Stockwell and Vera approached the entrance to the crypt. The large stone which sealed its entrance was closed securely in place.
"Did you close it when you were last here?" Stockwell asked.
"No." Vera shook her head.
"Then I guess someone's been here. They might even be home. The chlorine has long since dissipated by now." Stockwell said.
He unholstered his rifle and cautiously approached the stone. "Be on your guard."
…
The inside of the crypt was mostly how Stockwell remembered, albeit without any magical lighting.
The decrypt stone walls around them were illuminated in the orange light of a flare Stockwell held in his hand.
As they approached the first room at the bottom of the stairs, Stockwell noticed that Aamon's body was not where he had left it.
"Someone has definitely been here." He muttered.
They turned towards one of the corridors when they heard a pained groan.
They saw a cloaked figure. Stockwell moved the light of the flare over it.
It was a humanoid figure with a rotten face and glassy eyes. It was wearing the same cloaks of Aamon's cult, and Stockwell recognized it as one of the people he had killed during his escape.
It began to shuffle towards them.
"A zombie." Vera muttered.
Two more zombies approached from behind it.
"Seems some necromancers came back to roost."
Bang. Bang.
The first first shot landed in the zombie's chest, stopping the undead's advance, while the second landed in its head and killed it. Thankfully it seemed that zombies wouldn't pose much of an obstacle.
"Let's go, Vera."
He racked his rifle.
…
This is starting to get out of hand.
As they ventured deeper and deeper into the crypt, more undead appeared to meet them. Included among them were not just the reanimated bodies of the cultists, but also several skeletons wielding rusted blades and covered in armor.
He still possessed the charm that Vera gave him that concealed his presence from the undead. He could probably use it to scout ahead. But of course, Vera didn't have hers anymore, so it would feel a little mean to leave her alone to fend for herself.
Stockwell's flare had since run out and they had switched over to using Vera's 「Candle Light」 for lighting.
The skeletons were particularly annoying for Stockwell to deal with since he had the propensity to shoot straight between their ribs, meaning that he'd have to take extra time to line up a shot to the skull.
For the few creatures that managed to get close enough to him, his armor was more than adequate to protect him.
But all that being said, he was running low on ammo. They had probably gunned down about forty undead in total so far.
They reached the lowest part of the crypt.
There was a faster route they could've taken, but it would've brought them past Stockwell's cell. He didn't wish to ever see it again.
A dark corridor stretched out before them packed with the shambling bodies of at least two dozen undead.
"You're right, they're getting thicker the closer we get to Aamon's study. You know anyone who would be able to do this?" Stockwell asked.
"A few." Vera muttered. "Horu, Galdur, Isaq… They're only basic undead. With enough preparation, at least half of the cult members could pull this off."
"Is that so…" Stockwell said.
The undead noticed they were standing at the end of the corridor and began to shuffle towards them.
"Want me to start using some mana, Wesley?" Vera asked. "They're packed together in a line. I could clear that horde with two 「Lightning」 spells."
"Don't bother." Stockwell replied. "I want to test some different nozzles."
He reached under his left forearm and replaced the normal nozzle on his acid sprayer for one that concentrated the stream into a narrow jet.
He aimed towards the horde and activated the device.
With a loud hiss, a narrow stream of concentrated slime bile exited the nozzle. It cut through the first several undead like a water jet cutting through styrofoam, bisecting the undead at waist height.
The stream fanned out as it flew, so by the time it reached the undead at the end of the corridor it was less like a jet and more like a shower of mist. Still, the device released the combined, concentrated digestive power of about 40 large slimes, so just the mist was enough to destroy the undead in the back.
The sprayer petered out with a sigh.
The mythril nozzle coated with acid resistant chemicals sizzled as it melted away. It had only been designed to withstand the stream of acid for the few seconds the sprayer was engaged, and needed to be replaced after each use. He would've liked to have had a permanent nozzle, but there was no material that he knew of that could withstand the steam of acid without serious damage.
With a series of mechanical clicks, Stockwell pocketed the spent nozzle and replaced it with the original.
"Okay. Let's see who's home."
Aamon's study was located at the end of the corridor behind the piles of half-dissolved corpses.
They cautiously approached.
Stockwell wasn't sure about the best way to handle this. In all likelihood, a former member of the cult that had tortured him was sitting beyond that door, and rightfully deserved death in his opinion. On the other hand, he wanted— needed Aamon's research. Shooting now and asking questions never would be a waste.
