"Yer being too rough with 'em," Oggin's split face shouted, yanking the reins from Gile's rough hands, "These are delicate creatures, and they need a delicate hand to guide 'em.".
Giles's wrinkled cheeks were rosy when he roared back at Ogg. "You have to be firm with 'em! They ain't gonna listen to shit if you aint whippin 'em!." He sat opposed to Oggin on the left, and had worked his hands raw, reigning in the strength from the Minosaurs. The pair of monsters walked on, their dry forked tongues dangling like jerky from their mouths. They trudged ever onward and groaned with each step, eyes set on the far distance spread out before them.
"Firm like when you struck 'em bloody runnin down that goddamn agathion, only to smash up our wheel!" Ogg screamed back. "If you want to go faster with 'em you gotta do it like this—" he raised his arms and lashed the minosaurs, strong enough that they felt his intentions but without causing them pain, the beasts picked up their pace and rode at a canter.
Gile scowled and spat down at them, "I don't see no difference between what you just did, and how I did it. You're a goddamn fool if you think lovin' these monsters will get you anywhere," he said.
Oggin squinted his eyes and grimaced. "I didn't say nothin about lovin 'em, Gile," Ogg growled. "All I'm saying is be gentler, and they'll be more likely to do what you say. Brute force ain't the way to get them listenen to you."
"They're just stupid agathions," Gile huffed angrily, motioning to the minosaurs, "We don't have to be nice to 'em. Just like those crazy twin bastards said, they're built for takin' a beatin!" He retorted.
Oggin shook his head, "They should be taking that from everything else but us. And yes, the best thing about these minosaurs, is that they're so goddamn tough. And as long as we keep feedin 'em we can bring these fellas along and they'll keep us alive and kickin'. But, they won't be feelin those protective urges if you keep treatin 'em so bad."
Gile scoffed, "Ain't no sort of good comes from treatin' a fuckin' agathion nice, Ogg. You of all people should know that, just look at yer face!"
Oggin's split face darkened and soured visibly. "All this wouldn't have been a problem with a few more beast hunters around us, but you were too cheap for that." He said bitterly.
Gile crossed his arms, "I told you kid, times are tough. People's coin pouches have been hungrier as of late, which means hiring a bunch of mercs wasn't a smart monetary option fer our particular job."
"Whatever," grunted Ogg, laying back and releasing a weary sigh. He threw the reins back at Gile. "just get us back to the Scarred Valleys as quickly as you can, I'm tired of looking at this damned country." He shut his eyes and leaned back.
Young Oggin was anxious to return to Mid-Isle, he was road worn and exhausted. This journey had been a long one, they had crossed the Violet Causeway into Agathia four and a half long months ago, bright eyed and heads cloudy with dreams gilded in gold. Gile, the wretched old bastard, had a plan to head deep into the wildlands of Agathia, to transport a decrepit bunch of nullified humans to an eccentric, and desperate sorcerer, set up somewhere out on its eastern coasts.
"The pay is handsome, much more than the ugly son-of-a-bitch who gave it to me!" Gile had chortled. He had taken the job from a hook-nosed magician he was playing cards with, who claimed to serve a royal in the upper echelons of Footfallen's socialites. At first, Gile mocked him, for he saw that this man's body was dirty, blackened and bruised. He seemed no better man than anyone else there— and no one was better than himself, Gileyean Blackbreath. That was, until the magician pulled out two impossibly large sacks of gold from his pocket, and poured them out across the game counter.
All revelry and chaos fell silent in the squat, dark gambling hall they played in. Many sets of eyes shimmered with greed, and the stink of sin permeated their subconscious. But before their slithering hands could lash out, two hulking, grim knights emerged from nothing, drenched in the shadows of their ebony plate armor.
Their metal feet quaked the ground, and swallowed the light as they entered unto the material plane. Either had been bestowed unholy winged helms, and in the shadows cast by the cold unfeeling steel, scarlet unblinking eyes analyzed the nervous glares of the lesser men. Their armors were surging with sick black tendrils, and from their belts, hung violent looking weapons of destruction.
