Hiccup ran as fast as he could. His feet taking him pass the gates of the Dragon Pit and into one of the holding cells. And with a shake of doubt and a steer of his nerves, he peered into the cell's lone occupant. Making Hiccup gasp softly at what he was seeing.
The Gronkle, a dragon he thought by now would have been consumed by a mindless drive to take offerings for the Red Death, looked curled, shaking, and afraid.
The shaking Meatlug turned to him, eyes wide and glassy. It wobbled its way to him, only to halt. Their eyes turned to the clanking noise and saw in his leg a cuffed in iron and silvery chains nailed to the ground, chains made of the very steel he provides.
Hiccup suddenly felt his heart ache. Remembering a dog he grew up with... a dog he had played with... bathe with, laugh, and celebrated birthdays... the same dog he cried for as the vets put him to his final sleep in his embrace.
He gritted his teeth, fighting off the tears from leaving his eyes. And with firm steps, he draws his sword and with precise strike, cut off the iron cuffs. Meatlug nozzles his leg like a dog looking for comfort from the sound of thunder, while rubbing himself to him for warmth.
Hiccup could feel the fear wafting off of the dragon. And held him, rubbed his cheeks and jaws and as Meatlug softly smiled, Hiccup spoke.
"I don't know if you could understand me, but I need you to try. I know you're good but I need your help to show it. Please, defend those that you can. And earn your place among us. A place you can call home..."
—.—.—.—.—
Stoick ran with his Warhammer hefted at his arms and with a swing, *bang! *crack! a boulder cracked against it's weight, missing the dragon as it jumped and hovered.
*thud! *Rooaaargg! a Monstrous Nightmare as it landed on the boulder and roars. *Fwooom! Spilled the flames, trailing behind a running Stoick who then spun and throws a dagger forcing the Dragon's eye close and turning away. Causing both the flames to stop and the dagger to bounce off its scale.
A chance, Stoick took and swings his Warhammer wide. *bamn! It went, planting against the Dragon's jaw and throwing it on its side. Where another hit landed on its back, thudding with a soft clang against the Dragon's scales. The Monstrous Nightmare rolled across the fields, limped a couple of steps then flew off.
"""YEAAHHH!!!""" cheered those nearby.
"Are the pens secured!" shouted Stoick.
"Aye Chief!" someone answers.
"Good!" Stoick turns to one of the Vikings holding a sheep in each arm. "You there! Jorgenson!" he shouted, getting the raven haired vikings attention. "Leave those sheeps."
"Chief?" the man asks, baffled at his Chief's command.
"Get those two sheep's back here." Stoick then turns to a nearby hill. "Falric!"
"Aye Chief!" the youth responds, shotting an arrow towards a flying dragon's snout only to bounce off its scales. Yet scaring it off, providing relief to the men who were running as they carried sheep on their arms.
Seeing no other strays, Falric hefted his bow as he ran. Equipped with two quivers at his waist, a sword the other and a shield at his back. "What do you need of me, Chief."
"You know what's inside those aye?" Stoick points to one of the tool storage, prompting a nod from the archer. "Good. We're gonna set it up. I want you perched back at the hill and overlook everything. See if it will work. I'm leaving two others under your command to keep them sheep safe."
"I'll see it done Chief."
"Good man." Stoick pats the youth on his shoulders before helping a handful others to pull up a very odd net.
The material dripped with water as they pulled it from its water filled chest. Along the lengths of the sides and a few to the center were tied eels. Still alive, wiggling and freshly fed. Along the length of the net is dried blood running on the thinner sections.
The Eel Net. Something they had just recently made. They then wrapped the net tightly along the fences of the small sheep pen now containing three sheeps. And when the last pierce was hammered down by a nail, Stoic nodded and urged the rest of the men off.
"The lot of ya to the Barn!"
Stoick turns to the two he assigned to stay and sent a nod to them and the archer standing atop the nearby hill before marching off with a whisper.
"...gods, I hope it works."
—.—.—.—.—
Fjorn snarled as his arm locked, his grip tightens and with a *click!
*Clank! Fwip! *Screech!
"YAAAHHHH! HAHA!" he rages and laughs.
The aged viking watched a Deadly Nadder fall with it's wing and tail tied strong by a bola, courtesy of the launcher on his person.
He couldn't help but marvel at the device, seeing himself down three other Dragons flaying about as they tried to wiggle themselves out of their capture. He silently admits, the contraption is a marvel so far, he had achieved much without the threat of flames and claws.
In his peripheral, another dragon made itself known. Facing off against three vikings. All three of which are having a hard time as the Gronkle continues to circle and bash with its tail. Their only saving grace is their Dragon Steel Shield that did not cave.
He then pulls the launcher, loads a bola, aim and with a clench of his fists. The trigger handle locks and then it *click!, *Clank! went the mechanism and *Fwip went the bola.
"AHH!" shout one of the three vikings as he was thrown to the side, tied up and helpless.
"Oops..."
The Gronkle then fired a breath at one of the others, prompting him to block both the flames but also his vision allowing the Dragon to scurry off.
"Damn... I'm gonna get into trouble."
*Groan!!! *Crack! Thom!
Fjorn looks around looking for the source till a dust cloud emerges far to the west side of the village. A home had just collapsed. He knew it based on the familiar sound that had his skin crawling.
