Chapter 19: *Spoiler*

Waking up with a start as Jon felt a tongue lick at his face, it took a very long moment for the young bastard to reorient himself. He could feel the morning sun high overhead, the background sound of waves slowly crashing against the beach, seagulls shrieking overhead, and the cold wind seeping into his bones.

Jon wasn't too sure what he tasted in his mouth, but it just tasted god awful, so he spat it. Looking down at what he spat out, Jon saw a wet clump of sand which must have been what was gritting his teeth. Then Jon had to pull back as that tongue licked at his face again. Grabbing the offender, Jon stared up into the eyes of Fenrir.

"Hey, boy," Jon smiled up at the direwolf while he took the chance to look around at the place he was at. It seemed to be a beach of some sort with dark forested woods behind him and cold water splashing against the rocky shore.

Jon saw crates and pieces of planks floating lazily in the water with some having been washed on the shore a long time ago. Then Jon saw the ship, it was right between some rock outcrops with its hull breached wide open.

He guessed he could count his lucky stars since the ship wasn't wooden splinters and bits. It would take a while to fix that, but at least they wouldn't be trapped where ever this was. Getting up from the sandy beach, Jon decided to look for survivors, it would take a lot more than just one man and a dire wolf to fix the damage on the ship.

Walking along the shore, Jon was more often to find broken crates than living people as he finished making his search. There was no sign of any living person except for him, it was like they all just disappeared. Looking to the dark forest from across, Jon could see that he had no choice but to search there next.

However, before that, he collected the Valyrian sword he found washed up on the shore, and then he headed to the forest. It wasn't even a few steps into the forest when Fenrir bared his teeth.

Jon didn't know what the direwolf senses, but he long learned to trust his direwolf so he also bared his weapon at the ready. That was when finally someone came running into the clearing, immediately Jon saw that it was one of the sailors who also took notice of him right away.

"My Lord," the man shouted, "they are coming?!"

Jon wanted to ask who he meant, but he quickly got his answer when four hairy men carrying clubs and spears came in behind the sailor. They weren't that too dissimilar to the wildling he meet beyond the wall, both wearing furs and using primitive tools.

Then the one in the center of the group spoke up, it wasn't the Common Tongue that he was so used to, but the Old Tongue. Jon wasn't really no master in the language of his forefathers, but he was familiar with it just like Valyrian.

So Jon was able to understand the man some what when he started shouting while waving his hands about! "You. have. our. prey!"

Jon didn't understand what the man was going about, but he decided that peace would be the way. Holding his hands outs, Jon spoke in the Old Tongue the best he could, which really only came out to be a garbled mess, "We mean no fight. We Peace. You Peace. Okay!"

The four men looked at each other in surprise then quickly amusement, one of them chuckled out, "Prey try to speak! Very funny! But Prey, prey. It no tell us what to do! We are predators!"

That was all Jon understood before one of them tried to bat him with its club.

Acting more on instinct, Jon drew out its blade and he could have sworn he heard the weapon sing as it was pulled out of its sheath. Forget wooden weapons, the best castle forged steel was never able to stand up to a Valyrian weapon.

In one clean motion, Jon not only cut through the wooden club in half, but the blade also continued its projector as it cut off the man's arm in one clean motion. All the savage could do was stare at his stump for long moments as it gushed blood, then the pain must have struck him because he started to scream.

But Jon quickly shut him up as he removed his head in one clean motion. Looking down as the head tumbled down to the ground, Jon stared at his blade, no sword ever cut through a man's neck as clean as that, you would always either get caught in the spin or the neck muscles.

But this blade was on a whole other league, not only was it extremely sharp, but it weighed almost nothing in his arm. And Jon could swear that this blade was doing most of the work for him somehow as in his stupor he suddenly blocked the spear thrust that came right for his torso.

Then Jon quickly by kicking the man that attacked him in the knee making him go down and then he shoved his sword into his heart.  From his left, the other savage came for him, seeing he had no time, Jon shouldered the man and then in that single moment he loosed his grip on his club he grabbed hold of it and thawked him over the head causing the man to fall to the ground bonelessly.

Finally the last hairy savage seemed to be having second thoughts, but Jon didn't give him the time of the say to regret his action as he pulled his sword out in reverse grip from the still kneeling man and sliced the savage's belly wide open causing his intestines to spill out.

Jon stood up and surveyed his surroundings no one stood standing except for him and the sailor who was staring slap jaw at him. "Good man," Jon addressed the sailor, "what is going on? Who are these people?"

"My Lord," the man begin, but Jon cut him off with a raised hand.

"I am no lord, just call me Jon."

"Of course, Lord Jon," the sailor readily nodded his head to which Jon just simply sighed to himself, but let the man continue. There was no stopping this after the display he put up for the man.

"Ahh, we really don't know who these men are. Most of us found ourselves washed up in some rocky shore..."

"Not in a sandy shore?" Jon asked mid way through, that was where he woke up in and was where the ship was.

