The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-18 20:50:13 -

The rain that fell upon the obsidian plains of Aethelgard did not wash the mud from the armor, but rather, it hardened the filth into a crust that mirrored the tarnished bronze of the heavens, a sky that seemed less like an expanse of air and more like a bruise waiting to burst, and I, Sir Aldric Vane, stood in the center of this desolation, my sword, which had once sung a clear and bright note...

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