[Brink, as expected, was immediately an issue. Before Dodger even got the chance to answer or call off the dog, it was attacking Ivar, which didn't make a lot of sense to Ragnar, but maybe their long-standing feud made him the primary target. Regardless, Ivar did what Ragnar was threatening and prepared to do, which was cave the thing's head in.
He sighed in annoyance and Dodger's desperate and ultimately ineffective attempt to scramble away. Ragnar simply sunk down onto his knees, one knee firmly on Dodger's back with all his weight behind it, to pin Dodger down. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, he forced his head down as well and moved his axe free with an annoyed sigh.]
Stop. [He finally snarled, putting more force into keeping him pinned down.] Did you not just say you wanted punishment? You have forced my hand. Do you understand? I cannot do nothing after what you did. It would be best if you stopped struggling and accepted it.
[Ivar looks calm enough on the outside, but one look in his eyes, and both the men before him will be able to see the insanity rising up inside. He pulls out one of his knives and runs it lightly over Dodger's hand, savoring the moment.]
I'm going to have lots of fun with you. Yes, I am.
[He sounds positively gleeful, like a child with a new toy. He likes seeing the fear in Dodger's eyes.]
You can start screaming now.
[Then he digs the blade into Dodger's thumb and begins the process of separating the skin from the muscle beneath. He's going to take his time nice and slow as he works his way around the mutant's hand.]
[It's a little funny... if he were removed from the situation, he got laugh about it - he'd tried so hard to warn Ragnar about the monster of a son he had, but apparently the man already knew, accepted and celebrated it. Why else give Ivar the reigns?
He grits his teeth as the knife splits his skin, somehow that much sharper between the loss of his powers and the raw betrayal from Ragnar. His eyes screw shut, and by the time Ivar's peeled the skin back to his palm he's shaking as his limbs sort of struggle with no mental capacity to accomplish anything.
Ivar moves on to his index finger and then his middle, and he can only tell because the pain keeps rising and spreading, even as it's drowned by the numbness of shock. He still doesn't scream, though - Augustine had taught him well with that, no one will help him if he screams. It will only make him more inconvenient. So instead, he collapses into desperate whimpers, tears streaming down his face as the blade slides through the back of his hand and peels away the eye tattoo.]
[Ragnar kept him pinned down, a knee on his back and a hand on his elbow to keep him from jerking away as Ivar meticulously moved over each finger and then peels away a tattoo. He says nothing, expression neutral, almost watchful as his eyes follow Ivar's blade. The last thing they want is to hit a vein too early, this was a punishment, not a swift and merciful death. Unlike Ivar, Ragnar didn't seem to be enjoying this. It was a necessary evil and, if Ivar found some pleasure in it then all the more power to him.
Shifting his weight slightly, he helped turn Dodger's arm to make Ivar's cut easier, switching to Norse as he quietly pointed out which ways they could cut and then told Ivar he was going to start the other hand.
Keeping his knee pressed hard against Dodger's back to keep him from moving, he reached for his axe. After testing the distance, acting like he was possibly planning on straight up cutting off the fingers of his other hand, he twirled the axe in his hand and brought down the thick blunt edge hard on his pointer finger, feeling the bone give away under the blow.]
[At least someone is having fun here and it's currently the teenage psychopath gleefully skinning his enemy alive. This is great fun for Ivar, one of the best experiences he's had in a while. Even without Dodger screaming, he can see the fear in the man's eyes, and that's almost just as good.
Then Dodger's arm jerks, whether by design or accident, and Ivar cuts in a little deeper than he was expecting. He lets out a huffy noise like a child who is having his drawing ruined by accidentally coloring outside the lines. He holds the knife up to Dodger's face, right by his eye, the same one he's taken out before.]
Hold still, you fuck.
[Ivar doesn't like his work being spoiled like that. So he traces the knife around Dodger's face, deciding what he's going to do to punish him further. Then he grabs a hold of Dodger's ear, taking his knife to it. The good news? It's a very sharp blade, so it only takes a few strokes to saw through the cartilage. The bad news? It's still going to hurt like hell. After he's got the ear off, Ivar stares at it for a moment, deciding what he should do with it. Eventually, he sticks it in his pocket, as if saving it for later.]
[Losing his ear does make him cry out, a stifled noise of pain not unlike a dog's shriek. There are tears streaming down his face, and his breath is ragged and pained as he still struggles weakly. Every so often, a half-hearted attempt to burn them will administer a hard shock to him, some of which may transfer to the Vikings. Those shocks are becoming more frequent, though, as the pain rises... perhaps something should be done about it.]
[It takes until the third or fourth shock for Ragnar to finally piece together that it's the collar doing it, which means Dodger is trying to use his powers. As he brings the head of the axe down on his next knuckle, he idly wonders if it's Dodger trying to retaliate or if he's trying to get away.
Ragnar gets sprayed with blood from the initial cut by Dodger's ear, so he pauses to get ahold of his hair to keep his head still as Ivar continues to work away at it.
He waited until Dodger was quiet again, just soft pained noises before speaking to Ivar, still in Norse.] His tongue? [It's a suggestion, a stray thought before he breaks the last two fingers on his hand.]
[Ivar hisses as a small jolt of electricity hits his hands again. Dodger must really be in a pain-fueled panic if he keeps trying to use his powers. He wipes some of the blood now soaking his hands off, so that he can keep a grip on his knife.
He looks over appreciatively at Ragnar at the suggestion.]
Now there's an idea.
[He leaves off skinning him, now to the upper part of his arm, and traces the knife along Dodger's jawline, coming to rest right by his lips. He'd better remain very still if he doesn't want to be further maimed. It's very clear what they're discussing even if Dodger can't understand the language. Eventually, Ivar comes to a decision.]
