Nyxala lay on the hard metal of a surgery table, holding herself up with an elbow. She would have sat upright… if her tail didn’t make sitting on her ass incredibly uncomfortable. It was an extension of her spine, after all; the protrusion hardly bent backwards quick enough to not get in the way of flat surfaces.
Kneeling was better. Especially with her tentacles to curl under her.
A clatter pulled Nyxala’s attention to the Technocultist rummaging through a pile of blades and machinery. For all Ta’Malis’s workshop looked like an experimental surgery theatre, it was still a Techocult workshop through and through. The place was sterile, but there was junk everywhere.
“Ah, ha!” Ta’Malis pulled a somewhat familiar chainsaw from the bottom of the pile. “You really should have come back sooner. I had this done days ago.”
The older woman was by her side in a second, already manhandling her tail to fit the straps. Nyxala didn’t fight. If she was honest, Nyxala was very interested in seeing the vicious teeth of that machine cut through her enemies. Her tail hit hard enough as it was. How much more damage would this do? She could see it now, bodies shredded to lumps.
Ta’Malis pushed an array of belts down every third spike a full metre and a half up her tail. She’d clearly designed every part just for her. The straps were thin, but flared around a ring which straddled the base of her spines perfectly. They didn’t obstruct her spikes’ motion at all. Best of all, the straps kept her feathers in mind, sliding between them and posing only the slightest hindrance.
The steel straps pulled taut beneath Ta’Malis’ fingers, putting more than a little strain on the skin under her feathers. A unexpected burst of heat made her flinch, but the Technocultist held her tail still. Ta’Malis had welded the belts in place.
“Good, good. It fits well.” The woman murmured.
Nyxala wasn’t sure she agreed. The straps felt like they were cutting off her circulation they were so tight.
Thankfully, that sensation was only temporary. Now that the brace was in place, Ta’Malis clicked the chainsaw in place. Unlike the last version, it didn’t clamp down on the end of her tail nearly as hard. The sides had wide slots that easily allowed her most important tail feathers to fan out around the blade. Ta’Malis tightened one last bolt, and the machine locked in tight. The added weight tugged on the belts, loosening them only so much to make it comfortably tight.
“Perfect!” Ta’Malis stood please with herself.
Nyxala lifted her tail. While the brace of this version was much longer, it went out of its way to account for the pattern of her feathers. She bent her tail, and the segmented joints actively shifted in response. The chainsaw itself was a vicious looking beast. Thick chain links ran in parallel over and under her tail, and extended a good arm’s length beyond the tip. The hooked teeth on each link was the size of her finger.
Very valuable too. Each tooth was made of nigh-indestructible A-Twelve grade alloy. Only problem was the weight.
Jumping from the table, Nyxala found her centre of mass pulled even further back than the tail already did. She had to lean forward so far it was impossible no to stand on the balls of her feet. Which, wouldn’t have been a problem if she was barefoot, but her boots weren’t exactly flexible. Her tail swayed side to side. There had to be at least forty kilograms in the saw. That meant there was now more mass in her tail than in the rest of her body.
“Is it too heavy, after all?” Ta’Malis asked.
Nyxala shook her head briskly. “Not at all. I will just need some time to get used to it.”
It would definitely throw off her free spins, but so long as she could anchor herself with her tentacles or slime feet, the increased mass would only make her hit harder. Her wings too, were fairly decent at forcing themselves to be the centre of rotation. Really, the biggest problems would be high-speed flight, and fighting while attempting to hide her mutations. She couldn’t have this much dead weight if she wasn’t able to use it.
She couldn’t see many fights in the future where she wasn’t trying to kill, but losing the ability to fight without her mutations could be disastrous.
Though… she still had plenty of mutations to take on. There were good chances her tail wasn’t the only one that was heavy.
“Good.” Ta’Malis was visibly pleased. “The brace, you won’t be able to take off, but if you press the tip of your tail up into the inside while pushing here and here.” She demonstrated where to apply force. “Then you can remove the saw at a moment’s notice.”
The mechanism popped free and thunked to the ground. Without the weight, the belts along her tail pulled taut once more, but a bit of discomfort was hardly going to get in her way. Knowing this was an option, she wasn’t as limited as she thought.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Ta’Malis clicked the chainsaw back into place, and it fit perfectly again. There was no need for adjustments this time.
“Now, to engage the saw, simply curl, and uncurl the end of your tail while striking at a surface.”
The instructions were simple, and in an instant, the buzz of rapid scraping metal rang through the workshop. It wasn’t terribly loud, but the sharp growl sounded dangerous in itself.
“Turning it off requires a bit of finesse. You’ve got to reverse the motion, without letting your tail-tip apply any pressure on the inside plating.” Careful not to let the racing blades come near herself, she did as told. The saw spun for a few seconds longer before scraping to a halt. “Wonderful! I wasn’t sure how easy it was going to be. I don’t exactly have a tail of my own to test.” Ta’Malis laughed, delighted.
“Thank you for this.” Nyxala struck the saw into motion, then stopped it again just to test. “I’ll be sure to let you know how it performs.”
