RP:Experiment 002
The lights in this laboratory have been dimmed substantially and the owners of the room appear to have left in quite a hurry. Large boards filled with formulas and quickly drawn diagrams cover all four walls of the laboratory. Stacks upon stacks of binders and books cover the tops of metal tables and the floor is littered with several more pages. Lab coats hang quietly in the corner with carefully stitched names on the pockets. This seems to have been some sort of Naga laboratory, but why it’s completely abandoned without any signs of damage is something of a mystery. Test tubes, beakers, and an odd human-sized table all clutter the room. In the corner a small metal table sits with what appears to be the remains of several different frog and salamander species. And in the corner, covered with rust-colored rags, a few larger bones are heaped into a box. Something doesn’t quite feel right in this room. Unless there’s a reason to stay and read some of the littered Naga articles, the failed research center is best left undisturbed.
- Eveleen, Ribbon naga Alchemist.
- Experimental Mouse, M-145.
- Sabaere, Python Mercenary.
- Emiyuteneweh, Golden Jersher Oracle.
Summary: Eveleen convinces Sabaere to test a refined polymorph potion as the first step of a Jersher-infiltration plan, followed with the kidnapping of one of Taylebeck's treasured Oracles.
Eveleen slithers between a bubbling cauldron and an open recipe book, tossing in morbid ingredients like some white-coated wannabe witch.
Sabaere stretches. He's been watching the scientists all day, and at this point, the only one still here was the ribbon, doing things he wouldn't even begin to try to figure out. "Little ribbion. Vill you be at this all night?"
Eveleen levels a gaze over the rim of her glasses at Sabaere before scoffing and dropping a badger's eye into the cauldron. "I'll be 'at this' until I've perfected the polymorph potion. Which will be.." mental number crunching ensues, and a plucking of fur from M-145, "approximately 22 minutes further, with a 15 second room for error."
Sabaere glares at Eveleen, which is to say that his facial expression changes not at all. "Your powermorph potion meant for mouse, ya?" Since his employer had stationed him at the lab, he had been poked, prodded, and fed questionable bottles. He could never be sure exactly what subject they were intending something for.
Eveleen briefly regards M-145 as the mouse gnaws uncertainly at a patch of scales on his backside. "No, I should think not. A prior concoction is currently working through 145's system. Adding another can result in conflicting results." The Ribbon pauses to stir the steaming ooze as it takes on a purple hue. "Besides, I require a sturdier subject. Aladeus intends this potion to be a full-form transmutation. Simple-minded animals cannot handle an entirely new body."
Sabaere takes a gander at his surroundings. Seeing nothing fitting the description, he offers a viable suggestion, "I fetch you test animal, then? One with good mind. Thinker." The python uncrosses his arms, eager to head out and pick up anything for them to test on.
Eveleen tosses a pinch of powder into the cauldron and squeaks in surprise as it belches a cloud of sickly green smoke, sending her shuffling back anxiously. "Aha. Powdered chicken feet carries quite the kick." Being a nerd, she's oblivious to the pun she's just made, and goes right back to work while speaking to the merc over her shoulder. "I don't require intelligence. Simply durability. You'll do perfectly."
Sabaere recrosses his arms. He wasn't sure what a powerpuff potion would do, but if it was made by one of the naga alchemists, the ribbon in particular, he knew one thing. He did not want to drink it. "This thing, vhat is it meant to do, exactly?"
Eveleen understands Sabaere's question as interest and particularly preens as she straightens to answer, "It's a highly modified and focused polymorph potion designed to transmute the subject's form not into a random shape, but specifically into that of one of the... Failed Ones." M-145 ribbits appropriately here, for emphasis. "We desire to use it to test the senses of the wild ones, determine if they've refined since release, and see if we can recapture one for further tests."
Sabaere takes it slowly in. He isn't the smartest of naga, but he's not a dummy either, or he would have just been a soldier, not a mercenary. "Infiltration tactics?" Yes, he was now genuinely feeling what Eveleen thought he was before she explained herself. Interest. This would break the dullness of the lab for sure. "I am expert in such attacks. You involve me in planning." Already he was moving towards the scientist, looking easily over her shoulder for any form of militaristic planning.
Eveleen suppresses a squeak of delight, instead channeling her energy into pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose before grabbing an empty bottle. The little naga hovers over the cauldron a moment, glancing at the recipe book and waiting until the instant the purple liquid shifts towards pink and ceases to bubble. Ladle in hand, Evie swiftly scoops a thick sample of the concoction into the bottle and offers the surprisingly heavy container to Sabaere. "Drink quickly, before it goes Red. I don't believe even -your- commendable digestive track could endure the red state of that recipe."