*whistle~
"Nightfury! Get down!" shouted someone.
Fjorn loaded his last bola and aimed and.... *Boom! Fjorn could only watched helpless as a massive explosion of purple flames and sparks of lightning erupted at the foot of one of the catapults.
He gritted his teeth, frustrated at his short coming. As no matter how well built the device in his hands were, there would be no point against such unholy creature. Not if you can't even see it.
His knuckles tightened and accidentally, his fingers clenched on the trigger. Launching the bola on nothing.
"RAAAHHH!" he shouts in anger, he then grabbed his shield and axe, leaning on a nearby rock and ran to the village square. Eager to push his frustration against an enemy.
—.—.—.—.—
Hiccup raised his shield. His arm recoils against the *thing! of Nadder spikes raining against him like arrows.
He felt his feet vibrate, the sound of heavy footfalls and movement coming too close. He peered, and ducked! Avoiding a tail swipe, and raised his shield as the dragon spins. It's wing crashing against his shield in a loud *Bang!, throwing him on his back. He then scrambles out of the way as a fire blast seered too close to him.
But the thought of successfully avoiding it brought him pause. A rookie mistake as the Dragon's mouth swerved in his direction.
He then felt himself yanked by his collar and tossed to the ground. He fell on his chest and saw his uncle, Spitelout. Holding his shield strong against Dragon fire.
He felt his breath stop. The image of near death was too vivid. The beat of his heart felt like a drum against his ear with the eerie reminder of a fire too close... too familiar and suddenly, his body felt cold.
He blinked his eyes back into focus, and his heart felt like it exploded into heat. The sound of battle and fire returning to his ears, his breath ragged and his eyes taking in the form of a much larger Deadly Nadder.
In a bout of courage, fear or some unspoken shiver down his spine. He grit his teeth, pushes himself forward and raised his shield aswell, standing beside his uncle. Holding against the Nadder's flames.
"Follow my lead!" Spitelout shouts to him, receiving a nod in return.
Spitelout rushes forward towards the dragon. Two feet him it snout, the flames stop, where Spitelout bashed his shield against the Dragon's chin. The Dragon's head swerved but barely. Followed by a sword swing, avoided as the Dragon leaped backwards, hovered and breath fire.
Hiccup's shield shifted into his crossbow, aimed and fired at the eye. The Nadder merely closed it's eyes and the steel tip simply bounced off its scale. An enough distraction to stop the flames.
Spitelout to rush forward, jumped for the kill with his sword aimed at the belly. He missed with but a flap of it's wings, pushing itself backwards, the Nadder then snaps it's tail, spikes potruding at the ready.
"Move!" shouts Spitelout, prompting Hiccup into action. "A Nadder is fast, as it is nimble! Don't stop!"
The two ran, spun and blocked as the Nadder threw spike after spike at them. With a screech, the dragon spins in place, wings dodged by Spitelout but the tail smashed against Hiccup's shield.
"Roll!"
Hiccup follows, letting the force of the blow give him distance. Avoiding the sudden heat that was too close to him.
"Don't stop boy' o'!"
When the heat stopped, Hiccup got up and started hitting his shield with his sword. Making clanging noise. Only to be completely ignored by the dragon as it spun and spewed fire at Spitelout.
"Stop Haddock!" Spitelout shouts as his Gronkle Iron sword barely dug into the Dragon's scaled wing it used to guard it's belly. "It doesn't work on older Dragons." he adds as he tossed himself back avoiding it's maws, and raised his shield against flames. "Their used to it! Aim for the belly and the joints of the legs and the unscaled part of the neck!"
Hiccup shifts back to his crossbow, aimed at the joints of the hind legs. *Fwip! *Sluck~
*Screech! the Nadder as the arrow buried at the joint. Spitelout struck forward aiming for the jaw only for Nadder to suddenly flare it's nostrils and bashed it's head forward.
*thunk- Bam! it went as Spitelout was rammed back by the Nadder's head with his sword digging halfway through the dragon's horn at its snout.
It again swerved it's head, avoiding a crossbow bolt at the neck and snapped it's tail at Hiccup. Forcing the boy to roll to the side.
But the Nadder was waiting for that. It flared it's nostrils in anger and with a gultural glow of flames, it opened it's maw–
"AHHH!" Spitelout grabs the Dragon's snout and forces it's head down. He barely succeeded but the flames missed wide enough.
The Nadder rams the unwanted passenger, against the nearby house. Crashing Spitelout against the wooden logs. The man's grip loosened at the impact, and then pinned down by the Nadder's wing, opened it's glowing jaws–
*Bang! went Hiccup's shield against the Dragon's face. Fire missing and snuffed out, where Hiccup ran forward with his sword. Seeing the Nadder flick it's tail, he slid low to avoid them, not stopping till he reached the Nadder and drive his sword at the joint of it's hind leg with a loud *slick!
The Nadder *Screech!. And jumped back with a flap of it's wings.
Hiccup then stood shield his groaning uncle as the man picked himself up from being nearly crushed and cooked by a deadly Nadder.
The Nadder growled loudly, with flames licking the edges of it's snarl as it hovered in front of them till–
Silence. The dragon's stopped. And the village froze and tense. Their eyes wide and slitted with a collective.
*ROOAAAAARRRRR! they flew off.
Leaving the men of Berk, breathing heavily as the battle ends.