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(Navichet climbs over the door’s lower lip, and looks out into the sunlight)

NAVICHET: (surprised) O--

(In the distance are visible two massive ironclads, worn and patched, and a small metal tower. The nearer ironclad is converted into some sort of living structure, with clothes drying on a line from the barrel of its gun)

NAVICHET: Ironclads.

Comic Version