//------------------------------// // The Birth of All Pain // Story: Utaan // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// Two dredgers sat on Red Barge. One perched up in a cylindrical tower baked in sunlight... The other squatting beside a series of metal door-slats leading down into the central strut's lower level. Both stallions were in the process of munching their way through a midday meal. Seagulls shrieked overhead and water lapped in the distance. Smokestacks flanking the Skag Hole continued pumping more and more smog into the greasy atmosphere. At last, the guard up in the tower leaned over, hissing. “Psssst. Pssssst! Hey! Jerry!” “Mrrmfff...” The stallion sitting beside the door slats fiddled with his meal. “Yeah, what is it, Dean?” “What did you get for nibbles today?” “Pfffft. What do you care?” The stallion up in the tower waved his meal around. “I've got the bottom half of a bloated grouper.” “You don't say...” “What about you?” “Mrmmff... dried white rice with a bunch of dead houseflies stuck in it.” “Oh...” The stallion in the tower looked at his fishmeat, blinked, then leaned over the edge once more with a smile. “Wanna trade?” Th-Th-Thwisssssh! Several tiny shadows flew down at a sharp angle, slicing through the air. Cl-Cl-Clankkkk! The air rattled with metallic impact noises. Both stallions jolted, glancing up. Their ears twitched. “... … ...the hell was that noise?” muttered the dredger down by the entrance. “You see where it came from?” “Idiot. You're the one in a tower!” “Hold up...” The guard above pivoted about until he was peering east. His eyes scanned the surface of the central platform. At last, his attention was drawn to a series of pipes emitting a loud hissing noise. Three razor sharp throwing stars had embedded deep in the metal lattices, and they were spewing forth steam and fog in a thick gray column. “Shit on my face!” the guard spat. “We've got a central pipe leak!” “What?!” The other stallion used a shark prod to force himself up into a standing position. Fumbling, he pocketed his food away and stumbled forward. “Where?! How?!” “About two hulls east! I've no clue how!” The guard in the tower shimmied down, landed on all fours, and broke into a frantic gallop. “Here, I'll show you!” “Ah jeez...” His companion grimaced, picking up the pace. “We better fix this shit before Nixkit finds it.” “Nixkit? Hell... if Skagra saw the leak, he'd probably shove our muzzles up against it!” “Just what I always wanted. To become a permanent member of the Skag fan club.” “Will you shut up and help me contain this leak!” “I'll go get some sealant!” “You do that...!” Once the two figures had left the nearby vicinity, a metal figure dropped down behind them. Slinking into the shadows of the tower above, Keris craned his neck, peering after the two. His hawkeyes narrowed. Once the coast was clear, the griffon took a deep breath, turned about, then sneaked his way towards the slitted metal doors. The deck of the central platform sloped downwards by about thirty-degrees. Once it was twelve feet below the upper surface, it ended in a series of retractable door slats. A lever loomed to the side, coming out of a rusted wall. Keris stared at it, rubbing his beak. He reached up, gingerly grasping the lever... then giving it a slight tug... then a harder one. On both tries, the lever refused to budge. He exhaled, then leaned in for a closer examination. The Lieutenant spotted a tiny compartment situated right next to the lever. Flipping open a latch, he exposed a circular keyslot on a round diode. The griffon leaned in, peering at the lock up close. He spotted a round fissure—denoting where the lock's panel had been embedded into the surface of the wall compartment itself. With a flick of his gauntlet, the Lieutenant produced a tiny dagger. Schiiing! With fine finesse, he stuck the tip of the blade into the fissure, shimmied the thing, then stabbed deep behind the body of the lock itself. This produced a modicum of scraping noises. Working blindly, the griffon glanced over his armored shoulder, looking for bodies shuffling left and right above deck. He spotted none. So, with a daring breath, Keris yanked hard on his dagger. Crack! The panel holding the lock snapped free. He sheathed the dagger, pointed the tips of his talons, and manipulated the tumblers of the lock from the inside. Snap! Once the spring inside the lock had clicked, he slid everything haphazardly back into place, then gave the lever a savage yank once more. Ch-Chtunggg! The door-slats lifted before him. Keris turned to face the entrance directly. He immediately wished that he hadn't. A ferociously hot gust of steam blew into his face, carrying with it a grotesque freakshow of pungent odors and fumes. A lifetime of combat experience was all it took to keep the Lieutenant from immediately retching. Nevertheless, he grimaced as he shuffled forward, marching his way down through the fumes. Once the griffon had descended into the lower depths... ...the shadow of a stallion shuffled around the corner. Ears twitched as he gazed down into