I got this idea in the most bizarre of places: my dreams. It just seemed so... right. It was beautiful to me, and I hope you all think so too.


With Ryld Argith, former master of Melee-Mathgere, newly resurrected, Pharaun Mizzrym moved to another room where a treated corpse lay on the table. He removed the shawl of leathery skin from the body to examine it. Upon the table lay the corpse of Nimor Imphrazel, former Anointed Blade of the Jaezred Chausslin, his throat covered with several sutures, closing the massive wound from the sacrificial dagger that Pharaun had plunged into his throat less than a day earlier.

Now, the corpse was ready for his examination. He took a bone knife from a stand next to him, the blade short and razor sharp, and sliced the flesh from collarbone to pelvis, then cut the top and bottom of the incision so the split skin formed a letter "I". That being done, he flayed the skin out so he could examine the insides.

Imphrazel's ribcage, rather than the usual white, was black, as were the rest of his bones. The mage attributed the bone's discoloration to the drow's Shadow Dragon lineage. Sawing through the ribcage with one of the instruments on the stand proved ineffectual, so Pharaun had to improvise. He cast a spell of strength on himself, then split the ribcage with a second spell. Using his giant's strength, he wrenched the Drow's ribs apart.

Splitting from the backbone with a massive crack, the ribs spread out to reveal Nimor's inner workings. Using a small spell of levitation and telekinesis, Pharaun summoned a set of bone bowls from across the room to float near him. He began removing Nimor's organs one by one, placing the heart in one bowl, the stomach in another, the lungs in a third, so on and so forth. Eventually, he reached the bottom, with the back of Nimor's ribs and his spine showing. Pharaun put his long-fingered hand, sticky with blood, into the cavity of the dead body's chest, prodding around. He found what he was looking for.

Nimor's wings were a miracle. They folded up so easily, and would come out with only minimal damage. Pharaun extracted them for further study, and sliced the Drow's head open. Nimor's brain was veined with green, but still kept the same general hue as a normal dark elf's head organ. He took great care in removing it, to ensure that he got the whole organ, including the stem that extended into the spine. He placed that in a final bowl before dumping all the other organs, save for the heart and wings, back into the corpse. A simple spell of teleportation sent the corpse into the moat of blood that surrounded Corpsehaven.

Pharaun had what he needed, now let the modificiations begin.

Pharaun first set the wings on the table, then shrugged off his robe, leaving him clad in nothing but a pair of breeches, black as Lolth's heart. He reached into one of the robes of his pocket, removing a large bottle. It was Cormyrean brandy, some of the best that money could buy, and he had been saving it for a special occasion. He removed the cork from the bottle, and took a deep swig. The brandy would numb the pain, yet it would not numb his wits. He had gone through too much training to fall victim to pain when strength was needed most.

He lay on the table, face down, using the same spell he had used earlier to levitate the bowls to raise up a few of the tools from his stand to hover in the air above his back before a knife slowly sliced into his skin. He clenched his teeth in pain, the knife stopping for the briefest of moments before continuing its treacherous path down his back. It still managed to cut straight, a clean cut with only one more stop when the knife scraped up against his spine for the briefest of moments.

The incision across his shoulders and along the bottom of his back was easy, since he took care to avoid the major arteries across the top and the organs along the bottom. He then flayed his back out, the skin spreading like the wings that lay on the table with him.

The first of those wings, the left, raised and placed itself on the bleeding skin. A needle and thread lifted up from the stand and sutured the wing to the muscle of his back. The wing folded neatly, and would not make any bulges when they were under his skin. The second wing went in easily, and he folded the skin over his back once more. A spell finished the connection of the wings to the rest of his body, and a healing draft sealed the wounds, and the wings inside him.

Not finished, however, Pharaun had to make a way for the wings to exit his body. The knife went to where the tips of the wings were, where they would pop out with the smallest flex given enough room, and he made a cut where the wing would first stick out, and cut down a half meter to allow it space. He did the same on the opposite side, growing accustomed to the pain, and sutured the two sides of the cut onto themselves, that way they wouldn't knit themselves back together.

He sat up, finally finished, and slipped a ring of regeneration onto his finger, the small circle of platinum, studded with rubies, going to work immediately, assimilating Nimor's wings into Pharaun's body. He took another nip from the bottle of brandy, then walked back to his living quarters to wash the blood from Nimor and himself from his body.

Within three cycles, he could use the wings as if they had been there his entire life.


I submit the usual request for R&R here, but I also thank the person that got me back on track with this story. You know who you are.