Even in a cell, one could be productive. "Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight." Dagur thought. He had grabbed the chains closest to the wall, using them to help him lift his lower half off the ground and do reps. When a sudden light appeared, he stopped. Ryker walked up to the cell, glaring, and Dagur gave him a winning smile in return, "Morning. Or is it night up there? So hard to tell." The hunter grunted, "Since you won't be out there getting us dragons, you can tell me how to." "How generous of you." The Berserker said, sarcastically. Ryker unlocked the door and entered, "Skrills are very rare and even more valuable. How did you train that one?" Dagur opened his mouth to say something caustic and stopped, laughing, "Actually, I really don't know. It kind of just happened." Ryker found nothing about that amusing and seized the prisoner's broken arm, "That doesn't help me." he growled.
Dagur glowered at the hunter, "I told you that I wouldn't." Calmly, Ryker loosened the chains on the wall, causing the Berserker to become suspicious. "What's he planning?" he wondered. In an excruciating moment, Ryker lifted the boy and slammed him onto the ground. The Berserker let out a grunt, "Yep, that makes more sense." he mused, bitterly. Briskly, the hunter tightened the chains again and got in Dagur's face. "Tell me something useful." he ordered. The Berserker kept his gaze cool, "When you go back to the deck, jump into the sea and inhale, deeply." Ryker's hand twitched, longing to draw his sword and sever the viking's torso from his legs. He restrained himself from doing so and, in a huff, locked the cell door again and left.
Ryker went to Viggo's study again, "If you don't want him dead, you'll have to help me deal with him." he told. The younger hunter sighed, "Very well. It seems that my work is never done." The siblings returned to the prison and entered the cell together. "I am sure that my brother mentioned to you how valuable Skrills are." Viggo stated. He received no response and continued, "As such, I intend on capturing one and shall require information. We have not encountered those dragons before, so what they eat, where they like to rest, and what they do when frightened are helpful things to know." Dagur scowled at them and Viggo frowned, slightly, "Your suffering is not so amusing that if you proceed along this path, you will be assured a place on this vessel." Still receiving nothing, Viggo motioned for his brother to utilize his weapon.
"Fine." the Berserker huffed, unhappily. Ryker's brow rose, "You'll tell us?" Dagur gave a death glare, but, solemnly, nodded, "Mind if I get a drink of water first?" Viggo smiled, "Of course we do not, friend. How unhospitable of us to dehydrate you." he gestured for Ryker to get the beverage and basked in his success. "You are not as arrogant as I had been led to believe, Dagur. Well done. However, I suppose that even fools can have a sense of self-preservation." he gloated. Dagur stayed silent, seemingly, being upset over the betrayal of his friends. Ryker returned with the water, but did not give it to him, "Information first." he stated. The boy frowned, "With this hoarse voice?" he asked, innocently. Ryker's reply was a grunt and Dagur spoke, "They eat shoals of minnows, like to stay around fields, and will go into the forest when spooked. Good enough for you?" Viggo nodded and the Berserker eyed the cup, "Then, can I be unchained to drink this?" The brothers looked at one another and smiled, smugly. Ryker downed the beverage and smirked, "Refreshing." He tossed the empty mug at Dagur's feet and the two left, "Thank you very much for your help, young one." Viggo called behind them. Dagur looked at the, pitiful, cup and smiled, himself. "Anytime, Viggo. Anytime."
The Grimborns went to look over their maps and Viggo pointed to a spot, "This is the only location that would provide all those things that he mentioned. Do go with them to ensure that we retrieve the Skrill." he suggested. Ryker bobbed his head in agreement and gathered the hunters to start their journey on another ship. The expedition took a few days to arrive and when they did, the hunters disembarked. "Scour the area." Ryker ordered. Vikings swarmed over the island like a layer of snow, searching for the electric dragon. After almost a week had gone by, the hunters approached Ryker. "Sir," one began, "we can't find a trace of any valuable dragon, let alone a Skrill. Only Terrible Terrors are on this island." Ryker scowled, "Let's head back." Again, they traveled their days' sailing and arrived back at the main hunter vessel. Ryker met up with his brother, looking furious.
