Closed Agony and Ecstasy

[Daegron]

Summer 25th, 514AV
early noon

Excruciating.
It ate him alive, it chewed on his flesh, it shuddered his bones and plucked at his already frayed nerves. The pain was really too much for him to handle, and it wasn't as if he was new to this. Countless times he'd been injured, beaten, cut and broken and healed back to perfect shape. Yet none of those old wounds or injuries ever bothered him again. They came and went, their only traces were scars and fading bruises. But this time, there was an agony he could not justify that lingered and messed around with his whole frame. It randomly struck, manifesting in different forms or places on his now battered figure. There were migraines so strong, like a hammer bent on crushing through his skull. Needles that pierced his eyes and rob him of his sight. A burning sensation all over his face would occasionally spread as if he was scalded. There were sudden spasms on his limbs, as if struck by lightning, and his hands at times felt as if they were flayed of the scarred flaky skin that covered them. And some other times, thankfully less often than the rest, a wave of numbing pain would run along his spine, paralysing him and stealing away all control from his precious body. This couldn't go on...

The source was one he knew too well, and one he could not deny or avoid. Ever since that night he woke up from his long brainless slumber, he kept using his Art way too often. One could easily put the blame on the sheer amount of situations that required it's use, but he understood very well that his Morphing magic had become more of an obsession and less of a need. There were so many shapes to accomplish, so many ways to perfection. Bending, twisting and redesigning the prime elements of his being, his flesh, sinew and bone, was a ravishing experience that he was eager to relive any time. It made him feel powerful, fierce, invincible and defined his very existence. He would always find a use or excuse. It was his own twisted celebration of life. He firmly believed that what ailed him, wasn't the effect of giving too much of his essence; such stress always manifested briefly during or shortly after the transformation, and it was just a matter of time for it to vanish or heal. What made his life miserable, seemed to emerge in times of peace and rest.

At first, the symptoms were subtle; minor discomfort and slight disorientation. But day after day, it got worse to the point where he had enough.. Alcohol was alright for a couple of days. The land of intoxication was a good place to forget what ailed him. But unfortunately, it didn't last. Soon the symptoms seemed to aggravate and he couldn't even look at the damn glass. There was no easy way to handle it.

He hated what he had to do. Asking for assistance was something that greatly hurt his pride. But it was better to lower himself than to continue enduring such torment.
The Healing Hand was out of the question. They'd have many questions and they wouldn't like his answers. He was certain that what they had to offer, simple painkillers, balms and herbal concoctions were not going to be very helpful with his condition. He could use something stronger, something less legal. So he blundered around the Noble District looking for the place one of the Ravosalamen had told him about. The ‘Nitrozian-Moletta Sanitary Station’ was a place well known for offering medical care or soothing medication for the right price. He was assured that both the founders and personnel were very discreet in their services. No Black Sun or Ebonstryfe poking around. It wasn't long till he found the place, a building that did not stand out from the rest, following the directions given to him.
"No time to tarry" he thought and entered, feeling already welcome as he walked into the lobby...

[Inoadar]

Inoadar wondered if this was yet some new antagonism thought up by his recent interrogator to torment him. He'd only recently decided he'd see if he could disprove this nonsense about the supposed "fish-supplement" finding its way onto shelves and into bags around town. He thought it might show the man that he had the citizens, the soldiery, and the worship, of Rhysol, close to his heart. And now, just as he was getting somewhere, another interruption. It's not that he was not glad to see Vanari, and certainly Vera was delighted. But the timing had been dreadful. It was so difficult to focus on chemistry with the two girls, as well as his associate, Verin, in a celebratory mood. Burke, at least, shared his annoyance with the clamor and giggling, and wanted only to get things back to how they were before his master's arrest. Inoadar was still not entirely convinced that Verin had not been hoping for a more permanent residency for him in the Black Hole. His joy had clearly been tempered by apprehension at Inoadar's sudden arrival at the shop...HIS shop. He suspected that Verin had hoped to put his OWN name over the door. He had only come to the NMSS to pick up a few reagents. The kind he knew to react to marine flesh differently that land-based varieties. It had taken a bit longer than he'd planned. He could hardly move without pain, and it had surprised him how much he actually used a little finger. It was nothing obvious, just a sort of balance and support function of grip and reach. Another example of not knowing what something is worth until it's gone. He'd already dropped one vial and his tweezers, for lack of that fifth digit on his left hand. But he had to admit, the man entering the door of the NMSS looked to be in as bad a shape as he felt. Inoadar was no aurist, but this guy gave off a vibe of suffering. With the recent inexplicable disappearance of Amolina, and Valerius' focus on family matters, Inoadar felt compelled to take up the slack. Those two would get an earful when they bothered to return to what had, after all, been their idea in the first place. It did not improve Inoadar's mood toward them that part of his interrogation had touched on what their purpose in founding the place was. Inoadar had not really bothered to familiarize himself with their goals. He could only speak for himself, and had done so. But the warden of the Black Hole had made it clear he was not satisfied with less than a complete answer. Fortunately, or perhaps UNfortunately, Inoadar had found the reserves of endurance to refuse to make up something to please him. He shook his head and set his reagents and implements down with a light sigh. He smeared what could pass for a smile across his face and approached the new arrival. "Yes sir, what can I do for you?"

