RP:Rage King Restored

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Summary: IC secrets! Macon and Josleen return to Muzo's creepy laboratory to have the King's passivity corrected. During the treatment, Muzo becomes enraged and thrashes a bookshelf, snaps the Royals, knocks over jars. Josleen's so scared she's ready to flee, but the restored but-still-very-human!!!! King headbutts a naga!! The Royals escape with their lives.

Secret Royal Laboratory, Fort Freedom

Macon is making yet another trip down to the Naga scientist's lair this evening. Unlike that last one, which The Rage Knight believes the queen would have been too squeamish for (perhaps incorrectly, but that smell…), Josleen accompanies him for this one. It is casual wear for the king again, no armor, no axe, no crown etc, we know the drill by now. This journey into the guarded basement is prompted as much by the Thane of Frostmaw than anyone else. Policy changes, a noticeable lack of growling, and a much more troubling lack of libido following the last Rage extraction appointment with The Machine down here, has strummed up cause for concern. And if there is something wrong with you, who better to fix it than the genius that made it possible for a half-elf to get pregnant? Once they get into the lab and say their hello’s, the King will defer to his wife to describe the concerns they have, typical of this reduced aggression version of Macon.


Muzo "sits" at his desk, annotating yet another anatomical poster. So absorbed is he, that he does not notice the Royals enter. There is still, indeed, a smell about the lab, and there are a couple canvas bags of suspiciously bodylike dimensions that lay stacked against the wall. The naga does not mutter, and there is only the scratching of his quill and the quiet clink of glass whenever he dips the nib in his waiting inkwell. Many, many new jars sit stacked on his shelves, on the floor, on his desk, on his operating table, filled with various tissues and organs from his recent autopsies. The contrast between his royal diorama and the lab proper has grown much, much more darkly pointed.


Josleen isn’t sure what to expect from this visit with Muzo. Visiting the “doctor” heightens her anxiety about Macon’s affliction, because what if they come here looking for a diagnosis and it turns out there’s nothing to fix? Macon has been infected with the rage aura for the entirety of their relationship. Is this neutered Macon the true Macon, a Macon she never met, whom Muzo restored during the King’s last treatment? Or maybe there’s nothing wrong with the King, and he is simply no longer attracted to her now that she is pregnant? He has reassured her this is not the case, but what kind of man would he be if he admitted that were it true? Or maybe there is something to diagnose, but it cannot be fixed, and is now permanent? Upon entering the lab she notices the large bags and organs which pique her curiosity. Where are those from? But her trust in Muzo wins out over her suspicions of anything sinister. He’s such a lovable eccentric snek. She assumes that whatever he has here was legally sourced. Besides, her focus is on Macon. She’s curious to hear how her husband will explain his affliction (do they see it the same way?), but her curiosity is never sated as he passes the buck to her and puts her in a position she does not want to be. How to explain this subtle change in behavior while still being respectful to her husband, and not disclosing embarrassing facts about their intimate life, or lack there of in recent weeks? How to explain that Macon no longer wants to beat people for minor infractions, how to express that as a problem and not a boon? She gives Macon a sidelong, mildly irked look before she address Muzo again after the initial Hello’s. “We’ve come because Macon,” a full grown man who is standing right there and can speak for himself, “has been experiencing an inexplicable change in behavior. Things that once would have irked him no longer do. Things that once would excite him no longer do. He’s more... “ She looks to Macon for the right word. “Lenient? But it’s more than that… He’s more... ” She squirms as the right word echoes disrespectfully in her mind. Finally she whispers, like a dirty secret, “Passive.” She plays with her wedding band. “We’ve ruled out the possibility of a hex.”


Macon doesn't exactly know what Josleen is and isn't aware of as far as Muzo’s experimentation with witch corpses, mainly coming from the work camp and the riot there. She ignores the body bags for the most part, so he won't bring it up at all. She goes into her description of his symptoms and he nods along with it. When she looks his way for him to clarify, he doesn't offer much help, only summarizing to Muzo that “I ‘ave not been feelin’ like myself.” She says ‘passive’ and he almost -knows- that if he was his true self he would hate to hear that word used to describe anything about himself, but now it barely irks him in the slightest. It is an odd feeling, knowing that something like this is off with yourself, but being unable to describe it properly, or even know that it is in effect until after you miss an opportunity for a headbutt, or let someone off without a growl when they call you passive. “Was there somethin’ differen’ with the las’ procedure with the machine?”


