help rin make ghosts

[victorianflorist]

JETAIME

There are no gods here, in the wilds. Though these lands are in the providence of the cogged one, these wilds are no land of his. There are no clanking, whirring, twisting metal beasts. Only those of sinew, salt, and sacrilegiousness. Fiends roam these wilds, tearing and rending earth and flesh alike. The lands that sit between the beasts of order and chaos are lands truly without gods. Not a soul is touched by their divine paws. These fiends were not shaped, modeled, guided, or crafted, they are freedom, unshackled. No nature nor disposition taints their being, no desire but those that the flesh requires. No craving for smoke nor crystal.

The divine races, shackled to their creators, wayward without them. Mothlie and pockitt flee alike wander, lawless and feckless but still bound. Bound forever to the dead eye'd gods. Shattered in the glass maw of the creature the two mountains had borne. It is true freedom, to be of the fiends. To be untethered to the lands and the gods, and yet, they are still bound. The gods raised not only the creatures, but the land. Even in this place of no divinity, the mountains in their staggering forms, loom from the very soil at your feet, suffused into the soil they shaped with hands clasped together. And fruit of this soil, is fruit of the gods themselves! Of divine providence placed upon these lands! No god must touch these lands again, no god may grasp these fiends. May they be free, forever.