[Daegron]

"Ugh, and I though I was in a bad shape !" That thought was the first thing that came to his mind. And hard as he tried to suppress it, he barely managed to keep it from reaching his eager and usually big mouth. Yet, there it was in all it's glory! Painted all over his face and for a moment it seemed to have covered his wretched expression. This was in no way a good start. If he was to request help and discretion from them, he should at least try and make the first impression as good as possible. He stood for a moment, taking a good look at the man who'd just greeted him and tried to regain his composure in the hopes of saving this awkward moment.

Dark-clad and pale, the stranger seemed to have been through a horrible trial. There were subtle hints of agony and exhaustion on the way he walked and carried himself, something that Daegron in his current condition couldn't help but sympathize. The lump of flesh that used to be his finger hadn't healed completely and the discomfort it would cause was probably beyond imagination. Yet his green gaze was not one of mourning or defeat; instead it seemed to be shining with pride. The man was clearly interrupted from his tasks, but his eagerness to meet the new arrival and his few kind words, told a different tale. Yet that emerald gaze was unnerving. The Morpher felt as if he was being already carefully examined, sized and sliced to little pieces for further study. There was no lying to those eyes.

They probably were not focused on Daegron's latest achievements. The bruise that coloured his left temple in deeper shades of blue or the minor laceration on his arm were of no importance. Last night's brawl was a hazy memory drowned by strong spirits. The only certain facts were that it was over as soon as it had started and that the two combatants had spent the rest of the night drinking together. Little care was given to the fading yet evident marks left from the relentless beating he'd received a couple of weeks ago in that bloody dawn at the Docks; an event that had pulled him into that maelstrom of vengeance and fury along with that young mage, Elias. Perhaps the tell-tale signs that the manipulation of Djed and his Morphing obsession left in their wake were more interesting. The slight discolourations of skin from the countless faces stolen, the scarred hands that were meld into instruments of violence. Daegron's body was a battlefield, one he carried around with pride.

"I seek medical attention.." he finally said with a weak voice and gritting teeth while trying to fight against the hammer that struck once more upon his forehead. He took a few deep breaths and darting his eyes around the room he went on while leaning closer:

"There's a certain... condition that requires an expert's opinion. Are you a doctror of some sort ? The matter is a bit... sensitive. "

He wasn't eager to start blurting around about his Art and and passion. He had to make sure that he was talking to the right person. He scanned around the room in case more people where listening than the one that should. A soon as he was certain that there were no prying ears and he had gained the right person's attention he would ultimately disclose the reason for his visit:

"I am in dire pain. It doesn't originate from anything you see on me right now, I know what kind of mess I look like... It's source is inexplicable... it comes and goes at random. I want something to make it stop, to make it disappear or at least to make it bearable..."

He wiped his sweating brow with the back of his hand and breathed heavily, embracing himself for another attack...

