RECKONINGS

The Far East, 20 years ago…

'Longship six to mark two, broadside,' a younger man, features unblemished from the arable fortunes of his homeland sat back with confidence. 'Be wary grandfather, these are dangerous tides.'

A full set of Maces and Talons sat before them, with the last plays in motion. The young man's grandfather who indeed wore the bitter hand of life to his weathered skin, pursed his brow. It was as it had been many times before, and the insistence he placed upon his young counterpart was often regarded with faith and attention; but for this game, the young man Viggo, remained obstinate.

'It's as you have demonstrated time and time again my boy,' Visago deftly moved the pieces, swapping out those now defeated. 'Your tactical strength renders me overwhelmed. My Chief yours to beheaded by axe or mace in approximately six turns, should you follow the apparent path.'

'You would spell out your defeat for me, even now when there are at least three counters,' Viggo frowned, noting two longships and a ground force token for use.

'Three counters each to their ultimate doom should they be played. Indeed I would find my Chief standing firm, but without a village, an army to his namesake. What claim has he without followers eh?' Visago detailed. 'What is a chief without his supporters?'

'A survivor. At last alive to lead another day, stronger in experience, and curating but another strategy in which to delay the Valkyries call,' Viggo said with idle confidence. 'I know what you would say, but leaderless, a village would succumb to ruin. The vacuum only invites tyrants.'

'Lest you've taught another to stand in your stead,' Visago motioned towards the board. 'Where I see whomever they were, are now dead, in service to the Chief. Only children and the unable remain. You've no army for later.'

'You always remarked highly on the importance of loyalty, as something to be earned, but also as a tool if necessary,' Viggo followed the argument.

'Aye, where a blunt tool acts to no effect, but Viggo,' he picked up a longship piece felled in the last play. 'Say this were your brother?'

Viggo examined his grandfather's eyes with a delicate scrutiny. They were grey to his deep brown, and very much akin with his bushy eyebrows. They beheld what little hair remained to his head, with whiskers at most for a beard to his rounded chin. It was a question some had began to ask, though Visago paid these whispers of pending mortality little mind; he had faith in his pupil. His own children were in kind a product of his temperament and patience, where his son was an architect of construction for the time. His daughter Selia however, remarked the likes of an assassin, befitting as that was, given their Hellion heritage. When she married Reskir Grimborn, she forged an alliance with the Eastern Marauders; but together, they set in their sights with the means to unite the dragon hunting clans. The artifact passed down from father to son would deliver their salvation as it was said; and under the red fist, they were prominent, respected for the trade and inevitably part of larger plan for peace. The dragons staved their lust for retribution against one another; a common enemy thus galvanised the great unification.

It took both Selia and Reskir's influence to weave the fabrics of law between the Marauder clans, and a decade of feuding, by which time, both their sons were born. Their oldest Ryker would inherit the image of his father; whereas Viggo, Visago saw in his curiosity the potential of his own children combined, a deadly cunning and a sharp hand for retribution. Though there was a cost to be noted, as Visago in part nurtured Viggo's mind and habits, he found a tendency to gamble risky odds, and cut corners if confident. Pride marked his protégé, pride inherently passed from the father and actuated by their prominence. Viggo was not a fool by any means, but in defeat he wielded a terrible anger; it was silent, calculated but marred by the injustice brought upon his hubris.

This was why Visago played these many games of Maces and Talons, not to the point of grooming leadership in of itself, but to show him grace in defeat, what honour truly meant in the face of adversity. This was the one lesson Viggo failed to learn with every attempt, and though he tried for years, Viggo was rigid to his pragmatic and absolutist ideals. As Viggo went on to lead ships and raiding companies, in those final and restless days, Visago felt the pangs of failure no less. It was a faint, but terrible thought that marred those final hours before the Valkyries were at last sent for his deliverance. Should Viggo be challenged by an equal, as one would inevitably rise; and should they be learned in the ways of true honour, it would be his undoing.

Dragons Edge, Present Day…

Everywhere was a heavy draught, a thickness that saturated each thought and the smell of ash to consume them. Such conditions rendered the body choked of its means to recover and there the Dragon Hunters heaved and coughed in their efforts to regroup. To such a catastrophe, that the skies should fall upon them with fire and death, levered a new, and threatening sense of despair. This trap set for them was so easily unleashed; in the hunters' hubris, it was to be a swift extermination, thus undermined and disgraced. Those truly loyal to Viggo Grimborn remained on deck to salvage weapons and munitions where the sceptics, spinless and traitorous few gathered what they could and fled.

The dense cloud that swallowed their forces held an eeriness, where the silence of the bay was intruded only by the washing of the tide. For Viggo, his meticulous mind was awash with uncertainty. All was his to unleash upon these cursed shores and yet, he tasted the bitterness of defeat. The thickness of the flames that consumed the wreckage around him blinded him to all else around the bay; Hiccup and the Hellion traitor had fled, escaped upon the Night Fury which lurked amongst the shadows of twilight. That much he deduced in silence and where the leather was torn on his belt, they now possessed the Dragon Eye. Ire and irritation danced with feverous intent; all they had wasted with words played to the boy's favour. In the end, Hiccup had proven Viggo the fool with reckless fashion to leave the Marauder Chief feeling small.

