You: *Gasp!* What's this? An update? Wow! It's been so long!
Me: Yes, it has. And I apologize. I've been having issues with health stuff and school stuff and family stuff, so it all became too crazy to try and get an update out. But I'm here and updating now! I said I won't abandon this story, and I hold true to that, even if it takes awhile to get these chapters out there.
Thank you so so much to all of you who are still sticking with this story! It means so much to me to see your reviews and follows! I'll try my best not to let you all down!
So, without further adieu, chapter 11! Hope you enjoy!
Helheim prison. Berk. Dragon Warrior. Master Grimborn.
Krogan growled as he glared down at the helmet that had been dropped a foot away from where he knelt. Slowly and easily, he stuck his right foot out from under him, allowing his heel to rest on top of the Viking helmet. He pulled it back, ignoring the gentle scrape of metal on stone as it slid toward him.
Once it was directly in front of his left knee, he forced himself to his feet, biting back a grimace of pain as his arms pulled out further on either side of him. The chain around his neck tugged as he pulled back as far as he could so it was taut and tight. Then, using heavy momentum, he placed his foot on top of the helmet and thrust it forward into the linked chains where it connected with the stone floor. He repeated that same process over and over again, until the chain began to chip.
Many long minutes of back and forth with the helmet against the ground, letting it smack against the single chain, had Krogan's teeth on edge, but he continued anyway.
"Hey! What's going on in there?" The voice was close, but not close enough as one of the links in the chain finally broke, allowing Krogan to raise his head up further.
One of the guards burst into the cell at that moment, his eyes wide behind his metal grate mask as he realized what was happening.
"Sound the alarm!" he cried out to a guard who was standing behind him.
Krogan scowled at the man but didn't say anything as the guard lifted his sword, slowly inching forward with it outstretched in front of him at arm's length.
"D-don't move!" the guard commanded shakily, and Krogan almost laughed. The sword shook in the guard's hands.
As soon as he was close enough, Krogan kicked out, hitting the sword with the toe of his boot right on the flat of the blade. It clattered to the ground instantly, and it only took a second for the guard to run out, calling for backup.
Krogan carefully used his heel to bring the sword closer to him, then positioned it so the tip rested right in the center of a link on the chain connecting his right wrist to the wall. He pulled against it, his bicep bulging from his efforts, and the link burst from the pressure.
Smiling to himself, Krogan instantly got to work on the last chain, and once he was completely free, he tore the neck chain off with disgust.
Three guards came barging into the room, but as soon as they saw their prisoner free with a sword in hand, they bolted back out, yelling something indistinguishable. A second later, a horn was blown over and over again, warning the guards of the escape.
Krogan's smile only widened. This would be fun.
He charged out of the cell, sword held tightly in his grasp. He was instantly met with another sword on the other side of the dark doorway, eyeing the wooden lift a few feet in front of him as he parried the blows. It took less than a minute for the guard to be on the ground and out for the count. Krogan ran to the lift, jumping up onto it. As he rose into the air, his head tilted back to watch the huge crowd of guards waiting for him in the darkness above.
"He escaped? He escaped?!" The frantic voice of the Berkian came closer and closer as he rose higher.
"He hasn't escaped anything!" another voice called back angrily. "Be at the ready, men!"
Krogan chuckled darkly as he watched the shaking guards raise their weapons above him. 3...2...1...Krogan burst off of the lift as soon as he was able, jumping up into the air and landing spectacularly on his feet at the center of the armed men.
"I need to warn Master Grimborn!"
Krogan easily fought off the guards, parrying their blows and returning with some deadly swordwork of his own, easily knocking them down one by one. He watched with a scowl as the Berkian ran, only to be held back by a hand grasping his shirt, which belonged to Ryker Grimborn, the lead guard.
Krogan stalked forward, sword at the ready.
"You've got a lot of guts trying to break out of my prison," Ryker remarked with a growl to his voice.
Krogan didn't respond, only continued to come closer, his eyes never leaving Ryker's.
"Let me go!" the Berkian exclaimed in a panic as he tore at the fist clutching his tunic, his round eyes connecting with Krogan's.
"I'm not afraid of-"
The words out of Ryker's mouth were cut off as Krogan suddenly struck out, the hilt of his sword coming down with a painful sounding crack on the top of the bald man's head. He teetered for a hesitating moment, standing there as if ready to strike back, then he fell to the ground, motionless.
As he fell, his hand released the Berkian's shirt. The boy stood there, frozen with fear and his legs shaking as he cowered in front of Krogan.
"What are you supposed to be?" Krogan finally spoke, addressing the Berkian with disdain.
"G-G-Gustav L-Larson, sir," the Berkian answered. "I-I'm the m-m-m-messenger for Master G-Grimborn."
"Hm," Krogan hummed. "I want you to send a message for me to your Master Grimborn. Tell him that the Dragon Warrior is coming."
Gustav nodded frantically and scurried off without another word, nearly crying in relief to have been let go in one piece.