For a time there was man and there was the earth and there was the machine and for a time that troika would remain in symmetry. But man is greedy and so man pulled away from the earth. The sand dies alone. The machine rises.
Polytechnical Tower walked through the sand as commanded by the Silent King that sat upon His throne. That was the way of things and the Tower knew of nothing else and had no desire to know an other way. Cold winds sent waves of sand moving across the dust dunes. Revealing a bridge and ruined walls and empty bunkers. The dead appeared beneath the ash.
It was a place of trolles and their kin.
It was a place where the machine held court and the Children of Æros had walked for many years across the broken world to find this site of holy dulia. Son of Æros moaned in his deep slumber for even he felt the waxing tide of technomancy.
Ill fated voyager Nabucannezzer upon its odyssey to find the vaunted tech whales, baleful Ahab 8 at its helm.
Lost Snowe came to seek the Heart of the world but the heart is dead and crumbling and not even the squats can bring it back. And the war god shivered upon the cold blazing knoll for he saw the craftsmanship of men long dead and he saw the marks of fangs on their bones. Death was never far away.
Honourless Brennisteinner colossus of well honed lies took the field as the pale suns rose. At the helm Bartholom hunched, ogre captain of a den of thieves. It was a dark shadow upon the realm and far did its claws reach to tear and harrow.
Crimson painted Paras sailed in upon a most fortuitous tide. Kyros III watched its ancient rivals coalesce at the land that properly was its alone and not theirs to claim. There would be war and the sky crows of the blue mark would burn.
Shadowed by the mighty Aquila the troll hunters waited patiently. Their prey was near and the toll would be reaped in twisted flesh as was ordered by those most high. Hunter looked to hunter and gave silent salute.
High above the land the ferryman steered the Rotburg, holy ship of latria. They came not for war but for the souls of men yet they too wore arms and they would not bow before an other colossus.
So the stage was set for the lonely bridge to be the site of Vigrid and the wind would howl and the earth tremble and the pallid suns would drown in blood.