[Inoadar]

Inoadar turned to see if Doctor Mazzetti was available. He was the more permanently installed medical expert here. Inoadar had accrued a decent amount of medical knowledge, enough to fake his way through most situations, anyway. If something got out of hand, he knew how to sedate the patient long enough for the good doctor to bail him out. The doctor, at least, appreciated that Inoadar remained to watch what he did, so as to have a better chance of success next time. Unfortunately, Doctor Mazzetti was busy. But something about the way this new arrival said "condition" spoke of something not truly "medical" in nature. Inoadar had been coached in the Flux by Miro. And the man had gone to great lengths to instill in his pupil the travails of what he called "overgiving". The mention this patient made of the pain's "inexplicable" origin, and the random nature of its attacks struck Inoadar as something unnatural. Something brought on by reckless indulgence in djed craft of one sort or another. There were no outside indications of any injury. No bruising, no swelling, no burns. But he'd overused the Flux just enough to get a sense of how bad it could be. He didn't know if this was the discipline that this man had strained his structure with. But the fact was, his experience with toxins gave him an exceptionally in-depth understanding of the interdependence of the body's systems. He didn't necessarily know WHY something that affected the digestion also strained ligaments and caused severe cramps, but he knew that it DID. Anything that put the body out of overall balance invited myriad discomforts. "Sir, I can give you something that can quite effectively deaden pain. But some compounds affect the limbs, some the head, some the back and torso. Whatever need you have for secrecy must be dismissed. I can promise you, I have no interest in judging you for..."giving" overly-much of yourself for your own good..." He gave the man a particularly pointed look on the word, hoping to convey his suspicion of the cause of the problems and gauge the man's reaction. "...but I'll need to know just where it hurts, and how much can you afford to pay." As he spoke, he walked to a cabinet - a securely locked one - and removed a small pouch of powder, several tiny vials of some liquids, and a cube of some crumbly, semi-solid materials. "These alone can be applied a number of ways, depending on what imbalances are causing your pain. Some will bring actual restoration of balance, others will simply block the pain. But you're looking at several hundred gold's worth of...substances. Are you able to afford that?" The man appeared to be thinking it over, which suggested to Inoadar that the answer was "no". He waited a few moments to let the patient's anxiety add appeal to his next offer. "There is one other way we can agree on providing these goods, and at no cost." he said, repressing a smile at the man's suddenly hopeful look. 'Oh yes...' he said to himself, 'That's got his interest.' He pretended not to notice by quickly looking away, as if consulting some chart. "We always need subjects for research. And I can promise you, research into pain deadening compounds is always a priority. If, as I suspect, your pain is caused by some...shall we say, "unconventional affliction"? Then this is an opportunity for this facility as well as for you."

[Daegron]

He knew !
The man's wording was very careful and straight to the point. Perhaps he knew what manipulating one's djed and using it was like. He may even know what it FEELS like. The surge of confidence and pride, the heightening of aggressive instincts, the undeniable pleasure of power overwhelming. Perhaps he knew how it was to be able to walk in such heights, and how dangerous the plunge back into reality was. How one's essence is slowly corrupted, how terrible the retribution is when one's physical restraints are being strained, or how the body reacts to such stress, how one ends up injured and broken. Could it be that whatever ailed him had the same origin ?

He did not linger long in that thought, because the suggestion was quite tempting. Effectively deadening pain would surely be a very good thing right now. A crazy idea that involved taking every possible combination formed in his brain. Oh the limits he could reach if he was immune to pain. There would be no physical barrier. He'd be free of the greatest obstacle to his crafting of flesh. He'd test the limits, create new transformations even more radical than what he'd done. Take a few more steps to his ultimate goals. The perfect shape. Being everything at the same time. Able to adapt to every situation. The most magnificent living thing, a master of life. He smiled and growled at the joy of such thoughts only to be reminded of his current condition by a sharp sting on his spine; one that started moving downwards, stealing his breath away.

No, things would never be so easy. They must not be easy. The limits were there for a REASON. Recklessly leaping over such a great obstacle as his body's limitations could prove disastrous or even lethal. As much as he'd like to bend every single thing about his existence and shape himself in every possible way, he knew that it should be done carefully. Lest he'd find himself broken, forever. Lest he took the path of no return where the connection to his core and djed were severed and his most extreme transformations rendered permanent and useless. The pain of the body would be numbed, but what about the torment of the mind ? He'd taken a few good steps, failure would be a terrible thing. There was a certain sequence that he always followed, and it had served him well. Every step was important. Endure, adapt, overcome. This was a time of endurance.

There was no way he could afford such a cost. He knew that it was the strongest drug that he needed and it would forever stay within him. He'd always want more. And unable to pay, he'd move into lesser substances. Again, his flesh would be damaged, his connections severed. He nodded negatively at the question.

