The Vandals
It was just a normal day on Berk. The entire tribe was busy doing their normal duties and keeping their island and village running. In the great hall the young riders of the Dragon Academy were having a casual conversation about nothing in particular. At their usual table was Fishlegs, the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and Snotlout. They were slightly curious of the whereabouts of the head of the Dragon Academy was when as if on cue the doors to the great hall opened and she strolled in.
The others could instantly tell that she was in a bad mood. Her face was plastered with a frown and her fists were balled at her sides. They watched as she made her way over to the cooks and grabbed a plate of food. Then she stomped her way over to the table before plopping down, dropping her plate down angrily, and digging into her meal.
"Umm….hey Astrid," Fishlegs said in a nervous greeting.
Astrid only nodded her head in acknowledgment but didn't return his greeting.
"Everything ok?" Ruffnut asked her.
"Parents," was her only response. The others understood. Astrid was considered one of the most eligible young and single ladies left on Berk. There wasn't a Viking on Berk or among their allies that didn't want the chance to court her. But Astrid was always adamant about turning any potential suitors down. But they knew that for years her parents had been pressuring her into finding a man.
"They keep telling you that you're practically ancient and need to find a husband?" Ruffnut asked. Astrid scowled and nodded again.
"You know Astrid. I could marry you if you wanted get your parents off your back," Snotlout suggested waggling his eyebrows and throwing her a sly grin.
Astrid immediately stopped eating and shoved her plate of food away. "And now I've lost my appetite," she said in blatant disgust. She'd behead Snotlout before marrying him.
"There's going to be a dragon race in a few days Astrid," Fishlegs said trying to change the subject. "Do you want in?"
Astrid gave him a small smile and nodded. Astrid always loved the dragon races Berk had. She always won them. She was the undefeated champion, an accomplishment she took no small measure of pride in.
"Me and Hookfang are totally going to crush this race," Snotlout said haughtily. Despite all his losses he had yet to be humbled.
Suddenly the doors to the great hall burst open and Gobber walked in. Scanning the room, gaze rested on the riders. He hobbled his way over to them with a serious expression on his face.
"All of you, the chief wants you at Gothi's now," he said shortly.
The others exchanged glances before getting up and following after Gobber. They wondered what was happening.
Inside Gothi's hut, the riders, Gobber, and the chief were surrounding a wounded Viking on a medical bed. The poor man was wrapped up in many bandages. The chief had explained that the man was found on a ship that had drifted into their waters. From what he had told them, it looked like the man's ship had been attacked by marauders.
This was disturbing news. Marauders so close to Berk waters meant danger. This meant that the riders may have to escort their ships to ensure safe travels. Now they were waiting for the man to awaken so they could get more details. Like what tribe the marauders belonged to and where he was from so they could help him get home.
Slowly the man began to come to. His eyes started to twitch before he opened them in a panicked gasp. He quickly surveyed the room and made a move to sit up when Stoick pushed him down.
"Easy there sailor. You're safe," he said to reassure the man.
The man looked into Stoick's eyes with uncertainty. But seeing no indication that Stoick was lying he settled down. "Where am I?" he asked weakly.
"You're on Berk. I am Stoick the Vast. Chief of the Hooligan tribe," Stoick informed him. Then he looked at the man and waited for him to introduce himself.
"I am Brynnjolf of the Troutmouth tribe," he replied.
Stoick nodded as he processed that information. The Troutmouth tribe's territory was pretty far from Berk. They were neither friends nor enemies with them. They would help the man get home. "Can you tell us what happened? Do you know the tribe that did this to you?" Stoick asked.
They watched as the man tried to remember. "It wasn't a tribe that I recognized. They had purple sails and red streaks on their armor and faces," he said. Suddenly his eyes widened as something else occurred to him. "Stoick. Were there any others with me? Are they here?" Brynnjolf asked frantically as he tried to sit up and look around the hut.
But once again the chief pushed him back down. He cast his gaze down in sadness. "No. All we found were bodies," he said quietly.
Everyone saw Brynnjolf's eyes fill with pain as he understood what the chief had said. They saw his eyes water in sadness and grief. "Oh," was all he managed to choke out.
"I'm sorry," Stoick said sincerely. "We'll give them their proper rights when you are well enough. Then we'll get you home," he offered. Brynnjolf nodded and gave the chief a sad smile in appreciation. "Is there anything else you can tell us?" Stoick asked one more time.
Brynnjolf searched his memory once more. Even while biting back the sadness of watching his family and friends being slain. "They called themselves…The Vandals," he revealed.
Everyone exchanged glances. They had never heard of this group before. With a nod and a thanks they all left the hut to allow the man to rest. But they were focused on what the man had told them. Hey knew nothing about this group. They had no idea how large they were or how much of a threat they posed.
Everyone turned their gaze to the horizon. This group was out there somewhere. Possibly waiting to attack one of the Hooligan's ships. But as long as the riders had the skies, The Vandals were the ones who should be afraid.
Dun dun dunnnnn