14th of Frost, 4622
Late at night, the darkness of the derelict's depths felt heavier. That was a distinct, suffocating weight to the shade of the long hall and the carved stone of the rooms that lined its stride.
Arkash lay awake, eyes closed in the company of his companion, whose heart slowed to a crawl as the restful throes of sleep dragged her deeper. When she'd slipped to a depth she wouldn't rouse easily from, he rolled his head to peer at her and stared for a long moment.
Quietly, he untangled himself from the blanket and bedroll and crawled onto the stone floor. Undressed, he crept toward the door and slipped out into the hall without sound. The air chilled his scales, but discomfort seldom slowed him. Descending further into the Derelict, he soon arrived at his self-appointed surgery room.
Draped in shadows, Arkash didn't need the light to see Ahead of him was the table with all his tools laid out ready, bundles of Sinew Cloth, bottled activators, and a large mirror to see his whole body within.
Both his eyes traced the silvery surface of the mirror, and only one peered back at him.
His gaze settled on his reflection, and his reflection settled unto him.
He saw himself, standing there, with clumps of hardened red to adorn his form and cover one of his eyes on the side of his head. The crude half plate of blood red draped his form, scratched and scraped with the struggles of the weak. The jagged blades in his hands dripped red, his face spattered with the gore of his victims.
Arkash stared, like a deer in headlights. He didn't dare move as the remnant stared him down in the dark of the derelict's chamber, and there they stayed until Arkash hazarded to blink, and found his own frightened visage looking back at him in place of the beast. He saw himself clung to the doorway, small, frail, and when he looked at the placement of his body in person, he found his legs poised to run, his hands clung to the doorway, s though it would offer him some degree of protection.
Nothing would, not from that.
He found composure not long after the spell ended, and he hesitantly stepped away from the wall with his grip maintained. He blinked again as he inspected the mirror and ducked his head to get a look at it from other angles, but only saw himself, the room, the table, and his tools in its reflection.
Arm extended, he finally let go of the wall and looked over his shoulder to the entrance of the room, where there was nothing.
A shaky sigh left him as he came to face forward again. He clenched a fist and unfurled it before he stepped closer to the table and began to set up the station.
His leathery flesh had become a nuisance and he wanted to see it repaired before he slept another night. All his supplies were ready, he just needed to begin the operation.
Always one to haste, Arkash collected his scalpel and lined up the blade in the mirror. Manually, he calibrated his view to work his hands in the opposite direction, then gently eased the blade into the pale, melted skin of his chest. He began to glide through the dead flesh with ease.
Unlike ordinary wounds, the trail of his scalpel didn't seep with red until long after he'd left the cut behind; the blood vessels in the areas, a lot of them had been burned away during the fight. In some ways, it was a blessing; Arkash only needed to mop up the discharge every so often rather than at regular intervals of surgery.
Soon enough, he'd cut out the portion of his chest that had been scorched and melted, and began to peel it from his frame. The scalpel severed any subcutaneous bonds as he effectively skinned himself in that area. Teeth bare, Arkash stayed rather well composed through the ordeal.
By the time he was done, and the dead skin had come away, he balled it and threw it to the table with little regard.
The wetness of his open wound stung in the cool cave air, so Arkash hastily retrieved the Sinew cloth and began to fill the crater of his exposed anatomy with its etheric blue weave. With the addition of an activator, the cloth began to rapidly transform and assume the composition of his flesh. Beige and basalt scales filled in the space, complete with the appropriate distribution of vessels beneath his carapace. The Sinew Gun was used to seal the edges and join the newly-made scales with the rest of his body, and once the Sinew Foam had settled, Arkash was able to carve it into shape with his carving sickles.
Done with that stretch of immolated flesh, he set the scalpel down and licked the blood from his hands.
He wasn't done, not nearly. As he peered into the mirror, he spied a number of other areas where the lightning had burned him, places that he'd hastily recovered with the cadaver of his foe. Arkash sighed deeply, hung his head, then collected the bloody scalpel once more. It was going to be a long night.
A cast of his eyes set his attention on his injured leg. It had been too difficult to restore all the damage done to it with only one arm, but his metallic replacement made the necessary repairs possible. he decided to start there, lest he lost the energy to continue before he finished his repairs. With remarkable ease, the limber Rath propped his straight leg on the table by the floor, reached down its length while he held himself up, and opened his ankle with a glide of the blade. He hissed and grunted at the bite of steel, but it didn't stay his efforts as he took the grafting needle to the tendons in the area. He growled as he reinforced the joint with a few pricks of the instrument, then let out a relieved sigh as he set the Sinew Thread with a twist of his wrist. A few passes of the needle closed up the wound a bloody mess, and his leg was tested and found fully functional.