The next suggestion was a hopeful one. For a moment, the Morpher's face brightened, showing interest. But his brow turned into a frown at thinking it over. There was a catch, certainly, and a trap to lure the mindless. This was not an offer coming from one with a big heart and by no means a selfless act. He heard the second part with interest.

"Research ?" he growled.
He was not going to put his precious flesh onto a slab and let himself be prodded like an animal in search for a miracle cure, or whatever sick purpose that man hid underneath his friendly façade. There were things that even Daegron himself could not predict about his special talent. He knew it was slowly tainting his soul, painting it in bleak and dark shades. He'd witnessed first hand the horror of uncontrolled transformation. It was volatile. Yet if the man was serious about his "line of work" and careful, it could be a unique chance. This could be the second step. Adaptation. He needed to make things very clear. Daegron wouldn't go on with this man's suggestion unless he was perfectly certain that the risk was understood.

"Heed this as no threat, for threats are pointless. Instead think of it as a grave warning. I know you are aware of the causes, but are you aware of the risks of such an endeavour ?" his brow furrowed, as his next words were very serious.
"Your proposition is interesting. Yet, do you know how hazardous it is to experiment with the natural order of things ? Do you realize what kind of dangers lie when toying with the sheer violation of it ? Do not take this lightly. I know there is something in it for you. I do not doubt it, nor do I expect you to help me out of the depths of your heart. You have to know that there are things that lie well beyond my grasp or control. Things that could spell both our doom. We should not continue should you fail to understand this."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar turned and coughed, to cover his failed attempt to suppress his grim laughter. Here he was, not even ten days removed from being tortured in the Black Hole, and this patient was warning him of potential danger of not being careful enough with his research. He was sure the man meant well, but he doubted he himself could suffer much more than he had already. He turned back to give the man a pointed look. "Sir, just hearing the pain in your voice, and seeing it on your face, is sufficient "warning" of the dangers of recklessness. If you would prefer to "safely" enjoy your discomforts, that is your choice, you know where the door is. I suppose I should appreciate that you purport to take my own well being into consideration, but I have long since accepted that there is no worthy research that does not involve risk." The two men locked eyes for a moment. Inoadar could see the twitches in the man's facial muscles. He assumed this to be attempts to suppress reactions to pain. He decided that waiting, and slow delivery of his offer was to his advantage. He knew how compelling pain could be to encourage agreement. "You speak of the "natural" order of things...Tell me, does the over-indulgence that has brought you to this end involve something that comes "naturally" to most people? I expect not. I expect djed-craft of some sort. Now, if reducing the level of hazard is truly your intent, you would be well advised to inform me of exactly which sort of manipulation you have been employing." His eyes narrowed slightly, "And I will not hide my offense at the suggestion that I "toy" with anything in my line of work. I would not be here to make this offer if this were so." He did not keep many toxins here at the NMSS. That was not truly the aim of this facility. Nonetheless, there were some select compounds on the site. Many had effects on the body that were capable of opening new avenues of medical understanding. It was not something to be advertised, to those seeking genuine "healing", that substances used to destroy certain bodily systems could give insight into the inter-relations of these systems with those that were not affected. Those insights often resulted in beneficial strides in the fields of both toxicology and medicine. It was the classic "greater good" justification. He strolled slowly to one of the racks of vials as he spoke, pulling a single one free of its slot. "Neither will I hide my concern that you search for reasons to avoid letting me try to help you learn to control your own thrill-seeking. You come seeking pain relief from the results of obvious over-giving. If I take away the pain, what is there to curb your..."adventurous"...attitude? You tell ME to be aware of the risks...I say the same thing back to YOU. Can you risk NOT allowing me to do research? I am not sure I should provide you with relief from the one thing holding you back from a complete self-destruction." He turned away before the grin took his face completely over. It was one thing to feel that he'd put the fellow's insulting "warning" in it's place. It was quite another to feel that he'd successfully planted the seed of self-doubt in this man's resistance. He felt sure that the man would give in now. All that would remain would be to determine what sort of djed-craft they were talking about. That would establish which approach he would take regarding the man's "condition".

[Daegron]

The tension was evident. And the man's stare was piercing as he spoke back. There was profound truth in his words.

Indeed, Daegron currently was a living example of what recklessness and hunger for more power could bring down upon a man. Yet it was just the beginning. Even himself, in all his twisted imagination could not foresee or predict how far this "condition" could go. It was made clear that there was no room for comfort nor safety. It was already too late. But it was good to know that this man's... dedication to whatever "treatment" and research he had in mind was stronger than any warning the Morpher would give, stronger than fear.

