Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-27950421-20190922131425/@comment-30014014-20200110172448

"Now, you have a lot of enjoyment in today's practical lessons~ A womanly voice whispers close to a man a horned apothecary embraces. Close to his ear in sweet ruby lips. Her body is flustered, clothed with no more than an open pajama top, wrinkled and slightly moist.

Sweaty from head to toe, her buxom shape is most damp in her nether regions, likely alluding to a sleepless night in the man's arms. Her right arm and confidence. The husband she came to fall for. A man full of beard donned for today's teaching, unlike her. Today was to be practical theories for the men in training. All while their counterparts were to study the various effects of medicines at different doses.

"Hmm, hmm, of course, my dear". He gladly returns the embrace, his arms coiling behind her waist. One of them is armed with an arcane gauntlet bearing many vials concentrated in their small dosage, in standby. Just like his entire apparel.

"I'll be watching over our medical ward". Today has had an influx of wounded from another island. Refugees, exiles, wounded, all from distant nations. People in ample need for medicine. Newly anointed staff in ample need for actual experience. All from the view of a sub-Greilla branch leader, waiting for a complication of any sort".

The couple separates with a whispered promise to meet again for the night as the snow-haired Baphomet now holds a potion. One designed to shed her from her womanly form as she now wanders to the bathroom, intent on washing the aftermath, stretching and yawning all the while. Steam briefly brushes her nose, speaking of his quick sprint to the kitchen with a sweet something for breakfast. It was part of his new duties...

The man moves from their little nest, leaving Rubica to brush off and prepare. His robe senses his intent, whisking itself to a more practical shape. The white turns gray in scaling metal. The arcane machination of metal and arcane activates. The metallic platings he bears as a second skin hardens, presenting lens of its functions.

He walks among the halls, waving at witches flying with books, intent on studies, research or anything in-between. Giggles return to him with enthusiastic waving, as all of them wear white and gray, colors of the apothecary branch. An entire headquarters dedicated to research and medicine and its occupants, practitioners.

Unlike them, however, the man bears a particular insignia on his shoulder. A badge, unique to the right hand of the true leader of this establishment. Though Dudley preferred the pet name affectionally given by the collective inhabitants of this place: Gramp. Likely for the beard and hair that he persists in despite his relative age, yet to cross the forties.

He turns to a particular hall, one forsaking the gothic architecture and artistic depictions of an atrophied goat skull decorating the banners and carpets to a sterile room, enlarged for hundreds. Dozens await at the center, surrounded by hovering crystals displaying idle projections. Again, at the center, an empty cylinder-like table surging from the ground in metallic glint, much like the room. Everything hums in dim blue circulations, bearing countless equipment of medical and technological origins.

The men at the middle bear the same apparels to him, to a much lesser degree, importing their status as trainees. They perk up at his arrival, their attention spent on miniature projections. A fusion of solid gleam held in discipline by metallic contours "Oh hey, Gramps is here!"

"Hey, Gramps!" They all shout in unison. Hands rose in the air, a gesture of their greetings.

"Welcome, welcome. I see you all are itching for today's practical". Dudley approaches the center, reacting to the appearing orb at the center with a press of a button "Today, I am going to show you the effects of what is known as a raging mushroom...and the misconceptions some delusion individuals had about it".

"Raging mushroom?" One of them crosses his hands, a silver glint peeping from his bare hand, yet to have a seamless gauntlet inserted in "Gramps, isn't that the phallic-shaped fungus that turns a man's mana into a corroding area-of-effect?"

"Why, yes, Thomas, this is known as a 'Cum Fureres Boletus'. Or, as you said, a raging mushroom". Dudley snaps his fingers, prompting a tiny crystal holding a plastic-encased box to hove close to him. On closer inspection, its encasing ends at the bottom where a platter seems to be holding specimens of raging mushrooms.

The surroundings dissipate, allowing the man to pluck one in no particular order as all of them were at their peak performance. He displays it for all of his trainees to see "A few months ago, I would have confessed surprised to see a mushroom depicted as the reproductive tool of a man--

The class of grown and married men snickers. Some of them, hands-on their masks with the mentality of overgrown teenagers. 'Gramps' lets some time passes, having had the same experience with the other half of students of witches expressing the same 'enthusiasm' in different manners.

They stop, having poured their laughter out. He resumes "--As I said, months ago, such an odd mushroom would have had me express surprise at its mere existence and its function. However, as I am now versed in this thematic world of seductive and affection-starved women of many appendages, an item like this growing in nature is no longer a surprise to me. In fact, this is what we are here for".