A brief kiss was set on the metallic limb before he claimed his scalpel once more and returned to work.
The Sinew gun clattered on the table beside the blood-soaked scalpel, Arkash was sore all over his tortured body, but at last, every patch of scales had been restored. He leaned over the table, held up with bloody claws and smeared metallic fingers. He slumped against his shoulders and yawned widely into the mirror before a pop heralded the snap of his maw as it closed. Sleepily, the Rath blinked at his reflection; the visage of the beast, and his one-eyed stare.
Drunk without energy, he hung there, staring down at the image of his past.
It stared back, eye vacant, soulless. Chops dripping the lifeblood of his victims, scales stained crimson, dripping from every point and edge. Arkash shut his eyes and breathed a shaky exhale. It was time for bed, he resolved.
The beast was still there when he opened his eyes next, but he paid it no mind. Instead, Arkash withdrew from the table and abandoned the pile of discarded, dead skin for the morning's cleanup. Away, he walked from the mirror and turned the corner without pause.
Finally, he was comfortable in the confines of his own body once more. Gently, he grasped and tested the restorations of his flesh, and rolled his ankle to test the tendons. All was as it should have been, all but the cold steel of his temporary limb.
He'd need to replace the golem soon enough, but it served its purpose well for the time being.
Arkash smiled faintly as he recalled the prior experience in reconstructing digits, the discovery of tendon sheaths and pulleys that reached up the forearm. His mouth watered as he recalled the taste, and he let out a wistful sigh as he neared the door where his companion stayed.
Once again, he emerged from the shadows, stepped over the low lamplight, and found her trespassing in his space. Arkash's brow furrowed, and he gently rolled her over before he lifted the blanket and crawled atop his bedroll. The warmth of her body made the sheets comfortable as they rested on him.
He lay on his side, one hand under his pillow while he maintained his gaze on the doorway. A chill ran down his spine as the thought that the beast might have followed him haunted him behind his eyes.
Where he'd once been tired, Arkash found his attention gripped by the darkness of the hall beyond their small room, the flicker of the caged flame danced the shadows of cobwebs where they hunt, and wavered the edges of the doorway. Silently he stared, eyes wide while he waited for the animal to come, and sure enough, he soon lost the fight and slipped into sleep.
Late at night, the darkness of the derelict's depths felt heavier. That was a distinct, suffocating weight to the shade of the long hall and the carved stone of the rooms that lined its stride.
Arkash lay awake, eyes closed in the company of his companion, whose heart slowed to a crawl as the restful throes of sleep dragged her deeper. When she'd slipped to a depth she wouldn't rouse easily from, he rolled his head to peer at her and stared for a long moment.
Quietly, he untangled himself from the blanket and bedroll and crawled onto the stone floor. Undressed, he crept toward the door and slipped out into the hall without sound. The air chilled his scales, but discomfort seldom slowed him. Descending further into the Derelict, he soon arrived at his self-appointed surgery room.
Draped in shadows, Arkash didn't need the light to see Ahead of him was the table with all his tools laid out ready, bundles of Sinew Cloth, bottled activators, and a large mirror to see his whole body within.
Both his eyes traced the silvery surface of the mirror, and only one peered back at him.
His gaze settled on his reflection, and his reflection settled unto him.
He saw himself, standing there, with clumps of hardened red to adorn his form and cover one of his eyes on the side of his head. The crude half plate of blood red draped his form, scratched and scraped with the struggles of the weak. The jagged blades in his hands dripped red, his face spattered with the gore of his victims.
Arkash stared, like a deer in headlights. He didn't dare move as the remnant stared him down in the dark of the derelict's chamber, and there they stayed until Arkash hazarded to blink, and found his own frightened visage looking back at him in place of the beast. He saw himself clung to the doorway, small, frail, and when he looked at the placement of his body in person, he found his legs poised to run, his hands clung to the doorway, s though it would offer him some degree of protection.
Nothing would, not from that.
He found composure not long after the spell ended, and he hesitantly stepped away from the wall with his grip maintained. He blinked again as he inspected the mirror and ducked his head to get a look at it from other angles, but only saw himself, the room, the table, and his tools in its reflection.
Arm extended, he finally let go of the wall and looked over his shoulder to the entrance of the room, where there was nothing.
A shaky sigh left him as he came to face forward again. He clenched a fist and unfurled it before he stepped closer to the table and began to set up the station.
His leathery flesh had become a nuisance and he wanted to see it repaired before he slept another night. All his supplies were ready, he just needed to begin the operation.