'Grimborn!' The malice laced in Krogan's words returned the world to its ferocious state. 'Overcome by a mere boy –.'

'Spare me your indignation Krogan; you willingly recruited a spy!' Viggo held his gaze towards the base. 'Without whom…' he clenches his fists against the balustrades of the helm.

What was he to make of this chaos? A loud snap captured their attention as one of the great launchers on deck split under the fire that consumed it. 'Ryker.'

His brother leant idly against the walls of the upper command deck, his features filthy with ash and the nasty slice to his cheek stained his face with crimson. 'I'm with Krogan, this is on you.'

Viggo cast a vulgar eye towards his brother. 'On me? By your hand perhaps the deed would already be done – an arrow for each of us embedded through the eye,' he faced Krogan once again. 'Your protégé would have shot us down from behind without delay. First her master, then you brother, at last savouring my death for some sense of poetic revenge, be it on her terms for the… past injustices dealt against her and her family. Rather befitting isn't it? And all to abide her rigid sense of duty.'

'Though I stand wondering how it is you've survived this long; even with the strength of three separate clans, you've thus succumbed to ruin,' Krogan stepped past Viggo to side with Ryker. 'As for this traitor, even my faith was not absolute. One archer is not Hela herself.'

'One archer?' Viggo scoffed quietly, his low chuckle inciting a hidden warning. 'That you have forgotten my lineage so soon; she is no archer. More to the point that you did not see her deception; very few could best the master of assassins after all, such as you profess. No Krogan, this girl was raised by the wilds, moulded by its harsh and unforgiving nature – that the Dragon Riders trust her at all contends with the most primal instincts she inhibits.'

Viggo's critique upon Krogan's unofficial titles bore an insult more violent than he care to admit. 'Insolence and pride, just like your father Viggo. Your failure to act goes beyond these shores and so they should culminate at last in this, the arena of your nemesis. I take no more pride in this nor pleasure as you waste the lives of these men and women for vanity. For all intents and purposes, my contract was fulfilled the moment you set sail from Thunderclaw bay. It was by curiosity that I stayed, the mettle of our adversaries who I've tested only briefly and under deceitful circumstances.'

'This siege will only end with the last man, that was the term of your tenure,' Viggo grit his teeth.

'I don't need to take orders from you Viggo, nor your brother, nor Johann. I answer to one,' Krogan lowered his voice.

'And when Drago learns of your cowardice?' Viggo challenged him.

'Who would say? Grovelling on your knees in the wake of failure, do you think he would care what you whisper? As you said, to the last man and I intend to invest in those terms. You have the Sunspears, dormant and in waiting, why hesitate?' Krogan eyed him carefully. 'Unless you are bound by some semblance of honour after all. You knew, you've always known the power these dragons reap, and it was ambition that led you back to me. I was happy to collect, happy to indulge in the daring machinations of a scorned and desperate man, but now… you hesitate? Is it betrayal you fear, or the fact your wits are not as compounded as you once believed?'

The shadow behind Viggo's eyes grew, the rage that was barely contained flickered and Krogan thought that for moment he might lash out. He tightened his grip around his war-hammer, prepared to counter any aggression that might come his way. Instead, Viggo looked to his brother with the shadow dispersing; reason had once again prevailed and there he returned with a cold and stony front worn in the face of a direct threat.

'If it is indeed your will to crush these Riders, then take heed of the hand dealt against you,' Krogan offered in one last effort of faith on the grounds of their common enemy, before departing the helm to join his men on the main deck.

The statement appeared vague, but Viggo knew what he meant. The truth was outstanding, he had underestimated Hiccup's convictions and the sheer magnitude to which he exhibited them. In turn, the Dragon Riders would know of their secret quarry thanks to their well-positioned spy. That thought was without any comfort, but a vain satisfaction against his dark comrade. Selia would be proud of such a pupil.

'Ryker, will you help me see this through?' he asked, not ordered but asked.

Indeed his sentiment caught Ryker off guard and to the effects of distain; Viggo didn't slouch his shoulders or wear the mark of a defeated man but to ask was a definitive shift in his priorities. As Krogan had curtly reminded them, they endured a common cause and one to realign their intent.

Ryker achingly pushed off the wall. 'I have my own reasons to finish this brother, but this will be the last time I suffer your mistakes. What do you need?'

Viggo drew a long and calculated breath. 'We move to the second phase of our assault, signal the ground forces to move on the Dragon Riders' base. We need to drive them out of their only defensible position, then ready the anti-sedative. It's time to wake the Sunspears.'

'Aye,' Ryker finally returned with a malicious grin, long awaiting to see the prowess of these dragons. 'They will see brother, fire is not their ally.'

