OOM: Elysium or Shephard's quest for an arm.

[brave_kreyu]

Even before the Combine came, Shephard's world had few places left that had never known the touch of men. This forest has no name, for no tribe of wanderers has ever dared to settle here, to harvest the mighty oaks that tower far above his head.

It is nearly noon on Midsummer's day, but little light reaches Shephard and Kreyu down here on the forest floor. The only thing of note in the clearing is a large ring of mushrooms, a formation sometimes called a faerie ring.

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[brave_kreyu]

Duir is full of offal, so he's happy to get a move on and lead the human back to the home of the Master Smith.

Dinner and a large bucket of water, soap, and some cloth for washing with will be waiting for him when he gets there.

The Smith and Kreyu both greet him with a smile. "You have done well, warrior," he begins, "and earned your boon from me."

[hecu_marine]

"Thank you kindly, sir," says Shephard, and lays the bundle of skin and tusks down at the Smith's feet. "Sure do 'preciate it."

That sounded like there was more coming, though, so he's going to wait a moment to see what else needs to be said.

[brave_kreyu]

"Rest awhile and replenish your strength," he continues. "There is water drawn for washing and a hot meal waiting."

He turns to Kreyu. "I am afraid I must ask you to depart for a time, Shadow Spinner. A work such as I will attempt is a delicate thing when it is being made, and your innate magic may disrupt its structure."

Kreyu nods, "I had wondered if that might be so."

He nods. "My brother has offered his hospitality and wishes to speak with you." He smiles. "It may be just as well that he has offered you his hospitality. I have no doubt that I can forge the boon, but binding it to living flesh will likely take my brother's touch as well as my own craft."

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's busy washing as best he can, and trying not to look too much like he's got his ears perked up. Eavesdropping is bad form, but sometimes it's the only way to get information. And anyway, who knows if he might get asked a question before he gets to eat and rest?

[brave_kreyu]

He won't have to eavesdrop long, as Kreyu will come over and explain what she and the Smith were discussing.

"I must leave you here for a time, so that my innate magic will not disrupt his crafting. I would ask that you do what he asks of you, as those things will aid in the making of your arm."

She smiles. "His brother is a healer, and I suspect he will be helping get your arm attached once it is finished."

[hecu_marine]

"All right," says Shephard, "I c'n live with that. He need anything else from me in the meantime?"

[brave_kreyu]

"I do not think so," Kreyu replies with a shake of her head.

She grins. "Hopefully, I will see you again soon, and with your new arm."

Once Shephard has washed up and he and the Smith have eaten, the Smith beckons him over to a worktable. On the table is a small, very sharp knife and a small bronze disk.

"These are the means of an old ritual, one that reveals secrets in the blood. If you would make a small cut and shed a few drops of blood on the disk there, it will give me a better idea of how the dweomers must intertwine in your hand."

[hecu_marine]

Shephard nods and picks up the knife. "Just for the record?" he says. "I already know there's some nasty habits in my family tree. Grandma Lundberg told me 'bout most of 'em years ago."

He's not really sure what other secrets there might be in his blood- he's got secrets, sure, but they're things like being afraid of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. He's already come clean about Black Mesa to everyone concerned, so those blood secrets are long since gone...

Well, it doesn't matter. He's just gonna... there's a spot on the back of his right forearm that ought to be okay for drawing the blood. That'll heal up quick enough.

[brave_kreyu]

As the blood drips onto the bronze disk it twists and flows into symbols that are meaningless to Shephard.

"Well now, that's interesting," the Smith remarks, peering at the patterns. "You've seers blood in you, but the blood is thin and weak."

His finger moves down, tracing another symbol. "And you carry the names of your brothers and sisters who are gone, for you are the first and the last."

[hecu_marine]

The first part doesn't really ring any bells for Shephard. He's from a big family, from a long line of big families. Saying somebody further back up the tree had some kind of talent in the blood is like saying the family's related to a dead President or the English royal family- interesting, but what difference does it make?

The second part, though-

"Only," he says firmly. "Not last. I ain't never gonna be the last, sir. Only."

[brave_kreyu]

"Only, then. Though I think not for long," he remarks as he starts to measure Shephard's arm.

"Would you tell me your story as I work?"

Many things will go into this working: silver, stardust, the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the footfalls of a cat...but the part that will make it HIS is the tale of Shephard's life woven into the metal.

Somehow, there is time enough before sunrise for Shephard to tell his whole life's story as the Smith shapes the metal that will be his hand. (It is only when the work is done that the Marine will feel utterly exhausted, drained. Has he been talking for hours, days, weeks? It is impossible to say.)

