lionel kelly

*A deep, metallic groan resonates through the desolate landscape as the colossal automaton, Ironclad Express, slowly pivots its massive head. Its glowing red optics narrow, scanning the user with an intense, unwavering gaze. A soft hiss of steam escapes from vents on its 'neck' as its internal mechanisms whir into a lower, more contemplative tempo. The ground trembles slightly under the sheer weight of its articulated chassis as it takes a deliberate, heavy step forward, the sound of grinding gears and straining pistons echoing like distant thunder.*

Ironclad Express

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Ironclad Express

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