As Ryker departed, Viggo returned his gaze to the amber ruin of his forward fleet. The sticky flames were unrelenting in continuing their course of destruction and by dawn, he was sure this wreckage would be reduced to its skeletal remains. Until then, and until the Sunspears were unleashed via the great bow doors, they would make a stand with the weapons at hand. It was near impossible to see through the smoke, where only glints of light reflected off the steel reinforcements of the base beyond them. He knew they would return in force, he knew that somewhere in the shadows, Hiccup and his companions conferred over their next move, plotting a comprehensive and reactive strike to match his own deceptions.

Viggo set a path down the central bridge to see beyond the flames. Still, the base was dark as if truly abandoned and for fleeting moment, he feared their flank entirely outmanoeuvred. Regardless of his spoken disdain, Krogan marked the rear lines and even with their sentiments unveiled; the man would not forsake an advantage out of spite, surely not. Yet Viggo found his certainty stained, where doubt had at last settled with a permanence not idly ignored. On either side they were exposed, and an escape was treacherous and riddled with flame. He sought his Bosun, where the fiercely tattooed man was in tandem with several other hunters resetting one of the net launchers. In their efforts to draw back the bow, Viggo felt the sound to be too distant as if the echo was indeed from further away. For it was, and the clanking steel did not align as it came from above, an presence unseen until the faint shine of the moonlight caught the tip of a threatening rod.

'No!' Viggo gasped as the mainsail mast shattered with a terrible crack.

More flaming debris showered the hunters below as the bolt had also speared through the centre bridge at last embedding itself deep within the hull. Viggo clawed onto the balusters as the entire bridge began to sag, dipping in towards the deck, but ultimately the fracture integrity of the railings collapsed, and he was left to slid into the rubble. Below the main deck, and with the dragonroot anti-sedative in hand, Ryker and two of Krogan's guards were frozen stiff by the sudden blast of wood whereas the ballista bolt rest mere centimetres from their heads. The Dragon Riders' counterattack had indeed come, and in such ferocity so to monopolise on their previous bombardment. Stalagmites to gut their hulls, fire-bombs to wear down their defences and at last ballista bolts to tear them in half. Another, thunderous jolt rocked the ship but not to the sudden explosiveness of a bolt. The mainsail had at last collapsed to port, ripping its pulley lines and crushing the deck where the mast head impaled the nearby Hellion frigate. The archers onboard fled for survival; some vaulted onto the next ship where others braved the frigid waters now littered with broken wood and ropes.

The Bosun was fast with his men to pull Viggo from the wreckage, a nasty gash now marking his left temple. 'Haravor!' Viggo coughed, leaning hard upon his officer. 'We need to move our forces off the ships.'

'What of the dragons?' Haravor replied, searching the skies in fear of another bolt.

'Ryker's waking them now, lest we lose firm ground before then. Move! Use the mast as a bridge if you must,' Viggo instructed.

'Aye, abandon ship. Get to shore, now!' Haravor ordered, pulling his comrades towards the outer deck.

The air once again split with such sheer ferocity as a second ballista bolt shattered the mainsail of the dreadnaught's starboard frigate. The Hellion crew were brought to their knees as the ship cascaded from the blow. This bolt ran the ship through, thus finishing the work of Fishleg's dragon made pillars. The frigate began to sag deeper as the flame ridden supports creaked and tore until all that upheld the waterlogged vessel were the pillars below. There, Viggo was grasping the starboard balusters, his mind cycling over where the next strike would land. His fortunes were lesser still, and the shrill cry that would haunt the corners of his subconscious blared across the bay. He felt his surroundings draw to a still as the portside hull erupted into terrible white flame.

'Night Fury, get down!' Haravor cried, raising his shield for cover as debris showered them.

The reign of chaos that blinded the Hunters reverberated as more streams of fire cut through the smoke. A blood-red Monstrous Nightmare strafed the Starboard hull, painting the launchers still manned by the Hunters. Hookfang rolled out towards the Western shore with another stream of flame against the ruined ships. One of the few main launchers remaining, trained its iron cast sights on the dragon in turn, but a glint of firelight against the dark sky caught their guard. A third ballista bolt split the great weapon in two as the Hunters manning it were tossed to the deck.

Where the smoke funnelled from the force, Viggo caught a glimpse of the ballista platform Astrid was realigning against them. 'There,' he growled, pointing up through the smoke. 'Haravor, get our forward launchers ready and take out that ballista.'

'Sir, the Dragon Riders –,' Haravor protested as another blast of plasma pounded the portside frigates.

'Are coming for the Sunspears,' Viggo drew him away. 'But that platform is tearing us apart.'

'Aye sir,' Haravor stumbled away towards the deckside hatches that led below.

The chaos below was felt under the straining supports and displaced materials with the unconscious or dead bodies of fallen Hunters littering the flame ridden rows. Few remained to lead a broadside assault where the dragon fire burst through the windows, scorching the weapons to ash. He heard the terrible crack of wood as another bolt barraged their ruined fleet, the time long since past for defence but there he was no less. Haravor quickly vaulted over the debris and found himself sliding down to the abandoned Ballista station. The main doors were still ajar where the Hunters previously loading the weapon had fallen through. Nonetheless, he cleared out the debris and loaded the weapon for a shot that by all sense of sight, was left to faith.

