Chapter One -the sea of dragons" - Søybjörn and Skwisgaa

The Sea of Dragons
“We’re all going to die!” Yorvik the Harpooner screamed, glaring round, his eyes wide with fear. Lightning slashed through the sky of Fenris, illuminating the man’s tormented face. Sheer terror made his shout audible even above the roar of the wind and the thunder of the waves against the ship. The driving rain running down his face looked uncannily like tears.
“Be silent!” Søybjörn shouted and slapped the terrified man across the cheek. Shocked at being hit by a youth barely old enough to have the down of manhood on his cheeks, Yorvik reached for his axe, his fear momentarily forgotten. Søybjörn shook his head and glared at the older man with his cold grey eyes. Beside him his friend, Skwisgaa bristles with the tension of the moment. His Dark Brown locks framing his pale face as it glowers darkly at the older man. Yorvik stopped, as if realising where he was and what he was doing. They stood in full view of all the warriors on the prow of the ship. Attacking the son of his captain would gain him no credit in the eyes of the gods or the crew. The flush of shame came to Yorvik’s cheeks and Søybjörn looked away so as not to embarrass the man further, his gaze falling on Skwisgaa. “Not the death we were hoping for is it? i thought it would be death or honour inthe battle with the grimskulls!” he says in undisguised disappointment and anger.
Skwisgaa tosses his head to get his mane of long dark brown hair from his eyes. Squinting through the lash of the wind and the salt-spray of the storm-tossed sea, Skwisgaa silently agreed with Yorvik. They were going to die unless a miracle occurred. They had been going to sea since they was old enough to walk, and never had he seen a storm this bad.
Sullen dark clouds scudded across the sky. It was dark as night even though it was noon. Spray billowed as the prow of the ship cleaved through another enormous wave. The dragonhide of the deck echoed like an enormous drum with the force of the impact. He struggled to keep his balance on the constantly moving deck. Even over the wind’s daemon shriek, he could hear the creak of the ship’s bones. It was only a matter of time, he decided, before the sea killed the vessel. It was a race to see whether the force of the waves smashed the Spear of Russ into a thousand pieces, or whether it simply stripped the cured dragonhide from the ship’s skeleton and left them to founder and drown.
Søybjörn shuddered and not just from the chill, sodden wetness of his clothing, he clasped Skwisgaa on the shoulder in affirmation. For him, as for all his people, drowning represented the worst of all possible deaths. It meant simply sinking into the clutches of the sea daemons, where his soul would be bound in an eternity of servitude. There would be no chance of earning his place among the Chosen. He would not die with spear or axe in hand. He would not find himself a glorious death or swift passage to the Hall of Heroes in the Mountains of the Gods.
Looking back along the rain-lashed deck Søybjörn saw that all the massive warriors were as frightened as he, though they hid it well. Tension was written on every pallid face, and visible in every blue eye. Rain matted their long blond hair and gave them a hopeless bedraggled look. They sat huddled at their benches, useless oars held at the ready, massive dragonskin rain-cloaks thrown around their shoulders or flapping in the wind like the wings of bats. Each man’s weapons lay beside him on the soaking deck, impotent against the foe that now threatened their lives.
The wind howled, hungry as the great wolves of Asaheim. The ship plunged down the far side of another enormous wave. The dragon tooth on its prow smashed through the foaming water like a spear. Overhead, the sails struggled and flexed. Søybjörn was glad that they were made from the purest dragongut; nothing else would have survived the storm’s rending claws. Ahead another massive mountain of water loomed.
Somehow it did not seem possible that the ship could survive it crashing down on them.
Søybjörn and Skwisgaa cursed in fury and frustration. It seemed that their short lives were over almost before they started. They would not live even to see his entry into manhood next season. His voice had barely broken and now he was doomed to be lost at sea. He shielded his eyes and gazed out into the storm, hoping to catch sight of the longships of his kinfolk. They were nowhere to be seen. Most had likely gone to the bottom. Their bodies would become food for the dragons and the kraken, their souls would provide thralls for the daemons.
Skwisgaa points at something in the waves. Søybjörn turned to see and felt his mouth go dry with fear. Lightning flared once again. In the flash Søybjörn saw a huge head had broken from the waves next to the ship. A nightmare face filled with teeth the size of daggers loomed above them. The long neck flexed and the head descended searching for prey. It was a sea dragon, and no mere hatchling but a full-sized monstrosity, fully a third the size of the ship, stirred from the sea bottom by the fury of the storm.
The thunder spoke its angry words. Death struck an arm’s length from Søybjörn. He felt the wind of its passage as the huge jaws of the dragon closed on Yorvik. Great fangs pierced the tough leather of Yorvik’s armour as if it were paper. Bone gave way. Blood gouted. The screaming man was lifted into the air, arms flailing, the harpoon dropping from his fist. A sneer curled Søybjörn’s lips. He had always known Yorvik was a coward and now he had proof. He would find himself a place in the cold hells of Frostheim. The dragon bit down and gulped and part of Yorvik disappeared down its throat. The other part splattered down on the deck near Søybjörn. The rushing waves cleansed him of blood and bile.
The warriors swarmed from their benches, raising their axes and their spears in defiance. Søybjörn and Skwisgaa could tell that in their hearts they were glad. Here was a quick death and a heroic one, fighting a monster from the depths. To many it must seem as if Russ had answered their prayers, and sent them this beast to grant a great doom.
The enormous head began to descend once more. At the sight of it, several of the warriors froze. As if it had been sent to weed out cowards, the beast struck them down, biting them in two with its rending fangs. Other Deathfist warriors lashed out at it with their weapons. Axes bounced futilely from the heavy armoured scales. A few spears bit deep into flesh but the creature paid as much attention to them as a man might pay to a pinprick. The pain merely goaded it to greater fury.
It opened its maw and let out a terrifying bellow, audible even over the thunder of the waves. The sheer volume of it paralysed all the warriors. Its enormous length towered over the boat. It had merely to fall forward and its huge bulk would break the ship in two.
Something snapped within Søybjörn and Skwisgaa. their anger at the storm, at the gods, at this enormous beast and their cowardly kinsman bubbled over. the harpoon from the cowardly Yorvik lies at their feet, another handful in the barrell behind them.

