Opening Script:
Ichor.
Blood of the gods.
Burn it and cities fly.
Course it and metal breathes.
Have it and wars are waged.
The gods may be dead, but their blood still holds their gifts, their miracles, their magic.
And Calyx, it tastes awful.
Tastes… awful?
Calyx, ichor trickles into your mouth from something looming above you. You open your eyes and see a massive war machine, a warforged Titan, ichor pouring from a gash in its neck.
Calyx, you have been pinned underneath 600 pounds of steel and iron.
What do you do?