I apologize for the uber-long wait, but I have a number of reasons for this:

1.) I had limited time to type ANYTHING, not even an 'apology letter' as some might call it;

2.) I had no clue that I could do this on Microsoft Word Starter (what I'm currently using);

3.) I had no laptop to type on, and people up at the high school keep on taking all the library computers, and;

4.) I am basically taking three, maybe four, college classes in High School.

Yeah... My life is very hectic right now, and it refuses to give in. To add to the torture, Texans generally don't like the average southern Alaska cold (aside from my friend who prefers the cold). In fact, the temperature in my room is the coldest in the whole house, so life sucks even more. And on top of that, as if it wasn't bad enough already, most people in my life are treating me like a ghost. At least it's Thanksgiving, so it's not so bad.

Anyways, I deeply apologize for the wait. But NOW the wait is OVER, folks, and I'll speak with you at the author's note at the end. If you catch any mistakes, either PM me, or shoot me a review (but whatever you do, DO NOT HATE-MAIL ME, or Heaven help me I will get severely angry like I did in my Wreck-it Ralph fanfic when some dumbass told me to "make a f* chapter already", and it didn't settle well).

. .xXx.

How to Train Your Dragon: Trials of the Herobrine

Chapter 1: Messing with Dragon-Fire

Council Hall of the Wither Lords, 80 Nether years ago (N/1)

(Kreath the Warrior, aka Wither Lord Kreath)

"Speak reasonably, Kreath," a voice among the Chamber of Wither Lords spoke with a loud volume of 300 decibels (N/2). "There is no way, not even in the kingdom of the Blazes, which we would ever be able to take on the End; not even the bravest or stupidest of us would ever even think of taking on Anderrus."

"There is a way," the old Wither Lord known as Kreath responded. "But it can only happen if we UNITE under one flag, one rule, one council, one nation. That means that Fernous the Wise and Gantor the Fearless must join us as well—."

"Even if they do join us," a third voice, firm but well-aged, interrupted. "The Armies of the End would still out-number us. There are simply too many Ender Forces out there."

"I said WE, Lord Karne," Lord Kreath countered. "That includes the native Pigmen. They have superior strength and numbers to that of the Ender Armies. All they need is the technology of the ever-so intelligent Blazes, the fearlessness of the defiant Ghasts, and the battle tactics of our cunning nature. They would be nearly unstoppable."

"Have you gone MAD, Lord Kreath," the first voice, Lord Harrenius, burst out, leaning forward in his seat (N/3). "Or have you even been listening to us other Lords? The odds would be heavily stacked against us; the Ender King has more soldiers, more firepower, more everything, than we do. They even have dragons, whereas we—," he gestured around the room, "—do not. As a matter of fact, we have the greatest disadvantage of all disadvantages. We have only limited resources, Lord Kreath; have you put that in your thick ashen skull of yours yet? Because if not, then you'd better do so quickly before you do something regrettable."

Right at that moment, a behemoth red dragon appeared out of nowhere and blasted the roof open. Lord Kreath smiled at this, knowing that he had won this council meeting. Unbeknownst to them, Lord Kreath already had control of the Alpha dragon, a gigantic Netherine mega-dragon known as the Mega-Warstorm.

Silence filled the Council Hall, the only sound being the flapping of the beast's wings and the boiling lava seas. All the better in Kreath's eyes—this meant that they were frightened out of their wits. Even the witty Lord Cemadius was quieter than Death itself.

"There, there, my good Lords," Kreath taunted. "He won't bite, I swear. He may be hungry, but that silly old dragon wouldn't hurt a fly unless I commanded it to. Of course, I can't promise that I won't give the command, so you may walk out of this hellhole on one condition." More silence passed before a Lord spoke up.

"What condition are you speaking of, Lord Kreath," a young Wither noble asked, obviously afraid of the beast flying overhead.

"Funny you should ask, young Ardis," Kreath spoke. "I would at least like for you to provide resources in the upcoming war against the End; that I can let you walk away with. But the TOTAL condition, my fellow Lords, is for you to kneel to me, to hand over your lands, your subjects, everything but your families and personal possessions. If you wish to become a general or an admiral in my army, I will allow it, but you must first decline your Lordship."

