"Do you mean to tell me, that you, my most trusted mercenaries, have failed me?"
The three men knelt before the throne in the mead hall, heads bowed down, not only as a sign of respect, but also out of fear for looking him in the eyes. Torches lit on each column gave of an eerie glow, casting long shadows across the floor.
"Sire, please, we searched everywhere that the manuscripts told us it could be….we found nothing….we did as you asked"
Slumping back down into his throne, kicking one leg up over the armrest as he did so, an evil smirk across his face, Dagur the Deranged looked upon the men he had trusted with this very important missions.
"Do you realise how important this task is?" he asked menacingly, causing each of the kneeling mercenaries to shift nervously. Dagur grabbed a few rolls of parchment from the small table next to his throne. "If what these manuscripts say is true, with that kind of power, not only could I finally get rid of that little runt Hiccup, but I could conquer the entire archipelago, the entire world….so tell me again…..WHERE ARE THEY!"
The three men winced slightly at the volume of the voice screaming at them. Dagur was not a patient man, but was very violent and extremely unstable. His reputation across the archipelago was not understated, often performing erratic acts without thought or reason, other than to shed blood and kill. This impulsiveness makes him unpredictable, but even though he may be hyperactive as well as insane, nobody could question his skills as a leader.
"My lord, we don't know where they are, perhaps, perhaps your reading of the manuscripts…"
Dagurs' smirk quickly disappeared, replaced by a steely glare.
"Perhaps what?" he hissed
"…..perhaps they were…inaccurate?"
Dagur got up from his throne and slowly approached the mercenary. The quite thud of his boots on the stone floor nearly froze the mercenaries' heart in fear as the deranged chief drew closer. Dagur stopped in front of the man and knelt down. Using one finger, he lifted the man's chin, so he was looking dead into his eyes.
"Inaccurate" Dagur growled, his scowl furrowed his brows over his eyes, those dark brown eyes, flickering with rage. The mercenary didn't respond, out of fear that if he did, he would soon regret it.
"Sir, please forgive us, we did our best, we are still your servants and allies"
Dagurs scowl gave way to a sinister smile.
"Are you demanding that I discount your actions and rely on friendship?"
"We are asking, not demanding" replied the second mercenary.
"If I want to rule the world, I need to have all of those scrolls under my control, and if you fools cannot provide me with them, I will eliminate you entirely" Dagur emitted an evil chuckle as he stood upright and walked back up the stone stairs to his throne.
"You….intend to kills us, some of your most loyal…..and dearest subjects" stammered the third man, trembling with fear. Dagur sat back down in his throne, placing the manuscripts back onto the small table before leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"Of course not" replied Dagur
"You're letting us go, oh thank your Dagur, your will not regret….." before the mercenaries could finish speaking, Dagur nodded to three of his soldiers standing behind the mercenaries. In a flash, a rope wrapped around each of their necks, squeezing their windpipes, making it almost impossible to breathe. Dagur looked on, the sinister smile returning to his face.
"I will not tolerate failure, I will not tolerate excuses, and I absolutely will not tolerate anyone questioning my intelligence, do you understand"
The three mercenaries grabbed at the ropes around their necks, trying desperately to get some oxygen into their lungs, but the ropes became tighter and tighter, slowly sucking the life out of each man.
"I guess not, so what choice do you leave me?" Dagur watched as the colour drained from their faces, as they continued to claw at the ropes, but to no avail. Each of the mercenaries crumpled to the floor, and the ropes were finally removed. "Throw them into the ocean!" Dagur ordered to his soldiers as the bodies were removed. Dagur walked over to the window of the hall, resting his knuckles on the cold rock and staring out across his island.
Berserker Island truly was a dark place. Within the darkness around the island, any lights looked weak and unnatural, the water appeared inky black and any travellers who ventured there felt extremely cold. An ominous silence reigned in the background, no matter how much noise was being made by the Berserker inhabitants.
