Bracket: Experienced Title: Two Arms [spoiler][quote]"I am a marvel with ten thousand arms." There is a story, old as time, of he who could catch the stars. Unnamed and eternal, the star-catcher would lead the Fallen, rising from the lowest station to the highest exalted peaks.[/quote] That is the legend passed down amongst the Fallen - amongst the Dreg - to give all the hope that they may one day ascend from even the lowest of positions. I am Vasik, and I am a Vandal of House Wolves. “Foolish,” my mandibles clicked after growling out the rough Eliksni word. “You do not believe he will return to lead us?” My patient questioned, sitting in front of me with his only two arms raised up above his head because he was holding onto a bar. “Well…that is not what I said,” I rumbled my vague answer as I worked, bent over in front of the Dreg so that he had to look down at me, “I merely see that it is a hopeful legend, inspiring honor to earn back one’s arms.” The Dreg winced and released a pained hiss as one of the nerve connectors fired, and I had to grab him with my two lower hands to keep him still as I plucked at another wire with my upper right hand. My upper left was being used to adjust the position of the equipment I was working on so that I could get at the proper places. “But things change,” I acknowledged, removing my lower hands once I felt him grow still and using them to pull my data map closer so I could see, “Maybe one day we will have a Kell of Kells, or a Kell who has earned ten thousand arms.” The Dreg watched me in silence for a moment, and I felt the air grow heavy with his fear and sadness. “Will there be anyone left to lead?” All four of my hands stilled, and I tilted my head just a little so my four eyes could meet his. “There will,” I assured him, fully believing my words, “The Eliksni people are still of noble blood, though we were chased from our throne. We have survived everything, and we will survive this.” The Dreg’s skin rasped against the metal bar as he clenched his fists. “The un-people will die.” “Yes,” I agreed solemnly as I set back to work. We were in a Ketch, drifting through the asteroids and shipwrecks of the Reef in the Sol star system, as it was called by the locals. There were a number of Skiffs still with us, taking turns docking in the limited hangar space so that the rest of the Ketch’s crew and I could take account of their numbers and aid in any way we could. We were a pitiful piece of the Wolf Fleet. A pitiful fragment of what was left… The Baron had told only a few of us, but it was estimated that only around half of the House remained. But all could guess at the damage done. All knew that the Wolf Kell Virixas was dead. The un-people. The hollows. The Awoken, they called themselves, believing their minds to be of a higher understanding. Their Queen had laid us low mere hours ago. That witch and her little pet witches had washed our strength away with those nightmarish wounds in the sky. The Awoken, with their tiny fleet of scraps, had stopped the Wolves from reaching Earth to aid their brethren in the Final Attempt against the humans and their Last City. We were scattered amongst the rubble of the Reef, licking our wounds and regrouping. I’d heard the Baron call it that already: the Scatter. Soon we would be together again. Soon we would have a new Kell to lead the extermination of the Awoken. “Finished,” the word hissed out of my mouth with a satisfied sigh as I locked the mechanism into place and stepped back, making the Dreg jump a little in surprise as the connections all fired at once, “Move them.” He looked at me for a moment, unsure of himself, but then released the bar he was holding with his two arms and splayed them out to his sides. After some twitching, his new cybernetic lower arms rose up parallel to his upper arms. The movements were a little shaky at first, but the no-longer-Dreg managed to swing and flex all four arms around in unison. I blamed the equipment for the slowness to adjust; our resources were stretched thinner than ever, and our prosthetics were made of barely more than scraps now even compared to the meager leftovers from pre-Whirlwind that we had begun with in our long journey through the stars in pursuit of the Great Machine. “I feel…” he began, then faltered, and held up all four hands in front of his face to look at and compare them. “Like you still haven’t earned them back?” I finished for him. The way his two real hands clenched told me I hit the mark. “Many I restore say that. You have redeemed your honor, otherwise you would not be in my care.” The Captain who commanded this now-Vandal’s crew had handed me the order personally when they docked. There were many injuries being handled from their Skiff. It was thanks to this honest soul before me that they were hurt and not dead, so I was to rebuild him his arms. Unfortunately, he had been permanently docked, so mechanical arms were needed instead of simply removing docking caps. Earning arms after a permanent docking was extremely rare, but I was assured by the Captain that the docking had been under questionable pretenses. “Thank you,” the now-Vandal lowered his arms and tilted his head down in deference to me. “Go,” I motioned to the door to my workshop with one hand, picking up some tools with the other three to return them to their places, “We will see how many arms you have earned when our paths next cross.” “I suppose you would want to build all of them,” the now-Vandal joked, making for the door. Before I had a chance to laugh, the door slid open in response to my patient’s approach and revealed another Vandal waiting in the hall outside. He was larger than the two of us, composed of trained muscle and fed a ration of ether that spoke of the stature in our society he must have. My patient dropped his gaze before the cold stare of the newcomer, edging his way out the door and then walking away to reach the Ketch’s hangar. He would be welcomed back by his crew and receive Vandal armor there. I set my equipment down and stepped out of my workspace. After closing the door behind me, I steeled my nerves and looked the other Vandal in the eye. Shock Blades hung from his belt, his upper hands naturally resting on their hilts as if he expected to use them even now. Standing at his full height and keeping his chin tilted up boldly, the fire in his gaze told me he was not the most patient creature.[/spoiler] [b]FINISHED IN REPLIES[/b]