In How To Train Your Dragon As A Stormcutter

A tinge of spitefulness is what made Randy fire on the evacuating Vikings.

It was not as if he aimed at a house, and these people got in the way, no, he made sure the fire scorched them as they ran. Not only the men, but the women and the children too.

Some would call it plausible. He wasn't a human anymore, so watching a few burn shouldn't have made him feel bad, for Randy may be in a new body, but he had his old human mind. Morally, it was wrong to kill civilians for any reason or anyone who wasn't fighting back.

He just killed out of spite.

Randy watched as they burned away, their bodies crumbling to the ground into a pile of cinders, much like the rest of the aflame houses. He turned and gazed back at Albin. The Viking's eyes were one of hurt, and yet he tightened his shield and let out a powerful yell of fury. So powerful that Randy felt it in the chest wound Albin inflicted on him.

But alas, there was no room for fear in a dragon.

So, the anger to show up the Viking bubbled, and Randy reached down for one attacker, who's axe was raised and ready to cleave, and picked him up in his mouth. The Viking, a young man, writhed and struggled in his jaws. Slowly, Randy walked to Albin, who now rushed over to him, his face red and his shield held tightly with his only arm.

Once Albin was close enough, Randy stared him down, his eyes into slits. When Albin saw his mouth and the Viking half inside it, that was the moment Randy brought his jaws down. The man's struggling body went limp.

Blood flowed from Randy's mouth.

He dropped the Viking and growled at Albin as Randy forced him to see the now-dead corpse, as a way to rub it in. Although, Albin seemed to look like he was going to faint.

So, Randy took to the air and watched as other men rushed over to their chieftain to help him out, and even as he grumbled and attempted to shove them away, they inevitably forced him to retreat. Randy watched silently.

He wasn't sure why he kept his gaze on them for a few seconds. Maybe it was a way to frighten them, as the thought of a large, fire-breathing dragon with his predatory sight on you was not something that would leave you for a while. Nevertheless, the burning town was the next forefront of his mind.

For the next couple of rounds, he flew through the air, lighting more and more of the village on fire, while perhaps terrifying a few people on the side. With each run and stream of fire blast from his maw, Randy watched as the people escaped to their boats. Their anchors raised and sails opened.

Randy's eyes narrowed. He wondered at the thought of so many people in a boat getting engulfed in his fire blast, and roasted alive with nowhere else to hide.

So, as the last Viking got on the last ship to leave, he landed on the pier with a thud, growling menacingly, as if he was one move away from a fire blast. The people on the boats huddled together, hoping he would not hit them.

Randy did nothing, however.

His piercing gaze was the only thing that shot at them, and for a bigger reason. Oddly enough, Randy wanted to leave them, to let them run, for the thought of instilling fear or even trauma into these Viking people had him feel a strange satisfaction.

Once the wooden ships were far out of view, Randy shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

'...'

Suddenly, his body tensed. This was because he gazed into the sea and its abyss, the never-ending depth made him tremble, and Randy shot up into the air and back into the burning village.

After his now trembling form calmed down, Randy overlooked the ever ablaze inferno below.

'...So much destruction,' He gazed around, 'I did this,'

Next, he thought about those people he had killed. Randy tensed as he remembered what he just did those very few moments ago. However, he didn't tense because he regretted it, or because he flinched after remembering the chest wound Albin inflicted on him in their battle.

He thought about doing it again.

Nevertheless, that same denial Randy had throughout this attack was flushed away as his stomach grumbled. So, he went back to the storage building of fish. Randy was able to find the place quite easily, the prime reasoning was because it wasn't on fire.

Once Randy laid his eyes on the fish once again, his pupils dilated and he let out a low rumble, and dug his face into the next barrel. Each fish, well, tasted as if they were taken out of the sea, obviously, and they were cold, but Randy didn't care because he liked it. Maybe it was his human mind reminiscing about the dishes of fish he ate. He stopped for a moment.

'Frankly, I could get used to this,' Randy thought as he bit and swallowed a fish down, 'so refreshing...perhaps better than the food I ate in the past,'

It wasn't cooked. It was not littered with spices, maybe only salt, and nor was it warm. Randy kept on feasting. For as long as his stomach wouldn't call out to him, or until his gullet had been filled so much he wouldn't be able to speak.

By the time Randy had eaten his fill, the cinders of the village were brought down to ash, leaving nothing but a reminder of those who once lived here. Randy thought it would be a nice place to rest.

