Closed Agony and Ecstasy

[Daegron]

The drug's effect persisted. and the uncomfortable numbness was becoming more frustrating with each passing chime. The scratch that Parnell had claimed to be a reference point for when the drug would finally wear off, was still unfelt. It was a good thing that the researcher had a series of questions. He'd made a wonderful work keeping the Morpher's mind occupied. He had no reason not to answer honestly, believing that the man was bent to find the "miracle cure". It made the long wait bearable and took his mind off the nagging fact that he was helpless.

"Discomfort accompanies each and every transformation." he explained. "The body has a tendency to keep it's natural form. It is normal to resist any change. The more stress I give by willing a more radical change, the more resistance I receive. Discomfort comes first. Then it's pain.

"It is mostly contained to the part that is transformed, and greatly influenced from the shape's nature itself. if it changes just the skin, then the pain is superficial. If bones are altered, then it goes a lot deeper." He thought he felt a slight tingling sensation on his hands, and when the same feeling came to his legs, he knew that whatever that powder did, it's effect was slowly wearing off.. "But as you may already know, the human body is not a collection of unrelated parts. Everything is connected with everything else, therefore any discomfort affects not only the part in question but also all associated systems, to a lesser degree. Our body functions as a whole and suffers as a whole. You cannot isolate anything." A subtle shudder came over him as he slowly regained sense of his limbs.

"I really cannot tell you how many times I've morphed myself and which part. It all depends on what is needed." He raised his scarred hands and showed them."We all use our hands more than anything else, so it's safe to presume that I’ve shaped hem more than anything else. My face too. But during a transformation, many different systems work towards a common goal and against their own nature" The sting on his upper arm was finally felt. Soon he'd have full control of his flesh. He moved his extremities getting a feel for them, clenching and relaxing his fists. Yet his relief did not last long. His hand was swollen; it trembled and sudden spasms were accompanied by a constant blunt ache.
He winced and looked at the bubbling pot. Another substance was being prepared. another test would soon start. Perhaps this would work? As the chimes passed, the latest attack receded leaving the Morpher's brow sweaty.

"It did not increase. Nor can I talk about consistency, since it comes and goes as it pleases." The second part of the experimenter's question was very interesting, causing Daegron to think for a chime or two before finally answering.
"Now that you mention it, indeed while Morphing, this condition seems to vanish in the background. Now I am not certain if my focus helps me to effectively ignore it or if it requires Djed-craft and a new manipulation to see itself through. Perhaps while my natural form battles against the transformation, it is unable to keep these painful attacks consistent. While Morphed, not only my physical, but also my mental state changes. I can relate any attacks during an active transformation to the typical natural resistance. Perhaps my mental state is altered in such a way as to accept the condition.... or even embrace it. "

He'd never given this matter enough thought. It was unnerving how his mind worked along with his magic. He took the steamy mug offered and reluctantly downed it. It tasted like old socks or rotten food or worse. The after-taste was bitter and acrid, making him almost choke.

He waited for a while for the brew to affect him. It wasn't long till a pleasant sense of vigour and strength came over him. And it wasn't just in his mind. After a while he felt the effect inside him. His breath was even again, his back straightened up once more and his limbs stopped feeling tired and sore.

" This is so good..." he mumbled as if intoxicated by it. It was time to try something new.

HIs focusing song started one more. With renewed vigour and will the words came out louder, sharper and stronger. And his Djed danced around his body like colourful tentacles ready to be utilized. He breathed in deeply and focused on his arms. Into his bones where the precious marrow rested. And with his command it shifted and moved and changed; the bones became softer, almost elastic. His left and right ulna fragmented and molded into a series of small pebbles while his radii broadened and strengthened before hardening again. The small bone pebbles slowly took the shape of a drop; their tails growing longer and sharper as they hardened again. Flesh receded, creating small openings that were torn open by the series of sharp white thorns that came to the surface. He clenched his fists and willed his knuckles to grow out, tearing his fragile skin like jagged rocks, their bleached white colour contrasting the tanned skin that was torn.