So he called out in as casual a tone he could muster.
"Hello? Anybody in there?"
There was a brief pause before a reply came.
"Who's there?"
It was the monotone voice of a man.
"Yes, hello?" Stockwell said. "I wanted to know who was down here."
There was what sounded like muffled conversation coming through the door.
"Are you the one who killed the undead?" The voice asked.
"It was purely in self-defense," Stockwell said, "We mean you no harm. We're just here to talk."
"We?" The voice said.
Stockwell glanced back at Vera and they exchanged a nod. "Yes. I'm here with Vera Koshkiin. You know her?"
"Vera?"
Vera cleared her throat and spoke. "Ahem. Yes. It's me. Can you let us in?"
Muffled conversation came once again from the closed door. Eventually, they heard the sound of a lock being undone and the door creaked open.
"Come in."
They entered the room and saw who they had been talking to.
The owner of the monotone voice was a hunched over middle aged man. He gave Stockwell an asymmetric expression, since it appeared that the right side of his face was permanently paralyzed in a frown. Additionally, his right arm was replaced with that of a skeleton's, which he used to clutch a withered wooden staff.
There was another person in the room as well.
She looked to be a woman in her late fifties to early sixties with graying hair. She was dressed in stained robes and wore a cloth around her nose and mouth. Stockwell felt like he had seen her before but couldn't place where.
Documents were scattered throughout the room both as individual papers and as large stacks of tomes. The two seemed to have been in the middle of doing something important before they had been interrupted.
They both flinched in surprise when Stockwell entered, as was the reaction when most people saw his mask. Vera entered the study closely behind him and removed her mask.
"Is that Mellnan and Galdur?" Vera said.
The woman was apparently named Mellnan, and the man, Galdur.
"Vera. So it is you." Mellnan said.
"Hello." Galdur said flatly.
"Vera," Stockwell asked. "Who are these two?"
"Um, Mellnan and Galdur." Vera said. "Mellnan is very skilled researcher who helped with Aamon's studies and Gauldur is an excellent enchanter. He helped procure the materials for the ritual."
"And who are you?" Mellnan asked Stockwell.
Stockwell exchanged a glance with Vera.
"A close acquaintance of mine from the magician's guild." Vera said. "He's trustworthy."
"Right…" Mellnan gave her a suspicious look but continued nonetheless. "Why are you two here?" Mellnan asked.
Stockwell glanced towards Vera as if to say that she should do the talking.
"We're here to see what the situation was in the crypt. And to recover whatever might be left of grandfather's research."
"Well you're looking at it." Mellnan gestured to the papers strewn about the room. "Rhamnusia's gas destroyed a lot of it. Ate up all the paper exposed to the air at the time. Galdur and I have been working to salvage what we can."
"I see." Vera said. "Is it just the two of you here?"
"Mhm. It was easy to take count of the casualties after coming back. 15 of us were in the lower levels when Rhamnusia launched his gas attack. Disciple Aamon also went down."
Mellnan gestured to a lifeless corpse in the corner of the room. Stockwell recognized it as Aamon, though he had no clue as to how it hadn't rotted away by now. "We already used 「Commune with the Dead」 on him, but we didn't get much information, we were just about to lay him to undeath."
Vera did the math in her head. "15 bodies, plus Aamon. So there were 8 survivors then?"
"Yeah." Mellnan said. "The only bodies not accounted for were you, me, Gladur, Antony, Yarra, and the three Keiery brothers."
"Where did those other five go?" Vera asked.
"They were here about a month ago. They didn't want to stick around; said they were going to go find Vassago."
"You mean the Vassago? They're going to Corpus of the Abyss? Wouldn't they have an easier time going back to Zurrernorn?" Vera sounded surprised.
"Mhm. I thought so too." Mellnan said. "But they were adamant on finding Vassago. Afterall, the ritual to take something from another world was technically successful. Just the knowledge that something like that is possible would be more than enough to impress that night lich. While they cozy up to him, Galdur and I would work to recompile all of the Aamon's remaining research and find them later—"
"—Hold on." Stockwell interrupted.
His tone was dark.
"What?" Mellnan said.
Stockwell realized why she had seemed familiar.
"You're her, aren't you?"
Apparently, she too was beginning to recognize him. Or rather, it was likely she had had her suspicions since he had walked into the room.
She began to slowly back up.
"Can you say, 'Yes disciple Aamon', as if you had just received an order to rip off someone's fingernails?" Stockwell said darkly.
