Boneworks I
Posted: Thu Nov 10, 2022 4:40 pm
82nd Day of Ash, 122nd Year of the Age of Steel
Masagh flexed the fist of his newly attached limb experimentally with differing speeds and strengths. It was habit he had developed, like a tic, in the past few hours. As though the brief day he had spent without one had made him uncertain what it should feel like. All together the limb was assimilating as best one could expect. It was barely a day later and he could move it in every way he thought of even if those movements were slow. Cyran had assured him that the speed and strength would improve as his own ichor replaced the ritual ichor in the arm.
Masagh hoped to be able to return to the training ring soon. Sabrione hadn’t voiced any worry to him, but he was sure it was a point of stress having her only experienced hand stuck in the Compound on light duties. A week ago she had a full force at complete strength and three seasoned warriors with her and one greenhorn with promise. Now she had one seasoned warrior who could not use his blade and a greenhorn that had watched half her friends die.
Neither Cyran nor his mother seemed worried that the arm would not make a full recovery though. Everyone had a tentative hopefulness, marred by the tragedy of losing two of their best warriors. Masagh was determined to recover, to return to his duties, and to take some of that burden from Sabrione.
However, he was not there yet. His hand could not grip the heavy sword. It was hard to argue with Emerande’s proposal of assisting her in the laboratory while he recovered. It was needed work and would aid the house, and the physical tasks were enough to strengthen his limb without causing it damage.
Necromancy was more enticing now. It had given him a new arm when he thought his time was done in the Knights. What more could it give? He had been present and helped in the ritual of his grafted limb, and could not deny an interest. Unfortunately, his mother had seen that curiosity in his eyes. She had insisted he come to the laboratory each evening after the ritual while he recovered.
And so that was how the Knight found himself stepping through the laboratory door the day after his ritual. The lab was more active than normal, with Emerande insisting on using the space. She had just happened to want to review the anatomy after her son was forced out of his normal duties and his habit of constant sparring in the training ring.
She stood now next to a rigid corpse on one of the necromancy slabs, though the only tools nearby were a set of clamps and knives. She was immersed in a scroll she held open before her. The gold eyes flickered up to regard him like a cat catching sight of prey. But it was a brief glimpse at the Matriarch. Her face softened into a tight smile as he approached and she set the scroll carefully down next to the man.
“Let me guess, another ancient scroll of necrotic secrets?” Masagh said by way of greeting.
She gave a breath of laughter and shook her head. “No, an introductionary anatomical reference, pilfered from Gel’Grandal’s academia.” She indicated the corpse. “We begin with anatomy and surgical knowledge, as is proper.” Moving around to the man’s head she gestured to the variety of tools and runed containers around the laboratory. “All of this arcana begins with anatomy when concerning necromancy. You must understand how the body works before you attempt to reinforce or alter it.”
Masagh frowned down at the corpse. “What did the poor human do to earn a spot in this lesson?” He asked in jest.
His mother shrugged faintly. “Heart attack, peaceful death at home.” She touched a finger to his sternum. “But at least his usefulness will transcend his life. Now, done playing around?”
Masagh raised both hands in surrender. “Hey, here to learn I suppose.”
Emerande indicated a thin knife and took one of its twins from the table. “I was thinking you could mimic my incisions on the opposite arm and we could run through the different muscles, bones, and tendons.” Emerande said, settling into her element as a teacher. The sight of her taking the reins of his education again made Masagh feel ten years old suddenly. It had been a long time since Emerande had taken such an active role in his education.
Perhaps she had caught the bug again after the Compound took on that family with youngsters.
“Alright.” He said, stepping up to the corpse across from her and grasping the knife with his good sword hand.
“Firstly,” She began. “It is important to understand the functionality of body parts in necromancy because when you get to the more advanced workings, you will need to bend such functionality in a way that will not collapse under strain. The only way to master that is to know what each can take in terms of alterations.”