'So full...' He grumbled. He waded outside and flopped in front of the building, '...can't...move,'

Consuming that large amount of food had rid him of the pains in his stomach completely. Although, the drawback was the limit on movement, complete satisfaction of a tremendous degree, and the weight of the eyes becoming exponentially heavier.

He would spray the ground under him and lie. Randy curled up, his two sets of wings acting as a blanket to cover himself, even if they were technically his arms, it was comfortable no matter the position. With a little rumble from his throat, sleep took him over right then.

A few days passed.

Every time Randy awoke, he would wake up to ashes. The smell of fish came right after, and he would spend a while digging into a barrel of fish, and when he was done, he'd find another barrel and stick his head in, which often failed because of his wide and flat face, so he had to turn it on its side and let the ones he could not nip roll out.

Then came the flying.

After eating his fill, Randy would spend most of the day circling above the rubble of the village he brought to the ground. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed more. The flying, feeling the wind against his scales, swiping into and out of clouds, and seeing the island below him, or the charcoaled buildings, feeling a strange pride that it was he who did something so destructive. Regardless, he continued his circles in he air.

Next, was the boredom.

Quite so. At first he tried to hang upside down from his tail, even swing around a bit, until the branch broke and he knocked his head, so with a head rub, he attempted other miscellaneous things, like hopping around, bopping his head like an idiot as if he were hearing a metal song, or even messing with the island's wildlife, but only so much could keep him occupied. Yet, at the same time, doing these things was strangely entertaining. Randy knew he was not hard to please, but this was a bit ridiculous.

Finally, was the more problematic thing.

At some point, Randy felt a sting in his stomach, signalling his hunger, and of course, went to fill it. It's not like there wasn't any fish left or other foods, there was honestly over enough for a few weeks, months even, but the thought of running out made his blood run cold. Not because of the hunger.

It was the ocean.

Whenever he did his patrols of the island, Randy kept his gaze away from the surface of the ever-moving ocean. It made his stomach churn, and he grew queasy. Sometimes, it would seem the ocean called for him, and the thoughts of being deep down, drowning, looking around and mostly below him and not seeing anything...or not even knowing what would sweep out from under him and swallow him whole...

Randy would gasp, grumbling slowly as his four wings carried him around and his gaze was diverted. In some way, he had to get more food. Sure, hunting the island animals was an idea, but from a past hunt, they were both difficult to catch and not very fulfilling to the stomach of a Stormcutter.

The ocean came back.

Many thoughts came to him. The attack on the village, the wound from Albin, the being which handed him this life, and the 'power boost' he apparently had.

Now, since a few days passed, the wound was fine as it healed up surprisingly nicely, maybe it was this power given to him from that creature. That posed a question.

If it removed a few problems, why leave his Thalassophobia?

Did the being want him to struggle? Maybe, but in a world that is a literal Archipelago, Randy was disadvantaged heavily. You could argue that the world would be different, as it did state it wasn't exactly the same as the original world, but as things stood, Randy was on an island, and with every point he turned and glanced over at the horizon, there was no sign of other land.

So, there were two other options.

One way was to grit his teeth, spread his wings, and brave the skies, and take to the seas, perhaps he need not even look down, or maybe find a way to fight against the ingrained fear. This was a bid for survival. If he didn't do this, he'd most likely starve and die, and that was not on his list of what he wanted to do. The other option was to think more.

Of course, Randy chose the easier option.

Nevertheless, as he sat in the forest listening to the rustling of leaves around him. Randy shifted a little, thinking up a million other ways to hunt or find food that didn't lead to the ocean as the only answer. There wasn't much, but he racked his head all day and night.

Until one day.

The sun was high, and Randy patrolled the island, which had become quite a regular part of his routine, until he spotted something. Randy thought it was the light. However, when it flew into the island's forests, he had not wasted a second and landed, making sure to be quiet.

As quiet as a mouse, he stalked it. Randy avoided knocking into trees and bushes as he followed the sounds the creature made, which were growls, something a dragon would make.

He froze.

That's right, he was so caught up with thinking and the mundane routine of his that he'd forgotten there were other dragons in this world. Which made him ponder.

'Would they talk?' Randy narrowed his eyes, 'Would I understand?'

Maybe he would understand, but he wasn't sure. What if it was all just grunts and growls, and it was just a great guessing game of charades? That didn't sound fun to Randy. Not one bit.

Be it as it may, Randy had to encounter this dragon one way or another. So he inhaled deeply and continued on, his tail swaying slowly and carefully, not to make a sound, and Randy twisted his head and body past the trees, expecting to see a dragon the very next moment.

Suddenly, it came into view.