When they unsheathed their weapons, it was as if the wails of ancient felled gods roared and fell away again. The unanimous crackle of magic steel on steel, cut out across the silence, and gorged itself on a feast of sinful thoughts. Their black weapons trembled, coursing with a burning spirit that shifted just beneath the enchanted steel's surface. Its light swept and pulsated over the blade, then rapidly leapt to different locations on the edge as if in search of an escape. The dark knights were hunched over, mighty and terrible, silently calculating their next killings.
The magician smiled gently and began to speak in a deep and commanding rasp, "Leave us now. Or my associates and I shall kill you all." No man moved at first, eyes filled with the sight of the gleaming gold on the table, but when the burning eyes of the black knights looked out across their empty souls, every man did as he was told. They filed out of the hall, until only the knights, the magician, and Gile remained.
The magician spoke little more of trivial matters, he rolled out a detailed map across the table, filled with intricate unknown details of the Agathian continent. He marked a location far to the northeast, deeper into the beastlands and a long distance past where Gile had ever been before. Gile was hesitant at first, but the magician had promised fourteen thousand golden crowns, and offered half that fee up-front to set them on their way. So too, did the black knight's shimmering blades wail, and Gile glanced nervously at them. But the magician waved his hand, and the knights fell back into the darkness and disappeared.
The magician motioned to the table and the gold seemed to sparkle even greater, and the etchings of the map trembled with live intent.
"Gold and purpose, what else do you need, Gileyean?" Gile whispered to himself. He stared at the gold, and felt the taint of sinful blood course through his body, he nodded slowly and agreed.
The magician had written the contract in less than a minute. Gile had signed it in a scraggled jumble of letters, and it was sealed and pressed with a bright red wax without an insignia. The magician asked for Gile's blade, he flipped it out of his waist belt and handed it to him, hilt first. The magician took it, sliced his hand sighing easily, and dropped blood onto the cooling wax. He handed the blade to Gile and he sliced his own hand, adding his vitality to the seal.
The magician swept up the contract and slipped it into the tangles of his blouse. "Come tomorrow to the Ordanse manor, bring your prison coach to the south Arch-Gate and my aide will be there to guide you through. We will fill your carriage with nulled men, and give you all supplies you might need on your journey, by the wishes of my lord." The Magician stepped aside and bowed deeply. "Farewell Gileyean." He said, and pulled open the door and stepped quietly through it. Then, like the knights of the dark had done, he too vanished into the shadows. The only trace of him left was the map, and the gold.
Gile had routed up Oggin shortly after, pouring over the plan he had crafted for their journey into Agathia. "Them wild agathions, all of em' are a right cruel creation of god, thats fer sure," Gile had squalled drunkenly to Oggin, red faced between the drinks they shared within the bowels of the Sangria's Swill, "their markets trade more in skin and bone than they do in crowns," he had said to Ogg.
On their return from that mad sorcerer's hold, Gile planned to hunt up as many of those 'wild' agathions as possible, and sell their exotic hides right back to their brothers and sisters in exchange for their incredible treasures. It seemed a good enough idea to Oggin at the time. He had hoisted up a sweet smelling tankard and called for the red cheeked man to "show him the way to their riches."
By the sunrise of that same day they had already gone. They took two pairs of heavily muscled work horses, strapped them to their motley slave carriage, and paid a visit to the Ordanse manor.
The cradle of the Footfallen Civilization, is named after its appearance. Long ago when the world of Dargoul was but a hellscape, a giant large enough to leap from world to world, stamped its foot in the center of the mountainous region known as the Scarred Valleys. It was there in that deep impression, five hundred square miles large, and hundreds of thousands of cooled years later, when a great civilization would begin to form. Its waterfallen cliffs made deep pools at the bed, and as the first settlers stumbled their way through the cracks of the Scarred Valleys, they came across a boundless haven, with vaulted stone walls to protect them from all their enemies. It was in the burough of "The Heel" that the first great houses were built.