"But, Gramps, is it not a mushroom that allows a man to wrestle a mamono into submission?"

"Ahh, Jimmy, I would forgive you for classifying it as a simple effect. See, this item has a few caveats to its name". Dudley approaches the inquiring man among the class and broadcasts a few images from coursing crystals. Images of various injured men.

"These are the men who thought the same. All of them brought up on gurneys to our humble medical ward".

The men approach, intrigued as Jimmy can't help but ask "Wait, so, does eating too much of it hazardous?"

"Yes...and no. Take a seat, gentlemen, for, today's class is all about the poor decisions some of these men have come to make in the hasty optimism of their bodily desires. I am sure you would all understand with the bands on your hands".

With that said, Dudley now paces the front of the class, all of them, on a seat populated with their items of previous classes. A large screen lowers as their teacher takes to a flight near it, the arcane devices on his feet picking life.

"First file, please!" A click denotes the picture of a man, bruised and battered. Papers come flying to the trainees, depicting details adjacent to Dudley's context "So, this first subject, this was a man who apparently had a stroke of desire for another woman. A quiet broom maiden you may know as a Kikimora. As he was some high-standing individual, he sought to woo said woman. Unfortunately, his affection apparently was not returned for reasons I will elaborate later on. Next clip".

The image changes to that of a ground-up spice with a half-used mushroom "See, he had heard of this special item that allows a man to take a mamono for himself and thought to use it. Consume it and fill himself with this formatted effect. At night, he went into that woman's room, the second effect taking hold of his rational mind. Unfortunately...next clip".

Image change, now of the man with a large imprint of a boot on his face "As I said, the raging mushroom can only work on mamono who sought a husband. Or, who intended on attacking a man for the same reason. This Kikimora, as it turns out, already had her heart out for another man. As such, she was utterly revolted to see this individual burst in her room, already taking his pants off. She reacted in ways any individual with foresight could see coming".

"She whopped his ass?" One of his students calls out, calling for a second round of snickers from grown men, this time, with a hint of sadism.

"Yes. She violently repelled the man, who found out the hard way that a mamono is not so easily wooed to one after mere indigestion of an item". Dudley's voice was dry with apathy for said man on the magical screen, having been on the receiving end of callous disregard once "Next case, please".

Papers switch to another file with another injured man on the big screen  "Now...this subject had a different idea. A dragon had nested near a village, searching for a life mate but unwilling to admit it...until a man played along and took her as his wife. They were happy, as is the case, even with her pride kept intact. Until another man thought to 'tame' her with a contest to said pride..."

He taps on the screen, hearing its flicker to a liquid sitting idly inside a glass beside a broken pitcher "He came to her with an endurance contest. A bundle of gold to the winner. As a dragon, she couldn't refuse free gold, and her pride couldn't refuse the scorn he hurled at her. Of course, after her second glass, the effects were manifest. And he started taking off his clothes, having drunk in the same substance--

"Hold on, Gramps". One of the men raises his hands "Didn't you say she was married?"

"Good ears, Mori. You'll see this as a theme in today's class. Yes, she was married. Hence, the moment she began feeling in a mating rut, she did the one thing all of you are literally thinking right now--

"She ran to her man, of course!" Another student, confident in his answer.

A nod from Dudley "Yes. She had no reason to let her instinct coerce her to this fallacious individual when she had someone to tend to her. She admittedly shoved this man away while running for her husband. As expected, he played along and they mated until the effect wore off. Them she tracked that man and let her ire loose upon his ill attempt to tame a dragon, hence, the burns on his body. Of course, too shallow to be grievous, but serious enough to be his reminder".

The screen goes blank, papers shimmering away from the men "All of them had the uncanny quality of the substance in their veins as they came along, in need of treatment. An oddity that spurned disgust toward our female counterparts in the wards. Perhaps because of the fact that every woman here is already taken to one of us. Or, rather, because of the files that came with them, inflicting an instinctual stigma to the scent. Regardless gentlemen, wounded men with a trace of raging mushroom in their bloodstream are going to be entrusted in our care as the witches and familiars cannot stand their presence, no matter how welcoming they usually are".

"Frankly, Gramps, I wouldn't let my Cecilia near someone like that after seeing this". Jimmy rises from his seat, the class at its end. A chorus of agreement fills the space.

"All the more why I didn't think you lot would mind taking these cases. But, anyway, theoretical over. Now, we go for practical treatment for one  still imbued with the raging mushroom..."