Muzo stiffens and turns slowly, blinking away the haze of deep concentration. Ah, yes, his patrons. "Change in behavior," he echoes, "not feeling yourself." By the look in his eyes, all this hasn't quite registered, and the two must elaborate a bit before can reel back in. "The treatment, yes. Marginally different. Ah," he drops the quill into the ink with a clink and turns around, rubbing at his snout with his knuckles and squinting, "had pushed a little farther. Wanted treatment to be complete." The scientist nods, prompting them to recall with him. "Tried to extract the last of it." Briefly, sharply, his attention snaps to the flask of rage, still sitting on the shelf. "Suppose it's possible I could have over-extracted, er," Muzo wiggles his fingers impatiently, "put you, ah, below your preferred... rage... mark." With a deep breath, he slithers around and reaches up to carefully, CAREFULLY pluck the rage flask off the shelf and set it so very gingerly on his desk. "Could re-administer the extract. Take a tiny bit at a time until the King feels like himself again."


Josleen notes how absorbed Muzo is in his work, more so than usual. What exactly could he be working on? Her arrangement with him permits for work in the periphery, and so she has blinders, perhaps willfully so. Her focus is on her family. She would later come to miss Macon’s level-headed resilience in the face of minor slights, but for now she remains disappointed that the word ‘passive’ did not offend. When Muzo explains that the rage aura would have to be readministered, she furrows her brow. “But… wait. Are you saying that Macon as he is now is cured of all afflictions?” Her expression remains confused as she looks to Macon for answers. “I never knew you before you were exposed to the stone. I have nothing to compare this to. Is this normal? I mean… before all of this, before the stone?”


Macon silently contemplates the strangeness of this situation. Muzo is pitching putting whatever rage juice he took out of the King back into him in small enough doses to restore him to normal, presumably just to the point that he is himself and before the effects of The Rage Aura on others returns. That was the original purpose of the machine and these treatments, but still, going in reverse to fine tune seems odd. Slate eyes blink towards Josleen as her line of questioning is fairly transparent. She is afraid that this current version of Macon is the original, the true nature of the King. That she married a Rage Infection, and doesn't care for what was beneath it. At least that is what he sees in her questioning. The truth is Macon might have earned the title of Rage Knight, (which, as far as we know, no one has ever referred to him with that title out loud as of yet,) even if he never found the Rage Stone. (Stole it from Kelovath is the story Josleen, and Muzo believe by now). The Larketian councilman and the Veratoakan Sheriff before him were the same growling, harsh, aggressive Macon that Josleen first met in Cenril while he was capturing her, after he had already lost the Furious Artifact to Frostmaw. Again, normally this doubt from Josleen would be cause for Fury, but now it only elicits a frown and a shake of the head, “This does not feel normal.” With that, he turns to Muzo and tells him to “Do it.”


Muzo takes a scalpel and begins carefully trimming the wax seal from the stopper. "Imagine you wouldn't be here if he was cured," he jabs back in a hissed mutter, "would you?" The stopper twists free with a pop, and a burnt, oily odor assaults them. Muzo turns his head away, craning his neck, grimacing as he tries to avoid inhaling the fumes too directly. "Suggest you administer with a handkercheif," he picks up a white linen square from a stack and shakes it, "just wetted, then held over the nose and mouth, like so," he presses it to his snout briefly, to demonstrate, "but with a bit of rage on it, of course. Here." Bringing the cloth back down, he wads it over the lip of the bottle and gives a couple tilts, letting a bit soak in. "Should be a safe place to start." Muzo offers it to the king.