Eveleen quietly adds, "And brace for severe pain as your skeleton is reshaped."
Sabaere rolls his humanoid self back on his snake body. "I must earn trust vith veak untrusting hybrids. I vill find leader and bring to you. Make effects delay, ya?" His mind begins to whirrl, testing out scenarios, slithering back and forth the lab until he slams his fist down on one of the smaller tables, breaking a bottle (who's contents begin to eat away at the surface) and exclaiming in delight, "Ya! Then I, as squishable, rescue." He encircles Eveleen now, his eyes lit up, "I earn trust through salvation!"
Eveleen's face scrunches up with effort as she tries to follow the thickly accented ramble, but she's an intelligent thing and manages to catch up quickly. "Oh! I see. For a barely sentient, gluttonous vertebrate, you're remarkably keen-minded for military tactics. I can delay the process" insert a quiet 'I think' here, "for a short period, with this." Hastily, the Ribbon roots up a moldy lizard femur and drops it into the bottle, where the sizzling ooze immediately turns the bone into a spongy black substance. Whether from the new addition or passing time, the potion is beginning to take a crimson tone, something that causes Eveleen to slither backwards warily.
Sabaere snatches up the bottle without a second thought. "I drink, and am back." Without taking her backwards heed, he downs the potion--bottle and all, and gives her shoulder a comraderic slap before slithering from the door and likely in the direction of the lily pad.
Eveleen flinches, waiting for an explosion.
Sabaere hiccups.
Sabaere exits up.
Meanwhile, in Tayelbeck…
Emiyuteneweh always remained in Taylebeck's shrine after the usual flow of visitors had diminished for the evening. Tonight was no different. With a poorly constructed scrubbing brush made from stiff bristles and a flimsy looking chunk of wood, the oracle scrubbed at muddy footprints brought in from other jersher outside. On occasion she'd pause to dip the brush into a nearby bucket of soapy water, or release fireflies from nearby lanterns whose lights were beginning to fade out. While cleaning out the shrine, Emiyuteneweh's eyes frequently looked over at the doll dressed in Firshear Taylebeck's likeness, prompting her to pause from her work to mutter a short prayer before resuming.
Sabaere lurks in the waters below Tayelbeck, muscle rippling to keep him just below the lily pad. He stays quiet, listening for the movement he wanted. It didn’t take long for him to pick up the sound of a singular humanoid doing mundane tasks, alone. The scrape scrape scrapping sound ceased, and he took that as his cue. Winding his way down, the python gave himself enough room to build momentum, then barreled his way up to the floor of the shrine. The leaf-like ground had no chance against Sabaere’s pure muscle. He exploded from the ground, landing in a mess next to the praying jersher. “Hello, little thing.”
Emiyuteneweh did not expect to find herself face to face with a naga, which is clearly shown by the terrified expression that has taken over her normally calm looking face. Frozen with fear, the small jersher drops the scrubbing brush in her hand. While attempting to gain some small amount of composure, her eyes search in the dimly lit shrine for the bull jersher who usually keep guard of the building. Realizing they have gone for the evening, Emi's eyes fall back onto the naga. Though fear is obviously present within the oracle, she gives a timid greeting back. "H-hello."
Sabaere wastes no time. This was no time to play with his prey. With a sickening crack, he lets his jaw disconnect from his skull. It hangs from his face, wobbling with every moveIn one lighting quick motion, the naga leaps at Emiyuteneweh, expanding his maw and disappearing her head into it. Strong muscles ripple as he works the jersher into his snake half of his body. Bones begin to pop out of place. His neck expands to fit the woman, and then his arms become useless as they dislocate from their sockets. His ribs expand, almost ripping his opened coat. Only once her feet disappear does he pop everything back into place, relocate his jaw, and disappear head first the way he came.
And back at the lab...
Eveleen is on the verge of a meltdown. Probably because she's melted down Aladeus' favorite desk chair with a spilled recipe, leaving it as nothing more than a bulbous heap of orange sludge and twisted metal. "Oh no, oh no, oh no...." The Ribbon slithers back and forth, tugging anxiously upon her beloved hair while M-145 blandly watches with newly sprouted eye-stalks.
Sabaere enters the lab, noticing immediately Eveleen's distress. "Ribbion, no more of this fret. I brought you present of sort." The python begins to pull his snake body into the room, curling up to take less space. Again, the rock dislocates his jaw and begins to make a familiar sound, one that a common household pet makes when making hairballs.
Eveleen cringes away from Sabaere and his unpleasant noise-making, nearly bumps into the acidic not-quite-a-chair-anymore, and immediately shifts nearer the python once more. "A present? Something new to dissect, before Aladeus dissects -me- for ruining his chair?"