Skwisgaar can feel his heart begin to beat faster and his breathing more deeper as the huge Dragon bellows toward him and the ship. He quickly bends down and picks up the Harpoon that only moments ago was held by a fellow Clansmen. Braces himself as the huge wave still crash on the boat while readying to throw the Harpoon. When Skwisgaar thinks he sees an opening in the soft spot of the Dragon he be lets out his own roar in acceptance of the Dragon's challenge and hurls the Harpoon toward it.

Not pausing to aim lest fear of those enormous dripping jaws should freeze him, Skwisgaar threw the harpoon directly into the creature’s eye. It was a good cast. The bone-tipped spear flew true and buried itself up to the shaft in the dragon’s eye.
The monster pulled itself up still further, screaming in rage and pain. The boys thought they would be deafened by the chill evil of its cries. They was certain now that they were going to die, that the entire ship was going to be smashed to flinders by the enraged beast.
Its tail comes clear of the waters and lashes across the deck, a pair of men are smashed asunder and sent flying into the raging waters to their deaths. Men struggle to penetrate the beasts scaly hide and dodge its flailing serpentlike body. The fight was far from over.

Skwisgaar gives a little sly smile as he sees the harpoon go in the dragons's eye and holds on as he sees the tail land on the deck. He pauses as he goes for his axe, see that his fellow clansmen axe are just bouncing off it hide. He instead goes got the barrel of harpoons, draws one out and takes aim once again. Hoping to blind the beast!

Søybjörn snarls in fury at the loss of those he would consider his kin, glaring at the beast he moves forward to the front of the ship as its waves toss him about, gripping his harpoon shaft tightly. Coming to the tip of the ship he opens his arms and begins waving them, jumping a little as well as he can manage under the conditions of the fierce storm.

He shouts into the night; "Come than Beast, face me!" And continues to taunt the Dragon as beast he can muster in his loud voice over the wash of the waves, cries of men and roar of the creature.

Staring defiantly at the huge creature as it sweeps it's long angular head towards it with it's teeth bared he takes the harpoon in both hands his muscle taunt with tension. As the beast massive jaws come down on to him he brings the harpoon up with all his fury into the top of the monsters mouth the harpoon tip aimed for the softer flesh of the inside jaw and a hopeful piercing of something vital inside the head before using the last instant to release the harpoon and attempt to roll away.