"Would I be correct in thinking that you found nothing?" Viggo questioned. "He tricked us." his sibling growled. The smaller viking looked doubtful, "He is not intelligent enough to do such a thing. Let us see what he has to say on his error." They went to the prison and just missed the Berserker doing a hand stand by balancing with the chained wall. "The only place that fit your description failed. You lied." Ryker hissed. Dagur lifted his head to look at him, "Or you didn't search well enough." he shrugged. Internally, Dagur was laughing his heart out, "Took longer than I thought for them to come back. A shame that they know these islands so well, otherwise I would've led to them to some Fireworm Island or one that didn't exist at all. A useless one worked, nicely, though."
Ryker entered the cell and drew his weapon, "I don't take kindly to having my time wasted." With a quick movement, he slashed over Dagur's right eye and down his face. The boy closed his eye to prevent the blood from going into it, "I see." Dagur told him, then laughed at his accidental wording. The hunter raised his weapon for another slash, but Viggo stopped him, "Ever the hasty one, Brother. Slowly." he instructed. Taking a deep breath, Ryker grabbed Dagur's head and put the blade a little under the same eye. He started to cut it, slowly, and had to halt. "This takes too long." he stated, exasperated, "I can't do this. Can I do the fast attacks?" Viggo waved him off, "If you must, but the longer you go, the more pain is induced. Allow me to demonstrate. Keep his head still." Ryker kept his hands on the Berserker's head, preventing any pulling back or away.
Viggo drew his own sword and lined it up near the prisoner's right temple. Leisurely, Viggo began to carve the skin, waiting for any response. Dagur bit his lip and kept his expression unreadable. The slice went all the way down to where the first one ended. Still obtaining no grunt or complaint, the hunter took the blade to where the last cut was, by the side of the eye, and let the carvings intercept. Warm blood trickled down Dagur's face, but the most annoying lart to him was that he knew there would be scars. A permanent reminder of his time there. Since so much time had been lost going on a wild goose chase, the Grimborns could not waste anymore with him and returned to the deck.
Days went by and Viggo assumed that his inmate's lack of food and water would be enough to weaken his spirit as well as body. Dagur overcompensated by training in any way that he could. While food was, normally, necessary to train the best, he had to grow stronger. He looked at where the chains met and how they connected to the wall. "I wonder if I can loosen them up, myself." He started to pull at the chains, bringing his arms forward as much as possible. A bit of leeway occurred and he smiled, happily. Dagur heard some footsteps and saw the glimmer of a lamp, alerting him to the arrival of a hunter again. They had been put on a schedule that every hour, one hunter would go down there. "You're never getting out of here." one said, spitefully. Dagur rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the viking. With a huff, the hunter left, "Stupid ol' lunatic." The Berserker, in a way, liked that the hunters thought him to be an idiot. Being underestimated could be a blessing.
The hunters coming and going, frequently, made for no sleep to come. Anytime that they were present, Dagur had to be awake, so that he knew what was happening. Also, anytime that he was alone, he rationalized that he needed to train. Prioritizing was an important task. The hour came when a hunter was to come, but it was Ryker. He entered the cell and stared, "You look different." he noticed. Dagur frowned, "I mean, it would be impressive not to change appearances down here." Ryker glared at him, "That's not what I'm talking about. You're training. Preparing to escape." The Berserker feigned hurt, "You don't trust me?" Ryker stared harder and grabbed at the chains on the wall, "These are looser." he declared, accusingly. He gripped Dagur's throat, tightly. "Always with the choking." the boy said, hoarsely.
"I'm getting tired of seeing you, so you better be grateful to my brother for letting you live." Ryker said, squeezing his working hand, trying to make a fist. Spotting the wall behind them, the hunter mashed Dagur's head into the wood. As Dagur's throat was released, a fist met his temple and caused him to go the ground, closer to the chained wall. Ryker raised his foot and Dagur, instinctively, put his arms over his head. The foot went into his stomach instead, knocking the, newly coming, breath back out of the viking. In an instant too quick and subtle to notice, fear flashed in the boy's eyes. The expression was not one that was in the moment, though, and had a distance look to it. Ryker yoked Dagur back to his feet and tightened the chains again. He eyed him, pensively, and began to draw his blade. "Best to prevent you from going anywhere." he decided. The blade made contact with Dagur's right leg, digging into the back of his knee. A grunt of pain escaped the Berserker's lips as he was forced to stand, using his other appendage.
