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Steady Hands

Author: 
Drolo Gilavros

By Drolo Gilavros, Apostle of Sotha Sil

I looked upon my hands, and I saw only flaws. Wrinkly and weak things. They shook when I needed them steady, they ached when the nights grew cold. I began to depend on my apprentices for many of my daily needs, more useless than a babe clinging to his mother's skirts. Even the simple task of feeding myself began to turn into a sloppy affair. I was ever aware of these constant tremors, of this pathetically human imperfection that was forced upon me. But the Brass Fortress is the hub of innovation, of the defective turned useful once more.

Modifications are made when a mechanism is in need of a new function. Time had sundered my once steady hands with my still working mind. I did it not for vanity, but to cleanse myself of my putrid separation. To weld my broken parts together. The procedure was as painless and efficient as I had been promised, and for the price that was asked I expected no less. I slept on and off for hours afterward, my mind filled with steam. And then I awoke. Truly awoke.

I caught sight of my gleaming palms, and I suddenly felt at peace. Calm, tranquil, I was once more a cog upon which made up the great winding. Part of the reciprocating motion, the Sublime Piston. This metal extension was a truth of my soul. Brass fingers curved in perfect synchrony, smooth and elegant. I was not simply made whole again, no. I was made far greater than I had ever been.

I had found a truth, a singularity. I transcended mere flesh and blood. My fingers now remained as steady and sure as my devotion. I looked upon my hands, and I saw the possibilities.