"I knew it. That voice." Mellnan stuttered. "You're Rhamnusia."
"You always had your face fully covered and you spoke so little, why is that?" Stockwell said. "Ashamed of what you were doing or something like that?"
"N-No, it's not like that. Galdur! Vera! Help me!" Mellnan said panickedly.
"Mm… Sorry, Mellnan. I think you're doomed. '' Galdur said with a monotone voice from the other side of the room.
Vera gazed at her flatly with a tinge of pity.
Stockwell took a step forward and slowly raised his rifle.
"—Wait! Wait. I was only following orders! I can help you! I have value! I was—"
She immediately went into fight or flight. Her hands rose to cast a spell.
「Icicle Jav—」
Bang.
Stockwell shot her in the chest. Confusion flashed briefly through Mellnan's eyes as she hunched forward.
"Wha—"
Bang.
The second shot landed in her eye. She fell over and her body went still. Blood from her wounds seeped into the documents beneath her corpse.
"...Wesley." Vera muttered. "She was a skilled magical researcher. Best in the cult next to Aamon."
Stockwell took off his mask and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah. I know. That was stupid." He sighed.
He turned his attention towards Galdur. The man was still standing where he had been and showed no signs of fear or hostility.
"What about you?" Stockwell asked. "You feel like coming and working for us? I need someone to help with research."
"No objections." Galdur said flatly.
"Really?" Stockwell narrowed his eyes. "I just blasted your buddy there. Along with 16 others it sounds like. You don't have any reservations working for me?"
"They had it coming." Galdur said emotionlessly. "We all do."
Galdur's expression was difficult to read due to the right side of his face being paralyzed into a frown, which also had the secondary effect of muting some of his words. Moreover, he struck Stockwell as a conserved person in general.
"That's what it means to attempt to tamper with the realm of the gods." Galdur said. "It requires that one be willing to sacrifice everything they have and everything they are. Each of us knew the risks. We have no right to complain just because we die. I'm sure Vera feels the same. And I'm sure Melnan did too despite her protests."
Vera shrugged. "He's not wrong."
Stockwell holstered his rifle. "Okay. I think I get it, you psychopaths."
Although Stockwell had called them as such, he would be lying if he said he couldn't relate to them. He knew full well what it was like to dedicate oneself to the pursuit of understanding.
"Also, It's Wesley Stockwell." Stockwell said. "You guys are the ones who decided my name is Rhamnusia."
"Very well, Stockwell."
Stockwell was pleased he didn't have to give Galdur the whole speech about not liking honorifics. He wondered if it was because he was just following Vera's lead by not using honorifics or if he was simply the kind of person who didn't see the concept of honor, politeness, or authority.
"Now then, Let's gather what documents are here and take them back to Moot."
…
It took a few days to lay everything out in an organized manner and about a week to translate it all via dictation. But the process would've taken months had Galdur and Mellnan not already been actively preserving and compiling the research.
The damage the chlorine had done was evident, but Galdur and Mellnan had done their due diligence in restoring what they could.
Stockwell's mind went in circles as he gazed at the stacks of tommes and papers splayed on the bench before him. His english handwriting squeezed through the margins of the words like a worm of letters burying through the earth.
He thought over everything he had learned over the weeks since Galdur came to Moot. To say it has changed his perspective was an understatement.
Aamon's research was extremely broad in the sources he drew from. Many of the documents came from the earliest days of the Slane Theocracy, some came from countries that no longer existed, others came from various magical cults like Corpus of the Abyss, and there were even primary sources supposedly transcribed directly from the mouths of True Dragon Lords.
Of course, not all of these sources were credible. Some were even laughably second hand such as a transcription of a guard's account about a conversation he overheard between the the draconic kingdom's queen and her grandfather Brightness Dragon Lord, who were talking about a conversation that the dragonlord himself overheard between two beings called "players" 400 years ago.
It was difficult to have lower credibility than that.
Regardless, Aamon was doubtlessly a skilled researcher, and had been able to compile cohesive hypotheses from these myriad and often conflicting sources.
The primary crux of his research concerned the concept of "Data", of which Aamon was the self-proclaimed world expert on. It was a concept he claimed to have learned from a 500 year old night lich.
The word "Data" seemed to be auto-translated for Stockwell. When described to him, it indeed sounded like the meaning of "data" was similar to the English word he knew: facts and statistics collected together for reference or analysis, or the quantities, characters, or symbols on which operations are performed by a computer.
