Stoick the Vast POV
I stood seated among other chiefs in the great hall of Kateggat, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across weathered faces. The tension in the room was palpable as we waited for answers.
"So Ivar, what exactly is this solution to the scourge?" Chief Hamish the Bold asked, his scarred knuckles drumming impatiently against the wooden table.
Ivar remained quiet, his eyes darting nervously toward the sealed doors. The silence stretched uncomfortably until the massive oak doors groaned open with a thunderous crash. A sliver of pale light trickled into the dimly lit hall before being swallowed by darkness as the doors slammed shut.
We turned as one to look at the figure who had entered.
Into our midst came a stranger from a strange land, covered in scars that told stories of countless battles. He was draped in a cloak of dragon skin, scales that gleamed like black metal in the torchlight. The man carried no visible weapon, yet there was something in his bearing that spoke of deadly purpose. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively soft, almost gentle.
"I am Drago Bludvist. I am the one who called this meeting of great chieftains, all of you are the greatest of us and yet you have all failed, I however won't for I am a man of the people, devoted to freeing mankind from the tyranny of dragons." His pale eyes swept across each of us, measuring. "I and I alone can control the dragons. I alone can keep you safe... if you bow down and follow me."
The hall erupted in thunderous laughter. Chief after chief slapped their knees and roared with mirth. Even Ivar himself seemed bewildered, his gaze shifting between the laughing chiefs and the stone-faced stranger. I found myself joining in, the absurdity of this scarred man's demand too much to bear.
"Control dragons?" Chief Hamish wheezed between laughs. "By Thor's hammer, what kind of fool-"
Drago's expression never changed. He simply wrapped his dragon-skin cloak tighter around himself and began walking toward the door with measured steps.
"Then see how well you do without me!" he called out, his soft voice somehow carrying over our laughter.
The door slammed behind him with finality.
For a moment, silence returned.
Then Chief Ragnar the Red chuckled. "Well, that was -"
Heat.
Sudden, overwhelming heat pressed down on us from above. I shot to my feet, my warrior's instincts screaming danger as my eyes snapped upward.
The wooden rooftop exploded in a shower of burning splinters and dragon fire. Armored dragons descended like demons from Muspelheim itself, massive boulder class looking dragons, with metal plating bolted to their hides.
They roared as hellfire engulfed the hall. The timbers caught like tinder, and within seconds the great meeting hall of Kateggat had become a blazing inferno.
"SHIELDS UP!" I bellowed, grabbing my axe as chaos erupted around me.
Chief Hamish screamed as a Nightmare's claws, tipped with razor-sharp metal, tore through his chest. Chief Ragnar tried to flee but a Gronckle slapped him with his tail, reinforced with iron spikes, crushing him against the wall. One by one, the greatest chiefs of the archipelago fell to the armored beasts.
The heat was unbearable. Smoke filled my lungs as I swung my axe at a diving Nightmare, the blade sparking against its metal armor. Around me, dying men cried out for mercy that would never come.
"IVAR!" I spotted the island's chief trapped beneath a burning beam, flames licking at his clothes. I fought my way through the carnage, but a Zippleback's gas cloud forced me back, my eyes streaming tears.
When the toxic fog cleared, Ivar was gone, nothing left but charred bones.
A Gronckle dove at me, its armored bulk blotting out what little light remained. I rolled aside, feeling the rush of air as it crashed into the stone floor where I'd been standing. My axe found a gap in its armor, and the beast crashed with a satisfying thud.
But there were too many. Far too many.
The roof collapsed completely, sending burning debris cascading down. I dove behind an overturned table as flaming wood crashed around me. When I looked up, I was alone among the dead.
The dragons were already departing, their terrible work complete. Through the gaping hole in the roof, I watched them spiral upward into the gray sky, their metal armor glinting in the dim sunlight.
I stumbled through the burning ruins, coughing violently as smoke seared my throat. Bodies lay everywhere, chiefs I had known for decades, warriors who had survived countless battles, all reduced to ash and bone.
"Olsen! Erik!" I called out desperately for my men. "Anyone!"
A weak groan answered me from near the collapsed doorway. I found Olsen pinned beneath debris, his left arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood seeped from a gash across his forehead.
"Chief..." he gasped. "The others... they're..."
"Dead," I finished grimly, pulling the burning timber off him. "Can you walk?"
He nodded weakly as I hauled him to his feet. Together we stumbled out of the burning hall into daylight that revealed a scene from nightmares.
Kateggat was being torn apart.
Armored dragons swarmed over the island like locusts. Houses burned, their roofs caved in by Gronckle boulders. In the harbor, most of our ships were already sinking wrecks, their sails ablaze and their hulls shattered. Vikings ran screaming through the streets, pursued by mechanical death.
"There!" Olsen pointed with his good arm toward the docks. "One of our ship's is still afloat."
One ship remained intact among the burning fleet. My heart pounded as I spotted Erik near the vessel, frantically cutting mooring lines with his sword. The big warrior was bloodied but alive.
"ERIK!" I roared over the chaos.
He looked up, relief flooding his face when he saw us. "STOICK! HURRY!"
We ran through streets that had become a war zone. A Nightmare swooped low, its metal-tipped claws missing my head by inches. Olsen stumbled, and I grabbed him, half-carrying him toward the harbor.
Behind us, the great hall finally collapsed completely, sending a pillar of sparks and flame shooting into the sky.
We reached the docks as Erik finished with the last mooring line. "Get aboard!" he shouted. "Now!"
I practically threw Olsen onto the deck before leaping aboard myself. Erik was already at the wheel, frantically working to get us moving.
"The sail!" I barked, grabbing the rigging. The canvas caught the wind just as a pack of Zipplebacks dove toward our ship, gas streaming from their mouths.
The ship lurched forward, pulling away from the dock as poisonous fog engulfed the harbor behind us. We sailed through a gauntlet of burning ships, the heat so intense it singed our beards.
As we cleared the harbor, I looked back at Kateggat one final time. The entire island was ablaze, black smoke rising like a funeral pyre. And there, standing on the highest cliff overlooking the destruction, was a lone figure wrapped in a dragon-skin cloak.
Drago Bludvist watched his handiwork with what might have been satisfaction. Even from this distance, I could feel his pale eyes upon us. Then, as if he were no more substantial than smoke himself, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the haze.
Of the twenty-seven chiefs who had come to Kateggat seeking answers about the dragon menace, only I remained. Of my crew of six warriors, some of the best dragon killers I had known, only Erik and the wounded Olsen had survived.
"Chief," Erik said quietly as he adjusted our heading toward home. "What in Odin's name was that?"
I gripped the ship's rail until my knuckles went white, staring at the shrinking island of death behind us. "That, is something which we mustn't cross, now stop asking questions, start sailing back to Berk."
The wind filled our sail, carrying us away from the massacre.
I had to get back to Berk.
Most importantly, I had to see my son again.