(Ooc TRIGGER WARNING: Medical abuse, forced lobotomies, forced exploratory surgery, depersonalization)
Echoes of the arrows impact shuddered through Simon's soul as his vision went black.
Shit shit shit shit! I hope Sophie's okay! He knew what was coming next; he'd be next to useless until the torpor that was coming upon him subsided. Already he felt the foreign magic within the demonic tattoo start to burn. The twisted script of the tattoo was some kind of binding spell, he thought, since the tattoo always sought to preserve its own integrity. Since the burning (and the ruddy, black ember glow he knew from experience) was coming from his chest, that must have meant his back was shredded beyond what the large mark considered 'safe' for itself. The sensation sweetened, then turned acidic, then blue. Why? He didn't know. As the feeling changed from flavor to color to texture, he was sucked into a memory-a nightmare.
He was back in Monmouth's basement lab, chained to a table hand and foot, a band of metal around his chest. He'd had nothing to do since the previous night's experiments ended except stare at the featureless stone ceiling. The squeal of the lab's door opening announced that it was sunset, and his boredom was to be once more replaced with horrors.
"Good evening, number Eight. I read the most fascinating medical report from Cerenis. It seems a dock worker had a metal rod bisect his head in a carriage accident, and it didn't kill him. Instead, the healers reported in their notes that he became incredibly docile and subservient. It got me thinking about our recent issues following directions. So, I visited the blacksmith today."
Simon couldn't turn his head, but he heard metal rods being set down on the medical table next to him. Monmouth himself appeared in his vision. The odd angle made the necromancer appear distorted and disproportioned. Si thought it more appropriate than looking human.
Monmouth began writing notes, detailing the length and diameter of the first rod to be used in that night's experiment on lobotomies. The experimenter recreated the dock worker's injury exactly, noting that the trauma to the skull led to subsequent brain trauma. This interferes with the subject's ability to speak clearly and was not sustainable for future uses. With the metal rod withdrawn, the subject was barely more than a vacant idiot who needed to be instructed to breathe before answering questions so that he could form words. There were marked differences in the subjects behavior, notably the severe reduction in intellect, the inability to problem solve, and a marked increase in emotional responses, especially indicating distress.
Further explorations of the damage to the subject's brain revealed profound bleeding from the meninges, affecting other areas of the brain rather than simply the frontal lobe. The exploratory removal of the skullcap and resulting blood loss resulted in the subject entering a torpor state for healing and reanimation.
Recommendation: layer additional reanimating spells on the subject so as to support complete exsanguination. Thinner diameter rods for lobotomy could result in more precise behavioral modification.
Addendum: Opportunities for exploring the anatomy and physiology of the brain exist at this juncture. Researcher is considering a side project to systematically stimulate and destroy parts of this critical organ in order to understand its functions.
The memories twisted. Simon knew that he had gone through Monmouth's exploratory experiments, but the torpor dream instead put someone else on the table while he watched. A small figure. Large ears. Long tail...
"Observe, Eight. If I apply electrical stimulation here then the subject's tail twitches spasmodically, and yet here, a mere millimeter away, the movement becomes a steady rhythm. Fascinating."
Simon shuddered, both in the dream and in real life. Outside of the dream, the ember-like glow from his chest had enveloped the short arrow shafts protruding from his body. The wounds they produced were bloodlessly healing, the restored tissues forcing the weapons out of his body. One, imbedded in his spine, seemed stuck, but the rest were forced out of their wounds one by one. The process endured for hours, until finally Simon groaned and tried to push himself up.
"-ove..." his mouth finally finished the word it had started before it had been interrupted. Something wasn't working...he turned and looked at his back, noting the one arrow left. He reached for the wood shaft, but the angle was wrong...well, hell.
"Can...uh...can you get that? I can't reach." It was an awkward question, and he realized he'd need to heal that wound too, later. Hopefully later, anyway. He was pretty sure he'd be able to walk once the arrow was out of the bone.