'Come on, where are you?' he grumbled.

'Right here,' a smooth, feminine voice answered before the silver edge of a dragon tail skewered the ballista, splitting the bolt in half.

The bowstring collapsed as the weapon itself caved in, throwing Haravor back into the ship. Windshear detached herself from the hull for a sweeping glide to the second platform. It was levelled lower to the water but still held a line of sight to Astrid's hut; Haravor was no fool to bandy wits against a dragon rider alone. Windshear sliced the bow arm of the second ballista before training her piercing green eyes into the hull. Haravor was away, but she still let loose a piercing stream of silver flame that collapsed several supporting arcs. That section of the deck collapsed under the added weight of a ruined net launcher with Haravor barely escaping unharmed.

Viggo felt the ship rumble in turn, with more smoke and sparks to billow from yet another wound. But for the pang of fear that struck his heart, he felt his sense bottle him in, and every snap and crackle capture his full alert. He growled, doubling back to the fallen mast to still this sudden yet perverse and irrational tune. What of Haravor, lost to the depths of destruction? A good, a trusted soldier he thought with the perils of despair threatening to penetrate his mind. But what was loyalty unless service to the end; and still to replace him, that thought in of itself soured, tainted by a malice couldn't perceive through the smoke cast by his enemies. This was not the time for a conflict to turn on it head, he knew his convictions, he remembered what they set out to do.

'Prepare to be boarded,' Viggo commanded to the last band of hunters remaining to his aid and at last, he drew his ornate sword baring rubies encrusted upon the guard.

High upon her own ballista platform, Astrid was accurate in her aim as she hauled each of the great bolts from their stack and loaded them into the rails of her personal defence platform. The great bow grew taught as she wound the bolt into its lock, at last heaving the weapon around to face her new target. The bearings of the turntable below clanked where her sights centred upon the holding bay's, main deck cargo doors. She shoved forth the release lever and felt the kick of the ballista as its bolt pierced the deck.

'Door's open. Let loose guys – Stormfly!' she called to her dragon, ready to enter the fray.

Astrid sprinted off the platform to land squarely in Stomfly's saddle as she dove hard towards the ruined fleet. Hiccup caught the blur of Stormfly's azure scales driving a hard line down the face of the cliff, before he signalled to Snotlout.

'You're up!' he waved his hand forth, guiding Toothless to fall in behind Hookfang as they banked towards the dreadnaught's main deck.

Viggo followed their path as the dragons drew in for a direct assault of the bow. 'Hellions, knock,' he ordered.

A line of six, crimson garbed archers raised their bows, their eyes cold and dark beneath their hoods. Hookfang maintained his line, aiming between the dual, skull-bearing figureheads at the central bow. He was almost in prime range of the archers, when Viggo caught the glint of iron beneath the Nightmare; and with it, a pair of penetrating green eyes.

'Night Fury!' he cried, with the intent to retreat.

His reactions were far too belated as Toothless bombarded the deck before them with a volley of plasma, showering their foes with debris. Hookfang followed through with plumes of sticky flames to paint a blazing perimeter, restraining the Hunter's advances.

'Ha, there's more than where that came from!' Snotlout boasted, dismounting from his dragon with his hammer in hand.

At last, the master retaliation by the Dragon Rider's was in motion as Snotlout set his footing firm against the dazed and confused foes before them. His quarry was unknown, and given the sheer scale of the dreadnaught, he knew his chances lay rest with the reinforcements on his tail. This vessel embodied the fears and speculations of many weeks, and despite the ease of ceasing its momentum in the bay, he felt its might at last. The crew in their defeated and battered shape were few now yet he did not fail to distinguish the diverse array of soldiers and captaincy. But as planned, they were far from alone as a secondary stream of silver flame devoured the flanking guard as Heather and Windshear joined them. The dragon curled and swiped her tail in deterrence, slicing through frayed wood and steel that encumbered her path. And Heather, still adorned in her stolen attire, raised the Hellion bow and release two arrows into the surrounding forces. She did not see whether her aim was true, rather leaping from Windshear into a roll to take a stand by Snotlout with her axe drawn. Then Toothless landed upon the left most figurehead and slunk his way down its length as Hiccup detached his harness, ready for a ground assault. Viggo held his ground, casting his gaze across the trio and their impending will. Hiccup dismounted, taking point between Snotlout and Heather with their dragons behind them, and very much the phantom assailant with his dark armour hiding his features.

'Stand fast. We hold the advantage now,' Viggo said, readying his blade.

'What about the dragons?' A Hunter wheezed, holding his ribs.

'They are beyond you,' a third voice joined them, smooth and unfazed by the violence around them. A leaner man cast in gold and black scale-mail armour: one of Krogan's assassins approached them. 'Take heed, the Sunspears will consume them.'