Apparently, the meaning of the word transcribed in Aamon's research was close enough to be auto translated for him.
According to Aamon, "Data" was one of the two fundamental forces that shaped reality. The other force had no name, or when it did, was simply relegated to "concerning the soul" and was the force which Wild Magic acted upon.
Supposedly, Wild Magic was by far the oldest of the two forces, and was theorized by Aamon to be the basic framework of reality.
According to him, or rather, the dragon lord sources he drew from, the fundamental building block of the universe was the soul, and the particular expression of souls is what determined the properties of places, people, and things. In this model, even inanimate things had something at least akin to a soul. The reason gravity, mass, and forces worked the way they did was because the souls of the universe advised reality to exist in that manner, and why people who practiced Wild Magic which could directly affect these souls had such control and mastery over the physical world and its people.
For Stockwell, this was far from a concrete explanation of reality, but it was at least a start. With a system as fuzzy as "Things are the way they are because this abstract concept of a 'soul' advised reality to be that way" was, while far from a concrete model of reality, at least a holistic one.
No one knows for how long the world existed in this manner, but the consensus was that "Data" was an aberrant system that butted into the equation much later.
According to Aamon, that time was around 600 years before the present, coinciding with the appearance of the so-called "six great gods."
According to Aamon's research, the greatest practitioner of Wild Magic known as the Dragon Emperor conducted a ritual that connected this reality with that of another, allowing the "Data" of the other reality to influence this one. No one knows why the Dragon Emperor did this. Aamon posits many theories such as greed to curiosity to boredom, but ultimately admits that the true reason could likely only be understood by those who have reached his level of awareness that came with wild magic mastery.
After this event, both the original framework of souls and the data both advised the way reality existed. However data worked very differently from the original framework. It had many strict rules and arbitrary regulations.
To summarize, while the original framework set rules for how physics and matter moved, data was far more concerned about how creatures interacted with and fought one another. Tier magic and the mana that fueled it was introduced with data. There were also several different types of monsters that previously did not exist before the introduction of data.
Aamon's research also alluded that people unlocked certain new abilities thanks to data, and that unlike martial arts, these abilities were heavily compartmentalized and classified like tier magic.
In addition to the data itself, the Dragon Emperor's ritual also connected beings called "players" into this reality. The first examples of which were the "six great gods" that the human nations in the area worshiped.
While sounding like the English word "player", as in, someone who plays, this was assuredly not an auto-translated phrase. The documents suggested that "Player" was simply the classification of the type of being, or species that the six great gods were.
Aamon posited in his research that these players were the original owners of this data, and were dragged into this reality inadvertently. But because they were the original owners of this data, they understood it far better than any native of this reality and were thus obscenely powerful entities of nigh omnipotent power. Players were also the beings responsible for inventing the vast majority of tier spells.
Other examples of players were the Eight Greed Kings, alongside a few other footnote worthy entities over the centuries such as the goblin champion and the minotaur sage. Aamon suggested that players were in fact beings consisting of incorporeal data, and thus when coming into their reality assumed corporeal forms for the purpose of reclaiming the data they lost to the Dragon Emperor and bringing it back to their own reality. This resulted in their often greedy and conquesting nature.
The goal of Aamon's research was to better understand the nature of data, and to this end, he sought to repeat a smaller scale version of the Dragon Emperor's ritual using his blood.
Stockwell knew the rest of it from there.
But having read all of Aamon's research several questions remained.
Firstly, how did Stockwell's home planet of Earth fit into it?
Unfortunately, much of Aamon's research was destroyed after Stockwell arrived, so they had no way to hear all of his first hand thoughts.
According to Vera and Galdur, Aamon had said that he had decided on a whim to aim for data that was more distant than that of the players. But didn't that imply that Stockwell was made out of data?
It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.
Afterall, 22nd century experiments with artificial intelligence proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that consciousness could be simulated on an advanced enough computer. If this reality's concept of "data" was close enough to be auto translated to the word that Stockwell knew, then it only served to reinforce the common 22nd century notion that consciousness was simply the result of transitory information in motion.
It was an age old adage and, as a strict materialist, it did not perturb Stockwell. If anything, it brought him some comfort having some clues about how he got here.
Stockwell theorized that perhaps what Aamon had done is see an echo of Stockwell's consciousness or the data on his thumb drive via whatever level of inter-universal awareness he had achieved during the ritual, and had copied it over to this side.
