The skein is shimmering, Autarch. But the ancients showed me the way.
Tall, transformed monsters of war in human form, walking dark corridors, assaulted by children of conscience too old and too dark to be from this galaxy.
Their makers, coming from the land of wine and bread, will not disapoint, for they have made a game capable of confusing Cogorach himself.
Long and ancient ships, forming the spear of factions, bartling in the skies, for glory and such vain ambitions. The skein is clogged by uncertainties for this one, for the creators are but mere babies stepping in our world.