Josleen narrows her stare on Muzo and his punchy tone. She has a sassy retort of her own, but Macon’s reaction to her question, his blink and hesitation, sends a pang through her chest. “Darling…” she protests. What she wants to say is that it isn’t like that (it is). She can’t bring herself to air such intimate drama before a third party. Instead, she takes his hand and holds it against her heart, doing her best to silently communicate her commitment beneath Muzo’s radar. She’s relieved to hear that this does not feel normal to Macon, that this isn’t him. When he tells Muzo to proceed, she suppresses a whine in the back of her throat. “I just want you to be well.” None of this sits right with her and she grimaces through Muzo’s instructions and the well after, as Macon presses the rage-soaked cloth to his face. Unwittingly she holds her breath as she waits for the effect to take.


Macon looks down at his hand against Josleen’s chest, then back up at her, nodding in the affirmative that he believes what she is trying to silently say. He does not. He needs that hand to soak the cloth in that infuriating liquid that was so forcibly extracted from him, so he takes the limb back and does just that. He presses the wet square over his nose and mouth and inhales deeply. The immediate sensation reminds him of handling The Rage Stone, something he hasn't done for months and months, but still feels familiar. He coughs, not from the smell, but from the shock of taking in something so raw as what is basically pure madness. He knows it is working, that it is having an effect, but he doesn't wait for someone to say something stupid to see if he growls or something, instead he goes back for more, readministering the liquid to the cloth and repeating the process with another deep breath of concentrated Fury. He sets the cloth down next to the open bottle and blinks back and forth between Josleen (who is looking extra fine right now) and Muzo for a few silent moments that seem to drag on before growling out, “Well? ‘Ow do We know if it worked?” impatiently.


Muzo furrows his scaly brow, the corners of his wide mouth turning downward at Josleen's continued fretting. Macon, at least, knows how to shut up and trust an expert. While the King huffs, Muzo lights a burner and begins heating up a bit of wax to reseal the bottle when Macon's finished. "Good grief, when you feel better!" Dropping the pot of wax on the floor, he whirls on the king, needlefangs bared in frustration. "Really, must I stand here and tell you to huff until your pitiful apathy subsides!" The naga's tail uncoils ominously, knocking over a jug of preservative and pushing him a full foot higher to tower over the royal couple.


Josleen meets Muzo's first outburst with a glare--what has gotten into him?--but the second outburst knocks the fight out of her and makes her pale. She flinches when he knocks the pot to the floor, and were she alone, she'd run without looking back. The panic feels akin to having a pet bear suddenly roar at you and bear its teeth. Your advantages over it (in this case, power and wealth; in the case of the bear, intelligence, tools) don't matter in a small enclosed space where one swift attack will snap your much smaller body in two. Her instinct, even with Macon here, is still to run, because while he may be a powerful human, both physically and socially, even the most powerful humans are vulnerable to a naga and she wouldn't chance even Macon's odds in that fight, especially not in an enclosed space like this one, unarmed, and soft for the crushing. She yanks on her husband's elbow to spur him towards the door.


Macon has a habit, at least the Macon that they are here to restore, of standing his ground in the face of hostility from things that are conventionally known to be able to overpower a human male. Josleen has seen him, to her dismay, growl right back at Frost Giants, Frost Dragons, and a minotaur, but that minotaur wasn’t particularly a fine example of physical strength, still though, the first two. He only barely flinches when the second container hits the floor, but he pushes out his chest and reaches one more time for the rage soaked cloth while staring down the threatening naga. As if for one last quantum of fortitude he brings the cloth about an inch from his face and sniffs through his nose before dropping it at his side. Josleen tugs at him and he looks at her sideways, shaking his head and shrugging his elbow up and down to indicate she should let go, (and run if that is what she really wants to do), but he isn’t going anywhere. As soon as she does let go he will step forward and throw one of the most righteous headbutts of his life, which is saying something, at Muzo. Uncoiled, the naga has created a bit of a height difference between himself and The King of Larket, so the target ends up being something closer to the scientists chin, and hey, if Macon catches a fang to the forehead because of it, so be it, even if that happens and he is bleeding it won’t hinder the roar that comes from The Fury Knight next, “-Don’- forget your place, -snake-! All this-?” He waves a hand over his shoulder to indicate the laboratory the crown has given to the scientist, but stops himself from threatening to take away the toys, “You -will- stand ‘ere and wait until it is fixed. -You- did this. Don’ forget tha’!”


