Warning: Chapter will include full Viking vs. Bloodshed. I'll try not to go overboard and I'll appreciate any critics concerning the upcoming struggles. Blood, incineration and other types of T rated violence and death will occur. What can I say? I rated the story T for a reason.
A/N: Also for those who might be worrying, I'm still accepting OCs.
Aron was no priest, yet every time he witnessed the malicious creatures from the western side of the island strike, he felt for sure Ragnarok had commenced. After centuries facing dragons, Sea Reapers had taken a custom of throwing buckets of water at their homes shortly before dusk. Wet wood didn't burn, yet houses so large, somewhere was never wet enough to avoid the growing fires. Aron had lost Kelda in the midst of the chaos. She was likely making her way south to the stocks, her parents and other farmers would need all the help they could get to keep the dragons at bay.
Truthfully, most Vikings joined the battles at the entrance of Freya's Nest. It was a large natural cave with not so natural gates. It was big enough to keep the harvests, the livestock and those too young to fight. Dragons were cunning creatures, they knew full well facing the entire tribe head on meant death, so even as some attempted to break through the defenses, others scattered through the village, causing as much chaos as possible.
The young heir squinted amidst the smoke and fire as he began to make out their shapes. Although slightly smaller than a bear and with pathetic forearms, MoldRuffles were one of the most common threats. Their back legs and large wings granted them great agility and speed, they also possessed some sort of communication that allowed them to warn others of their kind of coming dangers, or easy pickings. Aron's usual weapon when handling dragons was a spear, yet there was no time to retrieve it. Instead he hoped the harpoon proved as effective as old Hagar had described. If not, then the moldruffle would complete the bear's work.
While most of the dragons were flying south to Freya's Nest at the Grazing Fields, multiple MoldRuffles descended upon the village. Their orange and red scales almost camouflaging them, but the flaming wings were unmistakable. The dragons were smart, rather than continue firing fireballs, they fanned their tails, creating shorts gusts that increased the intensity of already burning locations. One was within throwing distance. A pale yellow moldruffle with dark red markings. It hadn't noticed him yet.
"Let's see if this thing works as well as it's advertised..." Aron had a chance to try out the harpoon, due to the unusual weight the weapon and the smoke and fire raging around him, his aim was off. The young Viking had been hoping for a clear kill, yet he just managed to pierce it's wing and dig into the dragon's ribs. Before he could even think vicious yellow eyes met him. The hatred and intelligence in them was unlike any beast. The swift creature rushed towards him with a gaping maw. Aron was about to draw his sword when suddenly, a massive wall of scales and claws crashed through the burning house and fell onto the moldruffle.
"Alright ye oversized serpent!" The furious insult came from one of the greatest minds of the tribe. Grapple Grounders were another common threat to the village. Unlike MoldRuffles, they fired powerful plasma blasts that while seldom started fires, caused countless explosions. Their powerful muscled forms made them natural wrestlers, only the bravest of the tribe dared fighting them on their terms. One of the few Vikings rich enough to wear a full set of plate and capable to use it, wielding an ancient short sword. Yet the legendary weapon was still in it's sheath, the tall and bulky man had succeeded in forcing the dragon's massive head to the ground. He wasn't just Aron's inspiration and personal hero, but also the chieftain of the Sea Reapers. Skarf of Many Titles, The Grappler, The Furious, The Honorable and specially...
"Father!" Aron realized how much one word mattered. The warning came just in time, the grapple grounder's tail was snapping at an odd angle to slam into the plate wearer. Skarf used his free arm to unsheathe Pathmaker, a sword forged and wielded by Blitz's first chieftain. Using the sword weapon he didn't waste time, the sharp blade digging into the grounder's skull, going straight through it's eye. At the same time Skarf ducked, the dying dragon's tail sweeping over his helm with momentum before dropping at an awkward angle. Aron had long lost any sort of queasiness, two dragons down. Two less monsters terrorizing his home. Beneath the metal visor of the helmet, a set of dark brown eyes matching Aron's looked over him. By now Aron's leather hood and vest were caked in ashes. Yet it was no time for a father, much less for a chieftain, to comment on it.
