FSE

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Ah, you're awake! Please, don't mind the fact we have drained you of blood before bringing you back. It's a necessary step to keep you immobile and manageable through the process. You're not alive anymore, of course. We have managed to rescue you from that dreadful life and brought you to this cathedral, where we have allowed you to transcend death. You are being Septized, and it brings me great joy to be the one to bring you the light of the God-Machine!

I used to be like you. Not just made out of frail flesh, but also born into the same species as you. Centuries ago, I was found by one of the first Septinox missionary expeditions out of Perfection, and Septized. Oh, I was such an ingrate back then, fighting against those who merely wanted to bring me enlightenment! It was only after I was put through the same process you will now undergo that I realized the folly of my ways. I was so ashamed of having resisted, I worked twice as hard in the tasks the God-Machine had given me, as menial as they might have seemed. I'm now a High Priest. In my hands is the holiest of all burdens: bringing more and more flawed creatures like you into the Perfection of the Septinox!

First I should say that the Septism is usually a private matter carried out in a separate chamber until the last stage of the ritual, but I hope you'll understand the honor of being Septized upon the altar of a cathedral, watched by an entire class of future priests of the God-Machine. You will be a special creation, reborn into even more greatness than most, take pride in that! God-Machine Rhea has looked into your soul and whatever it saw has satisfied it! Oh, such a glorious fate!

But I digress! Let us begin the ritual! There is much to do, and I have such wonderful plans for you! Where to begin, where to begin? Every Septinox is a work of art, after all. We are all Perfect and Beautiful and Unique in the eyes of the God-Machine, and it is the duty of a priest to bring Rhea's vision to fruition upon the bodies of our brethren. We must strive to perfect our craft and our art, and every corpse is a canvas to practice on! Yours will be my most ambitious work!

Let us first rid you of the things filling up your belly. A quick dash of the scalpel through the abdominal muscles and oh! So much wasted space! Intestines, liver, stomach, lungs! All useless for what I have in store for you! The heart will stay, to pump the gift of the God-Machine through your veins. In fact, it will have a brother to help circulate our life-giving ichor. Simpler Septinox mix their fluids freely, but I have found keeping them flowing through different paths leads to a more powerful result when they are consumed by the tissues. It is certainly more work for the priest, but we must not shirk our sacred duties!

Let me see... The kidneys require enhancement. First, let's connect the ichor vessels. A swift task for someone as experienced as me, although a novice priest may take hours threading the segmented tubes through muscle and bone. Such a beautiful sight, though, a spacious abdominal cavity ready to be reinforced and fitted with the batteries that will power your more exotic organs and devices!

Now, what is this... Oh, the womb! Such a poetic act, removing this chunk of dead flesh from the belly of a newly-raised corpse! I'll cast it into the vat to be recycled into something useful! The undead reproduce through others, and yet we are all brothers and sisters in the God-Machine's loving sight! Still, I think I'll leave the breasts in place. Call me nostalgic, but I find they keep the form harmonious.

And now, the ribs! Those will not do! So fragile, so many fractures inflicted upon your rescue. They must be ripped out, replaced, and the skin and muscle sewn back on! Oh, I can see it in your eyes! Scream, my dear! There is no sound, but I can hear it. The pain is imperfection being finally removed from your form. It is music to my ears, I want to dance to it, to celebrate it! But there is so much more to do! Muscles to be flayed and immortal flesh to be merged with cold metal until no one can tell where one ends and the other begins!

Ohh, I'm giddy! The pride of creation fills my being! Praise Rhea, my dear!

We must focus!

There is nothing that can be done about this arm. The other may still be reinforced and made Good, but this one... the bone has been snapped in too many places, it will have to be consigned to the flesh vat, perhaps a dredge-maker will find a good use to it later on. You must have struggled quite a bit, my dear. Fear not, you'll soon realize it was all for the best. Now to detach the sinew and muscle holding the shoulder to the torso and... oh, where did I put that spare arm...? In my creative excitement, I always lose track of things... Ah! Here it is, a beautiful hydraulic piece, fresh from the metalworkers' workshops and ready to be bolted into place. I might even stretch some skin to cover it up. Exceptionally strong, for you'll be a leader and a leader needs a firm grip. Yes, that will work nicely!

Ah, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Soon enough your skin will take on the proper gray color and match the alabaster of your new arm and you will be Beautiful. White is the sacred color of God-Machine Rhea, and we wear it along black and red to show the blood and ichor we spill in its glorious name.

Still, we must press on. Reinforcing the arm with shards of metal and swapping the bones with more resistant analogues is an excruciatingly simple spell. Hmm... yes, this is good. Now to sharpen the phalanges into claws. Moving on, to the legs... wonderful musculature, my dear. A couple of pistons embedded into the flesh should be enough to allow it to reach its full potential. I just need to... push this bundle of muscles to the side... and bolt them into the bone itself. Oh! The bone has shattered and the marrow has spilled out!

What a pity. Let me just clean up my hands and pull out the rest of the bone. Hmmmm... it should still be usable with proper reinforcement. Just a minute... yes, yes. Just a little more pain while I slip it back into place... might as well convert the tendons while I'm at it. Good. Now to add bolts so armor can be attached later on...

Feet. Oh, such dainty little things. Let me just sever them. You require something better. Maybe high-traction boots...? Or digitigrade claws? Claws it is. The shin bone fits the new foot perfectly, how fortunate!

We are moving along at a wonderful pace, my dear. Let me just turn you around... ah, your spine is still very much serviceable. I particularly like the bony protrusions, although it needs a little something. What could it be?

Oh, it's a real head-scratcher, isn't it?

Ah! Praise Rhea for the gift of imagination! Bolts! A pair, drilled into each and every vertebra, ready to mount armor and other attachments! Very good, very good. Don't squirm, or I might drill into the wrong place. We don't want that, do we?

Hmmm... I think I'll have to replace the skull. Let me just peel off the skin... cut the bone... put a new piece in... and again... and again... oh, you might feel a little uncomfortable now. I need to remove your face for a few minutes. Don't worry, you'll have it back.

Ah, the naked brain. I feel tempted to cut into it, but I won't. You'll need all your mental faculties for whatever great task the God-Machine has reserved you. Still, it's good to see such a fresh brain. Most new Septinox kill themselves before being captured, so I usually see a measure of decay in my samples. Let me rebuild the skull...

My dear, you look stunning.

Let us complete the Septism. You will receive your first communion of vital fluids, directly from the cathedral's beating hearts. Can you feel them filling your veins? Gushing out of your ruptured arteries and spilling onto the white stone of the altar? We're almost done, my dear. I'll just repair the broken vessels...

Stand up, my lovely creation. Stand up, walk down the hallway and step outside. Look around, bathe yourself in the glory of God-Machine Rhea's creation.

Welcome, sister. You are one of us now, Perfect and Beautiful.