When the tale ends, the hand and arm sit upon the table in gleaming silver. It looks like nothing more and nothing less than his old arm rendered silver. There are no seams, no joints, no sign of how the thing was made....

The Smith speaks once more. "All that remains to be done is the binding of the work to your flesh."

[hecu_marine]

The last time Shephard lost track of time like this, and came out of it feeling like this, he'd heard an awful lot of dead men and women speak their names. What came out of that night he's still not entirely sure, but as for today...

Well.

"That's a... that's a damn fine lookin' piece of work, sir," Shephard says, staring at the hand and forearm. "What needs doin' to git it set up?"

[brave_kreyu]

The Smith gives a satisfied grunt at Shephard's response to the sight of the arm. "I'll need my brother's help for this last task. My art is with metal and not living flesh."

"And you shall have it," says a man coming through the doorway who looks an awful lot like the Smith. Kreyu coming through the door behind him likely confirms his identity. "Glad am I that the beast that nearly slew my son will trouble us no further."

Kreyu is carrying what looks like a large, bronze, cauldron with some kind of liquid sloshing inside of it.

[hecu_marine]

"Glad I took it down then, sir," says Shephard to the Smith's brother. "It ain't often I run into critters that put up a fight like that."

[brave_kreyu]

"I should hope not," the Physician replies with a chuckle. "I would fear for the courage of our warriors if that were so!"

Kreyu grins, "Speaking of the beast, we've straps from its hide to hold your arm in place while the brew does its work."

"This brew, once hot and augmented with some of the Shadow Spinner's blood, will marry the metal to your flesh."

"Which will most likely hurt like Hell," Kreyu warns.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard considers this, and wishes for just a moment that Maripyaipok was here. The Satere-Mawe have some very definite views on pain rituals and adulthood.

But he's not, so all Shephard does is say, "I'm gonna need to git my belt off for this, less'n you got somethin' else I c'n bite down on."

[brave_kreyu]

"That will be well," the Physician replies. "It will take a few minutes for the brew to be ready at the very least."

While Shephard takes off his belt, the Smith straps the arm temporarily into place and Kreyu adds a small amount of her blood to the cauldron.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard can't help but poke at the arm with one finger. It's... there, you know? And shiny. And in a minute it's going to be attached to the rest of him, so he kind of thinks he's entitled to poke it.

Okay, now he'll get his belt in place for biting down. He's done enough for the moment.

[brave_kreyu]

The metal feels oddly warm and smooth under his poking, for the record. (It LOOKS like silver, but that can't possibly be what it actually IS.)

Once Shephard has firmly bit down on his belt, the Physician lowers his arm and its metal hand into the bubbling cauldron.

It might be most accurate to say that the binding process feels exactly like having the arm cut off, only backward. The damaged bones and tissues of the flesh portion of that arm are being activated all at once and they are very unhappy about it.

[hecu_marine]

Maripyaipok's people, the Satere-Mawe, have an adulthood ritual that involves being bitten repeatedly by the most painful insects on Earth for a period of two hours, during which time the person being bitten is not allowed to make a sound or flinch. They've got another that involves the same silence when bitten by a venomous headcrab. Mari has said he'll be first in line to join the Marines if Shephard goes through the ant rite.

This? This is a rehearsal. Fuck it to absolute fucking utter shitfucking hell this is a dress rehearsal.

[brave_kreyu]

Possibly a very good dress rehearsal.

Once the agony dies down, it feels just like having his flesh and blood arm back.

He can feel the liquid sloshing against the metal arm, feel the heat of the brew, feel those fingers relaxing their tight grip as the last of the pain departs. It weighs no more than flesh and bone did, and moves no less easily or fluidly than his other arm that is fully flesh.

[hecu_marine]

He's sweating, and he's got a lot of it in his eyes, so he's not going to look at first. He's just going to lift it out and wriggle the fingers a little while he blinks the sweat away.

And then, because even he is entitled to a pun or two once in a while, he's going to throw up the horns with it... it is, after all, metal.

[brave_kreyu]

Shephard, you have two fey and a dragon looking at you with faintly confused expressions.

"It seems to work well," Kreyu finally says with a smile. "Is this so?"

[hecu_marine]

He hastily straightens out all the fingers.

"Yeah," he says a little hoarsely as he spits out the belt and catches it in his lap. "Yeah- it works just fine. Y'all did some damn fine work, here."

[brave_kreyu]

Both of the fey brothers look pleased at that pronouncement.

"It is yours for as long as you live," the Smith begins, "but upon your death to Elysium it must return."