back a "pace" as soon as Macon's unbound, and only now does he notice that the rage essence has spilled over the lip of the flask. He sighs and makes silent note of the contamination--there's a few hours work he's made for himself. What's that? "The child? Might? Yes. Yes, might." Muzo nods, stroking his chin. "Would *have* to be contaminated to some degree." Only now does he look up and see their faces. "Er, ah, that-I-or-the-ah-," Muzo stammers, "certain that, if it should prove problematic, could administer pediatric treatment similarly." His eyes slide back to the machine, the bloody hoses, the bulky needles…

Macon does not growl at the naga’s stammering, though he might not have when in normal health, and he definitely doesn’t have the strength to now. The snake is not convincing in the possibility of their child -not- being affected by this Rage Infection and suggesting that they may have to put the baby through similar unbearable treatment is not pleasant news. The King looks apologetically towards Josleen at the mention of this. Yes. Apologetically. A new look for The Fury Knight, for sure. He is freed from the restraints, but does not rise just yet, still collecting his strength to do so.

Josleen’s frown deepens as Muzo confirms what Macon had secretly feared all along. She meets Macon’s apologetic gaze without any venom or blame. When the Queen accompanies Macon to these treatments, she doesn’t feel as though she is standing by a husband who has to clean up his own mess. Instead, she feels she is supporting a misunderstood hero, victimized in a way by that villain Kelovath. It was Kelovath who found the stone, was it not? [No.] Macon was only exposed to that stone in an act of bravery to stop Kelovath’s corrupt ploy, was he not? [Nope.] Where is the justice in this infection? [...well] She hugs her own belly, which isn't yet showing, and bends her face down, eyes squeezing tight as if to beat back the bad news. "How much longer will he torment us?" Her voice cracks a little and when she looks up, the frown is still fixed beneath misting eyes. She inhales sharply through her nose, exhales glutterally through her mouth. She dabs at the inside corners of her eyes to collect the wetness that beads there and looks up towards the ceiling to stop the rest of the waterworks. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” She turns towards Macon in part to hide her face from Muzo, and takes her husband’s hands. “Are you ready to go, love?” Her voice is breathy and weak.

Muzo mirrors Macon's look of apology, smiling nervously, doing his best to look positive but not pleased. Is it working? One eye twitches, and his expression soon falters under strain of self-analysis. Turning his mind's eye back outward (where it belongs), Muzo slithers over to his cabinet and looks for a suitable solvent to neutralize the spreading stain on his floor. "Advise against unnecessary stressors," he calls across the laboratory as he roots and clatters around, "while you're recovering. Took a lot out of you." Muzo chuckles, struck by the literal aspect of that statement, and he hurries to turn it into a cough. "Ha. Hkah. Hmm. Yes," he answers Josleen. They are ready to go. Oils and solvents and rags in hand, Muzo slithers up to the puddle of rage poison.

Macon nods to Josleen in the affirmative that he is ready to go, “I think so,” and is helped to his wobbly feet to be led out of the laboratory. There is no rage present at the allusion to the golden paladin, but that is to be expected after a successful treatment, right? Maybe not. He would have growled at such a thing even before coming into possession of The Rage Stone. On his way out, the Fury Knight makes a point to thank the cleaning alchemist for his work.

Josleen’s lips twist into a tight, surprised smile when Macon thanks Muzo. She’s never heard him thank anyone before (except for her). Odd.