The silence that followed, was working against him. His face twitched, and a thought occurred to him that whatever ailed him had decided it was the best moment to attack head on. His hands started shaking as he tried to fight back the burning sensation that steadily spread around his face. It didn't take long for that silence to break, and the Morpher, much as he loathed to speak of his Art, was soon convinced to make a few revelations.

"No, you are correct. " he mumbled unwillingly. "Though Djed's presence is argued to be natural in all things, it's use and manipulation is meant to change reality or the natural order. My approach is to alter and transform this essence. And in turn, to alter and adapt my physical form to different shape. These transformations have their impact to my flesh and bones. With every shift, there is a constant pressure applied against my body’s tendency to return to it's natural order."

This explanation was sufficient. There wasn't an easy way to describe what he was able to do on himself other than an obvious display; one that was bound to happen sooner or later.

"These transformations are not easy to control. Should they escape my grasp, I cannot tell where they will stop or how they can affect my judgement." That was an awful truth that he felt that should be told. He had his own ways to keep his focus, but the most radical transformations were able to influence the way he thought or acted. And no matter how disturbing it was to behold the shifts of the flesh, the mind was a terrible thing to shape.

And the horror would go on, and worsen. If he truly was to overcome the pain or at least lessen it's effect on himself, what was there to stop him ? Again, the whole idea fascinated and frightened him at the same time. Yet he was not one to turn down an opportunity like the one presented. Caution was needed, but this man's words and manner were assuring, in a way.

"Though you will allow me to keep questioning your motives, I cannot say that I am not impressed by the method of investigation you are using right now. It speaks volumes about your abilities and persistence. Perhaps this...endeavour will prove to be beneficial for both of us."

He looked around the room, trying to break eye contact for a brief moment. H took a deep breath and went on.

"You have made me an offer that it seems I cannot refuse. It would be wise to make an offer of my own, in order to keep our cooperation balanced. His gaze was now fixed on the lumps of flesh this man used to call fingers." Should we achieve the desired goal, I could show you a way to make that little... inconvenience disappear."

A sinister grin accompanied his last phrase, and his eyes glinted with pride. It took him a few moments of basking until he finally lowered his gaze.

"I am Daegron. For now. During whatever procedures you have in mind I may become someone or something else... An unwanted yet distinct possibility."

He smiled. He waited for a few moments in case his "partner" had something else to add. Regardless of what it could be, he'd already made his mind.

"Very well then, Let us proceed. The sooner, the better."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar was familiar enough with this discipline of djed-craft, though he did not practice it himself. "You are speaking of 'Morphing', correct?" When this was confirmed, Inoadar was already beginning to formulate approaches to a variety of aspects of effecting this craft. He'd been thinking of ways to accommodate his own indulgence in Flux in this same regard. But whereas Flux only manipulated 'capability', and needed considerations like strengthening the skeletal structure and ligaments to be able to support the sudden increase in muscle capability of an arm or leg, Flux did not accomplish the actual alteration of the structure itself. 'How, then, to proceed?' His reverie was distracted by the man's admittance of his apprehension about motive and the unspoken 'debt' he would incur. Inoadar certainly did not blame him for these concerns, but it was not HIS concern, so he mentally waved it off. The man went on about some counter-offer that Inoadar registered, but disregarded for now. They would get to that when and if they needed to. Subconsciously, he was inclined to dismiss talk about his missing digits anyway. It was still a very "sore" subject. The man gave his name as 'Daegron', and extended his hand. Inoadar took it, giving his name back as 'Dr. Parnell'. there was a moment of question on Daegron's face. "No, I am neither 'Nitrozian' or 'Moletta'. And for what we will be doing, you ought to be glad of that. This sort of thing is precisely the reason they recruited me to join them in this business. If I can formulate some sort of relief serum for over-giving, it could be quite lucrative, I'm sure you can imagine...Oh yes, Quite lucrative indeed!" The flash of greed was quickly suppressed to be replaced by a genuine concern for Daegron's present discomfort. After all, he needed the man to be lucid for there to be any hope of accurate appraisals of the range of tests he intended to run. Daegron gave him the go-ahead, sealing the deal with his request that they proceed, "the sooner, the better." Inoadar could not agree more. "Splendid!" he crowed as he strode to a locked cabinet. He removed a small bag of powder, and pinched just a tiny bit free. he returned and held it Daegron's nose. "Just sniff this. It is a drug called "Poke". normalle I would charge you anywhere from ten to thirty gold for a dose, but I suspect your resistance is low, and I'm giving you a small dose even at that. This should kill the pain quickly, it will probably rob you ALL feeling in your limbs. Don't be concerned, this is what it is supposed to do. I expect that is where the bulk of your pain is. If not, do not hesitate to let me know." Before Daegron could really clarify that point, Inoadar went on, "Now this can be quite addictive. This is why I want to try a few things right away. There is another pain killer I can use that is not so habit-forming, but it is also a muscle relaxer, and I don't want to have that effect yet. What I want to do first is try some herbs and serums that are used to restore muscle strength and vitality, basically to reset your body's priority toward its normal form, and then see if it inhibits your ability to morph at all. But first, let the numbness set in fully, and we'll see if even THAT affects your morphing." He stood for a moment, waiting for the telltale twitching and spasms of a man that cannot feel his limbs, and is making sure he can still move them. After a chime, Daegron was fully into this reaction. Inoadar sat back, with an analytical expression and a notepad. "Very well, let's see what you can do."

