A/N: So, more Viking V. Dragon this chapter, albeit in another way. More bloodshed, you have been warned. No case anyone cares, I'm still accepting OCs.
Aron was never much of a seamen. His father had taken him to fish and occasionally on diplomatic missions yet on a self sufficient island like Blitz, the chieftain's heir rarely ventured out of the land but even he could tell when Loki's Pride docked. The slaves huddled together, they had no idea what would happen next although Aron had a vague idea.
Three armed Bearhides came down, unlocking the cells and gesturing for the slaves to leave. Two were checking each slave as they huddled out of their cells, another was getting Aron. The Sea Reaper was taken first, after all he wasn't meant to be sold, he was a hostage. When he climbed up, he saw them. Although only 3 warriors had went down to retrieve the slaves, 5 were awaiting with weapons drawn on the chance one tried to escape. Aron held a flash of pity for anyone who believed now was the time to make a go for it.
Yet the little worry he held for the slaves soon was overwhelmed by his relief when he got to the deck. Seeing sunlight and feeling the sea breeze once more, it was almost like he was back at Blitz. Alas, Grisly Island was very, very different from his home island. He had been mistaken, Loki's Pride hadn't docked. The Bearhide's harbor was designed solely for wolf ships, instead the galleon had dropped it's anchor and closed sails, leaving the ship to float a few miles off shore. Several smaller boats were being taken out of another set of stairs.
Smaller than wolf ships but big enough to carry 10 cramped Vikings and slaves. Back in Blitz, a plank had been used by the Bearhides to go into the docks. Now? Aron hoped they didn't plan on just pushing the boats filled with people, it would be chaos. Aron soon saw Beowulf, he was talking with the kid with sunken eyes, Rhie? No Rhys. Surprisingly, they looked far less hostile judging the Bearhide's insubordination earlier. Aron noticed a wolfship approaching from Grisly Island. A rope was cast down to help one of the Vikings to climb up. Beowulf used his powerful arm to help the man climb aboard. A sly figure, with a body designed for running rather than fighting.
"How did things go on Triquetra?" Beowulf asked the man. Like most Bearhides Aron had seen so far, the runner wore a thick leather vest and kept several hatchets on his belt. Aron frowned in concentration as he tried to hear more. Triquetra Island was home to several tribes allied to Blitz. Alas, his guard was taking him to the opposite side of the conversation, to wait for after all slaves were transferred. Aron turned to his guard, he was big, almost as large as Beowulf.
A clean head with baldness that reflected sunlight, cold hard eyes that surveyed the ship with a critical outlook and arms strong enough to rip a boar's tusks out, he was an ideal guard. Two short swords were strapped to his back. Aron had tried dual wielding before, alas wielding two heavy swords at the same time was troublesome. For most it was easier to put all their strength and balance a single weapon rather than manage two. This man didn't look foolish, so either he carried a spare, or he had a very steady grip and solid training.
"So, what's your name? Can't call you watchdog for long," Aron offered, he knew that if he wanted answers, at least familiarizing with the hulking man was a start. Those fierce brown eyes bored down on him. Aron had heard from his father that the worse enemy were the big ones that didn't talk. At least it was easy to discern what the loud ones were thinking. A few moments passed before a weary, yet strong and decisive voice revealed itself.
"Wulf the Loyal," Three words, it was a start. As slaves were brought out and taken to the ships, a contraption of ropes and mechanisms lowered each boat down to the sea. At the harbor, another set of Bearhides took the slaves inland while the Bearhide escorts returned to take another set of slaves back. Thankfully, none struggled, it would mean a cold bath of saltwater at least. Wulf had been surveying the ship when he began to squint. Before he could talk, another voice called the alarm. Aron soon noticed large dark shapes in the water, very fast shapes.
"SeaShockers!" The single cry was enough to make the rowers move faster, Grisly Island was minutes away, but there was no time to climb back aboard Loki's Pride. Vikings aboard took out long throwing spears and ran to the sides of the galleon. Wulf led Aron away from the sides, closer to Beowulf and Rhys. The red haired chieftain was barking orders furiously, men scrambled and shouted cries of warning, the tension was building up. Then, an almost musical collection of clicks broke the silence and finally, Aron saw them emerge.