And so she dove into the explanation of the many muscles. At first she indicated them on the corpse or her own arm with an index finger. But eventually they began to cut into the flesh to see them more clearly. This work was a more careful and precise stroke than he was accustomed to. It required him to cut the thin slayer of skin without cutting the muscle fibers. Such a mistake, she said, wasn’t the end of the world for a thrall subject but it would weaken them slightly overall. Some designs would deteriorate over time with such lazy mistakes. His arm, for one.
This brought home the significance of the task and Masagh had to applaud her foresight. Let him develop the new skill before ever he had to apply the magic to it. It was an education in stages.
An hour later and the inside of the forearms were open to their inspection. Masagh had nicked one muscle, but the rigor mortis of the corpse negated any reaction one might get from a fresh corpse and they were able to manage around the wound.
“You see these muscles are very important for a hand functionality.” Emerande was saying, pointing with a pair of very small tongs. “Flexor carpi radialis and extensor carpi radialis… here.” She touched a fiber of muscle, ensuring she saw what she was doing. “These were very important for your arm, seeing as a strong grip was paramount. Beyond the use of graft, if you wanted a nimble thrall, enhancements need to be made here as well as in the hand.”
She moved away as he examined the twining muscles of the cadaver’s arm. She returned with a book and began to flip through the pages casually. “See here, the sword-thralls of the Empire. These are not bracers on their arms. They’re actually brass rune molds. They imprint the magic into the arm so that it touches these muscles in particular.”
Masagh bent over the text. “So it returns a corpses mobility as it was in life?”
“Hardly. It granted these thralls a speed and precision that won the Empire many a battle, greater than any had in life.” Emerande said. “See, something as simple as an understanding of anatomy was able to allow such precise animation to happen.” She began to cut through the muscles to expose the bone.
Masagh did the same. It was hard work to saw through the cold, dead muscles. Their knives were sharp and such work was not wholly unfamiliar. It took MAsagh longer because his new arm was weaker and began to ache as he sawed. He had to clamp the arm down and saw with one hand while letting the new limb rest at his side.
“Ulna, radius, humerus.” Emerande said, pointing out the three largest bones in the arm. “These bear script the west, although you can make some interesting adjustments with the joint bones here.” She bent over the arm and indicated the knot of bone where the elbow was.
“Does necromancy use many runes?” Masagh asked.
“Not necessarily, but you can augment it with Scrivening.” Emerande explained. “The real power comes from tying all these practices together. My mother used to combine artifice with necromancy. A thrall can be a powerful thing, but a thrall bedecked in the strength of a golem and wielding s rune forged blade? You could carve the world in your image.” Emerande said wistfully.
“We don’t do that anymore?” Masagh thought such a powerful thrall could be useful to the house.
“I do not have the resources here, unfortunately.” Emerande admitted. “The reference documentation was not amongst my possessions when I first came across the ocean to Gel’Grandal.” She frowned down at the exposed bones. “Well, no use dwelling on the past. What kind of script do you think these bones would take easily?”
Masagh blinked, not expecting to be put on the spot. “Strength? Ah, enhancements in strength I mean.”
Emerande smiled. “Not a trick question. Yes, correct. That would be a common one. Since it is also large and capable of holding much lengthier scripts you could supplement simpler runes on the more gracile bones with rune work here.”
“It is a tedious and lengthy process to script the body of a thrall, but it can provide a strong and durable enhancement.” She set the tools down and indicated a shelf of stone jars Masagh knew were used in necromancy from his time observing the rituals here in the laboratory.
“But all that is supplementary. You have experienced the Marrow Gum and Sinew Thread. starting from the bone and working outward is a good way to infuse your subject with a foundational ichor and power and build from there. You wouldn’t build a house roof first, you see?”
The lesson went on that way for many hours. Masagh learned to appreciate the nuance and layers of strong necromancy. He had always assumed all necromancers worked in the way the Bonecasters of Creth did, with layers of infused ichor. Now he was beginning to appreciate their mastery of the craft in a way he hadn’t considered before.
The end of the lesson came quickly despite them spending the whole night in the laboratory. Emerande smiled at his look of surprise and when he confirmed he would be there the next evening at the same time it grew to show teeth. “Good, I was thinking we could do a simple animation or craft a soul totem for you.”