Muzo catches the headbutt square on the chin and sees an explosion of stars fill the dungeonesque lair. He wobbles where he stands, and his tail must lurch to catch himself, smashing noisily into the base of the bookshelf and rattling several ponderous volumes precariously onto to the precipice. There's a hiss of pain, and Muzo reaches up to grab his own face, clutching at first in a base reaction to the pain, then more purposefully, feeling to see if anything's been broken. Thankfully, it hasn't, even if there's blood welling in his mouth to stand his tongue and fangs a grisly red. Macon's words wash over him like a coarse, burning balm, a preferable alternative to further blows, and the naga takes the scolding willingly. In furtive glances, his eyes jump and fall, stealing peeks at the cut Macon's taken to the forehead. "Pronounce you cured," Muzo manages thickly, and he spits onto the floor, not in contempt, but as a mere practical measure to clear his mouth. When he plucks another linen from the stack, it's for his own use, sans rage. "Will implement appropriate... handling protocol for rage essence. Apparently more volatile than previously anticipated. Apologies for the incident." Though he's no longer rearing and throwing insults, there's still a surly edge to the "doctor's" beaten tone.


Josleen releases Macon when he shrugs her off, and while she does put more distance between herself and the feuding King and naga, she does not leave Macon behind in the cellar to wrestle with a massive snake. She ducks behind a counter and protectively holds her belly, crouching slightly so that the precious bean therein (more like a raspberry by now) is fully shielded by the table. That unborn child she protects has shifted her priorities and she still considers fleeing to the garden to call a guard for help, but when Muzo does not immediately strike back after the headbutt, she holds her ground. Muzo's mouthful of blood does little to stir her sympathies, meanwhile the relatively small trickle of blood on Macon's forehead upsets her and she glares at the naga once it is clear he has no fight left in him--at least not physically. She straightens and steps out from behind the counter to meet her husband as he exits the laboratory, swiping a cloth from a cupboard and handing it to Macon to clean his forehead. Before departing, she sends Muzo one final glare tinged with disappointment, but says nothing to the chastised "doctor." As the Royal Couple ascends the stairs, the Queen's heart still thumps from the fright, and she's itching to scold Macon for taking such an unnecessary risk, but the Rage King isn't the sort of husband that can be scolded. Still, she can't say nothing, and once they are in the garden she turns to Macon and embraces him tightly. "That was a scare." She places his hand on her belly as she pulls away, "Perhaps I'm less willing to take risks now," meaning because of the baby, and the 'I' is spoken like an example he should perhaps emulate. They are, after all, expecting, thanks to the naga that Macon just headbutted. Despite the scare and Macon's recklessness, she can't help but smile a little, because is seems that at least Muzo fixed him. "How are you feeling?"


Macon huffs while still in the lab and Muzo is apologizing. Despite the snapping, the alchemist has, after only just hearing about this problem of too-curbed aggression in the king, remedied the situation. This is just another credit to his brilliance and the royals are thankful for it, though they can't show it through their collective scowling. “Forget it. Well done,” The restored Fury Knight growls out while smearing blood across his forehead with the cloth Josleen hands him, which is the extent of an apology/forgiveness that one can expect from this version of the king. The royals depart and Macon sends one last glance over his shoulder at Muzo, or more specifically the bottle of rage extract, as they ascend the stairs. In the coming days the naga will receive a new request from him. For now The Machine will no longer be used for treatment of the Rage Infection. Instead, the scientist will focus on distilling a new Rage Stone from what he has taken out of The Rage Knight. It will be explicitly stated in the message that this request must remain a secret from everyone, including the queen. In the garden Macon holds Josleen close and then looks down at his hand over her stomach. He isn’t about to try and explain his actions to her, but he also isn’t looking for a dispute, so he simply nods in understanding, “It was,” he says gruffly. She asks how he feels and he answers, “Like myself,” with the smallest inkling of a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. Perhaps that response is carefully chosen as a call back to the queen’s concern that the Macon that existed these past few weeks was the truest version of the king...