As the great beasts jaws desced upon him, Søybjörn prayers to Russ loud on his lips. The harpoon strikes true and deadly, sinking deep into the roof of the creatures mouth, its tip coming clear of the top of the creatures skull, puncturing its brain beneath. The creature tumbled backwards to vanish beneath the waves. As quickly as it had came, it was gone.
Crouching low on the deck, keeping his balance easily despite the motion of the ship, Søybjörn turned and moved back towards the helm. Spray ran down his face like tears. When he licked his lips he tasted salt. As he moved past Skwisgaar, a huge wave broke over the ship. He felt the pressure of tons of water and floundered. The force of the wave lifted him clear of the deck and sends him tumbling. In the waves’ fury he could get no clear view of where he was. He simply knew he was going to be swept overboard and carried to his doom. As he is swept across the deck a second beasts head emerges from the waters to the side of the ship, an echoing howl of hunger and rage blasting itself onto those on the ship.
Skwisgaar looks up to see Søybjörn being swept past him as he struggles to hold onto the railing and his harpoon.

Seeing Søybjörn struggling to hold on races to get to him in time. Quickly drawing his axe and reaches out to Søybjörn with his left hand while planting the axe blade in to the boat. "Hold tight Søybjörn. This isn't our day to die."

With a struggling grunt, Søybjörn reaches out to Skwisgaar putting all of his strength into his remaining arm grip. His ears battle with the sounds of the ship, waves and wash as he clings on for his soul and essence.

With a great slap, Søybjörn and Skwisgaar's arms lock together, their muslces tightening and straining aginast the force of the water barrelling against them. Skwisgaar's hold on his axe is firm, but the blade didnt bite deep enough and begins to slip from the timbers with the force pulling against it.
The second beast that has risen from the depths lunges forward towards the now recovered warriors in the crest of the dragonboat, taking another of their lives from them sending his soul to the afterlife. Their weapons crash against it, a solid spear strike impacting into the corner of its mouth as it was cast from Søybjörn's father. The man is a great hulking brute. His silvered red main is braided and his beard is long and flowing. His one good eye gleams with the intensity of battle as he draws his great axe to surge forward against the beast.

Søybjörn looks to the waves below him, then back to Skwisgaar, studying the mans face. With all his remaining might he pushes off against the hull of the ship with the arm not clasped with Skwisgaar's and then attempts to gain motion to swing up enough to grab onto the ships deck if he gets up high enough. The motions of the ship work with him and against him on the swings, he grunts, eyes drifting down to the water again. "Skwisgaar, my thanks! You are a true friend." He attempts to shout over it. "If you can not hold me, do not regret - Aid our kin! Kill these beasts!" He continues to get some motion onto his effort, with obvious strain on both youths.

Seeing that Søybjörn is trying to swing up, Skwisgaar allows his body to go in time with that of Søybjörn and help aid him back on the ship. Struggling to keep out of the water Skiwsgaar says "And what type of death will that be if I let go? Don't think there are seats in the Great Hall for those who look like drowned rats"

As he grabs onto the deck of the Dragonship with his spare hand, Søybjörn grits his teeth through the effort and pain as his fingers find it difficult to hold onto the wet boards. "Go Skwisgaar! Help our Kin, I will hold on!" With his grip on the top of the decks on his free arm firmly dug in he releases his grip on Skwisgaar's arm.

Seeing that Søybjörn has a same what tight grip in the side of the boat Skwisgaar moves back from the side and grabs his axe and start heading toward where the beast is laying waste saying "You better some back! because I will kill you if you die!".

As he gets closer to where the dragon is attacking and seeing the waste and death that these two dragons have casue. Skwisgaar stops and feels a sense of uncontrollable rage come over him! Staring down the Dragon his chest raises so much that it moves his arms up and down. His heart feels as though it will burst out of his chest. The vains on on his arms, head and neck extend out despite the cold weather. His grip on his father's well warn and used battle axe is so tight that he can feel the wood starting to splinter slighty under both of his palms. With savage and beastial roar Skwisgaar charges toward the Dragon, his axe at his right side slighty behind him in prepeeration for a giant over head swing to the first soft part of the beast.

Søybjörn looks down into the ocean below, as it curls and rakes at him angrily. He frowns, and looks further into the waves, trying to see anything swirl amongst the tidal ripples. As he continues to fight fiercely to bring his bulk back onto the Dragonship he eyes off the fight happening further along the ship.

