Perched high upon wooden scaffoldings that swayed violently under the shockwaves of the nearby battles, these millions of artisans and laborers worked with an absolute, fanatical frenzy. They completely disregarded the biological thresholds of their own physical bodies. The small, wiry backs of the Goblins and the thick, heavy muscle groups of the Hobgoblins began to split and tear, weeping fresh blood from the friction of massive pulley ropes and the razor-sharp edges of the heavy Void Obsidian shards they carried without pause.
"Hoist it up! Do not let that pulley stall!" screamed an elderly Goblin, his voice strained to a raspy, blood-flecked bark. His severely blistered hands adamantly refused to release the coarse rope hauling a massive stone pillar. Even the elder generation who should have been enjoying their well-deserved retirement, such as the venerable Volx, descended onto the construction decks, lifting heavy masonry with their wrinkled, weathered hands.
