To most in the upper echelons of Souk, this saviour is a myth. But still those under-blocks that it inhabits and pollutes are left alone, and those who live close revere it as a watchful penitent god, to whom those who sin must be taken.
The treads drip with muck, blood, and wires. From the turret strings of flesh swing like wind chimes. The engine whirs like a holy chorus. Nailed to each neuro-plate of armour are Etherwarp cultists babbling in binaric cant.
All around, red grass grows from its base like a biological virus. It sprouts between kneeling supplicants screaming tattered dreams. The spirit within the machine rumbles prayers to itself.
Instinct: To conquer
- Shell of Judgment
- Etherwarp machine gun (to all)
- Make you take the knee
- Command cultists
- Consume cultists