Dagur watched as his people went about their daily routines, gathering crops, cleaning and sharpening their weapons in the vast armoury, upgrading their fleet of war ships with new cannons and dragon trapping devices. He scrapped his fingernails across the stone, gritting his teeth in frustration.
He had spent the best part of 2 months pouring over the ancient manuscripts he had taken of a group of traveling Moth Priests, one of which was now being held prisoner in the dungeons. Initially he wanted to kill all of them, until one of his soldiers pointed out the unique skills the Moth Priests hold to read and decipher ancient texts and writings, so Dagur had kept one alive. As for the others, well it was safe to say they wouldn't be doing any readings for a long time.
These were no ordinary manuscripts he had acquired. They were written in an ancient language that had never seen before, in fact, he soon discovered that only a handful of people in whole archipelago had the knowledge to decipher them, all of them Moth Priests, so with one held captive, he had the means to decipher them.
Dagur ran over and over in his mind what the Moth Priest had told him.
"These manuscripts tell of a group of ancient artefacts of incredible power, bestowing upon an individual the ability to conquer the world, but at great risk, for if one who does not possess the skills to harness this power, will ultimately destroy themselves."
Dagur didn't care about the old priests warning, he only wanted the power, and if he had to go through Hel to obtain it, then that's exactly what he would do. His through process was suddenly interrupted by a large bang as the door to the hall banged open.
"My Lord Dagur….." spoke a Berserker soldier who had entered the hall.
"Oh what is it now?!" Dagur moaned rather childishly, "I've had more than my share of bad news today, so this interruption better be worth my time"
The Berserker soldier smiled back at his chief.
"We've found one"
Dagur's eyes lit up and his jaw dropped slightly.
"You….found one…..where is it, BRING IT TO ME!" Dagur bellowed, walking quickly from the window to the centre of the hall. The berserker soldier stepped aside, allowing two more soldiers carrying a large dirt covered chest to ether the hall. Dagur almost began to hop with excitement, before regaining his composure. He did not want his men to see him hop around like an excited child at Snoggletog. The soldiers carrying the chest carefully placed it on a table close to the roaring fire in the centre of the hall. Dagur bounded up to it, pushing his men out of the way. He gazed upon the chest with gleaming eyes. After all this time of searching, he finally had one in his possession.
Dagur grabbed the lock of the chest and began to yank on it, trying desperately to get it open. The chest had obviously been hidden for many years, the wood was slightly rotted. The metal fixings on the joints of the chest had rusted quiet badly, as had the mechanisms on the lock. Dagur pulled and pulled, but could not break the lock.
"Well don't just stand there you idiots, GET THE THING OPEN NOW!" Dagur barked. After a quick flurry of activity, one soldier appeared with a long hooked metal bar, slamming it in to the gap between the lid and body of the chest.
Using all of his strength, the soldier began to pry the chest open, before a pinging noise echoed around the hall as the lock snapped. The chest flew open, causing the soldier to fall flat on his face. Dagur merely stepped over him, not even extending a hand to help. He approached the chest and gazed upon its content.
The long gold cylinder was adorned with precious gems and intricate runic carvings, which glistened in the light of the fire. Two handles, wrapped in brown leather straps stuck out of each end. Dagur slowly reached in and picked up the item, running his hand down the surprisingly warm metal, his eyes scanning every single piece of it.
"Bring the Moth Priest to me" Dagur ordered to one of his men, who bowed his head and turned on his heels towards the dungeons. Dagur turned back to the soldier who had entered first. "Where did you find it?"
"On a tiny land strip just south of Fort Sinister, dug it up just a few days ago"
Dagur grinned before turning his attention back to the gold cylinder.
"At last, I have it. With this, I will have a power greater than any in the world. Remember this day men, for today marks the start of the greatest revolution in history, and this is going to make it all possible….."
Dagur raised the item above his head,
"…..The Elder Scroll"
