There is something not quite right about this clan...

Machines whir, filling the air with the sounds of buzzing flies encircling a corpse lost in the desert. Stripped wires bristling with charge lie in wait upon the ground like serpents preparing for ambush. The members of the clan swell with the potential of storm clouds on the horizon; not yet broken, but undoubtedly inevitable. A lightning clan, just as any other.

And yet some imperceptible feature nags at the back of the mind, begging to be noticed. The incessant hum of electricity as it arcs between towers and whizzes along its coppery pathways between machines, however, seems to strike out any form of focus or concentration one may have pertaining to the odd aspect.