No, let him keep it. That way he can scream longer.
[Somewhere in his head, a dull thought is rattling around his head, upset that Ivar has had to rip open the sleeve of his favorite hoodie to gain access to his skin. It barely matters, all things considered, but he still manages to get just as upset about it as he is about everything else.
Dodger is shaking enough that he splits his bottom lip against the knife, and he lets out a pitiful little noise of pain with it. Their voices are muffled by the blood in his ear, but it doesn't matter what they're saying - it's the casual tone that makes him afraid more than anything.]
Mercy... Mercy, mercy...
[He's just started mumbling it without any hope that he'll be listened to, begging for Ragnar to have pity on him.]
[The begging immediately enraged Ragnar. As soon as Ivar's knife was away from his mouth, Ragnar grabbed the back of Dodger's head and shoved it forward, one hard push to send his forehead and face colliding into the dirt before tugging again. He leaned down to speak into Dodger's remaining ear in a low, calm growl.]
Athelstan asked you to stop as well, did he not? I see no reason why we should grant you the mercy that you refused to grant him.
[Moving on, he took one of Ivar's knives and sliced down the back of Dodger's shirt, cutting it open to expose his back. Like Ivar had done with his hand, Ragnar began a shallow incision down Dodger's back. He worked methodically, unhurriedly starting to skin his back.]
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He sighed in annoyance and Dodger's desperate and ultimately ineffective attempt to scramble away. Ragnar simply sunk down onto his knees, one knee firmly on Dodger's back with all his weight behind it, to pin Dodger down. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, he forced his head down as well and moved his axe free with an annoyed sigh.]
Stop. [He finally snarled, putting more force into keeping him pinned down.] Did you not just say you wanted punishment? You have forced my hand. Do you understand? I cannot do nothing after what you did. It would be best if you stopped struggling and accepted it.
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I'm going to have lots of fun with you. Yes, I am.
[He sounds positively gleeful, like a child with a new toy. He likes seeing the fear in Dodger's eyes.]
You can start screaming now.
[Then he digs the blade into Dodger's thumb and begins the process of separating the skin from the muscle beneath. He's going to take his time nice and slow as he works his way around the mutant's hand.]
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He grits his teeth as the knife splits his skin, somehow that much sharper between the loss of his powers and the raw betrayal from Ragnar. His eyes screw shut, and by the time Ivar's peeled the skin back to his palm he's shaking as his limbs sort of struggle with no mental capacity to accomplish anything.
Ivar moves on to his index finger and then his middle, and he can only tell because the pain keeps rising and spreading, even as it's drowned by the numbness of shock. He still doesn't scream, though - Augustine had taught him well with that, no one will help him if he screams. It will only make him more inconvenient. So instead, he collapses into desperate whimpers, tears streaming down his face as the blade slides through the back of his hand and peels away the eye tattoo.]
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Shifting his weight slightly, he helped turn Dodger's arm to make Ivar's cut easier, switching to Norse as he quietly pointed out which ways they could cut and then told Ivar he was going to start the other hand.
Keeping his knee pressed hard against Dodger's back to keep him from moving, he reached for his axe. After testing the distance, acting like he was possibly planning on straight up cutting off the fingers of his other hand, he twirled the axe in his hand and brought down the thick blunt edge hard on his pointer finger, feeling the bone give away under the blow.]
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Then Dodger's arm jerks, whether by design or accident, and Ivar cuts in a little deeper than he was expecting. He lets out a huffy noise like a child who is having his drawing ruined by accidentally coloring outside the lines. He holds the knife up to Dodger's face, right by his eye, the same one he's taken out before.]
Hold still, you fuck.
[Ivar doesn't like his work being spoiled like that. So he traces the knife around Dodger's face, deciding what he's going to do to punish him further. Then he grabs a hold of Dodger's ear, taking his knife to it. The good news? It's a very sharp blade, so it only takes a few strokes to saw through the cartilage. The bad news? It's still going to hurt like hell. After he's got the ear off, Ivar stares at it for a moment, deciding what he should do with it. Eventually, he sticks it in his pocket, as if saving it for later.]
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Ragnar gets sprayed with blood from the initial cut by Dodger's ear, so he pauses to get ahold of his hair to keep his head still as Ivar continues to work away at it.
He waited until Dodger was quiet again, just soft pained noises before speaking to Ivar, still in Norse.] His tongue? [It's a suggestion, a stray thought before he breaks the last two fingers on his hand.]
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He looks over appreciatively at Ragnar at the suggestion.]
Now there's an idea.
[He leaves off skinning him, now to the upper part of his arm, and traces the knife along Dodger's jawline, coming to rest right by his lips. He'd better remain very still if he doesn't want to be further maimed. It's very clear what they're discussing even if Dodger can't understand the language. Eventually, Ivar comes to a decision.]
No, let him keep it. That way he can scream longer.
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Dodger is shaking enough that he splits his bottom lip against the knife, and he lets out a pitiful little noise of pain with it. Their voices are muffled by the blood in his ear, but it doesn't matter what they're saying - it's the casual tone that makes him afraid more than anything.]
Mercy... Mercy, mercy...
[He's just started mumbling it without any hope that he'll be listened to, begging for Ragnar to have pity on him.]
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Athelstan asked you to stop as well, did he not? I see no reason why we should grant you the mercy that you refused to grant him.
[Moving on, he took one of Ivar's knives and sliced down the back of Dodger's shirt, cutting it open to expose his back. Like Ivar had done with his hand, Ragnar began a shallow incision down Dodger's back. He worked methodically, unhurriedly starting to skin his back.]