His forearms now resembled serrated blades that threatened to tear flesh. His hands had turned to his favoured spiked fists. He was a weapon, crafted from flesh and bone; he felt powerful, ready to attack. And inside him a pool of irrational anger started to form. His piercing gaze found and met the researcher's calculating stare. Daegron's own eyes opened unnaturally wide, his pupils contracted while tiny red vessels spread along his sclera. Waving his arms menacingly, the Morpher spoke, his deep voice almost a growl:

" Isn't it wonderful ?"

He knew he was supposed to stop and let everything turn back into normal now. He was supposed to report to Dr. Parnell about how this new substance affected him.

But he wasn't willing to do it just yet. His blood was boiling...

[Inoadar]

"Isn't it wonderful?" the beast before him rumbled. Even the eyes flared with blood lust. But it contradicted the usual dilation of drugs. If anything, the pupils actually shrank. Inoadar suppressed his apprehension. Inconsistent symptoms or not, he recognized the signs of impending surrender to violent impulses, displayed in the demeanor of his test subject. Daegron was clearly reveling in the weapons he'd willed to sprout from his own flesh. And there was little doubt that he did not wish to let this effort be wasted on mere display. He would not settle for simply showing them off. The craving for action rippled though his features, feral as they were. Inoadar had taken notes of everything the man in the chair had said about the triggers, manifestations and duration of his overgiving symptoms. But it did not seem likely a morpher would trigger actual overgiving with just a single act. It was far more likely that this susceptibility to it was the result of genuine overgiving some time in the past. 'Probably a pretty severe instance of it, too.' the poisoner thought to himself. It seemed obvious that this man needed to stop morphing for an extended period, and let his body recover and restore whatever had gotten out of balance. It was equally obvious that this was not going to happen while he got such a pleasurably aggressive sense of empowerment from it. And it was all too common that overgiving affected the mind as well as the body. Inoadar knew that what he needed to do was figure out a way to make the morphing as painful as the "withdrawal" symptoms Daegron was experiencing. Or at least, not so thrilling to him. He thought about sedating the man. But the suddenly narrowed eyes of his subject hinted at an almost animal instinct for insight. A quick lie was what was needed. "That is absolutely remarkable, Daegron. Such a demonstration! Such Power! Wait there, I have something to make you even stronger." Instinct would not equate to literacy, the poisoner assured himself. It was time to divert the man's attention with babble while he got hold of some Pillowsap poison. He heard the chair scrape as the morpher got to his feet. But there were no hurried footsteps to indicate an assault. He was unsure of an effective dosage to give the man. Though he was embellished now with natural weapons, it did not necessarily imply some increase in his endurance. But if he gave him an insufficient dosage to put him to sleep, it could get dangerously ugly in a hurry. In the meantime he rambled on about "...calcinating a magnifying accelerant to metabolize the infusing element and isolate the enzyme so we can purify the mutagenic enabler and reverse the inhibiting factors present in the djed flow compounding the reaction inherent in the naturalized reagents resulting from the transmutative separation of the marrow, while..." As he made his way, babbling, back toward his cabinets, he was stricken by a sudden sense of deja vu, and quickly put it aside. But it suddenly took on a vital importance as a possible answer flashed across his mind, and he grasped at the memory. He had been reminded of the time he'd been backpedaling from a Kelvic panther that had come to kill him. That incident had led to his discovery of the rudimentary formula for the "Wildleash" poison compound, a blend of a processed fungal serum, and Kelvic blood. He currently had a small globule of the fungal mash, but had stored it, awaiting an opportunity to procure more Kelvic blood. A rudimentary equation formulated spontaneously in his mind. 'Serum, plus Kelvic blood = Kelvics affected...Serum plus X = Morphers affected' The missing "X" component of the equation was obviously "Morpher's Blood". And he'd just taken a sample of that. He looked toward the vial sitting on the table. It was closer now to Daegron than it was to himself. He shrugged mentally, reasoning that since that had already become a problem, he may as well get the fungal serum. He went to the cold storage box and removed the cold lump of fungal compound. He turned around to find Daegron watching him intently, a scowl on his face, spikes and spines in ominous evidence. It was going to need heating to soften it. That would take time. Daegron did not look to be feeling very patient. This was going to be dicey...

