[Story] Fall of the Millstones
In which opposition is contextualized
The Worldorb opens once more before the council of underbeasts, its own energy maw screeching as the blazing eyes inspect through i
ts dissipation. Fissures crack, faultlines of the WorldbreKing.
“General Asteltarkarix, lend me your reports” speaks a massive dragon skull as It’s scrapes along the crystal platform to be hefted upon the shoulders. “They're all here” the little dragon man replied. Ghost links are forming upon the platforms the humans travel.
The chain links scurry along the invisible extra-surface of the Earth with mechanical efficiency, aligning the boundary wall with the physical Earth so the drops may begin. Screams of echos of the future prepare their suffering.
The Chainbeast whirls its massive bulk, as giant chains interconnect all around it to make a chain cavern. The chains on its body were smaller, the whirling turbine of his torso smaller still. First one link, then another, firmly connects to platforms.
The platforms are millstones, carefully constructed by the chainbeast and its friends. They are initial designs for constructing Hell, and are ready to be discarded. The invisible floor of humans shimmers, and a dragon face they can't see comes up below them, swallowing the chainbeast like a glint in its eye.
Then the afterimage vanishes, and the fissures form. The telltale winding dialogue advertises their caught state. Winding, all the way down into the Underrealm, where communication goes to die and be replaced by the appearance of monsters.
As the glass ground vanishes, spirals wind around the platforms, etching microscopic detail in their wake. Red, yellow and orange Hues erupt in their wake. As the humans fall upon their platforms, they see in a micro instant that deep terrain upon which they chose to build themselves.
In the Underrealm, giant horns have a brittle surface of dust, and enormous eye sockets glimmer at the humans who fall as if upon a cloud of dust. There are many flying men with wings like glass butterflies, twisted with a wire seeking unknown destinations to buoy themselves. The humans fall and nothing follows but the billowing energy of their processing, as the millstones complete their jobs. Many eyes can be seen in the bursts of dust and magic, and then they are gone, to join the ringous caverns below. Always more eyes, all perfectly interested in studying each human as if their first specimen. The grooves, the metals, the magma flow of torment depend upon their craftsmanship.