"No, Lord Jon. Thank the Seven most of us made it after that storm and that Levithan tossing us into the sea. We were about to send a party to search for your lordship when these savages came upon us. Most of us were half drown and nearly frozen with our weapons deep in the sea, so we weren't able to put up a good fight.

They rounded us up, tied us up like cattle, and put us in a line as they forced us to move. Along the way I was able to slip me bound, my lord. These savages don't know how to tie a proper knot at all. Before I could slip the others out, I was spotted so I had to make a run for it, and that is when I run into you, my lord."

Mulling over everything the sailor told him, Jon still didn't have enough information, all he knew was that they found themselves on a hostile island filled with savages that looked like hairy wildling. Not much to go off!

Turning his gaze to the savage he knocked out, Jon turned to the sailor. "Help me tight up this savage, he will be up soon and then we can get some real answers."

"But we have no ropes, my lord," the sailor said.

"Use his intestines," Jon pointed to the one he disemboweled. Now that would give the savage a scare and would make him quickly spill the beans.

***

Just as he guessed it wasn't too long before the savage he knocked out came through, he looked around groggily before his eyes settled on the two of them. The man quickly bared his teeth and tried to go for their throats most likely, but the sailor's knots held tight.

While the sailor flinched back, Jon didn't flinch an inch as he watched the man try to struggle out of his bounds. "You won't be getting anywhere," Jon cleared his throat as he spoke in the Old Tongue. "Your friend really helped us there."

It took a moment for the savage to realize what Jon meant and instead of the abject fear that Jon expected the savage started spitting and cursing at him.

Letting the man have his moment, Jon spoke up, "If you don't want the same to happen to you then you better speak up," he said as he showed him his blade. "Who are you, people? Where is this? Where have you taken my men? Why have you taken them?"

"Hahaha," the savage started laughing, "We bring you all tied and bound up before our great and might gods as you tremble in fear, and then we shall spill your blood before the Weirwood trees as offering to the Old Gods who in turn will empower us and bring us great bounty. Our great and powerful Magnar shall see to your end, outsider, and that pretty sword shall be his," he added as he stared at the Valyrian sword.

So Jon was dealing with a fanatic, he thought in wonder. It was rare to find that in their religion, but more than that he focused on the title that the savage mentioned, Magnar. Jon knew that meant Lord in the old Tongue, so there was some on with real authority here. "Tell me more about this great Magnar?" Jon said. He knew he wouldn't be getting any answers from this savage, even with some torture he doubted that man would speak.

Smiling once his lord was mentioned, "Our great and powerful Magnar is a descendant of many great Magnar. They have stood up against those hated wolves even when they tried to make us kneel before them and still did so when they tried to make us turn back from our old traditions."

"Wait," Jon said as he couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. "What is the name of your Magnar."

"Magnar Crowl, of course," the man said.

Jon stood there gaping for long minutes, he knew that Houses name even though it was mentioned by Maester Luwin by passing, he still could remember that House. However he couldn't believe it, it was just his luck to land on the Dreaded Island of the North, Skagos. A place filled with backward folk, rumored to still perform human sacrifices to weirwood trees, lure passing ships to their destruction with false lights, and engage in cannibalism even hardened sailors and captains fear to go here.

In theory, the island is part of the north and subject to his family, House Stark of Winterfell. However, the island has little contact with mainland Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms, and in practice they rule themselves.

"Thank you for everything," Jon nodded his head to the Skagosi men and then run him through with his sword.

The sailor looked at him in open mouth shock as Jon wiped his sword on the man's furs. "Don't worry, I got everything I needed for him."

"But... but.." the man repeated.

Resting a hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to him, "It was either him or us. There was nothing else to do about it." Jon wasn't a blood thirsty man, but as Ser Rodrik taught them, "the best you can sometimes is to just make it quick and get it over with!"

"Anyways, I finally know where we are..."

"Where? My lord!"

"Skagos," Jon simply answered and watched as a shiver ran through the man.

"You're jesting right, my lord?" the man asked.

"No, sadly we have crashed on to these forsaken shores," Jon shook his head. Looking overhead, he saw that the sky was darkening as another storm was on its way.

"Come now we will need to go after our men," Jon said as he checked through the dead Skagosi corpse for anything useful to use.

"But my lord," the sailor said unsurely, "you haven't seen their numbers. There were hundreds of them, I swear on the seven. There is no way we can take them all my lord."

"And there is no way we can fix the ship ourselves and sail it as well," Jon added.

"You know where the ship is?" the man asked in surprise.

"Yes, but it would take many men to fix the breached hull. We are lucky the ship hasn't split into two."

"But this land is forsaken my lord, I rather take my luck out in the seas with a driftwood ship than here."

Patting the man on the back to ease his concerns, Jon comforted him with, "I have a plan on how we can rescue our men without getting sacrificed before a Weirwood tree."

"How, my lord?" the man asked hopefully.

"Well first, we will need these Skagosi furs," Jon said.

Chapter 19: Skagos

Skagos info: https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Skagos