[Daegron]

"What are you looking at ?"
Daegron growled while Dr. Parnell watched him intently. It wasn't fear or terror, for he'd remained calm, wearing his usual unnervingly cold mask. But was it awe ? or even admiration ? The instruments of murder that once were his hands were not made for mere display, no matter how magnificent they made him feel. They were meant to rip and tear.

"Don't get any ideas, doctor ! You'll regret them..."
He sneered and his feral gaze narrowed with suspicion. The beast's instincts started to emerge and take over. Self preservation was first. The man that stood before him, was obviously methodical; never leaving things to chance. He was certain that the researcher had already formed a plan to stop him. To take away his precious Art. To cripple him. No doubt he had more dangerous substances in close proximity. Or a potent combination of seemingly harmless ones. A sedative or even a poison ? That petcher had better not try anything funny. He'd regret it.

But logic was slowly fading away as hunger grew. And the promise of more power that followed Parnell's words of admiration was something that he could not deny. His colossal ego was properly fed and catered. Becoming stronger wasn't the reason he was here, but things were not quite clear in his mind.

"Stronger ! yes, indeed" he cackled and admired his works of art. A terrible beauty to behold that made him swell with pride. As he stood up, he felt the urge to make another step. His transformation was not complete...

As hateful words were uttered and spewed forth, the Morpher reached once more into his core. And from his pool of essence a few stalks rose and turned unto barbed branches by his twisted commands. Djed streamed up unto his head and initiated the shift. On the top of his skull, a series of lumps formed onto his bones that grew harder with every passing tick. It wasn't long till their pointed edges violently tore out through his skin. With gritted teeth he summoned those terrible spikes and willed them to grow a few inches long. His mouth widened along with his jawline and as the maw was opened, it revealed Daegron's teeth slowly growing longer and sharper.

Small streams of blood poured from the skin that was torn by the awful horns that now adorned his head. A sinister grin, both horrible and grotesque was painted on his face. His head felt like it was hammered and nailed; it was obvious from the slight spasms that accompanied his new mask.

"I don't understand a thing from all that shyke !" he snarled at the scientific nonsense that was given to him in reply. For a moment everything went black and all he could hear was a deafening shrill. And when it all went silent, a voice finally spoke to him:

" He's going to trick you ! It's mocking cruel tone almost startled him. Yet it was the sweetest whisper he'd ever known.
"What do you mean ?" he whispered and his answer was a roaring laughter.
"He already has seen too much ! You know what you need to do ! Flesh is created and flesh is undone !"

And that statement was one he couldn't argue against. Filled with an inexplicable excitement and righteous anger, he moved closer to the researcher. His forearms raised to a defensive stance, his fists ready for a solid strike...

[Inoadar]

Inoadar could see where this was going. The morphed monstrosity was squaring off against him, and blocking his way back to the equipment. And now he was muttering to himself. But spiked fists or not, there was no reason to assume some kind of extraordinary strength. In his hyper-aggressive state, however, such strength would be something that his subject would surely want. The poisoner made an effort to give no indication of his apprehension. Instead, he turned and stood by where a fairly heavy metal folding table was leaning by the wall. He needed the Pillowsap in the cabinet beyond Daegron. Once he had the man asleep, he could take the time to craft the morpher-based Wildleash compound. He took just a few ticks to begin getting a sense of his own body's pulses, letting his heartbeat direct his awareness to the pulse in his arms. He set his left hand on the edge of the table, the cold of the metal aiding him in his focus on the presence of his hand and connected arm. As he let a second-nature portion of his concentration enable some muttering of his own, he concentrated on the sensitivity of his arm, bringing his awareness deeper into the flesh, and imagining the flow of blood. He empowered his perception of that flow to carry a measure of the energy from his right arm to his left. He doubted that Daegron had made a conscious effort to note whether he was right handed or not, but bet on the likelihood that the man had noted it at an instinctive level. Knowing the man was getting more and more combative, Inoadar trusted that Daegron would expect the right arm to be the strong one. Inoadar said distractedly that he was looking for one more thing that he needed. A part of his mind pictured the morpher anticipating some kind of hostile act. Instead, as he continued making distracted comments about trying to find something, he let the Flux flow pull most of the strength from his right arm to his left, without weakening the supportive strength of his legs and spine. He lifted the metal table with his left hand as if it was made of cork, and handed it back with only a side glance. As expected, Daegron was right behind him, his arm poised to strike. "Here, take this." Inoadar instructed innocently, knowing that, while not completely unwieldy, the table's appearance of very light weight would betray the man's balance for a moment when its actual metal weight came into effect. The simple instruction, spoken without any tone of concern, stalled Daegron's aggression. But everything hinged on his next move. If the Morpher grabbed the table, Inoadar expected the weight of it would take him by surprise and pull him off balance. Inoadar would then jump on the opportunity to slam into him, left arm first, with the table as a shield to avoid being "spiked", and knock him prone. Then he would run by him and grab the Pillowsap from the shelf on the far side of the room. if the morpher did NOT grab the table, or try to shove it aside, Inoadar would use his fluxed strength to simply swing it into him and do pretty much the same thing after that. Daegron was probably not aware of it, but with his own act of bringing spikes through his skin, he gave Inoadar all the access he needed to get the toxin into his system. Normally, Inoadar would have had to apply the fluid to a knife and slash him. But with all the wounds on Daegron's skin from his own morphed spikes, the poisoner only needed to smear it on his skin