An elderly Wither Lord arose and spoke. Wither Lord Sapienus the Wise. The dragon began to growl, but Lord Kreath raised his left hand and calmed the dragon.

"Why would we give up our titles for which we have fought so hard," he asked. "So then you can become Lord of the Nether? So then you can wage war on the defenseless? What about taking over other peoples; is that your plan?"

"Lord Sapienus, you disappoint me; I expected you to guess correctly." The wise Lord grew insulted at this remark. "But you guessed the entirety of my plan with nearly perfect accuracy. You just missed one small part." Kreath gestured with his thumb and index fingers. "One teensy, weensy, itty bitty part to my battle map, you blind old grandpa Blaze; I don't care who gets in my way, so long as my plan unfolds to completion. I will even go to such an extent as to killing every Last PERSON who so much as poses a plausible threat to my strategy. I don't care how 'sapient' you are, Headache, but you're in my way, and I won't cut a break for you."

This was about the time that the accident happened. Unbeknownst to Kreath, the dragon had a specialized ability to merge with targets when traveling at high velocities; because of this, and due to the fact that things travel at much higher velocities in the Nether than they do on Earth, the accident surprised every survivor of the shockwave that followed.

Kreath commanded not the dragon present, but the Alpha, to crush Sapienus under a lethal high-velocity impact. This was impossibly stupid for two reasons: one, the Alpha could not possibly have survived a high-velocity impact such as this one, and; two, both the Alpha and the Wither Lord Sapienus knew how to merge with a target before impact for maximum damage output. The impact had the force equivalent to that of 20-billion Megatons of Blaze TNT (N/4). Very few Wither Lords present remained conscious and on their feet after the explosion. The only Lords still standing and/or conscious were Kreath the Warrior, Lord Krato the Tracker, Lord Ardis the Democratic, Lord Hardin the Just, and Lord Cemadius the Loyal. They were all shocked at what they saw in the epicenter of the blast.

Standing before them was not Sapienus the Wise, but it was not the Alpha dragon. In fact, it appeared as though the two had merged into one body. The creature before them looked like a dragon incarnate in a Wither's body; hulking shoulders with red dragon scales for skin, a paler red set of dragon scales on the front of the torso, a pair of red-scaled raptor-like legs, and slit pupils on a Glowstone-yellow background for eyes. Neither the Alpha nor the Wither Lord was present; it appeared as though this creature had taken the place of the both of them.

There was complete silence on the part of all the survivors, including the creature before the remaining Lords of the Council. No one spoke for what seemed like two straight hours. Then the silence was broken by none other than Kreath, the one who started all of this in the first place.

"What, in all the Nether, are you supposed to be," Kreath remarked, intending to make it attack or flee, give him a reason to kill the creature. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming at the top of his lungs when it responded in the most unexpected of ways.

"You speak a good question, good Lord Kreath," the beast spoke. "But the real question you should be asking yourself is: who do I CHOOSE to be. And that is easy for me to answer: I choose to be who I choose to be, not who YOU choose for me to be. Now I shall ask you the same question, and expect you to give me the answer I know you will answer: who are YOU supposed to be?"

Kreath shuddered internally, ridding his voice, mind, and body of all fear before responding.

"I am Wither Lord Kreath the Warrior, and—," he began before the creature cut him off.

"That is not the question I ask you, my good friend," it interrupted. "That is who you are today, and I know all of that. I also know the answer you shall soon answer. You answered the wrong question, dear friend. I want you to answer me this: who do you CHOOSE to be, Kreath? Who are you on the inside, Kreath?"

This took Kreath by surprise. He'd never given that idea too very much thought, mostly because he was either dealing with rebellious subjects or defending against poachers and hunters from Earth. He wasn't considered to be a warrior for nothing; whenever the lives of his people were threatened by anything, he would even go to the extent of fighting among his own soldiers to eliminate the threat. Not even the Council could've denied it. In fact, some twelve years ago was enough to prove it.

*Flashback*

The Councilmen were in their seats, ready to proceed with the issues of materials and the lack thereof when, all of a sudden, a battalion of Overworld hunters came along and attempted to kill the Councilmen for their cloaks, their weapons, and anything else of value. None of those present would ever forget what Councilman Kreath did to defend them.

'Kreath,'they called his name. 'What are you doing? Come back.'