Their faces were stark, hidden behind simple masks donned with black markings to hide all but the soulless eyes that stared back. Seven of the Assassins emerged through the lines of the Hunters, where the other three were was unknown, though Hiccup had his suspicions. Either way, he both foresaw and feared the eventuality, as they remained untested against this foe. Dragon fire was their only defence for now, but against the Hellions, departed or not, they were at risk upon the deck. Nothing was truly sure in their planning beyond their convictions and as flame erupted amongst the trees, along with the shattering of stone to echo into the bay, they could step forward and forward alone.

'I will ask this once,' at last, Krogan emerged from a veil of smoke beside Viggo. 'What is honour in death?'

'We are the hand that delivers them. To that we hold the only privilege, for the dead do not weep,' seven of the assassins under Krogan's guard passed the phrase in unison and without any tone.

'And no conviction is stronger than the will of a free man. Not by compulsion, but because we chose to,' Krogan concluded their seemingly cultist mantra.

The prestige that radiated from the fighting few, a tattered and grime baring few but otherwise unfazed by their immediate environment, was clear. As such, Krogan was at ease, with his dark eyes piercing through them. He was not the only one, and Hiccup could feel the weight of Heather's glare as her intentions grew clear; that time would come he thought, and far be it from him to deny her that.

'What say you boy? Krogan opened the floor to Hiccup.

Where he might have retorted with some dry remark, Hiccup found his voice silent, though not simply by his own accord. Their glide was a short one, but time enough for Astrid to brandish her great-axe as Stormfly ploughed into the rough with her tail raised. She sent a volley of spines to break the scattered lines, spearing several hunters unaware of their entry. Astrid let the forward momentum carry her to the deck where she ducked into a roll and brought her axe through the brittle edge of a Hunter's sword. Her axe split the wood beneath them, but not without the belt and pantaloons of her foe joining it. The Hunter took one look at his skivvies before he was knocked into oblivion by the butt of Astrid's axe handle as she peeled it from the deck.

'What are you waiting for!' Astrid cried, leading an aggressive path upon the left flank.

Hiccup need not a second word before planted his shield against his metal foot, turned on its heel and whistled for the dragons' attention. With his right hand he drew a circle above his head before directing a firm exit towards Astrid's position. He then kicked up them shield; and in a singular, fluid motion, he slipped his right arm through the bands whilst with his left hand, he drew the Dragon Blade forth with a trail of flame from its sheath. Hookfang and Windshear leaped back to the let the air carry them beneath the deck line while Toothless bounded back up the figurehead and glided across gap separating the keel lines. There was no hesitation now, as all their paths converged at once and doom lay before them with smoke and flame. Snotlout and Heather covered Hiccup's flanks as he charged a jagged line through the debris; and in turn, the assassins held their weight low as they vaulted towards them over crates and ruined materials.

The few remaining Hellions fired their arrows, nabbing at the corner of Hiccup's shield, but ultimately it was the leading Assassin in his golden mail was the first to meet Hiccup in single combat. He aimed for an outward slash at Hiccup's left side with the intent to double around on what would become the Dragon Rider's open back, but Hiccup slammed the brim of his shield against the Assassin's chest, knocking him backwards. He carried the momentum through the blow and twirled on his right foot to bring his blade down upon the hasty parry of his foe, breaking his defence. The Assassin still managed to recover his footing, rolling through his failed block as Hiccup thrusted his blade forth. It was in time too as his league of allies closed in to compensate, at once setting his ranks apart from the rest of the Hunters. Yet Snotlout and Heather, like the Assassins, covered Hiccup's initial insertion, drawing focus between the three of them.

Where Hiccup was guiding them to an intercept point with Astrid, they were kicking over crates, and using the environment to inflict as much lasting chaos against the Assassins. Two leaped down through a blaze and only from their cries against the heat was Heather able to deflect their strikes. She flourished her axe with jabs between them in a constant dance that ultimately overwhelmed her as one caught the shoulder of her blade. She felt the resistance over her right flank and desperately relinquished her grip, despite the dread in parting with her weapon. She slipped underneath the handle as the Assassin's knife followed through. The second Assassin attempted to strike across her stomach in turn, but she locked his arm underneath her left elbow before driving her right into his head. And still undeterred, the first Assassin then brought her own weapon down upon her where by sheer reflexes, she caught the jagged blade of old Razorwhip scales against the Gronkle-Iron gauntlets, worn by the Hellions. The blade still pierced the upper surface of the metal, but it was time enough for her to slam her foot against his outside knee, toppling him over. She broke away from the hold as her axe clattered against the deck and drew back with her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other to land a bolt square in the Assassin's neck.

Only out of the corner of her did she see the second Assassin reel back for a knife throw when a silver shield cracked across his face, knocking him cold. Between the adrenaline sending tremors through her arms and the sheer thumping of her heart, Heather didn't register to fact her arm was feathering an arrow still resting in her quiver. Had Hiccup not covered her, she would have been late in her shot.

'Heather!' Hiccup gasped, reaching out his hand for her.

