The workers crowded around the map of blood and entrails, it's expanding mass conforming to some crude facsimile of the ship schematics. Floating islands of intestine upon a sea of black blood. The twitches from the goats hooves only succeeded in spraying blood onto everyone’s already stained work boots. Even though only a Masked Mage can truly read the results, the engineers pick up some gut instinct of the most vital of signs. Mostly those pertaining to "catastrophic failure," and "you missed THAT spot you idiot."
The Mage removed their mask with a hiss, rubbing at deep red indentations across their face, speaking through an escaping haze of purple spores. "Your Servitor is acting up, seems to be the one responsible for maintaining the Anti-Hex domain. Have you been following the maintenance we recommended?"
A chorus of groans erupts through the surrounding engineers, to which Michael took as his cue. Kneeling his mass, he avoided the spreading blood with a grimace. "Mate come on, we've been requesting a replacement for that diva from the overseers since it was installed. You lot did a great job, but the damn thing needs babysitting from first to third moon. We had a initiate reading it poetry all day yesterday just so we could install the new counter measures, not to mention-."
The mage put a firm gloved hand up, the golden charm on their wrist ever so lightly tapping Micheal's nose. His jaw tightened.
"We told you, either the guild is provided with a higher payment to install a more pliable Servitor, or you keep on top of its requirements as provided in the hand off documents." Finally looking up from the entrails, the mage could see the creases in Michael's face deepening with a rising anger, mirroring his own indentations. "Or... since I know your behind schedule, I could come down and talk to it with you. Think of it as a favour?"
Both rising, a wave of relief washed over the engineers, while a gangly initiate placed a pile of bad poetry back on a shelf like it was a burden from the gods.