Hi, this is not Joseph Fink. This is never Joseph Fink. Messages posted in this FanFiction can't ever be from him, because he isn't real, we think.

Anyway, this is back. This is a thing. A second chapter! Who knew? I didn't. I discovered it last night. It crept up on me as I tried to get ready to become an unconscious thing, and kept me from doing that. So now it's here, to keep you all from being unconscious things.

You're welcome.

I don't know if this will continue, or if this is just another gasp of inspiration before I return to the endless slog of living my life. Who knows? I don't, not yet.

Before we get on with whatever this thing is, I just want to thank you all for your support. It's that support that inspired me to put out a second chapter, all two of you that reviewed. Seriously, I don't know why I was so deeply touched. My heart hurts. My head hurts. You're all great.

And hey, thanks.

-WtB-

The ocean seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is land.

Welcome to Berk.

-WtB-

The Berk Tourism Board's Non-Threatening Berk campaign has kicked off with posters encouraging folks to take their family on a scenery-filled jaunt through the skies around Radon Canyon. Their slogan? "The view is literally breathtaking." Posters will be placed at great halls and smithees on nearby islands, along with promotional giveaways of masks and deerskin air bags.

-WtB-

And now, the news.

Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Well, Jon Mynstur - you know, the farmer? - he saw it over the western sea stacks this morning, said he would have thought it was the setting sun if it wasn't for the time of day. Apparently the cloud glows in a variety of colors, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near. One death has already been attributed to the glow cloud. But listen, it's probably nothing. If we had to shut down the village for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we'd never have time to do anything, right? That's what the dragon-riding teens are saying - excluding Hiccup, of course - and I agree. Although, I would not go so far as to endorse Fishlegs' suggestion to run directly at the cloud, shrieking and waving your arms, just to see what it does.

-WtB-

Mildew - and I remind you that this is that old man who literally wears dragonskin as clothes around dragons - has announced that he has found some disturbing evidence concerning the recent incident at the Berk Air-mail Office, which has been sealed by the village council since the great screaming that was heard from it a few weeks ago. He said that using ancient Viking magics he slipped through council security into the post office, and observed that all the letters and packages had been thrown about as in a whirlwind, that there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh, that the words written in blood on the wall said, "More to come, and soon." Can you believe this guy said he used Viking magics? We all know the only Viking with any kind of magics is old woman Gothi, who lives in the hut on the mountain. Man, Mildew is such an arse.

-WtB-

Here's something odd. There is a Smothering Smokebreath hovering in the men's outhouse next to my crier's podium here. He seems perfectly happy and healthy, but it's floating about four feet off the ground next to the sink. Doesn't seem to be able to move from its current hover spot. If you pet him, he purrs, and he'll rub on your body like a normal small-dragon if you get close enough. Fortunately, because he's right by the washbasin, it was pretty easy to leave some water and food where he could get it, and it's nice to have a crier pet. Wish it wasn't trapped in a hovering prison in the men's outhouse, but listen: no pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is.

-WtB-

And now, a message from our sponsors.

I took a walk on the cool ocean waves, bubbling surf overflown, and above me the night sky, above me I saw. Bitter taste of scalding fire and a smell I could not place nor could I escape. I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells. The moon slunk like a wounded animal. The world spun like it had lost control. Concentrate only on breathing, and let go of ideas you had about nutrition and Terror calls. I took a walk on the cool ocean waves, bubbling surf overflown, and above me the night sky, above me I saw.

This message was brought to you by Honey Mead: Mead with more Honey.

-WtB-

The village chieftain, in cooperation with agents from the vague, yet menacing, village council, is asking all citizens to stop by the Berk Dragon Academy tonight at sundown for a brief questionnaire about mysterious sights that definitely no one saw, and strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone, because all of us are normal, and to be otherwise would make us Outcasts from our own village. Remember: if you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget.

-WtB-

The Dragon Riders of Berk have announced some slight changes to their hierarchy, which will now be the following: Rider, Able Rider, Dragon Rider, Blood Pact Rider, Weird Rider, Dreadnought Rider, Dark Rider, Fear Rider, and finally, Eternal Rider. As always, signup is automatic and random, so please keep an eye out for the soot black envelope that will let you know you or your child has been chosen for the training.

-WtB-

This is probably nothing listeners, but Jon Mynstur - you know, the farmer - he reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over the village square, and appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth. Chickens, insects, a few birds - that kind of thing. Fortunately, the animals appear to be dead already, so the Dragon Riders said that it should be a snap to clean those up. They just have to be tossed on the eternal animal pyre in Mildew's field, so, if that's the worst the Glow Cloud has for us, I say go ahead and do your daily errands, citizens. Just bring along a good strong umbrella capable of handling falling animals up to, say, ten pounds. More on the Glow Cloud as it continues to crawl across our sky. And hey, here's a tip: take your kids out, and use the Cloud's constantly mutating hue to teach him or her the names of colors. It's fun, and it shows them the real-life applications of learning.