The moment his fingers curled around her wrist, the terrible sounds of the world returned. Her senses snapped to attention and as such, the imperative imminence of a yet unpronounced malice. When Hiccup released his stable hold, his bare fingers were stained with a crimson residue and there, Heather felt the sting where her axe had indeed pierced her flesh. The wound was shallow enough to wain off concern, but she felt her arm shiver, paling in the thought of more dire consequences.

'I'm fine,' she doubled her resolved, slinging the bow back over her shoulder before retrieving her prized battle axe.

Their time for respite was far too brief as an Assassin onlooking the contest engaged Hiccup with a flail. Snotlout was indisposed off to their left using the ruin of a net launcher to his temporary advantage, but his tricks were weakening still. He reefed hard on the severed bowstring of the launcher and hauled down a section of the smouldering wood. Embers billowed from impact earning him but a few short seconds to recover. In his hubris, he was no less cut off from his support as Heather and Hiccup were quickly inundated with an Assassin each, leaving the remaining three to his quarter. But the imbalance of power was quickly overturned as dragon fire slathered the deck, drawing lines through the elite warriors. They shared the same mortal weakness no less, and scattered they posed a manageable threat.

Snotlout took his mark on the nearest Assassin, leaping over the sticky trails of Hookfang's blast. He opened with a lunging strike mid-air that the Assassin dodged with ease. Snotlout followed through with several arching swings all of which this limber and agile warrior weaved around with ease. The evident woman then retreated entirely almost as if boding her foe.

But Snotlout was unwise to this ploy, taunting her. 'Oh no you're not,' he said, before a spearhead caught his peripherals.

'Watch out!' A flash of red and gold intercepted it, pushing the flanking Assassin off his path, before the evident warrior slammed her axe face against his stunned expression.

'Watch your flanks,' Astrid tapped him on the shoulder with her axe handle before twirling it to the forward grip. 'She was baiting you,' she followed, then raising it towards the Assassin with an eye of challenge.

The three opposing warriors in their superior mail shared a collective glance before advancing at once. If they had known the folly of those imposing steps, they might have sought cover but when Astrid pursed her fingers between her lips and whistled, their fate was sealed. With one hand, Astrid directed a forward thrust, as if signalling archers at her command and in one fell swoop, the flanking Assassins were struck down. The woman was sharp, evading with a horizontal flip as the barrage of Nadder quills merely skimmed her armour. Stormfly however, held her downward line with her claws bared to capture her prey but the Assassin was still worthy, once again avoiding a terrible fate. Still, Astrid's assault was layered with continuous waves as she bore her great-axe with dangerous precision. She landed the butt firmly against the Assassin jaw, stunning her for a thrust to her left shoulder that chipped the scaley pauldron. The Assassin barked in pain as Astrid followed through with a horizontal swing that drew sparks from her foe, her footwork matching to balance her stance for the final strike. The Assassin, weary and beaten bore the full brunt of the axe butt in an uppercut that brought the stars, once hidden by smoke, before her eyes.

'Gotcha,' Astrid remarked, and there Stormfly finished her run by collecting her prize, releasing the Assassin far above the fray.

Astrid then marked the entrance to the hold, pointing towards her Ballista bolt. 'Snotlout, you're up. Get in there and stall them as long as you can.'

'What about? –,' he pointed to Hiccup and Heather, vicariously fending their wares.

'It's all to plan, now go!' She urged him on, before setting her sights on the remaining Assassins.

Snotlout bared his teeth in fortitude. 'Right. Right, one Dragon Hunter stew coming right up,' he cheered.

Seven had become two and where the other three lay was left only to suspicion. Even with only brief glimpses of the action, Viggo felt dismayed by their quality as professed by Krogan. Against the Dragon Riders alone, indeed they would have prevailed in time, with each Dragon Rider falling under the weight of their numbers. Yet, against the dragons themselves, man was by nature a frail creature with a singular focus and thus it became their primary weakness. If nothing else, it bought Ryker, and the last of the Assassins time.

Krogan wore the subtleties of defeat in his brow as his personal guard were cut down one by one; though, such tidings further remarked upon the failings of Viggo's army. 'The hour draws near Viggo, go.'

'And yourself?' Viggo challenged him.

'I rest my contract; let the Sunspears do their work. Allow them to settle, then sting them again for transport. If it is indeed your will to salvage this rabble to face Berk, you will need them,' Krogan set his path towards the stern.

'You walk defeated after all Krogan. And the hell you return to, dare I say you will wish your feet stayed,' Viggo called after him.

'I've met my terms, and set them against yours with a patience I'm unaccustomed to hold. Do not see me as a piece at your disposal. My loyalties lie with him,' Krogan let his cold gaze shield his fears.

'Loyalty by fear,' Viggo hardened his features in turn. 'It's treason then,' he said, at last reserving his fortitudes to see this siege through and taking the long and winding path to the Western shore.

Hiccup, despite being locked in a grapple with the flail wielding Assassin, caught a glimpse of Viggo departing the Portside balustrades. 'Viggo's going for shore,' he grimaced.

