MAGMA, SUBTERRANEAN TSAR
For millennia, Immo’s great forge lay dormant. His arrays of cauldrons sat high, their tubes and bricks wearing away as hot dry air ate at them.
Amongst careful preparations, and a raise of his scythe, the dead land stirred with life. Great alloyed tubes groaned and swelled, drawing millions of gallons of molten rock and metal from the mantle below. Like a pendulum, the walls of cauldrons poured the planet’s life blood into vast molds built thousands of years ago.
The ground shifts beneath Immo’s feet. He did not wish to reinstate reign over the Reapers in such a manner. That is, to hurt his mother planet; in such a way her agony would be felt thousands of miles away.
Other circumstances force the Reaper away from his stance. More pressing matters call his name; two colleagues await his arrival. For now, he presses through a cave whose walls are painted with history.
Hi! Forgot to share this here. Carry on, mwah











