- Joined
- Nov 10, 2013
- Messages
- 2,336
- Reaction score
- 84
The light burnt through Sin'ryk's eyelids as he left the realm of dreams. Instinctively, he flexed his fingers; expecting no response from his burnt stump that ended at the inner end of his wrist. The Red Sith remembered frowning as the healers told him that his hand could not be salvaged since the spores of Drongar had badly damaged the blood vessels within it, meaning that the hand would have been dangerous to re-attach. Instead, Sin'ryk had requested a gold-plated, Sith-rune carved durasteel prosthetic with sensory capability and a velvety palm and under-fingers; in exchange for several hundred credits and his knowledge of the healing and poisoning properties of plants and animals. A dulled metallic tap and the feeling of a smooth surface answered the Pureblood's command. He raised his arm, dully remembering that he had requested it in the first place. It was made to his specifications; it was made tridactyl, just like his old hand. Save for the golden, rune-carved surface and the red velvet palms. Sin'ryk stroked the artificial limb, the metal tingled at the feeling of flesh over it. The claws were much more sharper than his old hand. Speaking of which, he swung his head around; catching sight of the tridactyl hand preserved in a golden liquid. Now he remembered, he actually requested the doctors to preserve it for him so as to serve as an extra motivation to work harder. Sin'ryk then heard the sound of a heavy snore and wove his head around to see Vyrzen sound asleep; the Pureblood could not make out the right side of the Zabrak's face.