The Ordanse manor was located on the high cliffs of Footfallen, in a bright sloped borough known as "The Arch". The hills found their origin from the wealthy borough called "The Toes". From there the hills flowed down and upwards like a great tidal wave, and at its peak there was a jagged, sheer cut cliff that the Arch borough was built on. The Arch loomed over The Heel, and at parts of the day, the Arch hills shielded the lower borough from the rays of the sun. Oggin had grown up in The Heel, and had spent his entire youth staring up at the sheer walls of The Arch hills. As they rode across the dirty alleyways and grimy streets he knew, Oggin shifted uncomfortably, feeling suddenly anxious to see the bright houses and vast shops of the wealthy Arch-dwellers in person. The borough of the Heel was old, and had been built in many layers, and over time vast platforms the size of plateaus had risen out of the ground. Deep tunnels and cisterns tunneled beneath The Heel, interconnecting the many boroughs, that is if one could navigate these labyrinthian pathways. Gile had always told Ogg that darker creatures dwelled there. Ones that had long lost their humanity, despite what they may look like. Oggin wasn't in the mood to lose his humanity quite yet, so he stayed far from the underways, taking the tales Gile told him as truth.
He and Gile soon arrived at the southern entrance to The Arch, where they saw a small crowd gathered around the flower laden gate of gold. A blue painted wooden stage had been constructed, and atop it, guardsmen dressed in dark blue and gold leathers called up representatives from the crowd and either ushered their group through the gates, or pointed them away. The captain, a plump and heavy set man, was seated comfortably on a cushioned seat, with a long scroll rolled out before him.
"Benjamin Bercotte! Benjamin Bercotte! Step forth and state your business in the Arch hills!" He swilled in a pretentious voice.
"That is 'Benemen Bercotte' not 'Benjamin', guardsmen." A grizzled voice called back. A low murmur passed through the crowd as they moved aside, and a broad shouldered agathion, with a bright blue cape draped over his shoulder pushed his way to the front. He had long brown curly hair that he tied back in a wild tail. His bottom lip was pronounced and steel capped fangs poked from the corners of his wide stubbled maw. His nose was flat and long against his face and two slits huffed air like an enraged bull. Silver rings hung from his flopped ears and he wore similar blue-gold leathers as the guardsmen. "The Lord-Captain of the Moruluk forces, commander of the Scarfort, Master Mordkaddin the Maimer, requests that I, Benemen Bercotte his second hand, bring an urgent message to the Lady Necromata of the order of Necromar." He said gruffly.
Gile spat on the floor and squinted. "He's a part of that damned agathion unit." He whispered.
The fat captain dropped the scroll on his stomach and looked over the agathion lazily. "Mmh—and what is the nature of this message to our sweet Lady Necromata?" He asked.
Benemen shook his head. "Master Mordkaddin has made me swear that such knowledge should only be shared with the lady herself, and no one else."
One of the guards to the left of the fat captain stepped forward. "Captain Brettall is of a higher rank than your lord of carnies, agathion. He guards the royals from the stink of unfortunate creatures like you. If there are messages meant for the ears of Lady Necromata then he has the better right to inform her of them."
Benemen chuckled deeply, "Am I to assume that you mean to obstruct the task given to me by my master, little humans?"
"I'll show you what's little, carnie," said the guard on the right. Both guardsmen stepped up, Spears at the ready to bring Benemen to his knees. From his seat, Captain Brettall raised a single hand and either guard stepped back, lowered their weapons, and stood at attention.
"We will not obstruct your way, hand of the Moruluk Commander," the captain said, gesturing to the golden gate at his side. "You are free to stroke the little ego of your leader however you wish, of what foolish attempts your master makes at wooing the Lady matters little to me. Though I am surprised that he would send his sweet lover to bring his messages for him, rather than deliver them by himself." The crowd let out a quiet laugh at that, and the guards sniggered too as they undid the magic spells that kept the gates locked.
