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ArtistA small grumpy goblin inventor named Grimbold, wearing worn leather gear, brass goggles and a tool belt, rides a rusty wingless mechanical dragon through the gigantic City of Sleeping Automatons. The dragon is a reptilian clockwork mount built from rusted iron plates, gears, pipes and steam valves, absolutely no wings. Endless brass towers, copper domes, iron bridges and colossal clockwork buildings stretch to the horizon. Thousands of dormant automatons stand motionless on streets, balconies and plazas with closed glowing eyes. A massive silent clock tower rises above the city. Warm sunset light reflects across metal surfaces, creating a magical steampunk fairytale atmosphere. Incredible detail, cinematic scale, adventure and mystery, style of Brian Froud × Ian McQue × Tony DiTerlizzi, 4:3 composition. Include a very small sterilized full-body white unicorn logo with delicate proportions and the text “AI by Unicorngraphics” beneath it in the bottom right corner.
Something had changed since their journey to the Star Forge. At first, Grimbold noticed it only in small details. Strange points of light appeared on the horizon at night. Old signposts turned of their own accord. Sometimes, he even thought he heard distant voices in the wind, whispering through rusty pipes. His rusty riding dragon seemed to sense the changes, too. Time and again, it would stop, lift its head, and listen to the distance, as if something were calling it. One morning, amidst weathered rocks, they found an ancient metal plaque. Thick layers of rust covered its surface, yet a symbol was visible in the center: a gear surrounded by seven small stars. Beneath it ran a barely legible arrow. "That looks like an invitation," Grimbold murmured. The dragon Rusttooth snorted a small puff of steam from its nostrils and set off. For three days, they followed the forgotten sign. The path led through deserted valleys filled with broken machines, across bridges made of iron chains, and through ravines where giant gears lay half-embedded in the rock. Finally, they reached a high mountain ridge. There, Grimbold stopped abruptly. Before them lay a city. It was larger than anything he had ever seen. Brass towers rose into the sky. Steel and copper bridges spanned the spaces between them. Countless domes glittered in the sunlight. Massive machines stood everywhere, their wheels long since stilled. It was a city of incredible beauty. And completely silent. No hammer struck metal. No valve hissed. No engine ran. The entire city seemed frozen in time. Cautiously, they rode through the massive main gate. Only then did Grimbold notice the inhabitants. An automaton sat on a bench. Another leaned against a lamppost. Dozens stood in the squares. Hundreds gazed down from balconies. Thousands of mechanical beings were scattered throughout the city. Yet none moved. Their eyes were closed; their joints motionless. It was as if they had fallen asleep in the midst of their lives. "What happened here?" Grimbold whispered. No one answered. They spent the entire day exploring the streets. Some automatons were as small as children. Others resembled artisans or scholars. Some possessed ornate bodies of silver and brass; others were made of dark steel. Yet all were asleep. As the sun set, Grimbold and his dragon Rusttooth found a large square in the city center. A massive clock tower stood there. Its hands were motionless; its pendulum hung still in the air. The goblin lit a small campfire. He could not sleep that night. Something about the city felt wrong. Shortly after midnight, he suddenly heard a faint sound—a humming. Grimbold sprang to his feet. Not far away, his rusty dragon stood before a statue. A strange melody emanated from within it—a deep, metallic drone the likes of which Grimbold had never heard before.
