Redanni - The bound hands of asc

To remember.

Time inks deeply the lessons of importance upon the papered genetics all races conceded to in exchange for existence. Visceral commands which puppet the flesh into survival, a critical trade of choice for fate. The era of technology caressing a repetitive client's lust for growth and arrogant dismissal in the importance of misbegotten wisdom.

Yet he knew some races intrinsically smother the rewarded instincts with greater efficiency than others. Smogs of winged beasts responding to cyclical disaster with tremendous rapidity, he noticed, burning the sky in their treacherous cries of panic. This introduction of living resistance marks the first of many cues his race faces in activating a series of defensive functions... and woe the Makers do they return the call.

Silt riders towered above the metal streets, phase-pulse cannons strapped firmly on their shells, their haunting bellows dancing with the whine of heated engines. Forth strides the Ghar'mograk, a four-legged beast of monolithic proportions wielding sharpened tusks painted with ferociously glowing Daedric runes.

Bound hands forbid his assistance to such defensive preparation, a torturous punishment from a worldly dimension that sought to expel his arrogance. A troubled last view blessed encouragement as the vision displayed innumerable wings of armored cliff racers, mounted by Redanni pikemen, charging a catastrophically emerged brass figurine whose emergence showered a world with cogMathic() dirt.

Time granted by a Redanni segFaul_d is short, and with a quiet muttering word, "Ean'manised...", the world danced once more.

Tremoring earth spawns remarkable power within the feeble and meek, the ancient call erupting with unmistakable fury to remind them that they can, must, mute the Devourer.

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