- Location
- A Place Miserably Bereft of Cats
Giant badass robots need character development too
A Sleeping God
In the halls of Dorthonion a broken god sleep, broken and battered, burnt to black; its honors were ashes across a hellish battlefield. Yet its battered cogitator thought, slow, but with the weight of granite slabs, enough to crush the mind of any techpriest who tried to intrude into them.
It thought of the Golden God, the dead god. It thought of the defenders of this world who lacked his vision, his hand molding them into perfection, yet still they fought with skill and courage equal to any of those who fought in ancient days
It thought of Glorious Mars, of fallen Mars, of the Techpriest who was forging it anew upon this world, who sacrificed himself and his vision to save it.
It Decided, It Made as the machine god made manifest It Forged
Its Rage, wild for so long broken, beaten, purged of weakness, shaped into a blade that would never dull or break to guarantee no strike against it and those it follows went unanswered
Its Shame, its Sorrow embraced, understood, reshaped, an Armor of Contempt for itself and those it fought with to never let its weakness cost another
This it thought of and more
So Sanctus Furorem awaited
To Awaken
To Rise
Augh no my grammar-nazi sense is triggering hard.
'It's' is a contraction of 'It is.'
'Its,' no apostrophe, is the possessive form.
Really good job otherwise! Just... Apostrophes.
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