The dark shapes were approaching the boats, finally, one of them surged from the sea with a victorious cry similar to dolphin's. The deep sea blue cartilaginous skin shone in the sunlight. The dragon had the body shape of a manta, with two reptilian heads with ridge filled mouths. It was almost beautiful, if what happened in the next second could be forgotten. The image would haunt Aron's nightmares for days to come.
The dragon's huge form crashed upon the ship, the twin fins decorating it's back tearing the boat apart. Aron wanted to get his harpoon and help, but there was nothing he could do. Spear throwers sent the long projectiles with reckless abandon. Some spears sunk harmlessly into the sea, others found their mark, digging deep into the bodies of the two headed dragons. Alas, too late for the Vikings and slaves from the sinking boat. They trashed, they screamed, SeaShockers lived in pods, they fed in pods.
Aron had never seen them before, but he had heard from the elders's tales. The sea blue water soon became blood red, occasionally a tail or wing emerged from the waters amidst the feasting of the pod. ShockJaws were dangerous enough, lone predators armed with aquatic and aerial prowess and bioelectricity. SeaShockers? Each was armed with an unknown sixth sense(sonar), thick shark-like skin that could break through solid ice, one of the fastest swimming speeds of the dragon world and electrical power compared to a swarm of electric eels.
Yet as more spears were thrown, the red blood became a mix of human and dragon. The horrible display ended a few minutes later, the dark shapes dispersing into the depths. Loud, sobbing wails were heard from more distant boats. The slaves remaining on Loki's Pride were frenzied, now desperate to remain aboard. One of them, a young woman, escaped the crowd and ran straight to Beowulf.
"Please! Have mercy!" The gray eyed woman begged, her frail form barely able to clutch Beowulf's arm. Tears flowed endlessly from her puffy bloodshot eyes. Aron had never seen someone so broken and desperate since most vikings would rather die than fall in such a state. Before the Bearhides could drag her back to the others, Beowulf twisted her arm and forced her to her knees with a single arm. Gone was the tired but decisive chieftain doing what he could to save his tribe, this was Beowulf the Vicious.
"Learn your place! The SeaShockers have already eaten, but if they happen to see someone floating and bleeding..." Beowulf raised his prosthetic. The fangs and claws compromising the blade sparkled like crystals. SeaShockers were like wolves, they wouldn't let an easy meal go to waste. Amidst submissive cries and sobs, the woman was dragged back to the enslaved crowd. Aron looked surprised at Beowulf, his expression was hard. But Aron had seen his father wearing the same expression, tribesmen had perished and the short hatchets and swords had been useless when SeaShockers tore them apart. But a chieftain couldn't show grief, specially in front of people he had been trying to break.
The next few hours were a blur, people were taken to the boats, lowered to the sea and the taken to Grisly Island. Aron had heard of it before, and even recalled Beowulf's earlier description. The Bearhide wasn't kidding. Bearhide Village was big, like Blitz, some houses were torn down from dragon attacks yet others prospered, greater than anything found in Blitz. Buildings of stone and wood made up most of the village, and the village itself covered great part of the island, making it more like a town on top an island.
The rest were formed by jagged rock formations and small pockets of forest. From the distance, Aron could see two gigantic buildings, the first was carved from rock, the Mead Hall and the other... Aron had no words to describe it. Even from so far away, he could make out the heavy stone structure and the dome covered by a network of iron pillars and chains.
"The arena, might not be as sophisticated as the Eye of Odin, but few arenas can house so many fighters and serve as a prison, the official name is Thor's Pleasure, but most locals call it the Slaughterhouse," Wulf had followed Aron's vision. The teen nodded, in his position, he would either be sent to stay with Beowulf as a 'guest' or he'd be sent to the so aptly named Slaughterhouse. With the sun soon to set, Aron had never been one to keep track of time but by now, at least two days had passed since that fateful night. He knew the chances of rescue were minimal, so he needed to learn as much as he could before he could try staging an escape. Until then, it would be better to go along. The more attention he got would make any future attempts harder.
