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“Slayfather, the advance force has launched their assault on the natives.” Peskus bowed at the waist, black tailcoat billowing in the wind as he and his superior officer stood atop a huge half-flesh half-machine abomination that was burrowing itself into the coastal cliff face. It mutated and convulsed, but took care not to dislodge any of the many tens of thousands of people still inside the construct.
It was a living fortress created from a combination of unholy and machine foun ...
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