Paper Flesh

The first thing a survivor notices is the sound. A faint rasp when the skin moves over itself, like rubbing two sheets of parchment together. Then the cuts. A minor scrape that should close on its own instead gapes wider than it has any right to, bleeding thin and dark. Something has changed in the architecture of the body, and it is not changing back.
  Paper Flesh is a dermal and skeletal disease that reconfigures the body's structural integrity from the inside out. The Infection reacts to a corrosive, cellulose-like agent by rebuilding collagen and bone matrix into thin, paper-like layers. The result is a body that looks intact but tears under pressure. Wounds split open like cuts in dry wood. Bones splinter from impacts that should only bruise. The condition reads as fragile, and it is; fragile and, as more than one unfortunate has discovered, flammable.
  The disease is not airborne and not contagious through casual contact. Contraction requires direct exposure to specific necrotic reagents, contaminated embalming compounds, or particulates from degraded mortuary papers and bandages that have incubated the cellulose-mutagen. The common vectors are occupational: handling old morgue wrappings without protection, working extended hours in tomb-clearing operations, eating rations stored in contaminated paper sacks. Any break in the skin that contacts the agent accelerates onset. Proximity alone does not infect, but handling affected corpses or materials without full sanitation carries real risk.
  Initial symptoms manifest as tightness and brittleness in the skin, particularly over hands and shins. Minor cuts gape wider than expected and bleed thin, dark fluid as the Infection alters clotting chemistry. Over days the skin becomes dry and fragile; small impacts cause superficial fissures that widen under stress. Bone pain follows as microfractures form near joints. Patients describe a chewing feeling beneath the skin and an odd crispness to their fingertips, as though the flesh is drying from within.
  As the disease advances, the danger in combat rises sharply. Blows that would leave bruises instead create deep tears. Sutures fail because tissue rips rather than holds thread. Standard wound dressings soak through in minutes. Medical treatment must shift from rapid healing to stabilization and structural support, because the techniques that rely on the Infection's natural repair functions simply do not work when the underlying tissue has been converted to something closer to paper than flesh.
  Terminal-stage Paper Flesh makes medical intervention impossible. Any attempt to suture or repair damage makes things worse. Any Body damage, no matter how small, drops the afflicted into Bleed Out. The body has become so fragile that the act of living is itself a risk. Death before this point cures the disease (and frequently delivers it), resetting the body's structure through the Mortis.
  Long-term survivors carry thin, paper-like scarring and increased fracture risk. The disease can be neutralized through targeted necrology that removes or inactivates the mutagen, paired with convalescence and structural support for bones and joints. Prevention is simpler: wear proper protection during tomb work, sanitize anything that comes out of an old morgue, and never trust rations that smell like formaldehyde.
  There is a cruel irony to Paper Flesh. The disease is most common among those who go digging through the ruins of the old world, looking for knowledge, components, or salvage among the preserved dead. What they find instead is a condition that makes them as fragile as the crumbling materials they sought.