Next, next, next! More action, now, as night falls and Kat returns. What is she after this time?
Guest: Wow, those... those theories are really, really cool! You're on to something, and I really like both of your theories. However, I can't say whether you're right or wrong without threatening to ruin the plot for you. Sorry!
The night air felt cool and refreshing, the torches of the village burning brightly. The little clusters of houses huddled together in the warmth, shadows flitting across them. The moon was full, the stars flickering behind the thick, fluffy clouds. Yet, in the shadows, evil lurked just out of view.
Kat had returned for more. Berk was just too easy, a sitting duck, full of treasures and curiosities. One of these had a high price on its head, set by a certain Berserker chieftain. Kat crawled closer to the grand, carved staircase leading up to the Great Hall, winding its way up the mountain from which it was hewn. However, the way was lit and she was sure to be spotted. No, she had another way to get up there.
Leaping forth, she snatched handholds and footholds in the rock face itself, climbing and clambering alongside the steps, just out of the torchlight, until she was high enough that anyone who saw her would have no chance of reaching her before she had the book in her hands and had escaped. Clambering over the rocky bannister, she skittered up the remaining steps, lithe, like a cat. Throwing open the heavy wooden doors, she glared into the pitch black interior.
"Piece of cake..." She whispered.
Fishlegs was calmly walking through the village, on watch, with Meatlug, his Gronkle, bumbling placidly beside him. He was a tall boy, heavily built, with great, broad shoulders and a rounded face, his arms bulging from their sleeves. Where he had previously been pudgy and flabby, he was now becoming muscular and strong, thanks to his academy training, though his appetite still won out over all. Straw-like hair stuck out from under his tiny helmet, sat precariously on his large head.
His dragon was much the same, looking as though she had been hewn from the rock face herself. Her huge, thick jaws were filled to bursting point with sharp, deadly teeth, spilling out from her lips so that she could no longer close her enormous mouth. Her large, round eyes searched the surrounding area intelligently, the little fan-like flaps that served as ears atop her head fluttering with every sound. Suddenly, she grunted, looking towards the great hall.
"What is it, girl?" Fishlegs whispered, following her gaze, though he now saw it too. A silhouetted figure galloping up the steps to the Great Hall. As he watched, they disappeared. The large boy bit his lip, unsure as to what to do. Then, he gave a sudden, sharp cry of alarm. "The Book of Dragons! It's still in the Great Hall! Meatlug, we have to do something!"
Clambering up onto his dragon's back, he willed her on as she rapidly beat her wings. They fluttered so fast that they became a blur, like those of an insect, and the Gronkle lifted and travelled up and up, away from the ground. Meatlug carried her bulky passenger up to the doors, landing and moving towards the door, ready to fight.
"No, Meatlug, you have to go and raise the alarm. I'm gonna stop her, whatever it takes." The dragon crooned, thrusting her head into his stomach. "I know, I know, but I'll be fine! Please, girl, just go!" Reluctantly, the chunky dragon left her rider behind her and sped off to alert the others.
Kat stood, the moonlight behind her illuminating a thin shaft of the hall, but it was not enough. She slipped her hand into a pouch on her belt, drawing out two of her clay bombs.
"It's not light enough. Sorry, Hooligans. I hope there's nothing precious in here..." The bombs crashed into the ground, one spattering its contents up the side of a pillar and catching a tapestry. "That's better. Oh, whoops, I hope that wasn't important." She slurred dryly. Her nose curled. The sulphurous smell of smoke wafted to her with the wind.
She looked around the hall in awe. It looked as though it had been carved from the side of the mountain itself, the high ceiling being held up only by the enormous wooden pillars, one of which was now burning brightly beside her. Around the hall, there were carvings, straight into the stone, of famous battles won by members of the tribe or heroes. There were carvings of gods and of dragons, of knots and patterns; they covered the walls everywhere you looked. The ceiling was rough, pick-marks still visible from when it was built. And, everywhere you looked, there were paintings, tapestries, weapons and relics displayed for all the world to see upon plinths, or mounted straight onto the wall itself.