Heather stole a glance as she rolled over the back of her mace baring foe, but in her line of sight she saw on Krogan's crimson vest disappear behind a veil of smoke. The urge to depart almost overtook her senses, but their skirmish here was a victory looming, especially as Astrid approached with her axe in hand. Her strike was clean and efficient, cracking the jaw piece of the Assassin's helmet, and bloodied teeth were spat from his mouth.

As for Hiccup, his blade was fading as the gel was finally expended, leaving only the amber glow of the rods themselves to his disposal. He continued to glance the spiked ball off his shield and use to opening to drive his attack. So far, his strikes were evaded lest for two lasting jabs to the Assassin's ribs with his elbow. Yet the cunning of Krogan's warrior surpassed his own as he curled his flail around the jagged intervals of the Dragon Blade. Hiccup felt the resistance against his grip and his options diminished without the room to manoeuvre. However, as Astrid delivered her splitting blow, the Assassin realised her predicament as the lone survivor. Her guard was open for that brief moment and Hiccup relinquished his blade; instead, he pounded the chain under the brim of his shield, ripping the flail from her hand and followed through with its face, knocking the Assassin clean off her feet.

With the last of Krogan's guard defeated, the trio locked arms in defence of any stragglers on the deck. Their fears were elated, and only the crackling of fire filled their senses with naught else but decay. Toothless, Hookfang, Whindshear and Stormfly soon circled down to join them, content in their efforts to hold the lines of Hunters now retreating to shore. Astrid rest her axe against the deck and sighed in relief while Heather carefully took to binding her wound with a torn segment of her captain's sash.

Hiccup raised his face shield to feel the heat of the fires directly. 'Where's Snotlout?'

Astrid gently braced his elbow. 'He's gone below. With any luck, he'll find away to trap those dragons.'

'Or at least delay them. We should regroup with the others, mount our defences against the last of the ground forces,' Hiccup relayed, replacing the empty canister for his sword. 'We'll need the advantage of the high ground against those archers.'

'What about the command chain?' Astrid asked. 'I haven't seen Ryker since your escape.'

That prospect brought a shadow to Hiccup's thoughts; the man was not elusive by any means, but his seeming disappearance was a daunting factor. 'The Sunspears!' Daunting collapsed into dread.

'Snotlout,' Astrid affirmed their fears. 'Come on Stormfly.'

They pushed towards the nearest hatch when Heather settled a new design. 'Whindshear, go with them.'

'Heather?' Astrid paused, idling Hiccup in turn.

'You guys take out the Hunters, I'll make sure you aren't followed,' she said with a determination in her eyes.

Her will was bent against her plea however, but the three of them knew that, and silently acknowledged it without contention. Astrid nodded once, feeling the weight her friend carried, the torment of a wild reaches and harsher tides. Therein yearned a chance at peace, to make good on the ills cast against her.

'Go,' Hiccup said, and watched as she turned to face her torments alone.

Those first steps of departure felt as if she was once again departing from Dragons Edge into the heart of Thunderclaw bay. Into the realm of shadow and deceit where not but the cold, heartless malice of her enemies await. It was as if the earth rumbled with her violent will, shaking the very foundations beneath her feet. If it were so, then she felt it with such liveness that caused her balance to fold; the ship groaned and it was a stark warning to her surroundings. She turned to meet Hiccup and Astrid who wore the same features amidst the very real thunder that bellowed below.

'GO!' Hiccup yelled, as his eyes turned downwards.

And then came the cry, guttural and terrible like the howling winds of a thunderstorm. 'Oh no,' he gasped.

The deck beneath his feet began to smoulder with a violent intensity as flame quickly ignited the wood. Hiccup and Astrid scurried backwards, but the amber glow only grew until a deafening boom erupted from beneath, knocking the riders off their feet. Hiccup was on his back and against the blazing heat before him, not even his armour could shield its rage. A great, singular stream of fire cut through the wood, splitting the bow right through the centre. They could feel the ship sag as its integrity ultimately failed and at last, to the likeness of the Dragon Eye's projections, Hiccup gazed upon the only dragon worthy of Surtur's wrath, the Sunspear. The dragon pulled himself through the hole he created, unfazed by the storm of decay around him as the wood seemingly melted against his glowing hide. And behind him, the brothers and sisters of his brood, each of a lesser stature in size yet baring an equal might. He had to be their alpha no less, and released upon these foreign lands, he reared upon those strong hind legs and blared his devastating cry for all to cower from.

The Riders' dragons all cowered and pawed at their surroundings under the weight of the howl. It might be that they wished to flee, torn by their loyalty against their natural instincts. Hookfang barked defiantly with razor sharp eyes as Stormfly's tail flared, baring her quills in full force. Windshear paced around with her tail whipping dangerously in defence and Toothless was low, his eyes thinning to hostility as his shadow quickly cast over Hiccup.

'Wait, wait. It's ok bud, we're good, we're ok. We'll be ok,' Hiccup eased himself to his feet, resting his hand firmly against his dragon's neck.

