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The Subject
 Binding: superior (rank 2)
- Ranged Attack
- Area Affect
She was “cute” by conventional terms. When I met her she had a face covered in dirty however I saw it. Her beauty passed tattered clothes and a layer of filth. She has bright red hair and a number of freckles over her face and arms. I get ready, a large lump of clay sitting in front of me, my sleeves rolled up as she took a seat on the stool in front of me. She was shaking, nervous, she had just finished showering up and she was draped in my long grey robe.
“Take it off” I say very matter of fact as I run off and grab another large lump of clay.
“I, I don’t know if I want to do this.”
Coming back I slam the lump of clay down. “Are you nervous? You said you wouldn’t be nervous.” Sighing as I look towards the door “you know we’ll call it square. You can leave now. You wouldn’t be the first to try to.”
“Well ok, you said this is for a sculpture right? I mean I should thank you for dinner.”
“That’s great! Ok strip now.”
She starts to slide the robe off her shoulders, exposing her pert breasts first before letting the garment slip all the way down. I stand there, looking at her up and down, admiring every inch of her young body as I put my fingers on my chin.
“What are you looking at?”
“Sorry just admiring your form and how I will use it for my next piece.”
The girl reaches down for the robe “sorry now this is making me…”
She stops in mid sentence. Probably because the large black tendril from my arm had grabs her around her throat, her ankles and her wrists. I walk up to her kicking away the stool as I hold her up in the air.
“You had your chance to walk away sweetie. Now it’s time to make art!”
The Medium
 Polymorph: supreme (rank 3)
- Ranged Attack
- Area Affect
At first she screams and then it turns into horrible gurgles as my long black tendril extends from my body down her throat. I tug hard, gripping on her insides as I started to pull and rip at her organs. The process was long and was the part of sculpting I hated the most. Eventually we get to a point where all the resisting gives in. The trachea and the esophagus come out first. The lungs are next in their pillow softness. Followed is the heart, the digestive system. Just feet after feet of intestines as I have to re-grip, pulling out offshoot organs, and finally getting to what I was aiming for, the flesh; the soft, red, beautiful strands of meat, working slowly, working carefully to minimize damage in order for me to get what I was looking for.
She’s now standing there, propped up by the black tendrils, imperfect but more beautiful nonetheless. Pulled inside out she stands there, no skin, no clothes, no eyes or hair to disrupt the impeccable beauty of raw flesh. Organs hang off in a random array, no longer confined within the vessel of the body as they dangle like they are Christmas ornaments.
I lick my lips. Now is where the fun begins.
The Master Piece
 Combat Supremacy: supreme (rank 3)
- Ranged Attack
- Area Affect
I work at first to clear the organs. As beautiful as they are they also ruin the purity of the vision I have for her crimson red flesh. As I watch my tendrils work I deftly think in my mind how I want to preserve her for viewing.
I think of different poses, different stances. What sort of emotion I want to convey with her. My mind is going a mile a minute as I watch the blood pool on the ground around me.
My tendrils work deftly, quickly, patching up ripped pieces of flesh. Some work to shape her form into something a little more aesthetically pleasing. Others carve excess flesh from one part and patch it onto others. When a section is perfect I grab the special preservative and apply it though I have to work quickly. As good as that stuff is the only way to ensure it keeps its shape is to put it in the deep freeze. Tirelessly I work as quickly as possible, thus is the nature of working with this medium.
When I’m happy I step back and see her, flesh for skin, standing there. Her hands clasped as she is still, stoic. There is little emotion, a simple statue of a girl who is only waiting. Her stillness preserving the way she fought right before death. She struggled little and suffered only a fraction of the amount most suffer. Calm, peaceful, beautiful, the ugliness of humanity turned into a beautiful work of art. I think I’m going to cry.
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