Techmagos Cantido

Eye-less and screaming, the regiments of the dead shiver their burned bones together at the sound of your tread. Foul vapour clots the sun. Oh machine! Oh divine engine! Photo-bright the discharge of your weapons, shatter the fragile vault of the sky and smiting the dirt of the ground to dust. The princeps, adrift in liquid data, a beautiful monster, feels the glory of your great walk as surely as if he had been precision-made in the forge as one your component cogs. Oh metal god! The union is entire, closer than kin or family, closer than brothers, closer than blood. A pact of divine metal, no start of one, no end of another, but both admixed, like an alloy. To be part of a god! To share that majesty and that strength! Oh lucky man!

Do you ever really sleep? In the long between-times, in the silences wasted in oily holds and scaffold frames, do you sleep then? When the enginseers reduce you to dormancy, is that sleep for you? Do you dream then, great engine?

Alt: Enginseer Jarath