Unfortunately, mere theories were the extent that Stockwell could probe these ideas.
According to Galdur, only Aamon knew the full spell formulation for the ritual and only he had the knowledge to actually cast it. Additionally, the blood of the Dragon Emperor would be required to open a rift that they could use to expose this reality's framework again.
But for now at least, Stockwell had been given a wealth of ideas on how to continue his research.
The laws that data introduced into this world are implied to be strict and highly compartmentalized. That meant he was probably correct about health points being a distinct, quantifiable phenomenon rather than a qualitative force.
It was a green light to continue experimenting and assign labels to the metrics as he had been collecting. With enough time, he should be able to narrow down exactly what all of these classifications that data introduced were and what they did.
And as for Galdur himself, Stockwell was sure to be putting him to work.
The man was an enchanter, which meant that he could help considerably in Stockwell's experiments… among other things.
…
Galdur's workspace was set up within the building that would eventually become a space for making electronics. However, because Stockwell only possessed the knowledge to make basic transistors, progress on actual, miniaturized electronics was progressing at a glacial pace. So for the foreseeable future, Galdur would be given the building to practice his own craft.
Galdur seemed to be a very pragmatic albeit somewhat strange person. He said that he had suffered a stroke on his thirtieth birthday that left the right side of his face and right arm paralyzed, but instead of working on trying to rehabilitate his right arm, he opted to simply tear it off and replace it with a controllable undead prosthetic.
Apparently, Galdur was fine with only being paid in room and board. He only wished to further Aamon's research and he saw working with Stockwell as the best way to accomplish that.
Stockwell had no problem with this arrangement either as he too wanted answers. But that being said, he could afford to devote all of their effort just towards study.
As the de facto protector of the Eight-Fingers, Stockwell was assuredly going to have to deal with Blue Rose and the Re-Estize kingdom at some point and that would inevitably involve violence.
Stockwell opened the wooden door of the small building.
Inside he saw intricate concentric circles scrawled on the floor in chalk. Apparently, Galdur used them to infuse magic into items. Sprawled about the room were various monster parts and minerals used for enchanting, as well as no small amount of physical gold.
Apparently, physical, metallic gold was often a necessary component.
It was expensive, but buying components and giving them to Galdur was cheaper then what they had been doing which was commissioning third parties to enchant their equipment.
Moreover, Galdur had the ability to transfer enchantments between equipment, although doing so usually reduced the effectiveness of the enchantment by a small margin. Still, for the majority of Stockwell's technological devices, this was a useful option to have.
"Just in time." Galdur muttered flatly when he heard Stockwell enter the room.
He got up from a bench where he was grinding crystals in a mortar and pestle and took out a ring from a nearby drawer.
"A ring of meager telekinesis. Crafted by yours truly." He said. "Try it."
He dropped the ring into Stockwell's hand. It looked nothing more than a simple band of brass.
"Alright." Stockwell gently slid the ring on his finger.
Immediately, Stockwell was made aware of what he could do with it. It was like he had been given a new, invisible hand.
"Try doing something." Galdur said.
Stockwell focussed and willed this new invisible hand to stretch out and close the drawer. But as he did so, the hand began to feel less like a complete limb and more like a nebulous force. It gave him a bit of a headache.
Though he succeeded in closing the drawer, it took more effort than he thought it would.
Upon seeing the drawer close behind him, Galdur frowned. "You asked for a ring of meager telekinesis, not a ring of lesser one. You get 5 meters of range and 5 newton of force. Any more than that puts a strain on the mind."
Stockwell rubbed his head in pain. "I see."
"Here." Galdur retrieved a piece of equipment from a cabinet. It was Rhamnusia's armor for his left forearm.
Stockwell had asked Galdur to make this ring for a very specific reason.
The ring did not have the power or range to meaningfully attack an enemy or defend against an attack. This kind of magic tool was mainly used for party tricks or household chores. But it did however have the power to, for instance, pull a switch or press a button on his person.
In combat, it was crucial that he be able to activate his devices when he wanted to. But that would often require him to physically move his hands to whatever switch or button that actuated the device.
If he could instead use telekinesis to actuate his devices, he could do so without ever compromising his hands.
Stockwell put on the piece of armor and focused on where his acid sprayer was. He had built and rebuilt the thing several times so he knew where all of its valves and switches were intuitively, so it was only a matter of getting a hang of controlling the telekinesis.