In the centre of a massive structure lay a huge fire-pit, extinguished at the late hour, but still smoking and smelling of burnt, hot fat from the meal that evening. Above it dangled a huge golden dragon, a blade piercing its abdomen and a look of pained horror on its open-mouthed face. Kat could only dream of what it was worth. Around her, tables were spread in every direction, some still scattered with the remains of the evening's meal. However, on one particular table, something caught her eye. Pacing closer, she reached out to touch the leather cover of the book she'd been looking for all along. Finally, in her grasp...
"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you." The voice behind her made her freeze. Stupid! You shouldn't have stopped to look at everything! Silently berating herself, she span around to face her assailant.
"And who might you be?" She growled, low and threatening, like a cornered animal.
"I'm Fishlegs, keeper of the Book of Dragons. The book that you're not going to get your hands on tonight." The boy was broad, heavily set and bear-like in his stance.
"Oh, and you're going to stop me?" Kat taunted, testing the young lad's temper. He gave her a steely gaze. Tough one, She thought to herself.
"You're going to pay for everything you've done, Kat. For last night and tonight. Just you wait, when Stoick hear about this..."
"Stoick? Stoick the Vast? Don't tell me he's here," she goaded mockingly. "Is he hiding behind you? Or are you just shielding him with your bulk?"
"Ooh, a fat joke. Like I don't get enough of those already. However, I'm not going to encourage your violent tendencies." He stood, steady as a rock, hands balled into fists. There was a mean look in his eyes. However, Kat detected a slight tremor, a tiny hint of fear. Something she'd need to exploit.
"Oh, you really are a one..." She smirked. "Never mind. There are more ways to get one's way with things, are there not?" She wrapped a steady hand around the hilt of her sword, drawing it out slowly, deliberately.
"I don't want to fight you, Kat," he called. There was a slight tremble in his voice. She sneered.
"No, you're just unarmed. But then, you wouldn't fight me if you were. You just hide behind your pathetic dragon all the time, am I right?" She took a step towards him, taking pleasure in watching him flinch. "Oh, I am! Well, this will be easier than I thought." She brought the blade up to her eye level, poised, ready to strike. "I'm really going to enjoy killing you, Fishlegs. Don't forget to scream; it makes it all the more fun..."
And with that, she struck out. Her shining blade came within inches of Fishlegs' throat. He fell back with a cry, stumbling away, trying to get out of range, but Kat was always right behind him, slashing viciously. Fishlegs looked around, horror on his face, for something that he could use to defend himself. Another thrust came too close, nipping the end of his tent-like jerkin. With a yelp, he skittered away. Ran full pelt across the hall. Kat let him run, toying with him.
The large boy scanned the walls. Weapons, weapons, weapons... aha! His eyes alighted on a single bladed axe, the axe of Hamish the Second. One that could quite easily have been used to chop wood, when it wasn't crushing skulls. The head was intricately decorated with knots and patterns, and though the edge was blunt, he knew he could still use it to defend himself until help came. Sorry, Hamish, He thought hastily.
He had a weapon. Kat snarled, her lip curling. How dare he? Leaping up onto the tables, she flew across the hall towards him, unstoppable, deadly, her sword pulled back, ready to swing. The plump Viking did the only thing he could think to do; he readied himself for the blow. When it came, he was almost knocked off his feet. Then another and another, each one blocked by the great axe. Fishlegs had never fought so well in his life.
However, he couldn't last forever, and Kat knew it. She softened her blows slightly, begging him to relax, before she gave a great, unstoppable swing and took the axe straight out of his grasp. It clattered to the floor nearby with a great sound, the handle snapping in two as it went. Kat snarled with triumph, her sword finding its place at Fishlegs' throat once again. He stumbled back, but found a bench behind him blocking his escape. A cruel grin spread across Kat's face.
"Checkmate..."
What are your opinions on the characters of Kat and Blueflame? Do you think they're cool? Evil? Horrid? Badly designed? Let me know! I love your feedback!