| Date | Heironymous 1-Shots | View | Read the... |
|---|---|---|---|
| 04/06/15 | Heironymous vs.Leviathan | (Blog) (Forum) | Disclaimer |
| Rating | Rating explanation | Last One-Shot: |
|---|---|---|
| T | Moderate violence, most of it dragon on dragon. | Heironymous vs.Savage Dragon |
798 A.D.
Manjaro the Manslayer stood a head-and-a-half higher than most men- even Finnrick the Fine. So with his broad shoulders, strong voice, and the studded mace he carried as his weapon, what he said carried weight with those around him. Especially when he was angry. His temper, backed by his mace, is what gained him the name Manslayer. So when Manjaro was angry, men were wary. When the person he was angry with stood their ground, they said a prayer to the gods for the fool’s soul. When the fool seemed unconcerned, those watching trembled with adrenaline, knowing they were about to witness a brutal death.
Such was the case aboard the karve, currently making its way across rough seas to a patch of swirling water. All men held tightly to their oars as they watched Manjaro yell into the face of their passenger- a man they called Draco. They called him this because of a necklace of teeth hanging across his bare chest, which he claimed came from a dragon. He had no hair on his head, a long, thick mustache that curved around his mouth and drooped down past his chin, was only a head shorter than Manjaro, and he was seemingly as unaffected by the cold as he was by Manjaro’s anger. He was the lone escort of a queen who had commissioned them for the trip, who currently rode in the hold with the livestock. An arrangement which was not to the men’s liking, and which Manjaro finally decided to speak up about.
“It’s bad luck for a woman to be aboard! We’ve lost five men to the raiding party, just out of port! Two to the waves! Three to the cold!” The men grunted their support with each count, and continued to do so as he listed the casualties so far. “Two disappeared in that damned thick fog we had a couple of nights ago! We lost one in the attack of the giant devilfish! And one went into the hold for supplies and never came back out again!”
Draco stood casually, with his fists on his hips, waiting for Manjaro to finish. Then he said, “I killed the man who entered the hold.” Everyone went silent at that, including Manjaro.
From his position overlooking the men at their oars, Finnrick spoke up. Not bothering to hide the anger in his voice, he challenged, “What did you just say?”
Draco looked at him with no more concern than he had for Manjaro. “I told you I would bring out whatever supplies were required by the crew. The terms of your commission included that no one may enter the hold. None may lay eyes upon the queen. He did both. So I killed him.”
The crew remained silent. Manjaro still stood, seething, chest heaving with his anger. So he smiled when Finnrick said, “Manjaro, kill him and throw him overboard. Then guard the hold for the remainder of the voyage.”
The massive Viking closed what little space there was between himself and Draco, and through gritted teeth, he said, “Now, Draco, you find out why they call me Manjaro the Manslayer.” Then he heaved the mace into the air, and brought it down with an angry roar.
Draco caught the head of the mace in his hand, stopping it’s swing. Manjaro gaped. The escort, still unconcerned, said, “That would be impressive, boy, if I were a man.” He then hit Manjaro in the chest with the flat of his palm, shoving him several paces backwards, where he fell over the first row of oar benches. “And I’m tired of telling you: my name…is Heironymous.”
Manjaro started to get up when Finnrick called out, “We’re here!”
The men looked out at the swirling water. “What do you expect to find here?” asked Finnrick.
As if in answer, a giant beast rose out of the water, it’s long, gray neck towering over the ship. Heironymous answered, “That- Leviathan.” Looking to the mage, Ulrich the Unnatural, he asked, “Do you have the item I entrusted you with?”
Ulrich produced a small glowing spike and answered, “It is here.”
Heironymous took the spike, looked at Leviathan, and said, “Wait for me to return.” He then ran for the stern of the ship, jumped to the rail, and bounded off at the beast. Both roared hellishly, drowning out the sound of the wind and waves.
“What the hell is he?” Manjaro whispered, clearly in awe.
“He’s a dragon,” answered Ulrich. “Now watch.”
“Row, men!” commanded Finnrick. “Get back from this beast!” Manjaro and Ulrich took a place at the benches, and all leaned into their oars, happy to put distance between them and the battle.
Heironymous was clinging to the base of the beast’s long neck, and did not go unnoticed. Leviathan swung it’s massive head downwards, trying to catch Heironymous in his jaws. Undeterred, Heironymous swung his fist in a backhand, knocking the sea dragon backwards, if only slightly. Leviathan roared in anger, and Heironymous fell into the surf. Leviathan lost no time in diving after him.
The crew watched the water anxiously, the area still frothing and swirling, and now angrily bubbling with the activity underneath the surface. Then the water broke suddenly, and Leviathan came towering out of the water again, and now grappling with a second beast, this one a deep, dark purple. The men gasped, and then Manjaro shouted, “Look! The new one holds the glowing spike!”
Finnrick, his blond locks dancing in the high wind, looked wild eyed on Ulrich. “What in the name of the gods is happening here, mage?”
“That’s Heironymous!” declared Ulrich. “This is his true form, Finnrick!”
Finnrick didn’t speak for a second. He just looked out at the battle. Then he looked back again and said, “Then the queen…”
“…Is also a dragon,” concluded Manjaro. “That explains the livestock, and why their lowing grows less and less as the voyage goes on.”
They turned their attention back to the battle, the dragons still grappling with each other, long necks alternately intertwined in struggle and then swinging away at each other’s bodies. Powerful jaws clamped down again and again on their adversaries. Fearsome roars raged over the storm, and bursts of flame lit the sky. The crew of the karve looked on anxiously, hoping for Heironymous’ victory, but only because he was at least the beast that they knew.
Finally, Heironymous swung the talon gripping the spike backwards, and then plunged it into the heart of the beast. Leviathan roared in pain- its loudest yet- and bit down once more on Heironymous’ body, before finally succumbing. His coils slackened and he fell beneath the waves. The crew saw what appeared to be several glowing items falling into the water with him. Heironymous dove after him.
Long minutes passed, and the water continued to churn and swirl. Then it began to calm, and still, Heironymous did not reappear. They waited silently, peering out into the now dark night that hung over the sea.
Finnrick was about to order the men to turn back towards port, when they heard something bump the side of the ship. Then all jumped back as Leviathan’s head swung over the rail, and thudded onto the deck. His mouth fell open, and several glowing spikes of various colors tumbled out. Heironymous, back in human form, pulled himself up over the rail, and found himself looking at the Manslayer. Manjaro gripped his hand firmly, and helped him onto the deck of the karve.
Looking at Finnrick, Heironymous said, “This is what we came for. Let’s head back.” With that, he gathered the spikes back into Leviathan’s mouth and dragged the head into the hold. Ulrich pulled the hold door shut behind him, careful not to look inside.
The crew was silent for a minute, and then Finnrick called out, “Heave to the oars, men! We’ll raise the sail when the storm dies down! Row!” The men pulled to the oars, and started the journey home.
| New Series: Heironymous in Indigo, Part 1 - Why Are We Here?. | - |
| Please let me know what you think, and thanks! -cb | Originally Presented In: WGP #45. |
Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.
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