In How To Train Your Dragon As A Stormcutter

In an instant, many pairs of eyes fell on Randy.

Some had fear, others had grim yet ready expressions on their faces, their bodies tensed. He couldn't help but wonder how he looked to them, this giant monster with a crown on its head and two pairs of wings that could slice through these very woods. Why did that sound and feel strangely good?

Suddenly, an axe thunked into the tree next to him.

His eyes narrowed as he looked back down at the men, all of whom had axes and maces, with some even screaming and shouting, probably to get themselves ready for battle, but most likely because of the adrenaline flowing through their veins. Nevertheless, Randy felt the rush too, the pain in his stomach momentarily forgotten as he let out the loudest roar he could muster.

They attacked him, so he was going to return the favour.

Out of the shade, he surged forward and tore apart the very trees he tried not to break. The Vikings responded with a charge of their own, their weapons ready to swing and crush, and even if Randy was a big dragon, they showed no fear or hesitation.

"Come on, you cowardly bat!"

He heard one of them shout, and that was when Randy retaliated. His head lowered, and from his jaws, blasted a tornado-shaped stream of scorching hot flames upon the charging Vikings. Some leapt to the sides, narrowly avoiding the blast. Those not so lucky let out blood-curdling screams as the flames torched them, their skin melting apart and shrivelling up into ash a few seconds later.

"NOW!"

From his sides, more vikings lunged at him, two of them grabbing a hold and climbed onto his back. One found himself on Randy's tail. Just like that, he spun around, crashing through more trees and successfully flung the one man on his tail into a tree.

'...'

Randy felt hands gripping the spines on his back, and twisted his head one hundred and eighty degrees to come face to face with those two same Vikings. They were frozen. A single blast burned both men off his back and onto the forest floor below with two thuds.

The battle moved on as Randy shuffled back, creating some space between himself and his enemies. He fired another powerful blast into where he had just been. A few bushes and trees caught fire with his first shot, so when he did his second, the fire grew, but Randy was not sure if he had killed more Vikings.

So he watched on as the inferno grew, growing like an unstoppable flood. It made Randy pause.

Did he really just attack and kill like it was nothing? He never hesitated when firing upon those Vikings, and didn't feel squeamish when he saw those Vikings be incinerated by his flames. In fact, he felt a strange tingle.

Was he enjoying this?

From the fire, a Viking jumped out, patting his shoulder and coughing furiously, and Randy wasted no time igniting him with another fire blast. It felt as if he was crushing an insect. Something insignificant.

Overall, He circled the outside of the burning flames, firing down on any Viking he saw. Soon, he heard a few Vikings taking off into the forest, and away from the fire and Randy, some screaming, and even one screaming 'Run!' and 'Retreat!' to maybe alert any other injured men. Randy would've blasted them, but a scent caught his nose.

Fish.

Was it from the burning corpses or the retreating Vikings? Maybe. Did it bring back that painful hunger in his growling stomach? Absolutely. In fact, Randy let out a low grumble as the sting made him lean over for a moment.

'So...hungry,'

At this point, he didn't care. With a heave, Randy continued on, loosely following the Vikings, but mostly stalking after the smell. He kept on until the trees ended, and what began was a great field of short grass, green and straight. Following this was when his eyes widened.

It was a village.

Wooden houses and buildings with hay roofs littered into a clump near the island's edge, where the port was assumed to be. Randy tilted his head. Something about the golden glow of sunshine upon this rather peaceful village brought a split second of comfort to him.

He moved on once again, the hunger pulling him out of that comfort. The pathway he took really had no other Vikings, but it was similar to that of a curl around the outer skirts of the village, to the left, and that was mostly because of the smell of fish. Just then, it hit him strongly.

All reasoning abandoned Randy as he charged forward to a building in front of him, ramming the door open with his head. The smell was strong. With one look into this building and through a door his head and crown could fit through, his pupils dilated and his expression shone with inspiring hope.

It was a storage building. Big and Wide. Most importantly, quite obviously, it holds the majority of the food in the village, perhaps for a dire situation or to do some trading.

For Randy, it was a big lunch.

As he broke a bit more of the door so his entire body could fit in, Randy dug into one of the numerous barrels lined up on the floor. There were so many fish that he couldn't think straight. He ate one. The fish was swallowed whole, and even if it was weird at first, Randy felt the numbing pain in his stomach slowly vanish, so he continued, grumbling with pleasure with each fish he bit and ate.

Randy's body shifted around as he feasted, knocking down other barrels and sacks on shelves, the food items spilling onto the floor. He didn't care, however, as Randy finished one barrel of fish, licking his lips.

'...Mmm...' He thought, groaning, '...delicious,'

More fish would've been devoured if not for the sounds of commotion outside the building. Randy peeked through the opening he made, and his eyes widened with surprise as an angry mob of Vikings was before him, holding anything sharp, blunt, or heavy, their faces mixed with fear and anger.

