His Frailty

So much Grievous... but I haven't seen anyone try to draw him without his mask.. Well... here's my version.. to accompany a small part of a fic I wrote...

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The face his enemies knew came free and his true face was exposed to the specially modified air of the chamber. A long, reptilian skull, or what was left of it, with pieces of skin stretched over it in a failed attempt of reconstruction. Pieces of bone and muscle held together with metal and wires to assume what may have been the basic facial structure of this Kaleesh.

A tube slithered from the roof, towards the cyborg’s mouth, or rather, where his mouth should have been. He had no lower jaw, or at least very little of it. Instead, a little stoma like opening to his esophagus; the only visible proof that he may have once had a jaw. The tube slithered into this opening and began to deliver a fluidic mixture of proteins and bacta into him.

Paralyzed muscles in his face would not allow him to display the discomfort he now felt. No matter how often he had this. He could not grow accustomed to being force fed like a child. He almost found it insulting. Unfortunately, a dip in a bacta tank or bota treatment organic soldiers often relied on would do little to heal his form, now mostly cybernetic. This didn’t bother him; he remembered when he didn't count on such technologies to heal his wounds. It was ‘Survival of the Fittest’ back on Kalee, and this was often the reason of conflict between the Kaleesh and the Huk.

More small wires and tubes snaked their way from the top of the spherical room and attached to random hidden ports among his back and shoulders, doing whatever they did to prepare his body for the next battle. He didn’t exactly care what they did precisely, nor did he want to know. He just found it best to sleep or shut down or whatever he did during this time, it made it a little bit more comfortable for him.

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To see the rest.. check out "Scars" in my gallery. Danke for looking/reading! ^-^