The lands were destroyed by the past wars of metal and magic. Parched yellow grass speckled the massive structure of forgotten highways. The cracks in the pavement forced apart, in utter disrepair, by a mash of plants dying of thirst in a wasteland of technology. The war left nothing but crumpled skyscrapers, that were seemingly grasped by God and squeezed like moist clay and left to dry. Dilapidated, whithered husks of their former selves, a congregation of expired colossi. The hills were lacerated with fire and and littered with falling buildings. The ravages of war were great and obvious. The once bright amber orb on the east horizon now just a blank haze behind the scorched veil that separated atmosphere from vacuum.
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