[Daegron]

Wrath.
The beast was too focused in his growing aggression to understand his target's strategy. It seemed to him that Parnell was merely going on with his awful plan, whatever it was, and ignoring the obvious threat. He’d be an easy target this one; a pity that he chose to dismiss Daegron's earlier warnings. He could feel the edges of his flesh-crafted weapons itching to tear and rip. His heart was racing with excitement and filled with a curious lust for violence.

But things weren't exactly that way. And by the time Daegron cared to wonder what the doctor was doing with that table, his opponent surprisingly presented it to him. The Morpher's lack of clear thought and the confusion Parnell's act had just created, were enough to make any sense of danger disappear.

"You don't need a table..." he sneered; the words coming out of his maw were a lot less than human speech."You can lie down and bleed on the floor.."

So he went on and tried to push the table offered aside. But it didn't budge. His strength wasn't really enhanced during the transformation and he could be considered as a naturally strong man, taking into account his stocky build and shoulder size. But the petching table that was effortlessly lifted by Parnell did not move. As his sharp spikes clashed with cold metal, Daegron's surprise lasted for barely a tick. The table was forcefully shoved against him and oddly brought the beast to a halt.

Rage flowed inside him and he angrily roared, trying to push back and free one of his hands. He then would smash that bastard's face, impaling his green eyes with his knuckles. For a moment the two of them were locked in a contest of strength. Many times had Daegron found himself fighting against stronger opponents, and had found out the edge that his magic gave to him. Most of it was intimidation and the rest was increased and shaped muscle mass. This time he was clearly loosing. The researcher wasn't in the least bit scared; instead a cold mask covered his face. And his strength didn't quite fit his stature which made it unnatural. As he found himself loosing balance, an idea was formed into his mind. Perhaps his opponent was using some form of Djedcraft.

As he fell back, he felt his left arm being freed and desperately swung his spiked fist aiming for the face. Yet the blow did not connect and soon he found himself on his back. The table was left on top of him and Parnell run by him reaching for a bench that stood behind his back.

