Despite what everyone may have you believe, monsters are not born. Luck in this world has turned against them and molded them into what they are. Cold, fearless, cruel creatures who would so much as kill you for stepping on their shadow with no remorse. These soulless creatures weren't born this way. Even the gentlest spirits can be broken and molded into something that strikes fear into the bravest of men. They are not to blame for who they are. Call it fate if you wish. But Karma has a funny way of choosing those unlucky souls to rise up and face their destiny.
Ivar Du'món was no stranger to Karma's cruel plan. Even as he stoked the pyre within his humble hut, the popping embers and swirling smoke brought back unpleasant memories of long before. Memories rushed his senses, distracting him.
The colossal man had sat back down in his wooden throne. The voice of his long since perished father echoing in his ears like a ghost, tickling his mind with lies.
They are servants of Odin's barbarian horde.. They'll steal you away to Hel. Enslave you for eternity.
His piercing blue eyes shifted, glancing over to a lone mug at his elbow as it sat on a crudely crafted wood table. Carved into it, his crest. The silhouette of a lithe dragon, one could mistake for an Asian lung at first glance, sprawled out in an s shape. Long whiskers draped from the chin to wrap and braid forming the handle in intricate detail that flickered in the firelight. It's long neck and tail more than made up for its short torso. Its small but poweful wings spread eagled in a menacing display to complete the image.
His thick fingers delicately shifted the mug as he overlooked the art in silent thought. His solid arm overcast the delicate tableware. Painful memories again filled his mind with dread and unease.
Run Ivar. Run and do not look back!
The fire and smoke choked out the afternoon sun turning day to night as the traumatic sounds of war filled his senses, blocking all common sense. With only his father left in this world, he had no one else to turn to. But it was his own father, a large, burly man that charged into battle to protect him. Facing off against a terrifying looking beast that had a limping gate to his lumbering walk. A mane of dreadlocks flowed off his head, revealing only his face. His face itself was war torn and hardened from all the pain and suffering he'd witnessed as he carried an eternal scowl.
The hardened man never once flinched when his father charged at him, ax cocked and ready to strike. In one swift movement, a thick hand grabbed the ax, tore it from his father's grasp and elbowed him back before turning the ax on other charging men from the village. Ivar watched from the bushes as this frightening beast fought everyone off one handed. His left arm dangled at his side beneath his dark scaled cloak as if it didn't exist at all.
Ivar was brought back to reality as the image of the ax impaling his father faded from memory. His hand tensed as his nails dug into the wood armrest of his chair. He grit his teeth as he emitted a pained sound.
Something he would never do in the presence of others. Show his weakness. He was a proud man. Stubborn and hard headed like all vikings. But he knew that to show vulnerability would lose control.
He had to remain rigid and stoic. He turned his attention to the fire pit before him as he stared deep into its mesmerizing light. The light once again took him to a distant memory.
He felt as though he were back in the forest, running from the monster that attacked his small village. Running to survive. He had not stopped since the village was attacked. He was weak in the knees from racing over trenches, scaling muddy banks, and diving down steep treacherous hollers.
But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His mind was racing with fear and what would become of him should he stop. Fearing that the savage creature that attacked was a messenger of Odin's horde.
Fear guided his legs. The sounds of men chasing after him only harshened the experience as his need to survive grew with each stinging breath. He only briefly wiped his face when his feet tripped over discarded chains and pulled them loose from the soaked earth.
He spilled over the steep embankment. His body ached with every jarring collision as he hit solid earth until finally he came to rest at the foundation. He tried to get up, only to find he was wrapped in loose chains. His fall having dislodged the tightened restraints.
The sound of thunder wracking the night sky just outside his hut startled him back to his senses. The reverberation of rain pounding against the roof had announced the storm's head. He glanced up. That thunderclap was just as loud as the deafening roar he had heard all those years ago. Light from nature's fury bounced off the walls of his hut, briefly casting natural light to the otherwise rustic cabin.
He growled as he was brought back to another memory. They seemed to swirl within his mind more fierce that evening. Perhaps it was because he was growing anxious. Or perhaps it was that his hard thought out plans were coming together before him. Kickstarting them as they fell into place.
The last thing he had seen as the ground quickly melted away was the sight of the men that he had thought were chasing him as the great lithe beast ascended to the sky in retreat. Before the child could look behind him at the great devil he was constrained to, a deafening shriek wracked the heavens, causing him to cover his ears in pain and close his eyes.
Before he could register it, the lithe serpent had stopped its retreat. By the time he had opened his eyes, he was in a dark gothic underworld. Quickly he untangled his ankle from the chains and got up. The beast long since gone, he scrambled away from the area. Unidentifiable litter collected against the abandoned man made hallways of stone and granite. Bizarre poles of iron grew from the ground like trees as colorful alien writing littered them and the walls that stretched out as far as he could see. The air was stiff and stale with dust. He uttered a small whimper which echoed off the hallowed chamber as he timidly walked through the terrifying terrain. For true, he must have been taken to Hel like his father promised as penance for trifling with the great serpent.