Always one to haste, Arkash collected his scalpel and lined up the blade in the mirror. Manually, he calibrated his view to work his hands in the opposite direction, then gently eased the blade into the pale, melted skin of his chest. He began to glide through the dead flesh with ease.
Unlike ordinary wounds, the trail of his scalpel didn't seep with red until long after he'd left the cut behind; the blood vessels in the areas, a lot of them had been burned away during the fight. In some ways, it was a blessing; Arkash only needed to mop up the discharge every so often rather than at regular intervals of surgery.
Soon enough, he'd cut out the portion of his chest that had been scorched and melted, and began to peel it from his frame. The scalpel severed any subcutaneous bonds as he effectively skinned himself in that area. Teeth bare, Arkash stayed rather well composed through the ordeal.
By the time he was done, and the dead skin had come away, he balled it and threw it to the table with little regard.
The wetness of his open wound stung in the cool cave air, so Arkash hastily retrieved the Sinew cloth and began to fill the crater of his exposed anatomy with its etheric blue weave. With the addition of an activator, the cloth began to rapidly transform and assume the composition of his flesh. Beige and basalt scales filled in the space, complete with the appropriate distribution of vessels beneath his carapace. The Sinew Gun was used to seal the edges and join the newly-made scales with the rest of his body, and once the Sinew Foam had settled, Arkash was able to carve it into shape with his carving sickles.
Done with that stretch of immolated flesh, he set the scalpel down and licked the blood from his hands.
He wasn't done, not nearly. As he peered into the mirror, he spied a number of other areas where the lightning had burned him, places that he'd hastily recovered with the cadaver of his foe. Arkash sighed deeply, hung his head, then collected the bloody scalpel once more. It was going to be a long night.
A cast of his eyes set his attention on his injured leg. It had been too difficult to restore all the damage done to it with only one arm, but his metallic replacement made the necessary repairs possible. he decided to start there, lest he lost the energy to continue before he finished his repairs. With remarkable ease, the limber Rath propped his straight leg on the table by the floor, reached down its length while he held himself up, and opened his ankle with a glide of the blade. He hissed and grunted at the bite of steel, but it didn't stay his efforts as he took the grafting needle to the tendons in the area. He growled as he reinforced the joint with a few pricks of the instrument, then let out a relieved sigh as he set the Sinew Thread with a twist of his wrist. A few passes of the needle closed up the wound a bloody mess, and his leg was tested and found fully functional.
A brief kiss was set on the metallic limb before he claimed his scalpel once more and returned to work.
The Sinew gun clattered on the table beside the blood-soaked scalpel, Arkash was sore all over his tortured body, but at last, every patch of scales had been restored. He leaned over the table, held up with bloody claws and smeared metallic fingers. He slumped against his shoulders and yawned widely into the mirror before a pop heralded the snap of his maw as it closed. Sleepily, the Rath blinked at his reflection; the visage of the beast, and his one-eyed stare.
Drunk without energy, he hung there, staring down at the image of his past.
It stared back, eye vacant, soulless. Chops dripping the lifeblood of his victims, scales stained crimson, dripping from every point and edge. Arkash shut his eyes and breathed a shaky exhale. It was time for bed, he resolved.
The beast was still there when he opened his eyes next, but he paid it no mind. Instead, Arkash withdrew from the table and abandoned the pile of discarded, dead skin for the morning's cleanup. Away, he walked from the mirror and turned the corner without pause.
Finally, he was comfortable in the confines of his own body once more. Gently, he grasped and tested the restorations of his flesh, and rolled his ankle to test the tendons. All was as it should have been, all but the cold steel of his temporary limb.
He'd need to replace the golem soon enough, but it served its purpose well for the time being.
Arkash smiled faintly as he recalled the prior experience in reconstructing digits, the discovery of tendon sheaths and pulleys that reached up the forearm. His mouth watered as he recalled the taste, and he let out a wistful sigh as he neared the door where his companion stayed.
Once again, he emerged from the shadows, stepped over the low lamplight, and found her trespassing in his space. Arkash's brow furrowed, and he gently rolled her over before he lifted the blanket and crawled atop his bedroll. The warmth of her body made the sheets comfortable as they rested on him.
He lay on his side, one hand under his pillow while he maintained his gaze on the doorway. A chill ran down his spine as the thought that the beast might have followed him haunted him behind his eyes.
Where he'd once been tired, Arkash found his attention gripped by the darkness of the hall beyond their small room, the flicker of the caged flame danced the shadows of cobwebs where they hunt, and wavered the edges of the doorway. Silently he stared, eyes wide while he waited for the animal to come, and sure enough, he soon lost the fight and slipped into sleep.
Image source.