He huffed and pushed the table aside, lifting himself up. A torrent of curses escaped his beas-like maw as he angrily watched Parnell. That petcher was looking for something; no doubt some kind of drug. There as no time to waste. He rushed behind him, stepping firmly on the ground, serrated arms acting like a wall while opening his terrible maw. This time he mustered all his wits and was ready to crush through any of this man's tricks and chew his throat off.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar grabbed the vial and popped it open. He'd hoped for a more controlled effort, but was forced to simply turn and swing the open end of the vial in a short arc at the onrushing adversary. Plenty hit Daegron, but Inoadar had no real idea if the man's morphed state imparted any sort of secondary resistance. For all he knew of Morphing, Daegron might have generated a second layer of skin beneath the first. His flux was still active though, and he managed to heave the beast aside enough with his left arm to slip to his right and backpedal several steps. In true scientific mindset, his biggest concern was that this spiny behemoth was going to destroy his interim poison-crafting shop. He also found himself surprisingly concerned about the resident doctor's welfare. Doctor Mazetti had been with a patient when Daegron had first come in. It was true that some time had transpired since then, but he had not had much opportunity to look in on the man and warn him of the danger developing in the lab. He did not have time to even shrug as the morpher charged him again. Two thoughts, 'Every men for himself' and 'Live and learn', flashed though his head simultaneously, as his Flux bailed him out again, only to see a cabinet full of research notes pay the price, as it was thrashed into kindling by the weaponized arms of his foe. He was breathing heavily now...too heavily...It was suddenly difficult to maintain his Flux. A spike of dread stabbed him...'in the arm?' he instinctively looked and saw that his left arm, the one he'd now twice blocked Deagron's charges with, was bleeding. Not heavily, but enough to be undeniable. His heavy breathing suddenly took on a new aspect. The arm must have been wounded on the monster's spikes, which meant he'd inflicted Pillowsap poison on himself as well. As if the very thought carried further potency, a surge of exhaustion nearly tripped him up. He groaned even as he thought he heard Daegron laugh. He tried to find another table or tray or something to interpose between himself and the morphed madman, but all he found was himself...on his knees...The room spun a last time and went dark. His last image was the mentally generated certainty of Daegron standing over him, about to crush him into pulp...

[Daegron]

Bloodlust.
The steps were certain as Daegron charged against his opponent, driven by the beast's fury. The soles of his boots were gripping the floor that squeaked under the pressure. There was only one thought and it dominated his mind, casting all logic aside. The whole world was painted in bleak shades of red as his own blood covered his eyes. There was no turning back now. He breathed for the kill.

Parnell turned around and with a quick swing he threw something on him. It was too late for the Morpher to react and he was showered with some kind of liquid; a good portion of it splashed against his cruel face and arms, creating a strange stinging sensation of freshness that he did not register until it was too late. As the distance between them closed to a few inches, Daegron with a quick push extended his crossed forearms, aiming to deliver a slashing strike against his unfortunate target.

But his timing was wrong as Parnell took a step back and the jagged arm-blades barely made contact with his flesh. Daegron's center was wide open now and a hand, an unnaturally strong hand grabbed him. His own force was used against him and he was heaved to the side. The charge was impossible to stop and he crashed on a bench; a few glass beakers broke and tiny shards were shoved into his skin. With another growl, he stood up and glared at the doctor.
"It's not over you petching bastard !" he shouted and turned to pursue him once more.

A series of quick steps brought him close once more and just a tick before he could deliver his powerful blow his opponent pulled a heavy cabinet, again with relative ease he managed to notice, and used it as a shield. His spiked fists struck hard against the wooden surface. He felt the collision's force shake him to his bones and nearly took his breath away. The plank was crashed through and broken, and as the serrated arms pulled out once more, they cut through wood like a saw, turning what was left of the cabinet into firewood and splinters as it hit the floor.

His head was humming and he felt weak. Whatever Parnell managed to throw at him was starting to affect him. His sure steps turned into a shamble but he pushed forward. Before the poison would claim his own life he'd take the doctor with him. His adversary seemed exhausted too as his retreat slowed.

"Murder ! Murder !" happily sang the voice. It echoed in his mind and it's demand was harmonious; mellifluous in all it's cruelty. As his foe fell on his knees, the Morpher burst into a savage laughter that ended into a coughing fit. His feet were unable to hold him any more. He felt his own weight becoming too great and fell on all fours.
"Not now ! Not yet !" his thought desperately cried as the poisoner lost consciousness. He wanted him alive and awake so he could feel the wonderful pain inflicted by his fleshcrafted weapons. He wanted a little more time to satisfy that beautiful song that beckoned him still...

His focus was stolen away by the drug and his natural vengefully form took over, violently reversing the transformations. The wave of sharp pain that escorted the swift rearrangement was the last thing he felt as he struggled to keep his eyelids open to take a last look at the one who got him down.

Then his hands failed and he crashed, face first to the hardwood floor. It all went black...

