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It's night when they emerge from the lift, with clear skies littered with stars, the majority of which are blocked out.

Up above them, casting a shadow over them, is the vast, distinctive shape of the Wyrm, engines trailingthrough its mass of tentacles, lights gleaming, sharp, spiney legs moving back and forth through the air.

Atton peers at the shape, thoughtfully.

"Well. Kriff."
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Atton Rand

August 2012

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