Spring filled the lower elevations on the southern face of the Canarus Ranges, sowing the valleys and slopes behind the trenches in emerald foliage. From the gates of the mountain redoubts of Forces Velaysia, the Limb Knitter caught sight of the Brigades Invalid, on the march with their machines to stiffen the mere flesh and bone Frontists of the Brigades Defender along the Southern Front. Mixed in amid the rusty, black bipeds were the Invalid Harvesters, their bodies whitewashed to prevent friendly fire and their backs burdened with empty harvest drums.
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