Smoke rose from the island tribe Nordia. All that remained were ashes. The horde of Dragons feasted on the people of Nordia- they were hungry after a long journey. They were tending to the chief of the tribe- a muscular man who's thighs were surprisingly tender- when a frustrated cry rang out. The dragons paused. Their Leader was not happy. This was not the village He was looking for.

The dragons shared a look, before letting loose roars of their own. Their Leader's agony was felt by all. A black figure shot out from one of the houses and into the sky, and was soon join by a multitude of dragons.

Their journey was not over.

2 weeks later

Jarl Bludvist was walking home alone, though this was not unusual on a Friday Night. On Friday Nights most Vikings would be in the Mead Hall drinking and eating away till the stars shone overhead, with hearty cheers and vigorous dancing. Such life held no appeal to Jarl, though. Whereas other Vikings would rather get drunk and listen to stories of old over and over again, Jarl merely wanted to get back home to see his wife and kids.

His friends constantly tried to persuade him to come and have a drink with them, and when he refused they would say he was a "wet blanket" or a "mood killer." Even though he towered over most people in the village and had muscles the size of tree stumps, Jarl really wasn't the boisterous type and shied away from things his friends considered as 'fun'. They didn't know why he knew, though. That life was made for more than wasting it away to such barbaric nonsense.

"I'm home!" Jarl said as he pushed the door open. A squeal rang out and a little boy clad in a furry coat charged towards him.

"Little rascal- come here!" Jarl laughed as he scooped his 5 year old son, Vali, and threw him over the shoulders, spinning a few times before setting him down.

"Papa! More! More!" His little boy pleaded whilst he stumbled around, dizzy from all the spinning.

"That's enough for one day Vali," Jarl said while tussling his hair. "Now where's mommy?"

"In here!" A silky voice wafted through the air from the kitchen. "Just setting the table for dinner."

"Why don't you help mummy, I'll be there in a second." Jarl said to his son.

Vali nodded enthusiastically and scuttled off to the dining table. Jarl gave a small smile and reached inside his knapsack and withdrew a bunch of the purest Lilies in the region. He had traded a bunch of gold coins with some traders at the port today- he couldn't resist! He took one look at the white Lilies and immediately thought of Sigrid. Sigrid loved Lilies (they were the main flowers on their wedding day) but Lilies in the region were hard to find.

He kept it hidden behind his back and walked into the kitchen, to see his wife Sigrid busily setting the utensils down for dinner. Her wavy golden hair was tied up in a bun as he sneaked behind her, motioning for Vali to keep silent and not give away the surprise.

In one quick motion he used his beefy hand and covered her eyes before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She giggled and tried to use her dainty hand to remove the temporary blindfold.

"I've got something for you Sigrid." Jarl whispered in her ear as she continued to giggle.

He released her from his grip and held out the beautiful Lilies, which he knew she loved.

"Oh Jarl," Sigrid said taking the flowers from him and ran her hand through his bearded face. "You really shouldn't have..."

"Oh but I did." Jarl said and he pulled her close to him. "I love you, Sigrid."

And they kissed sweetly, while Vali looked on, making a face as 5 year olds do when they see their parents kissing

After they tucked Vali into bed, they proceeded back to the bedroom and sat on the bed, knees touching each other.

"What's the latest news?" Sigrid asked, a hint of worry evident.

"It's not good," Jarl said, rubbing his temple with his beefy hand. "News has reached us that Nordia has been completely destroyed. The horde of dragons have not been spotted as of yet but Raoul has begun intensive combat preparation to deal with them."

Sigrid's face softened, and she asked "How is my Raoul?"

"Raoul? Well he is same old same old. Hard as stale bread on a winter day but with the courage of a thousand Monstrous Nightmare's." He paused and added. "But he is getting older. As much as he still thinks he can push on, he's not as young as he would think himself to be. Mark of a chieftain I suppose."

"Sounds very much like him," Sigrid chuckled to herself, before slipping her hand into her husband's. "Jarl..." Her tone became quite serious. "You know one day you will have to lead our people too."

Jarl stood up abruptly and a gave a sigh.

"I know, I know, it's just." He said struggling to put his thoughts into words. "I'm not ready yet. I can't be a leader Sigrid, I don't want to be one. I just want to stay here and take care of you and Vali." He bit his lip and looked out the window. "I can't be a chieftain."

Sigrid stood up and held him close to her. "I know you're afraid Jarl, but one day-"

The long deep sound of a horn suddenly rang out, and a flame was seen in the sky.

"Dragons!" The vigils started yelling.

Jarl could hear shouting and the sound of metal clanging all around the island.

"Take Vali and go to the Safe Haven." Jarl said to Sigrid before he grabbed his helm and battle axe. "Stay hidden until we deal with these beasts!" And with that Jarl charged out of the house.

"Be safe!" Sigrid called out to her husband before she quickly ran into her now awakened son's room.

As Jarl rushed out to the village he was joined by other Vikings who had been obviously sleeping before this random attack. They all gave each other nods for greetings as they ran into the thick of action at the Village Square where the vigils were fighting off some Monstrous Nightmares. From the Mead Hall dozens of Vikings poured out, shaken to sobriety but the dragon attack. Dragons were busy trying to destroy the watchtowers and the various fortresses that were hindering them.

Jarl jumped in and swung his battle axe, which connected neatly to the knees of a Nightmare, and it shrieked in pain.

"Take this!" He growled and use the flat side of the axe to smash it toes and rendering it slightly immobile. The Nightmare writhed in pain and let loose a huge breath of fire. Rolling to one side, Jarl dodged the fire breath and ran towards the savage beast swinging his axe as he went. He sliced the wings of the Nightmare to prevent it from escaping but took a heavy blow when the Nightmare swung it's tail and smashed Jarl in the stomach.

Jarl flew and landed on a pile of rocks that had once been a watchtower. The Nightmare bounded furiously towards Jarl, fire breath slowly building up in his belly. Jarl was winded and had landed awkwardly on the debris, making it hard for him to get up. He glanced up and saw the Nightmare almost upon him and he stared helplessly at the flame building up that would roast him.

A shriek ran out and a blur of brown and white jumped from a nearby cliff and tackled the Nightmare and before it could even let out the majestic burst of fire, lay dead on the ground.

"Not as old as people think I am huh, dear nephew." The rescuer huffed as he withdrew his broadsword from the head of the dragon.

"Okay, okay, you still have it in you my dear uncle." Jarl said as he heaved himself up from the debris. "Thank you for saving my life." He said solemnly as he walked towards his uncle.

"Oh that is no big deal," said the rescuer as he cleaned his sword. "Wouldn't have the next chieftain get slain by a dragon now would I. Especially because I'm getting 'older'." The man said waggling his brow at his nephew.

For this man was none other than Raoul, chieftain of the tribe of Orsën. Though he had slain the dragon, his beard was white and you could see the wrinkles on his face clearly, showing his true age.

"Now come my nephew," Raoul said as he finally cleaned off the last bit of dragon blood from his broadsword. "There are still plenty of dragons to fight!" With a cry the old man rushed to battle and began to fight a rather surprised looking Gronkle.

Jarl shook his head at his Uncle's hysterics- he was going to get himself killed with his recklessness. That being said, Jarl himself let out an almighty roar and charged at the Gronkle, wildly swing his axe above his head as he went.

They were, after all, Vikings. It was an occupational hazard.