He's visibly furious- Yet when ISN'T the High Commander plainly emoting in some unreasonable state of rage or disgust?
The door to the main lab doesn't fly off it's hinges like he wants it to, instead the portal is stubbornly reinforced with enumerable layers of metal alloy that simply makes an unimpressive thudding nose when the heel of his armored greaves slams into it.
The subdued chain-reaction only intensifies his anger (Ravus is also depressingly aware he probably just induced anterior ankle impingement upon himself), opting to instead firmly grasp the handle.
The metal latch creaks and squeals beneath the force of his monstrous strength, bending into a twisted knot of rebar beneath the clawed fingers of his prosthetic limb. It is more in the line with the wanton destruction he'd been aiming to cause in response to his newfound 'abilities', but Fleuret would much rather be making a handmade cat's cradle out of Verstael's spine- at present.
The thick leather fastenings and grooved metal of the Magitek-enhanced limb are rapidly picked apart until it's elaborately sculpted outer shell pieces fall to the sterilized floor.
The necrotic tissue that remained after being burned by the Ring of the Lucii had to be excised, leaving little by the way of structure left. Bone sawed through, muscle and tissue stripped away, skin removed and surgically tailored to encourage consistent healing times.
New growth had began to take root- the remaining flesh not only on an increasingly rapid mend, but even surpassing the incision point that had claimed the rest of his arm.
It does not make a pleasant sight. Bestial and out of proportion to that of a normal human of Ravus' height and even enhanced build (chest and shoulder muscles trained specifically to be more densely packed, to make up for the sheer difference in weight that the mechanical accessory took on his injured and altered frame), it looks the furthest thing from human one can possibly get.
Miasmic particles seem the radiate from the diseased and mutating form, ligaments twitching on and off due to being 'newly birthed' while simultaneously undergoing a highly accelerated period of development and maturation.
Razor-sharp and wickedly curved claws sprout from the nailbeds of his regenerated hand, thick branches of blood vessels rhythmically pulsing brackish vitae through the biological affront to natural life itself.
Verstael looked up at the awful sound of bending metal, already frowning. How many times did the Commander want to interrupt his work? He was the one building the entire army - so many of his assistance had been mysteriously struck down with plasmodium - and yet he was continually pulled away from his work by useless requests and politics.
"High Commander Fleuret." He greeted with obvious annoyance.
But that frustration quickly turned to a perverse and horrific interest as Ravus began to strip away the protective armour of his arm. He stood from his chair and approached. The man attached to the arm meant nothing to him in an instant as he reached out to touch the mutated flesh.
"Oh..." A sigh slipped from his lips unbidden.
It was certainly dangerous to be exposed to; leaking miasma could carry the Scourge but Verstael already had black and purple stains spreading across his skin beneath his clothes.
"It's remarkable, it's impossible... Unless... Does the remnant power of the Ring interact with the Starscourge..?" Speaking mostly to himself, soft mumbles. it took more than a moment for him to remember Ravus existed beyond this miracle of mutation. "I can't give answers until I'm allowed to study it further. You'll have to allow me to biopsy it - as I assume you'd prefer not to be on my medical table again."
