Ships on vigor of the waves are skimming

〰〰〰𖠳 〰〰〰

"This is Berk. It's twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery. My village. In a word, sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. "

𝕌ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ the cloak of night, Berk, a rugged island village perched on the edge of the wild and tempestuous sea, lay shrouded in an otherworldly stillness. The moon, a silvery sentinel in the ink-black sky, cast a luminous glow upon the thatched roofs of the sturdy Viking huts that dotted the landscape. The village, nestled amidst craggy cliffs and swirling mists, seemed to breathe with an ancient, untamed energy.

The air was thick with the scent of salty sea spray and the remnants of evening meals, wafting from the hearths of the quaint dwellings. The flickering glow of softly lit lanterns, tethered to wooden posts, created dancing shadows that played hide-and-seek along the cobblestone paths.

"We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have..."

A Viking girl, her chestnut hair intricately braided, emerged from her hut clad in a forest green long-sleeved dress paired with a fur vest, dark green pants, and boots adorned with fur. The air was filled with urgency and the battle cries of fellow Vikings as chaos unfolded in the village. Dragons soared overhead, their menacing presence sending shivers through the settlement.

As the girl opened her door, the village resounded with the clamour of war. The attention of one dragon, however, fixed onto the brave Viking girl. With a deafening roar, the colossal creature unleashed a torrent of searing flames toward her. Swift as the northern winds, she slammed the door shut, narrowly avoiding the fiery onslaught that raged just beyond the wooden barrier. In the safety of her hut, she muttered to herself, "... dragons."

The dragons unleashed their formidable fire breath, casting an infernal glow across the land. The once serene landscape became a blazing tableau of chaos as flames danced and devoured everything in their path. In the wake of the fiery onslaught, terrified sheep scattered in a frenzied escape, their panicked bleats blending with the roaring inferno.

Undeterred by the scorching onslaught, a group of fearless Vikings charged towards the dragons. Armed with determination and weapons in hand, they confronted the mythical beasts with a valorous intent to protect their village. As the dragons continued to spew their destructive breath, the Vikings waged a daring battle, clashing against the scaly adversaries in a desperate bid to reclaim their home from the fiery onslaught. The clash between the Vikings and dragons unfolded amidst the blazing chaos, a testament to the unyielding spirit of those who dared to stand against the might of the mythical creatures.

"Most people would leave. Not us."

Amidst the tumultuous scene, a colossal dragon seized a hapless sheep in its mighty claws, ready to soar into the fiery sky. However, a valiant Viking, fuelled by an unyielding determination, leaped forward and clung tenaciously to the struggling creature. With a firm grip, he stubbornly held on, defying the dragon's attempts to snatch the sheep away. Meanwhile, another daring Viking, armed with nothing but a hammer, confronted a second dragon. Undeterred by the danger, he delivered powerful blows to the beast's face, targeting the vulnerable area within its menacing maw.

"We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues."

The dragon, subjected to the relentless assault from the Viking wielding a hammer, grew increasingly agitated. In a swift and forceful motion, it shook its head violently, sending the determined Viking flying through the air. The valiant warrior, momentarily airborne, braced for impact as he was expelled from the dragon's maw.

Meanwhile, the Viking girl emerged from her hut, the flames licked hungrily at the wooden structure, casting an ominous glow on the determined expression of the young warrior. Undeterred by the chaos unfolding around her, she sprinted from the flaming shelter, a testament to her resilience in the face of adversity.

"My name is Frida."

The Viking man, forcefully expelled from the dragon's maw, landed on the ground with a surprising grace. His agile descent culminated in a composed stance just in front of Frida. As the dust settled around him, Frida halted her desperate run, her eyes fixed on the Viking who had emerged from the encounter with the dragon.

The Viking's weapon, dislodged during the aerial expulsion, thudded to the ground near him. Without missing a beat, he swiftly rose to his feet, snatching the weapon with practiced precision.

the Viking pressed on into the heart of the battle, the clangour of weapons and the roars of dragons serving as a backdrop to his unyielding resolve.

"Great name, I know. But it's not the worst."

Undeterred by the chaos unfolding around her, Frida pressed on, deftly manoeuvring through the battleground. Swift as the wind, she skilfully dodged the oncoming Vikings, seamlessly weaving through the tumultuous scene. As she navigated the mayhem, a makeshift obstacle approached.

Two burly Viking men carried a long wooden pole between them, a formidable barrier blocking Frida's path. With a combination of agility and quick thinking, she gracefully ducked beneath the obstacle, narrowly avoiding a collision. The wooden pole soared overhead, carried by the strength of the two Vikings, as Frida emerged unscathed on the other side.

"Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls."

Spotting Frida in the midst of the chaos, a distracted Viking failed to anticipate the approaching wooden pole. The hefty projectile struck him squarely on the head, sending him sprawling to the ground. The collision caught Frida's attention just as she felt the impact of other Vikings unintentionally bumping into her.