[Inoadar]

Voices spun in and out of his awareness. "Dr. Parnell....-'s subdued now....-nacled in the back roo-....-ou hear me?....-n't know wha-....-arnell?...-ould be weari-....-w much di-....-u have an antidote?...-s he anyway?....Doctor Parnell?...." No, it was only one voice...'But whose?'...It had a vaguely familiar sound...He had heard it sometime in the past...No...several times...but it was a voice he didn't pay much attention to for some reason. 'What was he talking about?...What was he asking?...Where am I?...What was I doing?' He tried to open his eyes. He was not sure if he succeeded. There was light, but it seemed wrong somehow...It was too unsteady and dim to be Syna...And he felt a strange pressure on his back...No, he was ON his back...He was on the ground...on his back. The voice returned. "Thank Rhysol you're coming around! I had no way to determine how much you got, and I don't know what I'm supposed to DO with that crazy fool. Attacking you? Right here in the Station? And you trying to help him? It's criminal! He should be locked up!" Inoadar thought about trying to consider making an effort to get ready to think about sitting up...That seemed to be enough to make him want to roll over and vomit..."No, no, stay down for now...it's under control...He got a much bigger dose than you...But all morphed the way he was, I didn't know if he'd come around before you. Or if you wanted me to keep him out. Or if it would kill him to give him more." The voice seemed more at ease now...It gained a step toward memory...Yes it was a more familiar giving calm instructions...yes...a bedside manner...Doctor...Mazetti. Inoadar remembered now. He'd been at the NMSS. This was the staff Doctor. Sudden apprehension shot a burst of adrenaline into Inoadar's veins and he sat up...No, he was being held under his arms and being dragged. He tried to wrestle free, thinking the crazy Morpher had him. "Stop struggling Doctor Parnell...and who is Daegron? Is that the subject's name? The one that attacked you? I told you, he's manacled in the back room." The poisoner sagged in relief. He was finally putting the fuzzy bits together. "How long was I out, Mazetti?" he asked the staff doctor. He found himself equally worried that the hyper-aggression Daegron had displayed could very well shorten the Pillowsap's duration. "Only about a bell, sir. I didn't want to take a chance on having him regain consciousness without you here to tell me how to deal with him. This is your area, not mine." It all fell into place now. The staff doctor had probably hidden during the struggle, and not peeked in until there had been silence for several chimes. He must have retrieved the manacles they kept for difficult patients and put the morpher into the back room, where they'd had heavy eye-bolts set into the walls just for this sort of thing. Inoadar finally found his footing and stood unaided for a few moments until his equilibrium returned to normal. He turned to Doctor Mazetti then, with a deep sigh. He patted the man on the shoulder. "You did very well, Doctor...Umm...Let me see..." His brows furrowed as he looked around, trying to remember a solution that had come to him before the shyke had hit the wind. He saw blood on his hand and it triggered the memory. 'The Morpher's blood! Blended with the fungal paste from the Wildleash preparation. It will work. I know it will!' He stood nodding his head as the steps to completion ran though his mind. He went over to where he had placed a sample of the blood in a vial and sucked the air from it. He also went to one of his cabinets and got out the fungal paste he'd been saving for the next time he had an opportunity to collect some Kelvic blood. Gathering various implements and arraying them for production, he stopped to give instructions to Doctor Mazetti. "Keep him under until I finish this experiment. Then we will try this out on him. it should have the same general effect as Wildleash on a Kelvic. But keep some Pillowsap handy in case it needs some tweaking. It is my intent to prevent him from morphing as much as possible for the next ten or twenty days. I think he's subjected himself to severe overgiving and needs time to regain his djed balance." The doctor looked uncertain, but began to walk away. Inoadar halted him, "Wait a moment..." He went to different cupboard and puled down a small packet. "Wait until he starts to come around. Then depending on his attitude, either hit him with Pillowsap or give him this. It's just Connal tea with a dose of Tolm. If he cooperates, wait a while and give him this dose of 'Slammer'. Otherwise, give him the Pillowsap." He and the doctor both knew that the two herbs promoted sleep, so the Pillowsap would have almost instantaneous effect. They would also help with the pain and healing. Again. sleep would be a beneficial side effect. But he hoped to be able to finish his 'Morphleash' project and try it out before having to knock Daegron out again. He also wanted to see what effects numbness and loosened muscles brought about. Daegron's own level of aggression would be the determining factor in what would be tried first.