[Daegron]

A simple nod followed Dr. Parnell's educated guess. It was clear that his new partner had studied some magical discipline or other. He was familiar with the use of Djed which would prove invaluable. Yet like everyone else, he probably ignored the Art' s overwhelming sensations. Daegron thought that shaping one's flesh was the closest one could get to that wonderful state of absolute perception, the illusion of absolute control. What if it was accompanied by intense pain ? Everything had it's cost.

Once again he felt as if he was closely inspected, as if myriads of possibilities were flooding the doctor's mind. He was reassured that the mind studying him was constantly working, but also startled at what extremes those thoughts would reach. Both of them were eager to begin.

He breathed the dust in with slight apprehension, though he'd understood by now that Parnell was a lot more interested into his experiment than harming his subject. And as the dust particles travelled into his nose, he caught a familiar scent. He dismissed the idea of having tried this before, believing it to be one of the drug's effects.

"it's a lot more than just my limbs..." he corrected while the doctor was courteous enough to explain what he would try first. "It's petching everything" he finally growled as the drug's effect washed all over him.

The first sense was one of relief, followed by a sigh. The pain slowly faded, and in its wake, a pleasant numbness spread. A sudden wave of euphoria, as if he had a good strong drink, overwhelmed him. It had been ages since he last felt so good. And as he enjoyed this momentary feeling, his joy turned to worry as the numbness seeped in. It wasn't long till he'd lost feeling of his extremities. His ability to shift relied heavily on the awareness of his physical self. Now that it was stolen, how would he cope? He awkwardly shook his hands around, and looked at them, relieved to find out that he still had control. His feet shuffled and he took a couple of clumsy steps. Surprisingly, he didn't stumble at all.

He knew it was time for the real test. He breathed in and exhaled closing his eyes. With his awareness gone, he had to find another way to begin. He reached deep inside him and found his precious essence. That wonderful sensation was still there, unaffected by the drug. He decided that the best place to start was with his face. He'd already lost the feel of his skin there; the countless faces stolen all this time had taken their cost.

With a long vowel resonating from the depths of his throat, his mantra started and after the first throaty consonant it grew into his usual song. Monotonous and deep it sounded and gave him the focus to reach in and use his essence. Aroused by the chant, the black pool that was his Djed bubbled and stirred and upon the Morpher's command a strand was separated and traveled through nerves and veins and rested on the surface of his face. Slowly and subtly, the wrinkles disappeared, leaving behind a smooth complexion. His usual stubble retreated back into the pores and the discolorations vanished, as his face turned paler. Next thing to go were all those facial traits that made his appearance unique. Slowly and steadily they all faded and finally melded into an expressionless mask.

As he paused his singing, he thought he'd caught a glimpse of interest in Parnell's cold calculating stare. Not amazement, but perhaps a slight fascination or amusement ? He turned to look at his reflection at the nearest window to his left and was glad to see that his ability to manipulate Djed wasn't affected.

"Let's try a hand now.." he said and raised his hand where he could clearly see it.