The chambers seemed to extend forever, only to disappear into deep dark tunnels. Of which the child dread entering. Fearing unknown Hel monsters or even Odin's Horde themselves would be lying in the dark abyss, waiting to strip him of his flesh. The sudden roar of unfamiliar iron grinding against metal shook the chambers to their core, leading him to think it was one of Odin's barbarians charging at him from the depths of the abysmal tunnel. Quickly he turned, running in dread as he ran fast as he could.
He ducked under iron turnstiles as he climbed up marble stairs covered in dust and muck on all fours. Only to bounce off a chainlink gate as he reached the top. Greeting him on the other side was an alien world of concrete and brick. Buildings stretched to the sky like sea-stacks. Roads of stone stretched as far as he could see as smoke flowed from the streets as if serpents slept beneath.
The sound of a door opened in haste brought him back to his surroundings. He furrowed thick wiry brows as his gaze fell upon a well built young man soaking from the rain. He stood at attention waiting to be addressed, not wanting to set the unstable man off.
"Well?" He spoke with a harsh, throaty, brogue. He glanced up at the man that stood before him, hoping inwardly for any good news.
"There are signs.. Something is beneath the streets. But our men can't find it, beside these.." He approached timidly. Holding a hand out, he handed the larger intimidating man what he had found.
Ivar took the scale into his hand as he inspected it. Nimbly playing with it as he took in its breathtaking sight as light bounced off it like a reflective mirror. Rendering it near invisible.
"Of course you can't find it. It's under your nose but you can't see it for it's unusual camouflage." The man snapped.
"Sir.. What is it we're after, exactly?" The shorter man had queried. He had only been ordered to scout the abandoned subways for signs of life. But that was all. Ivar never told him what it was to keep an eye out for. And seeing these scales had him curious. He'd only ever seen scales like this from reptiles. Snakes mostly. He'd killed himself a fair amount of rattlers back in his days as a ranch hand. But the scales he'd encountered were bizarre. Ten times larger than a rattler. Just what were they facing?
"You'll find out in due time. Ready the shipment. Tomorrow we move in." Ivar commanded.
"Yessir. One more thing.. Sir." He began, watching as Ivar fidgeted with the scale, not once setting it down. He swallowed nervously as the man's piercing blue eyes shifted to him.
"Local authorities have contacted Agnes and she has agreed to take your niece in. She is being flown in as we speak and should arrive by tomorrow morning.." He spoke timidly. His muscles tense, unsure of what Ivar would do to hear such news.
The man's brows dipped lower as he grit his teeth. Agnes Duffey. The woman he'd taken on as his 'lover' was only simply for business. Not pleasure. Were it up to him he wouldn't have taken a concubine in. But his plans needed to be funded somehow in this confusing alien world he grew up in. This woman had an ability to peck at his patience. Going against his orders and doing what she very well pleased despite his authority. He only kept her around for her money.
As for his niece. He had no interest in his adopted sister's family life. The only time he'd ever laid eyes on his niece was a lone photo in her father's wallet. She was a scrawny twig that could easily be snapped under pressure. He had no time for useless vagabonds among his ranks. But knowing his sister, their fortune would go to the daughter. Something he felt was rightfully his. He breathed in deeply to calm his nerves, his nostrils flaring as he thumbed the scale. This was not to last.
His anger breached the surface before he grabbed the mug at his elbow and threw it into the pyre. The ale stirred the fire to life as it exploded upon impact. The light of the brilliant flames flickered against Ivar's dusty blonde hair as if it were a glow from heaven's light. The lesser man recoiled at this exertion of ferocity for fear Ivar would take his anger out on him. Ivar by now stood in a round-shouldered slouch. He clenched his free hand tightly, near white knuckled as the fire died down. His breathing hastened from the sudden exertion of energy before he turned to the other.
"I have no place in my plans for ..hiccups.." Ivar spoke. The man looked at him with uncertainty.
"It was her idea, SHE will raise the child.. Now.. Get out of my sight." Ivar sat back down in his throne as his subordinate left hastily. His fingers once again fidgeting with the scale as he stared off into space. He was the child's only living relative through adoption. He feared the child would hinder his plans. And the child was every bit the vision of weakness. A scrawny, spineless, hiccup.
He soon caught a glimpse of a sword that hung mounted on the wall. Lightening licked the sky once again, casting its light in the cabin as he began to form an idea. A wonderfully, twisted idea.
Author's Notes:
I've been working on this story for about three months now. It started life as a means to get the urge to roleplay out of my system. With each rewrite I make, it get's a slight change. I'm currently uploading the second rewrite on my deviantART at KashimusPrime. But this is the finalized form that I am currently working on. It will be dramatically different compared to the original version. Any feedback in the form of constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Many thanks in advanced!
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any and all canon characters in the HTTYD universe, only the fan characters and have no intentions of making a profit from this, this is purely written for enjoyment.
Cover illustrated by Elbel1000 at deviantART