[Daegron]

oocI took the liberty of using the good doctor Mazetti, I hope it's ok ?

Awakened.
The world was a blur, one that spun around constantly changing direction. The single source of dim light circled in and out of his vision. A slow moving throb was all he could hear; the sound of his beating heart as it pumped blood around his battered body bringing it back into consciousness. A wave of blunt pain originating from both his temples, pulsated as if his head was a drum rhymically hammered by a pair of mallets. The acrid taste of blood filled his mouth and a mix of sweat and musty, stale air entered his nostrills. HE could feel his own weight pressing against his left shoulder. He was left lying on his side in a hard surface.

"What the petch happened ?" was all he could think and that sterrible stupor, he tried to make sense of it all. It took a few chimes of concentration to connect the images thatcame to his mind. As if viewing through a red stained glass, he saw himself attacking that Parnell person. He remembered pursuing that man's demise yet he could not tell why. We was doused with something, some odd smelling substance. A poison or a drug or who knows what kind of potent combination of the two. Whatever it was, he was still under it's influence. He could not remember how the scene ended; the facts he was able to gather, twisted as they were from his magic and the drug, made no sense.

The cold touch of metal encircled his wrists and as he tried to pull his hand where he could see, he realized he was manacled. The frustrated attempt to pull his hand free made him loose the little balance he'd gained in that awkward position. The world spin once more and he fell off whatever he was lying onto, landing hard on the floor. A stream of curses were muttered but thankfully the haze slightly cleared. He looked around in an attempt to realize his surroundings, barely containing the contents of his stomach. The dizzines would last for a long while. The room was mostly empty; a rather ucomfortable low bench doulbling as a bed, a small table and an oil lamp that flickered. He was captured, that much was clear and he could begin to guess why...

A fair warning was given. It wasn't his fault. And whatever that doctor gave him surely carried a multitude of side-effects. His senses slowly returned to him in waves; a few ticks of clarity, followed by a daze that lasted for an unspecified amount of time and back to the start. He could not find the strength to get up. He was exhausted, his whole body was hurting and that petching headache just wouldn't stop. It was useless. Giving up, he fell into a deep slumber.

It was a few bells later that the webs of sleep were torn apart. His eyes opened wide and he found himself lying on his back on that bed he'd fallen from a while ago. Hastily he got up to a sitting position, his adrenaline fighting the dizziness away.

"Take it easy there, it's too early to get up yet" said a voice from behind his back. As Daegron turned around to see he was reminded of his binds. Both his hands were strapped on that bed, tight enough to not be able to yank his hand off but with enough of a leash to accomodate basic moves.

" That's just a precaution.." said the man." For you, to avoid hurting yourself"
"What kind of shyke is that ?"
"...and for our safety."
"Who are you ? Where am I ?"
"I'm Doctor Mazetti, and yo are still at the NMSS, you remember coming here, yes ?. The man's voice was calm clear and reassuring. It's tone went a long way towards calming the Morpher's foul temper.
"What makes you think you can tie me up and imprison me?" he growled while the doctor casually walked into view.
"I know it is difficult for you to accept this fact, but it is for your own good, sir." he said and Daegron could see now that this one was very different than his researcher colleague. Polite, yes, but seemingly honest and lacking those unnerving qualities of this Parnell character.
"Let me go !" he hissed and barely nanaged to bite his lips and avoid phrasing the next words that came to his dry mouth. Threatening that he'd remove the binds on his own and causing any kind of harm to the doctor wasn't the wisest move. They'd stuff him with drugs till the second Valterrian arrived. Much as he hated to accept it, they had the upper hand for now. And the means to keep it that way.
" Excuse me, but for now you will have to remain restrained.. You see, Dr. Parnell is developing a potent treatment for your... condition"
"Drugs and poison ?" he spat the words, trying to keep calm.
"Dr. Parnell is a man of few words but great skill. Perhaps his intentions were misunderstood ? I assure you that we, the personell of the NMSS, are dedicated to your well being and will use all our knowledge and resources to... fix you up" His calm demeanor and kind smile showed no sign if ill will or obscure purposes. This man had a way with words, that worked."After all, if we meant you harm, we could have already done it while you were unconscious" and that was a point that could not be argued against. And Daegron was too tired to speak. His parched throat begged for whatever drink the doctor presented him with.
"This is a herbal tea. It will rejuvenate and soothe your aching body."
"Whiskey would do just fine !" he grunted but took the cup with slight apprehension. The binds were long enough to enable him to feed and drink. As he put the cup on his lips, he pretended to be drinking it. Focused on the doctor's frienlier-than-expected expression he waited for the tell-tale sign of deceit. But it never came, and trusting his keen eye, he drank it all...