He crawled out of the building. Randy stood tall, looking down at the mob; his imposing figure caused a few to step back so as not to get stomped.

A moment of silence followed.

Only the short huffs of the people and the low growl from Randy floated around, and yet, in this second, he felt it again. It was that same feeling of superiority. As if no one he stared down could attack him with a fatal blow, nor did a sliver of fear enter his now slit eyes.

No one made him afraid.

Suddenly, a net fell from above and entrapped Randy, who roared in rage. His heart pounded. However, after a few slashes and tumbling around and past the mob, he tore the net apart and escaped, before he fired down on the Vikings.

The blast pulverised those who were caught in it, some attempting to put out the flames while others let out agonising cries, before falling over. Beyond them, a house caught on fire, the flames flicking hungrily.

"Water!"

"By Odin, get out of here!"

"Gather every able fighter!"

Randy heard them shout and order. As he watched them get water to quell the fire, an idea sprang into his head. His stomach wasn't paining anymore. The houses down the street were many, and Randy felt that itch to flap his wings.

So, he did.

While surrounded, Randy took to the skies, the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he immediately dashed forward, flying over and blasting rows upon rows of houses and buildings. A pause followed as Randy looked down on his handiwork.

The fire was like a pack of hungry wolves. It devoured what it incinerated and spread to more and more houses. Randy even spotted the Vikings who attempted to put out the flames by throwing buckets of water, but it didn't seem to stop the ever-growing flames.

Randy let out a grumble.

That feeling came back. The strange satisfaction. Yes, viewing those in peril and in harm's way brought a sense of pleasure to Randy's mind.

'...What am I thinking?' He shook his head, 'I don't actually enjoy this...do I?'

Maybe it was the fact that he did it, that he could cause such destruction, and no one had the strength to stop it, not that he enjoyed watching things, let alone humans, die. Of course, he wasn't a human anymore, so he wasn't afraid of having to kill.

"Oi! You bloody dragon!"

The yell made Randy turn, his eyes narrowed. There, amongst the flames, stood a man, his figure big and muscular, much like what Randy would picture in his head of what a Viking would look like, an axe in one hand, a shield in another. He had a casual yet anger-fueled step in his walk, unbothered by the inferno around him.

He exuded that of what a chieftain would have.

"Yes, look at me!" The Viking shouted, bashing his shield, "You've destroyed my village long enough,"

As Randy came down, he got a better look at this man. He had blonde hair with a large beard, and his brown eyes were laser-focused on Randy, as if he were an angel staring into the depths of hell.

If he were still a human, Randy would be shivering in his boots.

Heck, even now, as he stared down this man, who hadn't flinched a single muscle, he knew this guy meant business. Randy wasn't afraid, however.

So, he blasted the Viking with his fire breath.

The man merely dodged, rolled out of the way, and ran forward, leapt up and brought his axe down onto Randy's chest. Randy himself let out a roar of agony. The pain stung around the wound, and Randy tried to swing the Viking off, who just jumped back, pulling the axe out, the blood dripping down Randy's scales.

'...' He growled at the Viking as they both circled each other.

Randy felt a strange weight on his chest. That same weight of failing to do something, that feeling of embarrassment and powerlessness. This Viking gave him that.

"I am Albin," The Viking stated, facing Randy once more, "son of Asbjørn, son of Annika, and chieftain of Gurid,"

Albin raised his axe at him.

"I'll make sure you die slowly,"

Quickly, Albin rushed at him. Randy attempted to fire another shot, but he flinched. So, all he could do was watch as this Viking ran to his tail, and manoeuvred up his back with impressive acrobatics. Randy's heart pounded as Albin jumped into the air, his body spun, ready to bring it down onto Randy's neck and possibly behead him.

However, Randy twisted his head and bit down, catching not only Albin's axe but his arm. Up to the middle of his forearm. Randy whipped his head right back around and threw the Viking, his axe and his torn-off arm still in his mouth. He dropped the axe and arm below him.

Blood spewed from Albin's wound, but he only groaned, clutched it, and glared at Randy, who growled back with equal fury. Albin yelled again.

"Come on!" He egged on, waving his other arm, "I'm not done yet, dragon..."

At this point, Randy stared down at him incredulously. How could someone whose arm was just torn off not be worried about the wound? This chieftain was something else.

However, in the distance, he saw other villagers, all in a hurry to run or just evacuate, their faces and body language full of panic and terror. Randy narrowed his eyes.

'I understand now,' He stared back at Albin, 'you...are a brave chieftain,'

Despite knowing now, there was something that stirred inside Randy. It wasn't anger nor a sense of determination to just kill this Viking that was before him. This was different.

With a roar, he took to the air. Albin's expression sank as he saw where he was going, and Randy himself didn't know why he was doing this, nor why he kept his glare on the retreating Vikings, and glanced back at Albin, as if telling him to watch. Although he understood one thing as he landed on the ground, surrounded by a sea of flames in the middle of the day.

That understanding was his feeling of spite.