Ryker locked the cell up, "Start getting used to this. It'll happen a lot more, now." he promised and left. The hunter kept true to his word. Everyday, Ryker came and made Dagur's life an even worse nightmare than it already was. The wound on his side was healing, but he had to worry about his leg as well. The slash could have taken it off, but it did succeed in making moving it excruciating. Of course, he had not been able to really try walking on it yet. Dagur remained steadfast and pursued with training every second he could. He tried to diagnose himself for what injuries he might have sustained, but everytime he tried, his mind wandered to something along the lines of revenge. He worked best in a non-cluttered area and the cell was getting messier with each of Ryker's visits. Dagur's head had been slammed into the wooden wall so much that it had splintered and broken off into bits. He reached down to grab a piece and felt to see how sharp it was. Bringing it to his left forearm, he began to carve names.
First off was Alvin. Savage made his way on the listas well. Obviously, Ryker and Viggo. Dagur caught the names of a few more hunters that, particularly, were cruel and added them. He was worried that with all the blows to his head, he might forget about who caused all those things to happen. Every so often, he felt like he was blanking out and loathed that. His mind was, naturally, damaged enough without the assistance of concussions. The tattooing was less painful than what had and was happening to him. Any sharp sting that burned his flesh only reminded him of why he needed to do such a thing. Sometimes, the promise of killing his enemies and imagining how he would, was just what was helpful for keeping him strong. Ryker noticed that the prisoner's spirit had not been broken and went to speak with Viggo.
"He's not destroyed, Brother." he informed. Viggo's eyebrow rose, "I had not anticipated him lasting so long. I must admit that we underestimated him.
Our tactics are required to alter. Continue your daily visits, if you find it necessary, but I am going to take a larger part in this, now." Viggo went to the cell alone, "Hello, Dagur." The inmate just looked at him. "Surely, you have guessed that my brother informed me about your training a while ago. No doubt, you are thinking of executing each and everyone of us in a most gruesome way." The hunter brought the lamp close to Dagur's face, hurting his, darkness adjusted, eyes. "While I have no doubt that you would do that, you are not as ruthless as you try to appear." Dagur stayed quiet, but eyed him, suspiciously. "Do not look so surprised. We both know that you did not really kill your father."
The Berserker kept his eyes from widening, "What makes you think that?" he questioned, coldly. Viggo smiled, "As I said when we first met, the eyes are the portals to the soul. The windows, if you will. Through yours I can see that you would not hesitate to kill me right now, if given the chance. Despite all this, I do not see such a cruelty that would allow you to murder your own family member, solely, for the purpose of a title that you would obtain later anyway." The hunter looked thoughtful, "Of course, that would mean that your father, simply, abandoned you. It must be difficult knowing that he cared so little. Did you have any friends or other family members back on the island?" Dagur glared at him. "Any mother around longer than giving birth and leaving?" The Berserker's glare turned more deadly and clenched his jaw. Viggo sighed, "I suppose that you must not have. After all, if you had been respected by them, you would not have felt the need to cause them to fear opposing you."
"Your only sense of companionship could have been with the Berkians. How unfortunate for you that they have, also, abandoned you. And in your time of need, no less." Viggo stated. Disbelief was clear on Dagur's face and the hunter continued on, "They have not come to retrieve you. It has been months and you are still here. Neither their fleets, their dragons, your armada, nor your dragon have come to help you. You are alone. Left to our mercy and in our jurisdiction. A pitiful state for a chief. Perhaps the Berserkers are too ashamed to come search for you. Or maybe the Berkians thought that you were an unavoidable nuissance and are glad to, finally, be rid of you." Viggo rose to leave, "Do get some rest. You look, terribly, exhausted." Dagur watched him leave and could help feeling hurt. The fact that he was still there, did not make him feel confident, but he wanted to give the vikings the benefit of a doubt. "Maybe something happened and they just can't find me." he thought hopefully.