With a dull glow and a whine, the gates lurched open. Benemen smiled and strolled past them, and the guardsmen shot him a mocking look. "Who better to woo the sweet Lady than the lover of the man himself? I'll be sure to fill her head with all the tales of our vigorous couplings." He said as he walked through.
Captain Brettall gave a sour, disgusted look, then he shook his head and raised the scroll over his eyes again, and continued to call out the names of the next representatives.
Oggin and Gile pressed the prison coach forward and urged the horses through the crowd. "Make way! Urgent business for the house Ordanse! Make way! House Ordanse counts on our prompt arrival!" Gile shouted.
The crowd moaned angrily as their horses sidled up by the blue stage. "Wait yer turn!" a woman cried, "We all have urgent business here!"
"I've been stuck since yesterday tryin' to get through!" said another man.
Captain Brettall raised an eyebrow, and the guard to his right banged the butt of his spear on the wood stage to call for order. "Silence!" he shouted, and the crowd quieted down and began grumbling amongst each other.
"What is your name, ser?" Captain Brettall asked aloud.
"Gileyean Blackbreath, and son. At yer services sers," Gile replied nodding, "We've an urgent summons from the house Ordanse."
Brettall glared at Gile, and skimmed through the long roll of parchment. "I don't see a 'Gileyean Blackbreath' here, and I've heard no word of the Lord Ordanse of you're coming. You'll have to return to the back of the line and wait with all the rest."
"Certainly not cap'n," Gile said, "a man of house Ordanse told me just last night to arrive here at this time, and I will not be disrespectin' em' by arrivin' late."
Brettall gave a tired huff, "All these lowborn fellows here, claiming a higher importance over the blood of the Arch-dwellers," He pointed at Gile with a ringed finger. "Seize these men, and jail them in the dungeon for insubordination."
"Finally," The left guard said, as he and his partner leapt from the stage, "come with us Heeler, we'll give you a closer look of the royal cobbles." The spears of the guards thrummed with magical enchantments, and both Oggin and Gile readied their own magicks.
"Stop this at once, Captain Brettall!" A regal voice called from beyond the golden gate. The captain froze immediately, and the scroll slipped from his fat fingers. Duke-elect Gildrey Ordanse, heir to the Ordanse fortune and estate, clopped through the golden gate on a silvery maned mare. The Captain slid from his seat and plopped awkwardly on the stage. All his guards, including the men that raised arms against Oggin and Gile, and a portion of the gathered lowborns, knelt on the rough stone and lowered their heads.
"D-Duke-elect Ordanse— We hadn't expected your presence today!" Said the captain.
The words of Gildrey Ordanse was steely and cold, despite the warmth of this sunny day. "These men have been employed by my house. They shall be let through the golden gates at once," he ordered.
"Of course my lord," said Brettall, "They shall be let through at once!" though his sweaty forehead touched the blue wooden planks, and he did not look up, when he raised his ringed hand, his guardsmen still scuttled over to the gate and opened them.
The crowd moved aside for the prison coach, and Oggin and Gile urged their horses forward and through the gates.
Gildrey Ordanse did not look at them as they passed him, and when the gate shut behind them, he cleared his throat and said, "It would do you well to stand at your post from now on Captain Brettall. I fear your idle comforts have begun to affect your mind. I expect no more mistakes from you, otherwise you may find yourself on these sides of the gates permanently."
Brettall bent lower, his face reddened with shame. "Yes my lord, I will stand at this post until I am relieved!"
Gildrey did not hear him however, for he had turned and led his mount beside the prison coach, and was making his way back up the hill.
* * *
Gildrey Ordanse did not speak a word to the beast hunters, though they paid this little mind. They were too enamored with the bright gold hedges and beautiful sloping buildings of the Arch-dwellers to make any protest. They followed alongside the young lord in silence, their mouths agape and their eyes wide and glossy. Finally, the three stopped at a crossroads, the path to the right led upwards, to the vast palace-estates where the high council of the order of Necromar ruled over all of Footfallen. The path to the left led to The Toes borough, where House Ordanse had kept its iron grip over the trading hubs of the city for many generations now.