-WtB-

Alert: Astrid and the teens are searching for a fugitive named Hiram McDaniels, who escaped custody last night following an early evening arrest. McDaniels is described as a five-headed snaptrapper, approximately 18 paces tall, with mostly green eyes and weighing about 360 times Hiccup's weight. He is suspected of home repair claim fraud. McDaniels was forced to land for speeding last night, and Astrid became suspicious when he allegedly gave her a fake Rider's license for a five pace eight fingerwidth man named Frank Chen. After discerning that Frank Chen was actually a five-headed dragon from somewhere other than our little world, Astrid attempted to subdue McDaniels. Representatives from local dragon rights organizations have protested that she had no legal grounds to assault him, but they ceded the point when reminded by a member of the vague, yet menacing, village council that our backwards court system will uphold any old authoritarian rule made up on the fly by unsupervised crossbow-carrying thugs of a shadow of a tribe. Astrid says McDaniels escaped her custody by breathing fire from his purple head, and he was last seen flying and shrieking over Dragon Island. The teens are asking for tips leading to the containment of Hiram McDaniels. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, as he is literally a five headed dragon. Contact the Berk Dragon Academy if you have any information. Ask for Astrid Hofferson. Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their stamping forearm forearm. Collect five stamps, and you get your dragon registered by name in the Book of Dragons!

-WtB-

And now, a look at the community calendar.

Saturday, Fishlegs' library of books will be unknowable. Citizens will forget the existence of the library from sunrise Saturday morning until midnight that night. The library will be under a sort of renovation. It is not important what kind of renovation.

Sunday is Dot Day! Remember, red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don't. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences.

Monday, Louse Blackshoe is offering panpipe lessons in the back of Louse's Music Shop. Of course, the shop burned down years ago, and Louse skipped town immediately after with what little the town could spare in his time of need, but he's sent word that you should bring your instrument to the crumbled ashy shell of where his shop once was, and pretend that he is there in the darkness teaching you. The price is a chicken's weight in fish per lesson, payable in advance.

Tuesday afternoon, join Mildew for a bake sale to support Citizens for a Human/Dragon war. Proceeds will go to support crossbow development and… Huh. I didn't think any humans were still at war with dragons. Oh well. Figures it would be Mildew.

Wednesday has been cancelled due to a scheduling error. It's Fishlegs' fault, Snotlout swears.

And on Thursday is a free concert. And…that's all it says here.

-WtB-

New call in from Jon Mynstur - you know, the farmer? Seems the Glow Cloud has doubled in size, enveloping all of Berk in its weird light and humming song. The ship gala administration has announced that they will be going ahead with the race, although there will be an awning built over the docks due to the increasing size of the animal corpses being dropped. I've had multiple reports that a Yak, like the kind you would see on the grassy slopes of the island, or a blood-stained table at the back of the local great hall, fell on top of Astrid's Mother's Yaknog shop. The shop is offering a free pitcher to anyone who can figure out how to get the thing off. So far, all citizens have continued to avoid the vicinity of the shop, in fear of the free samples.

-WtB-

The teens have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Glow Cloud, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far, the Glow Cloud has not answered. The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny creatures feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings of love. The Glow Cloud simply is. All hail the mighty Glow Cloud. All hail.

And now, slaves of the Cloud, the weather.

Bucket is slave to the Glow Cloud. We are all a slave to the Glow Cloud. The storms are the Glow Cloud.

-WtB-

Sorry, listeners. Not sure what happened in that earlier section of the speech. As in, I actually don't remember what happened. Tried to read my notes, but they're all blank, and smell faintly of vanilla.

The Glow Cloud, meanwhile, has moved on. It is now just a glowing spot in the distance, humming east to destinations unknown. We may never fully understand, or, understand at all what it was and why it dumped a lot of dead animals on our island. But, and I'm going to get a little personal here, that's the essence of life, isn't it? Sometimes you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious glowing cloud devouring your entire home, or a three hundred year war between species incited by one bad leader. While they're happening they feel like the only thing that matters, and you can hardly imagine that there's a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the leader of your enemy is dead, or the Glow Cloud moves on. And you move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find that, as time passes, you remember it less and less - or not at all, in my case. And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important things in life, and the faint, but pretty, smell of vanilla.

-WtB-

Dear listeners, here is a list of things.

Emotions you don't understand upon viewing a sunset. Lost pets, found. Lost pets, unfound. A secret lost pet Asgard on the moon. Trees that see. Foods that hear. A void that thinks. A face half seen just before falling asleep. Trembling feet operating desperately mangled things. Fish. Silence when there should be noise. Noise when there should be silence. Nothing when you want something. Something when you thought there was nothing. Clear thin deerskin. Scented thick deerskin. Rain coming down on deerskin. Night. Rest. Sleep. End.

Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

-WtB-

Welcome to Berk is a fan-made tribute to both the universe of How To Train Your Dragon, owned by Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks Animation, and the universe of Welcome to Nightvale, owned by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor. The writer of Welcome to Berk claims no ownership of any characters, events, or locations used. The writer also claims no ownership of the published content, merely asking that it not be reposted without credits.

Welcome to Berk will not harm you.

Proverb: Men are from Odin; women are from Frigga; Midgard is a hallucination; dragons are dreams.

A/N:

Yes, I did a Joseph Fink style pre-message. Couldn't resist. It says everything I want to say, so I guess all I can do is repeat it. I don't know if this will continue further, and you're all great.

And hey, thanks.