And so the stream of words whose meaning was unknown even to him continued running from the edges of his lips. He pulled another part of his essence and willed it to move towards his raised hand. The numbness had stolen all feeling from his limb, but he could sense his own Djed covering it. He struggled with the change and drops of sweat formed on the surface of the mask that was his face. He willed the muscles that were wrapped around his fingers and along the back of his hand to strengthen and tighten the grip around the bones. And so they did, but the absence of awareness brought lack of control. The steady flow of Djed did not seem to help at all with the actual alteration, other than fueling it with energy. The morphing was awkward. There was no continuity; it was more like a series of spasms instead of the usual harmonious shift. It was frustrating to think that a well developed model that was easy to shape, was now surprisingly harder. But he wouldn't stop here. His nails lengthened and the bone material hardened. Again, he struggled to keep his focus, desperately trying to feel something under that terrible numbness. In the end, flesh and bone obeyed his will. If his body even resisted the change, he couldn't know.

His hand was now a beast's claw; meant to grip and rip. Yet he wasn't happy at the result. It was poorly made. He kept his chant going and moved his fingers to check if anything worked as it should. It was with great disappointment that he realized the ugly lump of flesh on his palm and the fact that his index finger was paralyzed. Something was wrong, so while keeping focused, he let his Djed retreat from his face and hand. The return to his normal form was slow and careful; he would never want to cause permanent damage.

"This will not do..." he said, abruptly stopping the chanting while the mask he'd shaped changed back into his face. "I need to feel and be aware of everything before and during the transformation. It's the only means of control I have. This makes everything a lot more dangerous, and a lot harder."

He exhaled, trying to keep himself calm. It was a good thing that the pain that plagued him was gone. He wasn't a very patient man.
"We should try something else"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar was pleased to see that his subject got no more upset than to make a few comments. The "Poke" was keeping the man relaxed in spite of his malady. Inoadar had taken notes not only of the facts of Daegron's hindered ability, but also of the relief that he'd shown when he'd seen his reflection. It seemed to have aided his morphing to have even that simple reference point. As the man concentrated on his hand, Inoadar had stepped around behind him, picking up a small, sharp blade and stroking the man's upper arm with it, collecting the blood in a narrow glass vial. Daegron's chanting was apparently another focus technique. It served to give the poisoner warning of his subject's attention. By the time the man had returned his extremities to their normal state, Inoadar had capped the vial with a special rubber stopper. It had a tiny hole in it, made with a pin, which allowed an injection needle to be inserted. Inoadar used the plunger tune to pull the air from the vial, and set heat to the spot where the need;e protruded until he successfully sealed it with little or no air inside. This would help keep the blood for work later. Inoadar wondered if the blood taken from someone in the act of morphing would show any abnormal reaction to his assortment of reagents. He had his doubts, but there was nothing like testing to verify the legitimacy of a theory. But that was for later, after the subject was gone. For now there was nothing to do but wait for the "Poke" to wear off. He would tell him that he'd scratched his arm to better tell when this occurred. But for now he plied him with questions. Things like when had he first started experiencing discomfort, or was the pain limited to only those areas involved in the morphing that set it off. This was not just to pass time either. Inoadar thought that if the pain affected Daegron's entire body, after only morphing a small portion of it, then the blood he'd just collected might have a better chance of reflecting some oddity. He noted as many details as he considered relevant. How often the man morphed the same body part, not only just the number of times, but the percentage of times that it was this same part, or the same part how many times in a row. It might all be pertinent. "Tell me," the poisoner asked, after the "Poke" had worn fully off, "...did this last short episode of morphing cause any increase in your pain? Or did it stay consistent? And does the pain abate once you morph again, or is it constant, morphing or not?" He made notes of these answer, along with all the others. But it was time for a new element to be introduced. While waiting for the "Poke" to subside, he had placed a large dose of Brinetooth in a small Decoction Mashing Tun, processing and re-processing it as Daegron went on with details of his ailment. Inoadar came back to him with a steaming mug. "Now this is not going to taste very good, I'm afraid, and sweetening it will reduce its effectiveness. I need to test the next effect on your ability. This is the Brinetooth Restorative Decoction. It will renew the muscle strength and vitality. I want to see if this causes resistance, or affinity, to morphing. Please, drink it down and let's see how it affects you." Again, the researcher handed over the mug, and sat back to evaluate the results.