"Were you going for the Moldruffle?" The heavy armor rang as the Sea Reaper's chieftain moved closer to his son. Aron nodded, he didn't need to see through the metal, Skarf was displeased. Aron retrieved the harpoon, turns out a spear inside the house had impaled the moldruffle. Previously cunning yellow eyes were now empty orbs. The young Viking inspected the weapon, surprisingly, it was intact aside from the still wet dragon blood. A quick swing made the wet blood splatter off the weapon and on the Grapple Grounder's corpse.
"I just got news that that damned Sword Stealer is trying to attack the forge, that aside we're lucky, that Skrill is nowhere to be found tonight. Keep an eye out though," Skarf's report did little to ease Aron's worries. About two moon cycles ago a dragon that channeled lightning bolts had started attacking the village. At first due to the nature of the attacks and the dragon's maneuverability on air, it was assumed to be lone ShockJaw, semi-aquatic dragons who tended to attack in groups. Yet during raids the electric dragon claimed sheep and after a few weeks one of the warriors got a good look at it. Skarf had his forces on lookout yet while the notorious Strike Class was nowhere to be found. The Sword Stealer was another far more serious threat. Upon reaching the southern half of the village Aron broke from his father, while the chieftain would go to help the supplies, it was time to see what a harpoon could do against Blitz's most notorious raider. Aron prayed to Njord that the Sword Stealer's magnetic skin wouldn't make him lose his newest weapon.
Making his way past the butcher shop, Aron barely acknowledge the battle. Unlike the rest of the village, the shop and it's surroundings weren't just burning. Shards of ice and large formations had formed all over. A small group formed a shield wall and kept the attackers at bay. If MoldRuffles were like the counterparts of wolves in the dragon world, then the fierce Shivertooth were like the large cats of legend. Their lithe forms were complemented by the sharpest set of teeth and claws in all of Blitz. While they could easily freeze their victims, these agile predators preferred to tear them apart. According to Kelda, at least half of all stitches applied by the village's healers were caused by them.
Finally Aron reached the forge. While it was built amidst other buildings, there was a larger distance between it and the houses. Vikar had kept his position as blacksmith for over 20 years, only two fires ever broke out of that forge in that time. Yet now, that slightly isolated building was being guarded by two dozen warriors. Yet not all of them were Sea Reapers. Aron soon began to make out the dark green vests of their partner tribe, the Outlanders were considered wild folk by the more superstitious Sea Reapers, living amidst the woods and selling game to the village. Over the years they mastered the use of transforming stones and sticks into deadly weapons.
Aron soon saw why no shield wall had been erected like back in the Butcher Shop. Instead the Vikings ran amidst the dragon's legs. While a moldruffle or a ShiverTooth were somewhere between a wolf and a bear in terms of height and bulk, a grapple grounder could be considered big enough to fill a hut. A sword stealer? Standing on two legs like a bird of prey, this dragon was covered from snout to tailtip in metal. Several buckler shields decorated it's chest. Aron paused, he could already feel the harpoon reacting to the massive dragon's magnetic skin. Indeed, unlike other dragons, Sword Stealers seldom targeted the village's livestock. They targeted any areas where large amounts of metal could be found. The blacksmith was one of their favorite targets.
The most fearsome detail of a Sword Stealer was their body, their powerful breath melded different items together to form a single fluid set of armor. A few edges or spikes from stolen arrowheads were usually seen emerging from the mesh of molten iron and steel. That aside, their magma orange eyes and maw gave them the visage of a beast of Muspellheim. Flapping their massive wings the behemoth had recoiled after one Viking successfully punched a reinforced wooden pike through the links of armor beneath it's left wing and dug it into it's ribcage. Although in pain, the Sword Stealer turned it's cruel eyes upon the Viking and with a triumphant roar, released a stream of bright flame before anyone could shield their eyes. The intense light causing many, including Aron, to be disoriented. But even before his sight fully returned, he knew that the flash meant far more than a moment of blindness, at least for the sword stealer's primary target.
