We stand before the decrepit gate, without really knowing why. Though it opens. A hollowed out guard stands before us, a loose grip on some kind of fire arm. The other hand holds a rotted pike. Its point swiftly swings from high up, to pointing us to a crooked elevator. We start walking, The guard dissolves back into ash.
We stand there, on that lift, a small platform suspended above the abyss, we see the inside of the walls that hides this sore in the earth. The platform shakes and shivers as it reluctantly loosens its chains. The platform snaps one of its chains, one or two of us fall down, the rest holds on.
After what felt like hours of falling, the rotted platform smacks to the cold bedrock, Before us we see the great Iron Core that allows our dutythe great metal valves and veins running throughout our factory. Another gate, another realisation of what we’re doing. It screams in pain. We set to work. And never abandon our posts.
May God forgive us another day.
This was for a cube world assignment!
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