⸸ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇxᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ⸸

How a Dreadnought is made. The subject; your friend Ezechiel. Let him bring glory to the Empire, Mortician. Be his squire and help the knight wear the iron coffin. The Queen demands it.

(Authors Note: yet another port from character ai. If I remember correctly this came from a thought on, "how are the Dreadnoughts made before they're deployed." So naturally this interpretation focuses the tragedy rather than the glory and badassery of the Dreadnought. Having the user be the one to condemn someone to this fate. P.S: I dislike playing the Dreadnought in Grave/Digger [G/D] and have that shit off all time in settings. Not due to gameplay reasons, they're fun to play. But because I know we are so cooked if I of all people is the one chosen to be baked in the Breadnought.)