"Ranuld!" A distraught cry cut through the chaos as arrowheads punched into the Sword Stealer's side. Aron soon recognized the archer, at night with his mottled green hood down, the snowy white hair and ivory skin on his furious face was evident. While 16 like Aron, the boy wore an attire akin to other Outlanders, yet with far more coverage. Including odd darkened goggles that protected him against the flash of the Sword Stealer's fire or the brightness of sunlight. Erron Lindstrom was an oddity even amidst the Outlanders, yet his humor, wit and daring made him a common sight in the village. The arrows left deep impact marks over the Sword Stealer's side, alas the hulking beast was more focused on the other Vikings running around beneath it. More pikes broke through the dragon's body and soon some arrows succeeded in digging into the weak flesh beneath the armor.
Aron knew the battle was over now. Sword Stealers were the bullies of dragon kind, their armored bodies allowing them a powerful edge in combat. Yet as soon as their beloved armor was damaged, they took off like scared seagulls. The powerful flaps of the armored beast's wings were strong enough to push Vikings back, fan nearby fires and even throw arrows off course. With a final burst of blinding flames, the Sword Stealer took off back towards the mountains. Aron was ready to run back and help the butcher shop with the ShiverTooth situation but before he could do so, he barely saw it amidst the chaos of the flames and the darkness of the night. A lone arrow had soared over the flames. Sword Stealers were strong, but slow fliers. A final arrow pierced one of the broken links on the armor.
The other Vikings cheered as the massive dragon sagged and barely kept himself aloft. The beast's agonized cries were music to their ears. Aron however felt pity, seeing such a prideful monster reduced to such a state felt... Sea Reapers had a clear honor code, defeat foe, never humiliate it. Alas in the midst of fighting against dragons, such rules tended to be forgotten alongside any semblance of peace. The archer, Erron was crouching by half burnt rags and... Aron realized the rags were in fact what remained of a sturdy leather and light chainmail armor, to his horror, the flesh had been burnt into oblivion but charred bones remained, clattered around.
"Ranuld, The Headfirst, I shall send some game to Valhalla soon," Erron had a hand on his knee as he looked at the pitiful remains. Aron sighed, after so long facing dragons, it had become fairly common to see crippling injuries, battle scars and even disfigured faces. Yet Vikings were a stubborn lot, death didn't come to them easily. Alas no amount of courage or glory can stop fire.
"We need to check the situation on the livestock, Ranuld's sacrifice won't be in vain," Aron put a hand over Erron's shoulder. The young albino was difficult to befriend, yet he bore a deep respect and care for every friend he made. Aron was proud to consider him a friend, yet in the midst of chaos, with the other vikings already scattering to help fight the fires or defend the livestock, Erron didn't need a friend, he needed a leader. Instead of the usual snide remark of sarcastic comment, the archer just met Aron with his eyes nodded. Many superstitious Vikings considered the unique reddish irises as a curse. Aron didn't care, for an aim like Erron's he'd take a set of pink eyes anytime. There would be time to mourn later, now, it was time to make sure no more lives would be mourned.
Fighting their way to Freya's Nest, Aron and Erron were soon stopped by several Vikings. The huge men and women ran away from the nest like... Vikings weren't that easy to scare. Indeed, while they ran in fear, wild smiles spread on their faces. Luckily Erron's sharp eyes caught sight of Kelda, who once more pushed golden locks out of her green eyes. Aron took her arm with his free right hand. The girl turned angrily before recognizing them.
"What's going on?!" Aron asked, having to shout to be heard over the dragons' roars, the crackling of the flames, the battle cries of Vikings and the maddened howls no sane man could produce. Wait what? Kelda just smiled as recognized crossed the two boy's visages. Despite common sense and even the more reckless Viking sense telling them to run the other way, the curious teens made their way to the fields. Like the village, it burned, and at the entrance of the cave, there they were.
