Ceremony Viewed Through Iron Slit

[Force?] faces blocked my ways. Pierced men weighed down by metal disks. Baboon masks, they called themselves, and they dressed as demon brides. Well aware of my needs, they gave me access to the iron slit. I saw six creatures sitting in a circle, features barely visible. They passed container 'round, refilling it and drinking more, groaning as the liquid spilled from the corners of thеir mouths, running like blood in the gloom, soaking their nakеd torsos, darkening the floor, and spreading stains. Saturated. Unable to speak. A leader gestured for them to start. They picked a broad heavy wooden disk. Kneeling, they leaned forward, pushing its thick edges into their diaphragms. Mouth stretched open into abyssal trapdoors, they began a rhythmic hammering on the disc, like hail on a tin roof. Toads. Distant marshes. Swans duelling. Drifting fog. Minutes passed. The vibrations convulsing the bodies. I watched. Even from my vantage, I could sense a cold, still atmophere collecting in the room. The floor was now alive with crawling things: thick worms with helpless legs, frilled lizards with blazing red eyes, spiders that moved in erratic sideways leaps. Like a great sunken wood bell tolling underwater, the sound boomed, drawing out this demon's menagerie. Rising above it [curled?] the rasp of breath, the sparking of electricity