Loki's Pride bobbed gently as Aron, Wulf, Beowulf, Rhys and a few other Vikings were lowered down on a boat. No one talked, Rhys was looking out into the distance, deep in thought. Beowulf and Wulf had their eyes on the water, the others were rowing as hard as they could. Each moment spent meant another chance for the SeaShockers to return. Finally they reached the harbor. Only slightly larger than Blitz's, it was designed to hold the hundreds of wolf ships belonging to the raiders rather than accommodate merchants. The Bearhides gave respectful nods as Beowulf left with some of his followers to deal with something. Rhys was greeted by a shy gray eyed boy, who to Aron's surprise, carried a short sword at his waist. Wulf led Aron through the village. Night was already beginning to overwhelm the day.
"So... What kind of dragons live around here?" Aron asked, if he had to get into the woods, he'd like to know what kind of creatures awaited him there. Wulf didn't answer, taking him straight to Thor's Pleasure, better known as the Slaughterhouse. Aron could barely process the sheer size of the structure. He estimated half of Blitz could fit inside of it. His wonder was shattered when Wulf dragged him along, going past the great main entrance, instead, to a small fortified building next to it. Two guards nodded as Wulf led Aron in. The building was devoid of furniture, save for a table and a few stools were a group of guards were playing some sort of game, a dry torch hanged on the wall and a fireplace burned bright. Wulf led Aron to a wooden door that looked like the entrance to a storm cellar. Taking a dry torch from the wall and lighting it up in the fireplace, he opened the inner cellar. Aron was led down the stairs before gasping, it wasn't a cellar.
"No way..." Aron had seen a cave complex before, but this? The building led towards a series of tunnels that ran beneath the Slaughterhouse, several iron gates on the sides of the tunnels seemed to go on forever. Faint torches gave minimal lighting, yet Aron could see enough. He could hear curses from criminals, insults and challenges in a foreign language by slaves, in a few cases, the furious roar of trapped dragons. But most cells were silent, either lacking captives, or just broken beings. Finally they stopped by a marked gate, a single key connected to it.
Wulf took the key from the door and opened it wordlessly. Aron didn't need words to understand, with a deep sigh he entered the cell. Wulf shut the gate before the loud clank of the keys locked it. The light inside was minimal, just faint torches burning outside of the cell. Oddly, it wasn't stone, but several steel bars that separated his prison from the other cells. The cell on his left empty, but the other... A dark shape stirred as it moved, suddenly, red eyes that shone in the darkness snapped open.
Aron had never seen such dragon before, but soon the loud clang of steel bashing against something rattled him, in pure instinct, he rushed to the opposite wall. A massive tail had slammed on the bars, yet somehow, the bars stood. A disgruntled growl came from the dragon before it settled down. It was hard to make out details in the darkness, but Aron could vaguely estimate it was bigger than a moldruffle but smaller than a grapple grounder. Bearing the stoker class' build, with strong back legs, short forearms and a large head connected straight to the main body. A faint clicking resonated from the dragon's forearms.
The sound of dragging metal revealed a chain attached to one of the dragon's leg, making it unable to move more than a few steps in the already packed cell. The red eyes shone, like any other dragon Aron had seen, it held the confidence and intelligence of an apex predator. Yet there was something else in those eyes, not the feral hunger, nor the desire to tear something apart. Was it boredom? Curiosity? Either way, the dragon settled down, keeping those tiny red eyes locked on him. Aron sighed, it was going to be a long night...
A/N: Yes! One of the scenes in this chapter were amidst the first I envisioned for the story! While no new submitted OCs were introduced, a few more will arrive soon. I fully intend to make a map for Grisly Island soon and once I get enough islands, make a full map of the southern archipelago. For now though, I'll leave an author note when the map of Grisly Island is submitted. Don't forget to leave your thoughts and comments in a review so I know where to improve!
PS: Special thanks to Kennyisdead for beta reading this chapter.