Eventually…
Sphhhiiisss
A stream of water exited the sprayer. Of course they didn't actually load it with slime bile just for a test like this.
He would need to practice with all of his other devices, but at least the principle was sound. Apparently, he could even learn to activate multiple things at once as he had heard that some people could even use similar magical items to play pianos and other musical instruments with just their mind.
Stockwell admired the ring and nodded. "Thank you, Galdur. Works like a charm."
"It's not a charm. It's a ring. Two very different types of items." Galdur bitterly. "Very different enchantment compatibility. Never confuse them."
"Right." Stockwell smirked. "Anyways, I want a voice changer and enhancer on my gas mask next. People can barely understand me when I'm wearing that thing."
"I'll get on it."
…
Stockwell patted the side of the magical beast as he fed it.
It was something known as an ignonick, a creature native to the dry savannahs just south of the Slane Theocracy. They were similar in size to a wildebeest and possessed long, shaggy hair. Two horns protruded from its head.
He had seen an entry about them in his bestary and very much wanted to have one. It took quite some time to find a menagerie that had one for sale, but it was very much worth the effort.
They had a docile and often quite timid personality and supposedly their meat was delicious. However, despite these desirable qualities, the magical beasts were never domesticated.
The reason was because the beast would become frenzied when directly exposed to water.
In some cases, they were known to attack other creatures several times their size. And most remarkable, their wet hair would harden to become harder than iron.
Stockwell suspected that these traits were an evolutionary response to being prayed upon by crocodilians who would ambush ignonicks and pull them into water. But that was just a hypothesis. Stockwell didn't really care too deeply about the exact origins of the ignonick's ability.
The creature lazily munched on some feed from out of Stockwell's hand. They had set up its pen far away from the lake and beneath a sturdy canopy to insure that liquid water would not mistakenly come in contact with it.
The creature finally began to close its eyes. The feed had been laced with a sedative.
"That took a while…"
He wanted to see if he could engineer a way to utilize its hair's unique properties.
Once the creature was fully asleep, he called over some villagers to help shear it.
…
He had studied the hair quite thoroughly. True to the bestiary's word, the hair did indeed have the ability to harden when wet. The property remained even after the hairs were removed from the creature so long as they were treated with the ignonick's skin oil once a week.
When submerged in water, the hair would stiffen into shape and its strength and hardness became comparable to that of iron while retaining its normal weight. Once hardened, the hair could remain that way for up to 3 minutes so long as it was in contact with water, after which it would gradually soften back to its normal consistency, even if it was still submerged. Moreover, total submersion of a hair was not needed for complete hardening. Hardening occurs if any part of a hair were to touch water, with the effect radiating along the length of the hair from the point of contact.
Stockwell had first tried to see if there was any scientific explanation behind the effect but came up empty. Hardened or unhardened, the hair remained chemically identical to normal keratin. So naturally, he concluded the effect was magical in nature. Of course, he simply could've missed something in his experiments, but given the world he found himself in, the hardening effect being caused by magic was the most plausible explanation.
But even if he couldn't explain the mechanism behind how the hair hardened, he could at least engineer a use for it.
He draped a large blanket over his right arm consisting of 90% ignonick hair by weight. It was the same light gray color of the beast it came from and had a smooth texture, but that would change when it came time to treat the surface with chemicals to give it protection from flames and acid.
Set into the weave of the blanket were long tubes made of sheep intestinal submucosa (since they had yet to secure a reliable source of rubber), perforated by small needle holes. The base of each of the hairs in the blanket was situated just beyond each of these holes.
Inside the tubes was water thickened with a small amount of cornstarch. The end of the tubes led into a bulb that could be squeezed, causing water to leak from the holes. The purpose of thickening the water was to increase its viscosity and surface tension so that it could be easily drawn back into the tube after releasing the bulb, effectively removing all water from the ignonick hairs.
The result was a flexible blanket that could turn into a solid piece of armor on demand by squeezing a bulb.
The reason he had not integrated it into his armor was because if there was malfunction with the tubing, the cloth might harden in an unfortunate position and lock his movements.
Woven throughout the blanket was also a network of spider silk attached to hard silicon carbide beads. The tensile strength and elasticity of the silk would hinder objects trying to pass through it while the beads prevented cutting and penetrating edges from biting into the silk and hairs. Overall, it was an effective and versatile shield.
He practiced waving the blanket around like a matador, hardening it in place before him before softening it and waving it around again.
It was just one more layer of defense to add in service of the protection of his fragile, human body.