She was especially appreciative that this entire mechanism had been made to work around her mutations. Nyxala wasn’t sure how long it would last if it bolted into her bones like the concealer. Already she had to fight down the urge to tear of that lump of metal because of how it interfered with the bark growing from her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Huh?” Nyxala stopped on her way back to the Temple proper. She’d come because Ta’Malis had been insistent, but now her chainsaw tail was installed. What else could she want?
“Back on the table with you.” The Technocultist turned back to her incomprehensible pile of mechanical junk. She didn’t need to check to make sure Nyxala would listen. She just knew.
Sighing, Nyxala returned to her seat.
“So, I had a lot of ideas, but Ta̽'Ș͑t̕r̊a͑ḷa̾͆n͙͂o̼͗v͐͐̿͝'r̝͇͎͓͜ said quite explicitly that you were not to be given explosives. That struck down most of them.” Ta’Malis tugged something free, only to send a pile of scrap scattering along the floor. “She also shot down a bunch of my better ideas. You are already quite the challenge to design for, considering I can’t dig into your flesh. And Ta̽'Ș͑t̕r̊a͑ḷa̾͆n͙͂o̼͗v͐͐̿͝'r̝͇͎͓͜ just has to throw more obstacles in the way of the better concepts.”
Ta’Malis turned with a bundle of hooks, straps and slots embedded with the odd metal spike. “Is that a saddle?” The closest thing it resembled were the saddles some cultists put on bound summons.
“Hardly,” Ta’Malis scoffed. “Think of it as more of a harness. Well, it’s more apt to call it a multipurpose scabbard, but I felt you could use more made-to-fit underwear. That tail can’t have been kind on your selection.”
Nyxala stared as the very un-Technocult like equipment was dropped at her side. She could make out holes that were probably for her tail and legs, but anything else lacked a clear purpose. Especially the four long spikes that held the harness up like a cheap arachnoangel.
“I haven’t worked with leather in years, so it was an interesting challenge.” Ta’Malis pointed to the sleeves at the base of each spike. “Basically, I was trying to think of ways to enhance your tentacles, but unlike your tail, anything I create is only going to limit their flexibility. So, I figured, since you already tend to leave your rapier to them, why not give each of them one? Go on, pull them out.”
Curious didn’t wait for Nyxala’s permission to slip in the leather sleeve and pull out the weapon from its scabbard. It was simple as could be. A bladed spike with a tight mechanical guard that opened just enough for Curious spread inside tightly for a better grip. The guard retracted inside the sheath, so it would barely poke at her sides.
“There’s also a set of drill-bolts if they ever struggle for grip, and-” she leaned in close. “Don’t tell Ta̽'Ș͑t̕r̊a͑ḷa̾͆n͙͂o̼͗v͐͐̿͝'r̝͇͎͓͜ this, there are slots for micro flamethrowers I’ve got in the pipeline. Technically, they don’t count as bombs.” Ta’Malis stood straight again. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow for them.”
While Curious was busy swinging around its new toy, Nyxala lifted the harness. “So… how exactly do I put it on?”
“Start with the legs first.” Ta’Malis pointed to a strap that was clearly intended to go around her spikes, like with the saw brace. “It’ll be easier to tie down the tail sleeve once everything else is in place.”
“And what are these?” Nyxala asked, pointing to the pouches at the sides of where her tail would sit.
“Saddlebags,” Ta’Malis said, but moved on before Nyxala could decide if her word choice was intentional. “Plus a few clamps for any future tools I might send your way. I made it strong enough to carry your chainsaw, if you’d prefer to carry it there. Though I can’t say the blade will be well hidden.”
Nyxala edged herself off the operating table once more, hoping she’d be able to get on with her task. The Fleshsmiths weren’t all going to reach their Island for a few more days yet, but that didn’t make Nyxala any less insistent to get to work. “Tha-”
“Yes, yes.” Ta’Malis took one last look over the chainsaw mounted to Nyxala’s tail, before she spun and moved to other matters. “Now leave. Next time I see you, I want a full report on their operation, breaking down the strengths, weaknesses and areas of improvement. Some extracted wound samples taken from battle would be appreciated as evidence.”
A report? Wait, she hadn’t signed up to waste her time with something like that.
Though, as she walked out of the workshop, tail flicking with anticipation, she figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Especially if it got her a better weapon out of it.
As she slunk back to her private room to put on the new underwear, as Ta’Malis called it, she found that the four rapiers under her robes were anything but rigid. She could move them all to her back, or even reposition them on the section along her tail. Even her original rapier’s scabbard clipped in place through the cloth of her robe fairly easily.
For someone who claimed to barely touch leather, it flowed with her motions better than anything else she’d worn. It was almost concerning how well they’d been tailored. Especially considering her hips were not perfectly consistent with a human’s.
Nyxala decided to brush it off as the skills of an eighth evolution craftswoman and focus on how she was going to use her new weapons to cut down the Fleshsmiths. From what Lysyra had been able to gather, it was Zandisth’s followers that were heading for the Island. Not specifically Solan’s.
That meant soulsingers. Lots of them. Whether they lived or died, absolutely none of them could see her. Fortunately, Nyxala was confident that wouldn’t be a problem.