Sabaere 's ribs begin to expand, then his arms become useless. "Ouughhh yaaagghh." The jersher begins to come up. "Aghhh gagghhh yahghgh daaa haaaacckkkkk---" some sickening gagging sounds interrupt his speech and a rather sopping looking golden frog is expelled onto the floor. He motions that he is leaving, seeing as he seems to be having stomach pains, and his eyes seem to be getting… buggier.
Sabaere exits abruptly.
Emiyuteneweh isn't exactly a hairball. She's more of a slimy, terrified and confused..frog ball? She rolls out of Saba's mouth in an unpleasant looking heap, and tries to stand upright. Unfortunately the jersher fails in doing so because her webbed feet slip on the floor, causing her to tumble over into yet another uncomfortable looking position. Poor Emi.
Eveleen tips her head just right to catch a glare off her glasses, masking the maniacal gleam of delight in her eyes--although, considering her current mad scientist grin, this only furthers the twisted expression. "Gold! The perfect gift to give an alchemist is gold." As Eveleen leans down to prod Emiyuteneweh's slimed form with a glass stirring stick, M-145 squeaks and shrinks in on himself in fear for the jersher. He knows that look too well. Poor Emi indeed.
Emiyuteneweh flinches once Eveleen prods her. Since she can't properly stand up without slipping from the slime, she slowly pulls herself up into a cross legged position on the floor. While trying to swat away a strand of sticky hair from her face, Emi stares wide-eyed at the naga prodding her. Her grin leaves an unsettling feeling in the oracle's stomach. Unsure of what to do or say, she remains silent and still, for the most part. Involuntarily shaking isn't helping her remain calm, obviously.
Eveleen tuts soothingly, tapping the glass stick on Emiyuteneweh's head. "Oh, no need to fear, little Failed One. I do not plan to hurt you." The naga nods and settles back upon her coils as if they were a doctor's chair before scooping up the brownish-green ball of scale and fur that's M-145 to stroke him thoughtfully. "You see, if I -plan- to hurt you, that means I am making assumptions as to how my experiments will develop, and you must keep a completely open mind when analyzing, else you'll inadvertently become biased. We can't have that. Poor Sabaere would have to find another test subject then, and he disapproves of giving back what he's swallowed."
Emiyuteneweh 's hands flew to adjust the ruby bindi on her head when it's knocked askew. Knowing that Eveleen didn't plan to hurt her was comforting, but being in the presence of a naga definitely wasn't. She found it difficult to trust the naga's words while her head turned to peer around the lab. This wasn't anything the oracle had foreseen happening to her, so she felt very much caught off guard. Perhaps she wasn't meant to know what was supposed to happen yet? Emi's attention returned to Eveleen while her mind scrambled for reasons for why her path led her here. Maybe this was some kind of test for her. A test for what, she couldn't be sure. With that thought in mind, the oracle regained a bit more composure and nodded - smiled, even. "Then I will keep an open mind. What do you want to do?"
Eveleen spreads her hands wide in a helpless gesture and nearly drops M-145, save that the experimental mouse is secreting a substance that latches him firmly to the naga's hand. The Ribbon eyes the rodent a moment, murmurs a soft, "Consistency of spider's silk. Interesting development." and goes right back to staring at Emiyuteneweh. "Firstly, I'd like samples. Of your flesh, blood, and an organ, although I fear the latter must wait until you've recovered from the shock of near-digestion. I do hate when subjects die on the table, after all, and we know how fragile the Failed Ones can be at times." Gesturing with the mouse-laden hand, Eveleen indicates a smooth, metallic slab of a table the Golden can sit upon.
Emiyuteneweh blinked. An organ?! That didn't sound pleasant. At all. She had to keep her word though, unfortunately. Though her smile did falter a bit, she continued to stare back at Eveleen. "Alright." After searching for something solid nearby to assist herself with standing without slipping, Emi heads for the table. The tiny jersher hoped that whatever flesh was taken wouldn't leave a big scar on her, but she wasn't really in the position to make the decisions around here. She offered anyway, extending one of her webbed hands out for Eve to examine. "You could take the webbings from this hand if you'd like. Would that be enough flesh for you?"
Eveleen glances up from the drawer she's rummaging through with a scalpel in hand and gives the Golden a nod and disarming grin. The naga snaps on a pair of gloves--M-145 creating a bulge beneath one--and gingerly takes the offered hand...flipper... thing, with an expression carefully devoid of as much disgust as possible. In a flash of silver, Eveleen brings the scalpel down and begins slicing, fighting the urge to make the cuts unnecessarily prolonged and painful. 'Maintain the subject, even at the cost of personal pleasure.' Still, she does manage to knick a nerve-ending or two while removing the webbing between the Oracle's thumb and forefinger, and none-too-gently slaps gauze into place over the slowly oozing cuts. "Sample one acquired," the alchemist murmurs, dropping the flesh into a waiting beaker.