the lower level. Then, several seconds in, a grinning set of teeth glinted in the light from a sparkling shark prod. Keris didn't trust using his wings below the surface of Red Barge. The rising heat was so intense that he was almost certain anything short of a sheer glide would carry him slamming into random walls. The surfaces in question were incredibly rusted, with layers upon layers of steel reinforcement having been hammered between the decrepit iron panels over time in order to keep the entire structure from collapsing. How Red Barge hadn't imploded after years of shoddy craftponyship, the Lieutenant couldn't even guess. It was difficult to hear his own thoughts along the descending path downward into the steam bath. An incredible, never-ending bedlam emanated from a deep spot down below. For the longest time, Keris was forced to guess what it was. The winding corridor afforded only an occasional glance at webbed metal bric-a-brac or dangling chains. All throughout, a persistent crimson hue permeated the mists, illuminated by unseen torches from the far side of the claustrophobic malaise. At last, Keris felt the air of the lower interior open up. This only made the place feel even hotter—as Keris became aware of a source of intense heat lingering somewhere down below. He proceeded more slowly now, his talons shuffling over the metal bulkheads with caution. He glanced down, squinting at one of several red stains blanketing the rusted surfaces of the place. His beak tightened. At last, Keris' hearing tickled at the sound of grinding, rattling metal. He saw a brighter shade of red lingering just beyond a vaporous curtain of rising mists. Curious, he approached what turned out to be a sudden ledge with a loose railing lingering directly above a sheer drop. All of the sudden, the griffon's hawkeyes could see with perfect clarity. This was due to a series of ventilation ports blowing the hot air in a cyclonic swirl. Descending from a diabolical, greasy engine hanging above was a series of cylindrical drills that stabbed downwards through an immense vertical space. These drills connected with rotating gears that further spun several more moving parts: cogwheels and axels and all manner of deathly huge levers. But it wasn't any of these details that alarmed Keris, but rather the sweating, haggard, hairless ponies in epic numbers, all collectively marching and pushing and shoving at the various moving parts, giving them their required locomotion so that the age-old mechanism could continue to scrape and claw at an ocean's floor located nebulously below the industrial hellscape. Most of the equines had been down there so long that the sheer exposure to steam and heat had burned their coats right off, leaving naked skin burned red and raw. Stumbling down the lines of these endlessly laboring ponies, dredgers in tight metal gear shuffled. Water tanks bubbled along their flanks, funneling coolant into their suits as they vented their breaths out through stainless steel masks. Whenever a servant lagged behind, they reached in and shocked him or her with electric shark prods. The ponies shrieked, fought blood and tears, and continued working harder than before. “Good Goddess...” Keris stumbled back—only to nearly trip on something. He spun about, blinking... sweating. His talon had bumped up against a strange stalk of organic flesh. It took the Lieutenant several seconds to register the fact that it was a fetlock... and one belonging to a dried up noodle of a corpse lying on its side just two spaces over. It wasn't alone; several other frail figures were stacked up on top of one another like lumber. From the wear and tear on their bodies, Keris was already at a loss to guess how many months... years... decades they had spent down in the harvesting level. Before he had an opportunity to relax, his eyes were drawn to a shuffling movement. One of the corpses on the very top of the stack was stirring. Breathless, Keris rushed in, grasping the shivering thing's hoof. The hollowed-out muzzle of a body that once belonged to a mare stared up at him. Lips that were turned stone-dry from endless steam bursts struggled to move, and the semblance of a hoarse voice came whispering out: “Sun Sweep... m-my foal's name is Sun Sweep...” “Just...” Keris' beak clenched. “...just rest easy.” He stroked the creature's bony forelimb. “I'm going to get you somewhere safe—” “M-make sure... that... th-that she never c-comes down here...” the mare whimpered. “Better off... s-sea foam...” And her eyes—if they could still be called that—rolled back into their dusty sockets. Keris leaned forward, his beak agape. His feathers ruffled beneath his helmet, and he stepped back with a sneering frown. “Verlaxion, give me strength. There is not enough blood—” He spun around... ...only to be stared down by twenty dredgers with taser-tipped polearms. “Thirsting for something, chicadee?” Saxon asked, his grin wide, gleaming. “You came to the wrong bird bath.” Keris took a deep breath, seething. “By the righteous authority invested in me by the Council of Verlaxion...” He tightened his muscles. “...you are all—” “What? Invited to a dance?” Saxon chuckled hungrily under his breath. Bzzzt! He activated his shark prod, sending cold bonelight shimmering across the mists. “By all means.” He nodded as his fellow associates marched forward. “You lead.” “Treachery like this cannot stand,” Keris muttered. His eyes darted across every able-bodied dredger. Meanwhile—with great stealth and poise—he propped his left talon over the abdomen of one of the many dead corpses stacked beside him. “When the Rohbredden Magistrates hear about this—” “You're not going back to your precious continent!” Saxon said, one eye twitching. “Not unless we decide to send you in pieces! Hehehehhh... a message. 