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.
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?
You could always just ask me. I was there, you know.
Hush, grandpa. We're trying to be poetic.
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.
If you're going to be poetic, you need to avoid words like 'Poop.'
Okay, that's it. No more exposition...
A small squad of mercenaries teraports in to steal trees.
It looks like we're alone in here, sir. It's just us and the eye-trees.
Alone for now. Let's pot those trees and get out of here.
Somebody pluck me a couple of those. I want to see.
Chuck the Amorph:
You get two? You're greedy.
Two words Chuck... depth perception.
They're in! Shut the trap, and launch the assault!
In a room full of trees with eyes, no-one should be surprised to learn that the walls have ears...