As Søybjörn looks back to the fight on the prow, he manages to see old Asgarl swept screaming from the deck. His fear is evident on his face as he flies solidly past where Søybjörn is struggling to plunge into the depths beyond where he is visible for less than a second, before disapearing beneath its smashing waves.
With a resounding roar, Søybjörn swings his bulk back onto the deck, his surefooted feet landing firmly as he flicks his gaze to where his friend Skwisgaar charges at the dragon that is battleing with Søybjörn's father.

Gathering himself Søybjörn rises to his full height and collects a scattered harpoon from the deck. With a feral snarl he joins his friend on the assault, aiming the harpoon towards the more exposed under parts of the great beast as more of a long spear. "I'll distract it, you kill it!" He roars to anyone who will listen.

Surprisingly his roar gets the attention of the men desperately fighting the beast, Søybjörn 's father flashes him a broad grin and a nod, raising his large axe in the air before surging once more into the forefront of the fight. alongside him, Skwisgaar slams his axe into the side of the beast, his slamming blow breaking a handful of scales and burying itself deeply into the flesh beneath. As it comes free, the beast rears back letting out another roar of pain and anger, before slamming back forwards and taking the head from Smelg the hawk, his body remaing upright a moment before toppling to the deck and being swept over into the waves beyond. His was the death of a warrior and his spot in the halls was guaranteed.
The attention of the beast seems focused on the battling group before it, although it seems evident that if they do not prevail soon, the beast will drag the boat to its doom, as its bulk shatters more of the railing and some of the supports beneath.

As the beast dives in to take Smelg's head from his shoulders, Søybjörn charges forth gripping the harpoon in both hands, one near the back of the shaft to put power into the thrust while the other sits near the head of the shaft to aim it then swing back to grab the bottom of the shaft to help with the impact. With a savage yell issuing from his lips he drives the harpoon in towards the exposed, circular gap of the beasts ear desiring to press it home in a fatal blow.

Ignoring all the action that happening around him, Skwisgaar continues hacking away at the dragon.

Søybjörn slams his harpoon into the beast, not quite where he was aiming as the beast managed to twist its head at the last minute, its teeth gnashing at the men before it. The harpoon draws a long bloodied line down the side of the beasts jaw, serving to enrage it further. It turns its gaze upon Søybjörn, its yellowed eyes beading and narrowing as it focuses on the target before it.
As it does so, the soft under side of its throat presents itself to Skwisgaar as it it snakes past, his inefectual axe blows bouncing off or chipping the scaled underside of the beast.

Seeing his axe just infuriates Skwisgaar even more! With a sudden surge of adrenaline and beastly roar. Skwisgaar jumps up and attempts to grab hold of the larger scales of the dragon, his only though If I'm to die, I'm going to take this beast with me and make a worthy one!

Skwisgaar grabs a large scale just below the beasts throat, a hands breadth short of the softer, lightly scaled throat region of the beast. he is flung around bodily and bounced solidly against the decking, almost impaled by the spears and weapons of the crew as they battle the beast. all around he can hear the screams and battlecries of his fellow tribesmen. Above it all he can hear the scries and challenges from his friend Søybjörn as he battles fullheartedly with the beast, now that he has drawn its attention. It manages to tear the boys shield from his arm, ripping it with a crunching growl as it lifes him a few metres from the ground before the straps break and he drops heavily to the ground where he quickly climbs to his feet, his harpoon still gripped in his hands.

Skisgaar clambers to his feet, picking up one the spear laying around as he does. Drops his Battle Axe and takes the spear in both hands. With spear positioned at his side he charges back at the dragon, his locked on to that of the dragons.

Skwisgaar bellows a loud battlecry as he charges bodily at the dragons throat. His rage and pent up frustration behind his forceful charge as he slams the harpoon home, digging it deeply into the beasts throat. it bursts through the back of its throat in a fountain of blood and gore causing a deafening scram of pain and anger to rise from its bowels. Skwisgaar releases his harpoon as the sound becomes deafening, clasping his hands to his ears to try and block the sound.
the dragon rears back its head, flailing it from side to side, its blood splashing onto the rain swept decks to be washed away almost instantly. Its howls continue to pirce the sounds of the storm and splashing of waves. Its heavy bulk is still across the prow of the ship, threatening to drag it below the waves as it struggles to free itself.

Takes his hand from his ears in aid to help with his balance as the dragon thrashes around on the prow of the ship. Skwisgaar turns and walks still rocking with the dragons thrashes, attempting to finds his battleaxe that he dropped.