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Letters brought from underground runners finally filtered into our rusting pneumatic pipes. They tell tales of strange chambers in this city where sounds are captured, to be released periodically in new and different ways. Stories and myths recited in these tunnels are later recounted by the breeze, by the iron of the buildings and by the leaves of ancient trees. Intromission is inevitable.

Grainy footage has recently emerged of several reclusive cold blooded cryptoids. Pray they do not appear next during your nightly earthling slumber period.