Perhaps due to the widespread fluctuations of Magic Power affecting atmospheric activities, the wind within the great walls seems to never stop. These unruly winds flow without distinction of season across the weathered and corroded lands, stirring up polluted dust, remnants of past civilizations, carrying them day in and day out across this already dead terrain. And within these ceaseless winds, the Gondor wasteland has seen hardly any new occurrences for centuries.
But now things have changed—a plan brewing for centuries is finally being executed. Like the interlocking gears of fate, a machine long dormant is quietly beginning to operate outside the human civilization's sight.
It is gradually steering this world toward a destined future, yet the mortals toiling outside the great walls are completely unaware of this machine's existence.