As Frida turned around to assess the source of the disturbance, her eyes widened in surprise and alarm. A dragon, seizing the opportunity, unleashed a torrent of searing flames towards the ground. The sudden burst of fire illuminated the surroundings with blinding light, forcing Frida to instinctively shield her eyes with her hands. The ground trembled beneath her, and disoriented by the fiery burst, Frida lost her footing. With a helpless stagger, she began to fall backward, the chaotic symphony of battle continuing to rage around her.

"Like our charming Viking demeanour wouldn't do that."

On the ground and momentarily disoriented, Frida found herself confronted by a towering Viking man. Cinders adorned his golden beard, and he brandished his axe with an air of fierce determination. Letting out a battle cry, he towered over her, his expression shifting from intensity to a surprising smile. "Morning!" he exclaimed with a mix of camaraderie and enthusiasm, before swiftly returning to the fray.

Frida quickly rose to her feet and resumed her run through the tumultuous battlefield. As she darted past other villagers, their cries reached her ears. One Viking man, grappling with a barrel over his head, called out in concern, "What are you doing here?!"

In the midst of the chaos, he gestured urgently, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Get inside!" he shouted, emphasizing the perilous nature of the situation..

"What are you doing out?!"

"Get back inside!"

As Frida continued her desperate sprint through the chaos, a dragon unleashed its formidable fire, a searing wall of flames advancing directly across her path. In the nick of time, strong hands seized her by the collar, yanking her away from the impending inferno. Startled, she found herself suspended from the back of her shirt, rescued just as the scorching flames licked dangerously close.

A concerned Viking man emerged, holding her up by the collar, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene. "Frida! What is she doing?" he bellowed, pointing accusingly at her while addressing the bewildered villagers nearby. With a firm yet protective grip, he pulled her toward him, his gaze stern. "What are you doing out!? Get inside," he demanded, the urgency in his voice matching the perilous situation outside. Reluctantly releasing her collar, the Viking guided her with a gentle push, urging her to retreat to safety.

"That's Stoick the Vast, chief of the tribe."

Stoick's gaze fixed upon a dragon soaring through the sky, its colossal form carrying a helpless sheep. Fuelled by a surge of determination, Stoick scanned his surroundings and spotted a nearby cart on the ground. Without hesitation, he lunged for the cart and hoisted it into the air, muscles straining with the effort.

With a resolute aim, Stoick hurled the cart at the dragon just as it released its captive prey. The makeshift projectile hurtled through the air, closing the distance between itself and the airborne dragon. The impact was forceful and resonant, causing the dragon to veer off course and relinquish its hold on the sheep.

"They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders."

As the dragon, momentarily thwarted, retreated into the sky, Stoick stood amidst the aftermath, a testament to his quick thinking and formidable strength in the face of the ongoing aerial assault.

"Do I believe it? Yes I do."

"What have we got?" Stoick inquired, his stern gaze turning towards a Viking man who stood nearby. The Viking responded, "Gronckles. Nadders. Zipplebacks. Hoark was a Monstrous Nightmare." Just as he uttered those words, a burst of fire erupted, aimed directly at them. With swift reflexes, the Viking man raised his shield, blocking the flames. Stoick, unflinching, stood his ground, enduring as a piece of fire grazed his shoulder plates.

Undeterred, Stoick calmly continued, "Any Night Furies?" His eyes scanned the sky, searching for the elusive and formidable dragon species. "None so far," the Viking man reassured, while Stoick, with a composed demeanour, rubbed the remnants of fire off his shoulder plate. "Good," Stoick declared, his tone resolute.

"Hoist the torches!" echoed through the air as Frida sprinted past a group of Vikings engaged in the urgent task of lighting massive torches. The flames illuminated the night sky, revealing the dragons soaring above. Determinedly, Frida darted into a nearby hut, a workshop teeming with activity.

Passing a focused Viking man, she entered, and he greeted her with a touch of humour, "Nice of you to join the party! I thought you'd been carried off!" He continued to work, smashing a heated weapon with a hammer, while Frida swiftly adorned herself with a working apron.

"Who, me? No, come on, I'm way too marvellous for their taste," she quipped, picking up a substantial hammer from the display of weapons. "They wouldn't know what to do with all this," she declared, flipping her braid dramatically. The man teased, "They need toothpicks, don't they?" Frida rolled her eyes, unfazed, and proceeded to open the workshop's window doors.

Outside, Vikings stood in urgent anticipation, dunking their weapons on the table for Frida to grab.

"The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber."

"I've been his apprentice since I was little. Well, littler."

"Move to the lower defenses! We'll counterattack with the catapults," Stoick instructed with authority, his voice cutting through the chaos. The urgency in his command spurred the villagers into action, and they swiftly ran down the bridge, responding to the call for a strategic shift.

As the villagers hurriedly repositioned themselves, a Monstrous Nightmare, ominous in its fiery presence, unleashed a torrent of flames that engulfed the roof of a hut. The roar of the flames and the crackling of burning wood added to the intensity of the moment.

〰〰〰𖠳 〰〰〰

By: SilverMist707

Please leave a vote and comment <3