He never even heard them. They thought he had a death wish, but he knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly what he had to do. When they noticed that he didn't hear them, they thought he really was suicidal. They thought this even more so when he ordered the guards to stand down.

Kreath shocked even himself when he unlocked one of the secrets of the Wither Lords: Wither-porting, commonly seen when one teleports in a puff of gray smoke and reappears the same way. This was how he defeated the hunters; he Wither-ported left and right, making the hunters shoot each other until there was only one left, a man of 26 or so with red hair and a massive build. He stalked towards the last remaining hunter the way any predator would towards its prey.

'You tried to attack my friends,' Kreath spoke in a way that induced fear in the poor man. 'Why is this?'

The hunter stuttered and stammered, but replied 'I-I was just-t the g-g-guy who carried d—ah, the tents. I d-didn't w-want to c-c-cause you any harm, sir. I'm so, so sorry about all this. I-I'll make it up t-to you, I'll do anything. Just please don't kill me. I have a family to take care of back home.'

'What makes you think I'll kill you, dear friend,' Kreath calmed the man. The hunter took a deep breath and released it. 'Do you think I am not human because I don't look it?' The man nodded. 'Well, go in peace, good man. Go home to your family, to your wife, your children. Take some time off from hunting dangerous beasts such as us. But I will only let you come back if you promise me something.'

The hunter looked Kreath in the eye, a serious posture on his face. 'I'll do anything for you, mister….'

'Kreath,' the Wither Lord chuckled, not one bit of a threatening undertone in his voice. 'Call me Kreath. As for the condition: destroy the portal to this place. Shut it down at the very least, but ensure that no more hunters can come back here. You yourself may come back at any time should you need anything, but ensure that no one else comes back. I do not take well to those who are willing to sacrifice the lives of others for their own survival.'

'You and me both, Kreath,' the man chuckled. 'I'll do it. Anything for the man who was willing to spare my life for such a small price.' He began to turn towards the Nether Portal to the left, but stopped himself, turned back around, and stuck out his hand. 'Where are my manners? My name's Stoick. My friends call me Stoick the Vast, but I'm actually the Chief's son, so… yeah.'

Kreath could hear the heavy Scottish accent in Stoick's voice. Kreath made a mental note about that for future reference.

'Where are you from, Stoick,' Kreath asked as they shook hands. Stoic gave Kreath a look of 'do what'.

'What do you mean,' Stoick returned.

'I mean, what nation do you hail from? Who do you live with? Who are your indigenous peoples?'

'Well, I don't think I've ever been asked that. Well, I live in a small village called Berk, and it's on an island, and we call ourselves Vikings, so… I don't know, really.'

*End Flashback*

Kreath came back from the memories of his past to see nearly everyone still looking at him. He realized that he had yet to respond to the question at hand.

"Know who you are yet," asked the dragon-man.

"Yes, I do," he responded, and the creature leaned forward. "I think." It chuckled.

"Your personality precisely matches a prophecy I had heard of many years ago," it stated. "And this little prophecy should be happening very soon."

It arose from its crouched position on the ground and spread its arms wide. Then it began to speak with a mystic tongue that only the smartest could speak, and wisest could understand, and most fluent could read. All of which Kreath was.

"From the ashes of war and death, two young men shall rise. One shall be born with the power to bring even the most misplaced of dragons to the right place; the other shall be bestowed with an unimaginable power. One shall stop the war with dragons, and unite man and dragon under one flag; the other shall stop the war to consume all worlds, and unite all people under the flags of Trust, Unity, Peace, and Freedom. The two shall be born to unforgiving peoples, and find trust in one another. The first shall be known as the Dragon Master, for he shall unite man and dragon; the other, as the Rescuer, for he will not rest until all peoples are freed and united."

The creature sat down again, and looked up at Kreath. Its eyes showed great sadness in them, but an even greater trust shone through.

"Do you understand just how powerful these children are," it spoke in Netherine Celtic (N/4). "They even had their own separate prophecies in my Library back home. The prophecy said that they would both befriend a prophet's son, but the parents of all three would die at the same time to three separate causes. One would die at the hands of a hunter, one would die at the hands of a mindless beast under the control of a madman, and one would die to a cause which I cannot tell you. You are now more important than ever before."

