The pressure was absolute, monstrous, and utterly foreign to anything they had ever experience. It pressed against his chest with the weight of twenty charging mammoth-beasts, expelling every scrap of air from his lungs until his ribs bowed inward, groaning under the strain.
He couldn't move his fingers or lift his head by a single millimeter. Heck, he couldn't even blink his bulging, bloodshot eyes!
Beside him, the Scaled-Kin envoys let out muted, strangled shrieks that died instantly in their crushed throats.
The blue-tinted frills along their necks flared in wild, biological agony, the moisture violently forced out of their pores, their leathery hides tearing slightly against the rough floor.
Their three-toed limbs splayed outward in wild, involuntary paroxysms, their amphibious chests compressed until their ribs met their spines, their yellow eyes bulging from their sockets as the pressure threatened to liquefy their internal organs.