"I was sent by my good mentor to retrieve you from the south gate. But I have business to attend to in the high palaces," He pointed at the bright cobbled road to the left. "If you follow this road all the way to the end, you will reach the Ordanse Manor. It is the largest of all of the estates in the Toes, you won't be able to miss it." Gildrey didn't wait for a response, without a wave, he dug his heels into his mount, and launched off.
"What strange folk these Arch-dwellers are, never have I seen so many folk wealthy as they, and yet so lacking in time and manners." Gile said to Ogg as they watched Gildrey's mount streak up the high hill.
"That seems to be the worst thing about having lots of riches, old man, the more they get, the less they seem able to enjoy it." Oggin said, as he led the horses down the left.
"Yer quite right about that Ogg, as much as I like the sweet flowery smells on this side of the gate, I think I'd much prefer the company of a stinking Heeler than any perfumed Arch-dweller." Gile replied, grinning as the coach creaked on the road.
The Ordanse estate was even more impressive than Oggin and Gile had thought. At the end of the long road, there was a ravine that led down and around sheer rocky cliffs, with a path twice as wide as their prison coach. This opened up to vast open acres of land, with a whole small town built within the ravine. At the very far wall, was a grand, Victorian manor, more like a castle than a home. They rode up to the entrance to the property, and the Ordanse gates swung open as if it had been expecting their arrival, a bulky man stood waiting for them, leaning on the gate with his arms crossed.
"I'd assume you two are the beast hunters our good lord hired?" said the man.
"That we are friend, would you kindly show us to our livestock and send us on our way?" Gile said, nodding to him.
"That I can do, hunter. Follow me, now." he nodded back.
He took them off to a small and unseen barn house near the front of the estate. There they saw the throng of nullified men for the first, and only time. The handler shuttled the nulled into the cart, and by that time they had already been sickly and decrepit, their eyes were empty, and their thin skin had lost all luster. Their grey flesh sagged from their bones, and their lips were blackened and cracked. It was as if they all wore ashen cosmetics. When they sealed the dark wood prison coach, they would not open it again in all their journey. The Ordanse handler gave them two large chests filled with a strange ruby colored fruit.
"These null-men need no other sustenance than these fruits here. Once every five days throw in three of them, and that should be enough to keep them alive and well."
Oggin picked up one of the strange fruits and studied it closely. It was wet to the touch, and easily gave way when he squeezed it in his hands. The red juices were thick and viscous, and smelled sweet and earthy. "What are they?" Oggin asked the handler.
The handler picked one up himself and tossed it into the prison coach. "These fruits are infected by Reggut, a nasty magic fruit that carries an unnatural amount of nutrients. Perfect for these poor fellows," He gestured to the nulled men. "I wouldn't eat them though, unless you'd like to start shitting out red mush yerself."
"No thanks." Oggin said, tossing the fruit back into the chest, and wiping his hands on his trousers.
* * *
Soon after, Oggin and Gile had finished their preparations and were clattering down the familiar roads headed out of Footfallen. They had made great time, and had rode through the Scarred Valleys, traveled across the East Pocket, and had passed over the Violet Causeway into Agathia only a few days past a fortnight.
The crossing had been busy with humans and agathions when they had passed by. Most of the coastal edges of the Agathia were densely populated, and easy to travel. But as they drew closer to the sorcerer's holdfast in the far east, terrain and beast became vastly more troublesome. Every day they saw less travelers on the road, and eventually they saw none. They struggled their way deeper into the continent for another month and a half. Terrible storms of all sorts brought the wrath of elder gods upon them, monsters great and small lumbered from beyond the wilderness to devour them, and strange unexplained events set them backwards, and forwards again on their journey.
