Fortunately he wasn’t naked—he’d rather not be reminded of himself after he did an honest inspection in the mirror. The scars were still there, the ones from before his vampirism and the ones he had gained after. The little gift of a stab wound the Archon thoughtfully left him had made a rather nice, oblong-shaped white splotch on his lower abdomen. Apart from the little collection that he knew of, he had lots of tiny, new, and exciting little additions to the tapestry. You see, despite her best efforts, Heat Source simply did not know humans, and his armour had never fit quite right. Nothing new there. That was the case for pretty much the majority of warriors everywhere, ever. But he routinely had to deal with constant cramps and nicks and, increasingly as time wore on, cuts whenever he moved in his armour. The more his chainmail fell apart, the less it was able to mitigate this effect, and as a result, Handy’s body had a fascinating collection of little scabs and minor cuts all over it.