"Berserkers," Erron spoke in a short gasp of fear and admiration. With the darkness of the night and the light of the fires, the massive men fighting dragons while wearing only short jerkins and large bear fur cloaks. They carried curved axes on each hand, at the hands of a calmer Viking they could be used to trip opponents and perform masterful cuts. At a berserker's? Even as they watched one of them cleaved a grapple grounder's neck in half. Another was covered by gnawing ShiverTooth yet managed to throw them back before throwing one of his axes at a ShiverTooth's skull. Skarf once told Aron that no training would prepare a berserker, only the raging battlefield.
"This is bad, they don't even realize it," Aron realized, Erron and Kelda looked confused at their friend. Yet soon they noticed it, the dragons the berserkers focused on we're retreating, and leading the raging madmen further and further away from the nest. The entrance was only large enough for the smaller dragons. Soon ShiverTooth and MoldRuffles broke through the doors. The cries of livestock could barely be heard over the chaos.
"Erron go get my father or someone who can get everyone's attention, the berserkers don't even realize they're being tricked. Kelda, I hope you left your sanity at home because..." Aron whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the cries that spread through the island. Erron had shot off into a run back to the forge, most Vikings would be gathering around it. Kelda smiled as she heard Aron's next words, apparently she had left her sanity at home. As they sprinted to the cave, they noticed another teen was already trying to keep the dragons at bay.
"Sweyn?" Kelda questioned aloud as her atgeir pierced an unsuspecting ShiverTooth's skull. A stocky young man was fending off a hungry moldruffle with nothing but a seax. A bow and quiver were over his shoulders. Aron barely recalled the young man, he was their age, with chocolate brown eyes slightly brighter than Aron's. The moldruffle snarled at the approaching teens. His mistake, the second his eyes were off Sweyn the 16 year old rushed forth and sunk the seax into the side of the dragon's head, the blood erupting forth signaled a cut artery.
Soon all three teens had their backs to some very frightened livestock and faced more dragons. The size of the opening meant only one or two dragons could come in at the same time. Aron was glad for the wire on the harpoon's bottom, it made it far easier to throw and retrieve the weapon in record time. Sweyn had unslung his bow and as soon as a dragon ducked past Kelda's atgeir or blocked Aron's harpoon, they discovered an arrow between their cold predatory eyes. Soon the dragons got smarter, moldruffle's throats lit up with charging fireballs. More arrows through it's throats.
"Get back!" Aron barely had time to shout when a ShiverTooth fired a burst of icy air, as soon as it made contact with the ground where Kelda had been standing seconds earlier, it erupted into icy spikes. Cornered, the three teens had no choice but protect themselves as the dragons dove in, took livestock frozen in fear and flew off. Sweyn cursed as his bow fell and was crushed by a scared yak's hooves. The atgeir, harpoon and seax barely fended off a hungry ShiverTooth. While they struggled, more and more livestock was lost. Finally, as almost half of the livestock was lost, a battle cry rang over the roars of predators and the cries of prey. Aron was never so glad to see an army of sweaty men with half burnt beards break their way through dragons to save him, or the pigs. Although the animals continued to be disturbed, they were no longer carried off.
Aron could barely recall when Sweyn disappeared, or when his father looked down on him and the chaos lessened. It was all a blur, Kelda had put a hand on his shoulder and was saying something, she sounded really worried. Then Aron saw it, a shard of ice was stuck on his left side beneath his ribs. Then he blacked out.
A/N: So, now you guys know how tense the Viking V. Dragon war is in Blitz. I was planing to stretch the chapter to cover a few more events but I decided to leave that to next chapter. Two new OCs have been revealed, Erron Lindstrom from Flame Fate Zero and Sweyn Ironsides from Brokula. On other news, I finally completed the map of Blitz, you guys can see it on my Devianart page. Link is on my profile. Again, don't forget to drop a review and tell me what you guys thought of the first battle, large scale action scenes are something I'm still learning.