Even their brief moments of respite among the small villages of beastmen, were fraught with paranoia, at least on the part of Gile. He'd walk through the towns with a scowl on his face, cursing the agathions silently. Soon, as the journey grew longer, the faces of the villagers began to stop resembling humans. No beastmen they passed spoke the human words, instead they communicated in gestures, growls and angry nods. Gile became used to speaking openly about how much he despised them. Often he would insult them straight to their face, and laugh at their wild confusion. The beasts learned to save their words for their own, gathering in packs and yipping like wild dogs as the coach passed. It was only thanks to Oggin that they were able to secure their essential needs. When Gile did not speak, Oggin could haggle with the beasts, even if he did not understand their language. It was he that arranged the foods and fruits that they traded, he that exchanged chipped coins and steaming animal skins.
In the final hamlet they rested in, The hunters slept in the same huts as the agathion savages, side by side. Gile slept little, frequently overcome by bouts of poisonous shouts in the night, raving about how much the beasts smelled, or how disgusting they were. Oggin however, completely differed from his companion, and slept quite soundly. All this journey, their true kinsmen rotted away in the bowels of their moving casket.
The nullified humans moaned day and night in the prison coach, like a herd of brittle ponies too old to ride. Oggin felt bad for them, so he tossed in a few extra Reggut fruits during feeding day. When the hunters awoke the next morning, a crowd of the man-like beasts had sallied out of their huts to confront them. They shouted and screamed, pushing Oggin and Gile to the ground and driving them out. Gile rode out with the reins in one fist and his dagger waving in the other. He cursed the vile creatures, vowing to return and enact his revenge.
The beast hunters loped through the Agathion wilds, heads hung like a pair of scarecrows asleep amongst their crop. They rode for days in the expanse, the country growing barren and bleak. It had been two months and four days since they set out from home, when finally, they arrived at their destination. They rode up gaunt and dying with two failing horses remaining, but each and all of their nulled men in tow.
The Land of Scarlet was not what they had expected. The magician that had employed them, failed to mention that it was no mere holdfast they were traveling to, but a kingdom all on its own. A kingdom whose forests and fauna grew completely red. It was as if an ocean of blood had swept through the land and stained it permanent. The moment they stepped onto the scarlet grass, Gile had said, "Of what great reckoning be the cause of all this?"
"It is my father's reckoning." A honeyed but taut voice had replied. A scarlet haired, snow skinned woman had been awaiting their arrival. She had appeared on a swarthy red tree stump, sharpening a pair of bright red serrated blades. A set of golden eyes peered out from beneath her cherry colored locks, sharper even than the edge of the tools in her lap. Her hair had been cut short, stopping just above her shoulders. She stood from her seat, spinning the blades in her hands, and they vanished into thin air. She was only half a head shorter than Oggin, and she was as beautiful as she was tall.
Her outfit was baroque, a pure white surcoat embroidered with complex golden stitch patterns. The coat's collar was high and overly exaggerated, and she peered over it with her head held high. Beneath, she wore red leathers a shade darker than her hair. The dark suit wrapped around her body tightly, and stopped just beneath her chin like a throat corset. Her upper arms were bare and impossibly pale, but she was not delicate. They were lean with muscle, and her forearms were covered by ornate gauntlets whose jewels twinkled as she moved towards them.
"You gentlemen are quite late," Another silvery voice called out. A man with wild, ink like hair, stepped out from behind her, and immediately matched pace alongside the woman. He was just as beautiful, and pale and tall as well, if not more so. He wore a perfectly oversized ruffled white tunic, with gold embroideries sewn into swirling patterns on the chest and back. Around his neck he had wrapped a black silk scarf, pinned with a white diamond brooch. A long ebony cape flowed down his shoulders, and fluttered against his slender body, stopping just above his black heeled boots. His finely made pants were the same color as his cape, they were high and cinched tightly around his waist, and two serrated blades hung on his belt. They looked the same as the woman's except that they were black instead of red. He sashayed up to the hunter's prison coach "Our father has been anxious in his wait for your arrival, come with us— beast hunters," he said with a cold smile. He turned on his heel, cape flapping, and both the twins guided the hunters through the red lands of Scarlet.