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Narrator:if you peer back through the darkness of long-expired millennia, and view the world of ghanj-rho when her dominant sapients waxed mighty, you'll be treated to more than a few spectacles of ambitious overengineering.
Narrator:Sadly, this is not a view that is practical to acquire, and so the mighty relics of ghanj-rho only whet our curiousity. We can see the shape of the cog we have found, but can we deduce the full function of the machine it served?
Rod:You could always just ask me. I was there, you know.
Narrator:Hush, grandpa. We're trying to be poetic.
Narrator:The chev clan has planted eye trees in the belly of one of these machines. They are no more aware of what it used to do than a pigeon is aware of the deeds iconized by the bronze effigy upon which it perches and poops.
Rod:If you're going to be poetic, you need to avoid words like 'Poop.'
Narrator:Okay, that's it. No more exposition...
Narrator:A small squad of mercenaries teraports in to steal trees.
Brad:It looks like we're alone in here, sir. It's just us and the eye-trees.
Kevyn:Alone for now. Let's pot those trees and get out of here.
Schlock:Somebody pluck me a couple of those. I want to see.
Chuck the Amorph:You get two? You're greedy.
Schlock:Two words Chuck... depth perception.
Gamm:They're in! Shut the trap, and launch the assault!
Narrator:In a room full of trees with eyes, no-one should be surprised to learn that the walls have ears...