Emiyuteneweh cried out when she felt the scalpel blade cut into the webbing between her fingers, even more so once nerve endings are hit. She inhales a deep breath and winces, silently repeating in her head that everything will be okay once Eveleen has gotten what she wants. Whether that's true or not is unknown to the oracle, but she'll use that thought as a means to remain calm for now. With the gauze slapped on - which causes Emi to make a pitiful yelp -, Emi pulls her hand back to look over the damage. "Looks like swimming may be difficult now," she said to herself with a slight frown. Nevertheless, she shifts her gaze back to the naga alchemist. "What's next?" She asked, reluctantly. "The blood?" Emi couldn't imagine what kind of gruesome instrument would be used to extract blood, and didn't really want to find out.
Eveleen jots down a note in the journal at her workstation. "Impaired swimming. Test this with varying amounts of removed webbing," the scientist mutters absently before looking up at the Jersher. "Yes, the blood. Decent memory for a foodsource. I'll need to study that." Another note is taken and then the naga slinks her way over to a metal cube nearby, opening the top and sticking her hands inside while speaking softly to something within. After a moment, the Ribbon returns to where Emi waits, hands clasped firmly around an excitedly squealing bat. "I assume you are at least vaguely familiar with how a vampire functions? We use a similar method to acquire a subject's blood. Give me your arm, Failed One." The bat's squeaks reach a new pitch of eager as Eveleen removes one of her hands from it, revealing a thin, hardened leather tube protruding from its chest that ends in a small pouch. The alchemists have apparently rigged the contraption to siphon off any blood the vampire bat drinks, with little fear of contamination through the well-maintained animals. How the creature survives is an alchemic secret Evie's not divulging.
Emiyuteneweh , just as before, didn't find the means in which bits of her were being acquired. She winced at the bat's squeals, but nodded all the same. "I am," came the timid reply while she reluctantly extended her arm. The tube protruding from the bat's chest is enough to cause her stomach to churn, so the oracle turns her head away. Being addressed as "Failed One" didn't sit well with her either, so while waiting for the excited bat's fangs to puncture her flesh, Emi cast a brief glance at the naga alchemist. "Emiyuteneweh. Not Failed One. Or Emi, if you'd prefer." Maybe some kind of small talk would create less hostility and make the golden jersher feel a little less uncomfortable? It was worth a shot. Naturally after introducing herself, she had to ask the alchemist for her name. "What are you called?"
Eveleen frowns as the subject attempts to intrude upon her professional detachment. It's enough for her to involuntarily squeeze the feeding bat, making the creature bite deeper into Emi's flesh with a squeak. "I prefer Failed One. It is what you are. I intend to remedy that, however. A proper alchemist does not leave her wrongs unattended. She rights them with all her power." Nodding at both this and the end of the bat's task, Eveleen turns away to remove the sample and return the bat to its keep before moving back to the Jersher. "I am Eveleen Saurino, and while first attempts did not go quite as well as hoped, I am one of your creators. I'll also be the savior of this project. Now then," Evie continues to speak while she presses a square of linen to Emiyuteneweh's bleeding arm and guides her off the table, "I suggest you rest. I need you in peak health for the tests to be performed properly tomorrow. The holding cells are this way."
Emiyuteneweh cried out once again thanks to the deep bite of the bat. She tried to keep her attention on Eveleen however, partially to distract herself from the pain and partially to try continuing the conversation. "But why?" she asked, while being assisted off the table. "Wouldn't you consider us successful? You are one of our creators, yes? You've created a sentient species that can survive on its own and build its own society. That sounds like something successful to me.." The oracle followed along and kept her free hand pressed against the square of linen on her arm while turning toward Eveleen. "I was raised to hate you and yours for how you treated the jersher before Taylebeck saved us. I do not. I never have. There is good in you. We just haven't seen it yet."
Eveleen remains silent, not a word spoken in response along the trek down the corridor, to the cell door, or even after the door's been opened and the Jersher directed to enter. It's only when Eveleen's certain the little Oracle is over the threshold and she's closing the steel door that she responds with a matter-of-fact, "That was not the intention of your creation, thus you are Failed. It will be resolved, for we are lawful, loyal, contributing members of our society." With that, the naga shuts the cell door with a sharp thud and slides the bolt into place--although she doubts the Golden has intentions of escaping, she'll not take the risk and be held responsible for a mistake -this- time. "Sleep, Failed One. We've much to repair tomorrow, and we'll see that you live up to your original design in the end."