The tension broke.
The Torim above took action. They felt the power from below like electric prickles on their skin and they could no longer bear it.
They sent armies below, and with fire and plasma and the rending of guns they silenced the voices in their ears and released the pressure on their chests.
For a little while at least they even felt relief.
Ripping and tearing, it unfocussed his mind and he cowered under the onslaught.
He tried to withdraw, but the Jones-thing held him and was slashing and rending and he could not escape, was not able to run and the talons went through him and he tried to cover his body with his hands but he had no body only mind-stuff and it hurt and spears pierced his present and began to seep into his past - a river of blood and fire winding its way back into what he had been, and the claws kept slashing at his breast and the fangs ripped his innards and white hot pain filled his senses and he whimpered at the hatred that crushed him and tried to extinguish him...
A voice spoke to him and calmed him. It wasn't a voice he recognised, if only because his rational brain was being eaten, but it touched him and he knew it, and for a single moment he could focus and realised he could fight back.