More months went by and Dagur's exercising was beginning to reap rewards. Muscles were starting to sculp his lean frame and he loved that they were. Veins bulged on his arms and his body was firm from training. He had been given some food, so that he would stay around. It was small and about to mold, though. Hardly a meal fit for a living being, but he was glad to have something and it helped his tonation. He was still kept chained to the wall, especially since he was becoming stronger. One evening, the Grimborns came into his cell, Ryker holding something in his hand. "To what do I owe this visit?" Dagur asked, properly. "I wish to test out a new formula." Viggo admitted. Ryker revealed that he was carrying a dart and put it into a vein on Dagur's arm.
The serum burned as it coursed through the Berserker's body. His hands and eyes began to twitch. Suddenly, the prison bars started to melt and form into random objects. The room spun and played an irritating song as Dagur closed his eyes to not get dizzy, "Wh-what was that?" he stammered. Viggo observed him, intently, "Something that should cause hallucinations." "Greeaat." Dagur thought, sarcastically, "Okay, it's all fake. Not real in the slightest." he reassured himself. The room had stopped its twirling and a swarm of Terrible Terrors circled around him. While not pleasurable, he was still okay with that and held his ground, feeling nothing. He heard a growl and turned to see Bluebolt. The Skrill snarled, fiercely, at him, "No." Dagur mused, "you're not really trying to attack me. Just another illusion."
"So you aren't dead yet, huh?" a disappointed voice asked. Dagur saw Hiccup frowning at him. "Nope, but I don't need to talk to a mirage, so bye bye." he shooed for him to leave. The Berkian scoffed, "A 'mirage'? You're more stupid than I thought, 'Brother'." Hiccup said the title in such a cold and condescending way that, despite knowing he was fake, it still hurt, "You didn't really think that we were friends, did you?" Dagur turned away from the illusion, ignoring his remarks. When he heard some chuckling, he looked to see Alvin. The Outcast stalked over to him with a creepy smile. Dagur swallowed, hard, "You're fake too." Alvin kept walking, "Am I?" The Outcast came close to the restrained viking, reaching out a hand to touch him. Dagur bit at the hand, not having anything else to use and heard a, judgemental, snort. "How the dainty have fallen more." Ansson stated, "A Berserker chief. Here. Being imprisoned by dragon hunters and harassed by an Outcast. Can there be no end to the shame you've brought my people?"
Alvin disappeared and Ansson stepped forward, "I should be chief. In fact, I think, I'll take your place, since you'll be in here forever. Wouldn't catch me in a situation like this, like ya. Bet ya still can't beat me in a fight. If ya weren't chained up, I'd prove that." he eyed him up and down, shaking his head, "Just a disgrace." "More than anyone could ever know." another voice added. Oswald came into view and looked at his son, disapprovingly, "So, this is who my Berserkers have to lead them. A prisoner." Dagur kept his gaze cool. "Speak, when I'm conversing with you, boy." the former chief said, sternly. Dagur frowned, "I'm only hear because I was protecting someone." Oswald nodded, "Yes, Heather, wasn't it? She never would have been in danger, if it weren't for you in the first place!" he yelled. Dagur shrunk a bit from his father's fury, "I did what had to be done."
"Like replace me as chief." Oswald stated, upset, "Just leave me to die, why don't you? For all you know, I could be enduring the same tortures that you are." The thought of a family member of his going through what he was, formed a lump in Dagur's throat. He swallowed it down and stood firm, "You told me not to tell anyone. I'm not in the wrong for complying. Any other time, you'd be mad at me for disobeying." The older Berserker came up to him, "You have ruined this family, Dagur. Always remember that. Especially as you rot here, alone and unloved." Dagur diverted his eyes from the man's harsh glare, "You're not here." he whispered. Oswald stepped away from him, "Right. Silly me for forgetting. I'm not here-" his face was full of disgust, "I'm dead."
Dagur hung his head in shame as pain filled him. He could not stop shaking from the visions that haunted and wrecked his brain. They hurt him mentally, emtionally, and physically. He let out yells of agony and anguish and kept turning red from rage and embarrassment. Deep down he knew that he looked like a fool for reacting to imaginary foes, but they seemed so real. Dagur was still determined to stay strong, despite the torture. He did not cry and did not beg for mercy. What he did do, was laugh. He laughed for every tear that wanted to fall and every tremble that yearned to commence. After all, laughing at situations was his trademark. Why change? Why not live in his moniker of being deranged?