[Inoadar]

Doctor Mazetti came back from the back room. "Doctor Parnell? The patient is cooperating. He drank the tea and seems to be willing to wait and see what we're planning to do next. I have not given him the 'Slammer' yet." He made a face, confirming his distaste of such drug use. Inoadar gave him a nod of acknowledgement, but was drying out the paste and keeping a close watch on its progress. "Good, good..." the poisoner muttered distractedly. "I'll be done here before long. Once the fungal paste is the right consistency, I can add some of Daegron's blood and we will see if the blend affects him as I believe it should. Just go in and keep an eye on him, in case he tries to morph his arms thin enough to pull free of the manacles." "Are you going to keep him manacled as you administer the...uhh...'Leash'...stuff...you mentioned earlier?" Doctor Mazetti queried. "Or am I still supposed to keep the 'Pillowsap' ready?" Inoadar looked up sharply. "Oh no! By all means, keep the Pillowsap ready. This is different than with a Kelvic. With them, you know what shapes they shift between, so know what gauge of manacles will hold them without hurting, or outright damaging, them. With this morpher, I have no idea how many, or how extremely different, forms his body has been altered into. Yes, we both saw that attack form he took a little while ago, but he may have taken some other form, some other time, where his arms were greatly increased in girth, so I can't take the chance on manacles when I use it." The doctor was nodding his head before the poisoner finished his explanation, turning toward the door to the room where Daegron was manacled. "Well I'd better get back in there and see how he's doing. He drank all the tea, so I can give him the 'Slammer' any time now, if you want." Inoadar thought for a moment, but then shook his head. "No...Go ahead and go back in, but just tell him I told you to monitor him until I arrive. If he says anything about the attack, tell him I hold no grudge, and chalk it up to the same overgiving problem that I believe to be the source of his discomforts. I will tell him more when I go back in in a few chimes." He turned away from the doctor, who also turned to return to Daegron's room, and went back to the drying paste. He continued to turn it, press it, and roll it back up to repeat the process for a few more chimes. Satisfied that it had reached the needed consistency, he pulled the cap on the vial of Daegron's blood, that he had sealed after the man had first begun morphing. He dripped a few drops on the wad and was gratified to see the liquid soak up quickly and soak evenly throughout its mass. He dripped another couple of drops, and the same thing happened, turning the entire wad a slightly darker red, as opposed to being streaky from unequal concentrations. Inoadar now separated a small portion and put a few drops of water on it. There was no reaction beyond the consistency becoming a bit thinner, which was all he was after. He diluted it a little more, recalling how it had worked better in darts this way when he'd finished his original 'Wildleash' experiments. He put some of this thinner formula into a dart and opened his blowgun/cane. He inserted the dart and closed the cane back up, but left the grommet off the muzzle end, so it could be fired quickly if it became necessary. He also smeared some of the thicker compound on the stiletto blade, which was concealed inside the trunk of the cane when it was put back together. He held it like a normal cane as he returned the room, but was tensed to raise it and fire if Daegron was trying anything when he opened the door. If Daegron did not make any move, Inoadar would be forthcoming about his intent to keep him from morphing for a good ten or twenty days; that he believed overgiving was the problem; and that he hoped not to have to resort to using Pillowsap to put him to sleep. He would also state his wish to try one more thing, which would require releasing him from the bonds. He would emphasize the Pillowsap he had ready. If the morpher asked him what he wanted to try, he would admit his intent to use 'Slammer', and see how it affected his morphing to be numbed and subjected to a muscle relaxer. He did NOT mention the 'Wildleash'-based test he wanted to do.