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You would think that it is the junkyard dog's jaws you had to watch out for, but it was the junkman's serrated verse that cut you like shrapnel through tissue. It cut you: The manic mechanic, believer in the cachet of clichés. So you sat, inventor, in front of your collection of gears and cogs, tinkering with your children.


For a band of adventurers foolish enough to help you. Now your plans are finally aligned; they aren't the sharpest lot- but they sure are steely.

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Of gizmos and gadgets Zylphia