Kreath was lost in thought at this. 'Me? Important,' he pondered. 'Twenty years ago, I would've just laughed it off like he was crazy. But now that I've heard the prophecy, I know what he means. The "one would die to a cause which I cannot tell you" is me. I am to be the father of one of the three children mentioned. I'm no prophet, so that narrows it down a lot.'

"Should you ever need me, I'll be at my Library—," the dragon-man said before Kreath cut him off.

"Headache," Kreath interrupted. "I need you to do me a favor."

The creature smiled. "Fire away."

"I need you to grant me a human form." Gasps were heard around the room, some from the misery of waking up from a concussion, others from hearing what just came out of his mouth. "And I need you to reopen that portal to Berk. I'm going to need both to do what I want to do."

"And what might that reason be, Kreath?"

"I'm going to pay a visit to my good friend Stoick the Vast."

"Then I'll do so on one condition."

"There's always a condition, isn't there you old… Wither… dragon… creature… guy… you know what I mean."

"Number one; call me Headache, because Sapientus doesn't fit for where we're going. Two, there has always been a condition when making deals with me, there always is at least one, and there always will be at least one. And finally, if you want me to reopen that portal, you're taking me with you. I want to see if there is a slight possibility that I'm not the prophet in the prophecy… wow, that just sounded totally ironic, didn't it?"

"It's fine, Sapps. But what about getting me that human form—."

"Remember that day so many years ago, Kreath," Headache interrupted. "When you discovered that we could Wither-port? I accidentally fell through the Berk portal that the hunters entered through, and I learned that once you step through that portal, you automatically HAVE a human form. It might not work for me because I'm now half-dragon, but Withers born in the Nether can morph into a human as soon as we step through that portal."

"Well then, what are we waiting for," Kreath yelled in excitement. "We haven't got all day to waste. Let's go!"

. .xXx.

(N/1)= 110 years in the Nether is the equivalent of 22 years on Earth. A good way to shift from Nether years is to remember that time in the Nether is five times faster than Earth time.

(N/2)= 300 decibels can easily burst a human eardrum (and probably their entire head), but Withers can not only emit this volume easily, but can also tolerate up to 500 decibels. However, when in any humanoid form, Withers cannot emit more than 130 decibels, and can only tolerate a good 150 decibels. When Withers are in humanoid form and emit 300 decibels like this Wither Lord is doing here, they either had really good practice or are in the Nether.

(N/3)= Withers are the most civilized species of humanoids in the Nether, so they obviously get the comfy chairs and seats. Blazes are the most technologically advanced, but they banned the use of their weapons and such due to a high level of xenophobia (fear of outsiders/foreigners). Otherwise, they are the most civilized species of the Nether. Then there are the Ghasts, whose open nature and friendly attitude towards foreign nations and species make them the friendliest of the Netherine humanoids. Sadly, their lack of advanced technology made them befriend the Netherine dragons (a rare Netherine species), making them the most valuable ally to warring nations and dimensions (i.e. Aether, Twilight, Overworld, Ender, etc.). Then there are the Pigmen, who live up to their name. While they are the most numerous Netherine species, they are the least civilized, least technologically advanced, and most hostile of the Netherine humanoids.

(N/4)= In the Nether, the intense heat and pressure causes explosive forces to skyrocket. Include the fact that Blazes are the most advanced in weapons, architectural, and data recording technology, and the force is already the equivalent of 14.7 million Tsar Bombs, or 25 billion Megatons of TNT. However, the explosion did not involve fire, so the only the shockwave slammed into everyone. Since most Withers can only stand up to 20 billion Megatons of human TNT before losing consciousness, most Wither Lords present passed out upon impact. The only ones who did not lose consciousness were those who could withstand 25 billion or more Megatons of human TNT.

. .oOo.

Well, that was a long one, wasn't it? That was my longest chapter to date: 3,578 words give or take a few. And boy, was it a headache to pull out of my brain. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, shoot me a Review or Private Message if you liked it or disliked it. I'm also looking for OC characters from you guys (explain to me their species, height, weight, appearance, name, wingspan [if applicable], eye color, special abilities [again, if applicable], allegiance, and home dimension/world), so go and do that. Otherwise, I will see you all next chapter.