RP:What an Incredible Smell You've Discovered

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Macon visits the Royal Scientist, Muzo to find out just what he has been doing with all those 'specimens' he's been having sent to the snake's lab. Muzo gives a tour of a rotten witch and lets the king know that he is ready for live subjects to experiment on.

Secret Royal Laboratory

Muzo works meticulously, a scalpel in one hand and a loupe tucked firmly into one eye. Formulae hovers beside him, eerily still. More notably, a heavily dissected body lays splayed out on a table, along with several tools and small jars. Muzo's lips, for once, are silently pursed, and he cuts with great care, trimming and slicing to isolate what must be... the thyroid? The body, evidently female, positively reeks, and Muzo must pause periodically to shoo flies away from his delicate inspection; this is no pristine, classroom cadaver.

Macon comes alone to the lab this time around. Curiosity has gotten to him, and he wishes to see just what Muzo us doing with these witch corpses being sent down here to him, and he of course knows that this is not a trip Josleen would care to be included in, or even that he would care to include her in. War veteran or not, she doesn't have the stomach for what The Rage Knight walks in on, he believes, and perhaps neither does he, as he quickly brings his hand up in front of his face in a futile attempt the block the smell. “Muzo…” He greets the scientist to make his presence known if it wasn't already with a voice muffled by speaking into his palm, while inching closer to the operating table to peer into this fallen witch.

Muzo looks up as Macon hails him, and in doing so, punctures precisely that which he'd been avoiding. A fresh wave of miasma fills the room as a rancid abscess begins draining out the body's neck. Muzo leans back, retches once, twice, then seems to gain control of himself. "King Macon," he returns the greeting, setting down the scalpel to wash his hands in a pail of soapy water. "Wasn't expecting you. Apologies for the, ah," his head bobs again in a well-subdued gag, and he looks away from the corpse, "well, science cannot always be outwardly appealing." Drying his hands, he slithers toward the king. "Not much progress to show for it," Muzo confesses with a sigh, looking back to the witch. "Found a few leads, but no definite proof of physiological distinction yet. Could show you, if you care for grisly details. Wouldn't be the least offended if you declined." Without the scientist to shoo them away, the flies have settled happily into the chest/abdominal cavity.

Macon’s slate eyes widen at this wondrous new smell his arrival has prompted Muzo to unleash. He coughs once, managing barely to keep his dinner down, before pressing his hand tighter over his nose and mouth in desperation. Just looking at his eyes one night get the idea that he is trying to put on a stony expression to show just how little this stench and gruesome, fly attracting dissection specimen are affecting him, but really that hand in front of his face just ruins any mask being put on beneath it. He nods and continues his approach again, where maybe he might have normally declined this offer and given an order for a briefing during a less offensively smelly time, now he accepts the proposed walkthrough, “Show me.” Again, the voice is muffled by the hand in the way.

Muzo raises his scaly brows, but he nods nonetheless. "Alright then." He takes a brief detour to grab a clean handkerchief and wet it with a few shakes of pure menthol. This he offers to the king before taking up a probe and using it as an improvised instructor's baton. "Enlarged ganglion here, and... here. Scarification through here, consistent with magic use, mana aggrivation that continues..." Taking the forceps in his other hand, Muzo proceeds to poke and pry, explaining as he goes. It's dry but thorough, and often, just when his revelation seems most exciting, he must add his caveats. "...could be within reasonable individual variation for her race..." "...difficult to tell at this stage of decay..." "...no demonstrable connection to witchcraft..." There are several new posters on his wall, all of them scribbled with notes, pasted with overlays, and heavily annotated in the margins. In the end, he straightens, sets down his tools, and washes his hands once more, grinning sardonically. "The steady supply has been very helpful. Believe I have enough data to move on to live specimens."

Macon accepts the handkerchief in his non face covering hand and nods in thanks before swapping which palm is in front of his nose. It takes a second or two to get the distance from his nostrils just right to not get overpowered by the purposely strong smell of the menthol. Muzo loses him almost immediately. ‘The heck is a ganglion?’ But he understands ‘scarification’, or at least believes he does, and is able to follow along well enough for the rest of the explanation. ‘Mana aggravation’ intrigues him, and he wonders if the Rage Infection from the artefact he once held had a similar effect on his body, but that is a question for another day. When the Naga explains that he hasn't made any concrete connections as of yet, the Furious King frowns, visible now that his face isn't so closely covered. “I see.” He would have liked, or at least felt a bit better, to send the witch that was caught hexing the queen down here alive to have the snake’s experimentation be her sentence, but the arrest was too public and the case too high profile for that to go unnoticed. The flak for the execution that was recently carried out without trial would be nothing compared to what would come if someone discovered that she was sent to be vivesected by the scientist in a secret lab. “I will instruc’ the guard t’keep the fort informed on all Witches apprehended. When a suitable candidate is taken in, they will be sen’ t’you here.”

Muzo gives the body a visual once-over and sighs. He takes a (morbidly stained) sheet and covers the corpse. "Believe I'm finished with this one, anyway. Had expected to have something more concrete by now." Muzo slides his eyes to the king. "Had wanted something more impressive to present. Admit, this is part of why I hadn't invited you to an autopsy yet. Still feel very attached to the hypothesis. Am prepared to put it on the line." Disappointment fades, replaced by conviction, and he nods his gratitude. "Very well. Am confident a live specimen can settle the matter once and for all. Very eager, now. Hope the opportunity presents itself sooner than later." A bit of the witches hair still pokes out from under the rag, matted with blood clots, and Muzo chuckles, pointing it out. "Due for a brushing. Doubt, though, she could have been a vain creature," his joking grin turns apologetic, "given the state of her face and figure. Well outside Larket's accepted conventions of beauty, even before she got to my table."

Macon bobs his head from side to side while Muzo covers the witch and laments not having more to report. “Quite alrigh’. I was impatient is all. This visit is not mean’ t’make you feel rushed.” He assures the Naga that he is not on any sort of clock that is running low on time. “Glad t’hear it.” He says towards Muzo’s confidence in his scientific guess that there is something physically different in Witches, and assures the scientist that he will do what he can to get him a living witch as soon as possible. The snake makes the little joke about the hair needing to be brushed and Macon pauses. Here, normally, he would be letting out a growl and firing back that, witch or not, this was a Larketian, one of -his- people, and such levity is off base. Instead, thanks to Muzo’s overzealous Rage Draining Machine, The Fury Knight simply nods and lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Hah. Indeed.” What have you done, snake?