This was a time of reflection; even Pebl was injured, although, admittedl.y, he recovered faster than most. He only had 5 Hp, after all. He recovered in about an hour, maybe less. It was hard to tell. Kraant ached all over, and when he rubbed his head a few flakes of scale came off. On the plus side, he hadn’t taken any scarring damage… Gina explained, as she bandaged up a knee that had been almost completely torn off by her awkward landing, that she’d stayed on her knees for the last part of the battle. Large wounds, especially to limbs, had a chance to either cripple that part of the body or, more often, leave a scar. If she’d forced herself to stand on the wounded leg, she might have pushed beyond the limit of scarring and, possibly, even taken the limb to “removed” status. This was, obviously, not something the agile archer really wanted to deal with.

Kraant shivered a little. He should be covered in scars, from his time in the Organ Mine. It’s not like the Donors got the best of medical care, and he’d given up… shit, when you can’t count how many organs you’ve had pulled out of you, maybe that’s a bad sign. At least 20 that he could remember.

“So, why am I not covered from head to toe in scars?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

He explained his Starting area in more detail than he really wanted, trying to stress that the Overseers were able to graft organs from any of a dozen different races into the Donors, who kept them in the best shape they could. This often meant going immediately from surgery to a pool of blessed water that slightly improved HP regeneration, and then going through whatever physical conditioning the new organs required. Holding onto a Goblin’s stomach meant eating things that no Kobold would willingly touch, for example, or a third leg meant running with whatever weird gait kept it exercised. Since any given Donor usually had at least two or three “augmentations” at a time, it was a hellish life. And no recovery period, so the whole thing was coated in a thick layer of agony. And then, when the buyer arrived, another surgery (hopefully. Some buyers liked to eat living flesh, or wanted to rip the limb off themselves, or any of a thousand other demands) to remove it and attach it to the new patient, or it would get put in a chest to keep it cold, or whatever. Then back to Conditioning.

Gina vomited twice. Once when he described Rrrobert’s penchant for eating the augmentations, then blaming the Donor… and again when he mentioned that his favorite snack was Roast Leg of Rainforest Frog. Sometimes he even removed the leg before roasting. Sometimes.

“I have no idea why you’re not more scar than scale. It might have something to do with how Kobolds are, or your Life aspect’s Regeneration, or because that was technically all backstory in your Legend… or maybe because you chose your appearance, and the game couldn’t override that. But geez. This is why most people don’t play with modded capsules. I don’t know if that starting area would even work for a normal player… it might be a special thing for modders, or maybe Clara decided to help you out and make it more realistic, since that’s what you wanted. She is all about things being “interesting”, right?”

“I really, really, hope that I didn’t make a sadistic AI a major part of my Roleplaying scenario. Oof.”

“Anyway, point is, you might still need to worry about scars and crippling wounds now, even if you’ve never had one. The other point is that I’m not gonna be particularly helpful until this heals up.”

“Well, I think Imbue Life should help… even with the Host, all the excess Life mana just made it heal over healthy tissue, so I doubt a much much smaller and more controlled excess will cause any permanent damage. And aside from that… can you move well enough to get to a better campsite?”

“As long as we don’t move too quickly, yeah. And remember, it wasn’t a Host of Tumors, it was a Host of Plagues. I don’t want a whole bunch of diseases because you couldn’t keep your magic in your pants.” Gina glanced at Kraant. “Well, in your loincloth anyway.”

“Hey! I got a fancy robe, with pockets and everything.”

“Whatever. I’ll stand guard, you loot the bodies before we head out.”

“Yeah, you kneel guard while I do the hard work…” Kraant flashed her a grin and set to work.

Loot drops in Final Escape were… odd. Corpses would act realistically as long as a player or certain NPC’s were near, but if they were left unattended for too long then they’d just dissolve away and leave behind a random pile of the dead creature’s possessions and organs. So, a wolf wouldn’t drop a sword, but if left alone it might make a pile of fur, a fang, and a shinbone. Not unlike Kraant’s “Shin of Trent”. Of course, certain classes had harvesting abilities that would help them get those materials more quickly and reliably- technically, Kraant’s Sculpt Flesh was such an Art. Gina had a couple from Survivalist that worked better on certain types of creature. Butchering worked well for getting edible meat from animals, but Herb Lore helped her get herbs of all kinds, and sometimes helped if she was fighting a particularly Wood-aspected enemy.

Without a Tailoring skill (or any skill at tailoring) or a place to wash them, Kraant wasn’t interested in the minor pieces of armor the kobolds had worn. He’d briskly checked for pockets or pouches, gathered weapons, and then moved over to where Gina was crouched with her bow. He also offered her his Shin of Trent until he could find a good branch for a crutch, which she accepted gratefully. Pebl then immediately floated over to an excellent branch for a crutch, and Kraant grumbled a little as he trimmed and cleaned it for use. Gina giggled. Pebl… preened.