He decided to take the only course of action. Foolhardy as it seemed, he entered the pen, whip in tow. He shouted, hollered and whipped at the dragons, but none would listen. Still, the pen was a sea of different coloured scales and bursts of red, orange, and blue flame. The noise was deafening. At that age, the dragons could not roar. They squawked like terrified birds. It was after the first one struck Mimir from behind that he knew he was in trouble, he did not see the assailant, but he felt the searing pain in his back as the claw dug into his flesh. He fell to the ground, and before he could get up, he was swarmed by more of them, clawing and biting with no remorse. Mimir's whip was dropped uselessly by his side. Raggan could not watch the bloodbath and swiftly exited the pen, horrified by what he had seen.