It can be hard, as a word-lover, to reign in my usage of language. I grieved for every one of the 100,000+ words I cut from Mechalarum, especially the those deliciously tumultuous phrases that sound so good in my head but appear all too ponderous upon the page.

When describing the workings of the Mechalarum suits, though, I can't help but give my inner logophile free reign. I shiver with delight at the sounds of words like "blackened," "pulsed," "slick," and "ribbed."

Someday, I may be able to fully quash the temptation to indulge in flights of flowery fancy. But in Mechalarum, at least, you'll find a few of them alive and well.

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