'Don't buck with Red Barge.'” “I doubt your top dredger would appreciate such exposure,” Keris said, mentally measuring the distance between himself and his foes. “The only one exposed here is you, birdie,” Saxon said. “Go on, boys.” He gestured at the dredgers closest to the griffon. “Cook his goose.” “Yeah...” A stallion grinned into the glow of his sparkling polearm. “I think a bit of basting is in order, first...” Keris' magenta eyes glinted. “Couldn't agree more.” With that said, his talons dug deep into the dead corpse's belly. The griffon spun—riiiiiiip!—eviscerating the pony's body and flinging its entrails into the advancing dredgers' muzzle. “Aaaaaugh!” One flinched. “Grrkkk!” The other jolted, spitting intestinal fluid from his liips. “Verlaxion's sleet!” “Httt!” Wings flapping, Keris launched himself forward, pummeling both doused stallions and slamming their bodies to the floor. Thwumppp! “Open season!” Saxon hollered. The other dredgers charged forward, shark prods stabbing. Keris faced them. He exhaled, unsheathing his wingblade. Schiiiing! With a grunt, he flung his feathers towards the ceiling—and the blade follow. Cr-Cr-Crakkkk! Three polearms were severed at once. The dredgers stumbled back, gasping—but not for long. Keris headbutted one with his helmet, kicked the groin of a second, then flung both bodies into the third before he could react. Three more dredgers pounced on Keris' feline haunches while his back was turned. The Lieutenant snarled, using their weight against them as he made the bodies trip, collide, and form an ever-twitching pile of dizzy stallions on the floor. Meanwhile, Saxon—grinning like a fool—sashayed away from the fight, disappearing into the lower mists. “Grnnngh!” Keris slammed his elbow across one thug and then palmed his talon over another stallion's twitching muzzle. “Stop mucking about, idiots!” a stallion rushed in, shoving his prod hard against Keris' side. The griffon's armor shimmered all over with electricity. The griffon winced, glaring aside as he slammed his leg out into the stallion's chest. He then spun and flung the other dredger's body into his figure for good measure. Two more thugs rushed in, zapping the Lieutenant hard in the side. “Augh!” Schiiiing! Keris angrily retaliated with a fan of throwing stars. Blood flew, and the two thugs stumbled hard on the ground, clutching their chests and whimpering in pain. Writhing from the electrical shocks, Keris backed up, shuffling blindly towards the entrance that brought him there. At the sound of shuffling hoofsteps, he spun around, claws raised. “Raaaauggh—!” An emaciated, steam-burned stallion dangled right in front of Keris. At the sight of the griffon's talons, the helpless slave cowered, gritting his teeth. Keris froze in place, hawkeyes blinking wide. It was for one second too long. “Haaaaugh!” Saxon burst out from behind the living shield he held up. He stabbed Keris deep in the gut with his shark prod. Bzzzzz-zzzzzt! “Grrrrkk—kkkttnnghh!” Keris winced all over. Saxon grinned, drooling. He brought the polearm back and then thrusted again. Harder. BZZZZT! “Graaaukkt!” Keris fell hard to the floor, overcome with jolts and spasms. He foamed at the beak, rolling over, struggling to crawl away. “Mmrmfff-hrmmm-heheheheheh...” Saxon tossed the servant aside, then trotted over Keris. Standing directly above him, he used the polearm to knock the griffon's helmet off and then prodded him right in the neck. BZZ-ZZT! “Haa-aaaugh!” Keris' eyes rolled back. He twitched on the ground, his armor dancing with electric sparks. All of the injured stallions limped up to their hooves, gathering in an angry circle around the griffon. “Mrmmmff... hah!” Saxon spat on Keris' feathery head. “Ya dumb bastard! Our dance floor! Our rules!” He kicked the Lieutenant's pained flesh with his hoof. “Rnnngh! Mucker!” “Skagra's gonna want a word with this meatsack, Saxon,” one dredger grumbled. “Yeah... he's seen too much.” “We'll take him to Skagra alright...” Saxon panted and panted, circling the convulsing griffon with frenzied, hungry eyes. “...but first... let's make sure he's... preheated.” He signaled a stallion up above. The dredge nodded back, then pulled a lever. Slowly... coldly... the metal door slats rolled down, sealing off the electrical sparks issuing down below... ...and Keris' agonized screams amidst the steam.