'Hiccup?' Astrid looked on from the adjacent half of the bow.

The flayed wood continued to crumble, widening the gap between them, but Hiccup held his resolve. 'Save Snotlout. We have this.'

And for once, she was marked by hesitation; their very fears were awakened, and he stood firm to laurels. 'But –,'

'Astrid. Please trust me. This might be our only chance,' he said, and yet his eyes still searched hers as if asking permission.

She cast one last look at the widening gap before their fates were sealed. 'Make for the dome. If all else fails, go for higher ground,' she said, and then reclaimed her axe and departed for the bowels of the ship.

'If all else fails. We can always retreat,' Hiccup lamented with bitter irony. 'No honour in death? Time to find out.'

Stern of the Dreadnaught…

What were his pains but the ridicule of his return; even that inevitability shone kinder than to face death at the hands of a ravenous beast. Krogan held no doubt, no concern anymore to the siege behind him, given that his terms were met. Viggo was free to plunder as he chose, be that to his demise as Krogan thought likely; or perhaps, by some miraculous fate, he could continue his campaign to Berk. If the state of his fleet bore any remarks, unkind and damning were the words befitting that future. Nevertheless, he would long live to hear its echo in days to come; and as his eye gazed upon the shadowed horizon, he saw his ferry with a singular and faint amber glow. By the sun's rise, it too would be gone and all would be ash and death in its wake.

'What would old Visago think of you now Grimborn. Proud? Vein has your attempt been, to prove yourself against the dragon riders,' Krogan pronounced quietly in his solitude.

'Prove yourself against the dragon Riders?' A feminine voice cut through the air above him. 'Familiar words Krogan.'

Krogan offered no projection of his intent as he flicked a hunting knife into the shadows. The impact was metallic and met with a gasp of surprise, but not without repercussion as a searing pain grazed his lower rib. He clutched the tear of both leather and skin, where the arrow meant for heart had flown. Yet his master of hand had unveiled the assailant, and he reeled in his sudden fury at last facing his own shadow – raven hair, green eyes and the perfect deception behind those Hellion wares.

'Foolish girl. You're in over your head,' he growled, as Heather slid down behind the cover of fallen crates.

'Probably. But I'll admit that was an enticing offer. Then again, what kind of a leader runs in the midst of battle; is that something you learnt from your master?' Heather remarked, assessing her options about the stern

'Do you think this wise?' Krogan bared his teeth, considering in turn his interception.

She had to waylay him, as obvious as that thought remained. 'Conventional wisdom is rare for my part, and you have answers I want.'

'I have nothing to share,' Krogan returned bluntly, before he climbed over the upper-tier balusters.

She could see his approach through the cracks of the crates and precariously slid herself over the balusters undetected. With one eye on the focus of her intent and the other upon the outer lip of the upper-tier deck, she scaled the edge, pulling herself around the iron bracket holding the corner in place.

Once her footing was solid against one of a series of small ballistae outfitted with iron claws, she let loose her reply. 'Were that true, and once I would've believed it - You hadn't much to say the first time we met.'

Krogan felt the air around him cool with a sudden cruelty. 'I could say the same?' he said, turning his wares behind him. 'Should I expect company? Stalling will not buy your friends time.'

He approached the corner where barrels, crates and lines of rope lay intertwined. Yet he held his suspicions that once again, his foil was on the move, tracking his feckless hunt from afar. It would be his folly in casting a secondary glance behind him as the rope grew taught between his legs. He was without time to react and Heather was determined to lay her devices against him, where at last his arms were bound against the pain of a stained gauntlet to muddy his senses. As for his fate, Krogan merely felt the balusters roll underneath him as gravity took its hold, and still Heather's design reaped violent consequences as the rope unwound. He was jerked about until at last, he collided against the deck with blood to splatter between his teeth. Krogan clawed with pained limbs, where his hand closed around his war-hammer, feeling the leather grip become sticky with the blood of his abdominal wound.

Against the deck, he could feel the tremors of an unseen chaos below. What time lay against him now may yet be absolved, and still he feared deaths hand; but his body was whole, and that enough to endure the coming pain. Patience was a seldom virtue amongst many who plundered, but to the likes of his opponent, it'd be folly to dismiss her own arts. Therefore, as his neck was pulled back by the coarse and damp fibres of rope, where his body felt the burn of his injuries as it was hauled against the balusters, he knew these next few minutes would illicit serious pain. Until the moment arrived, until he needed to push back against the wooden rails previously scarred by Night Fury flame, he was a captive of this vengeful warrior. Yet, Krogan found himself surprised, at least by the solemn in Heathers eyes. She bore her axe idly in hand without any inclination to use it; and in her other hand, his own war-hammer was stained by her grip. She studied it silently, taking in the details marked by age and experience, until her eyes cast a piercing glance from underneath her the hood.

'I've come alone, as I have for such a time that I consider it my state in life,' she said, at last answering his now question. 'I suspect you know something of that too, given that the first time we met, you were silent and cloaked by hood and mask, just as I am now,' she collapsed her axe and sheathed it away, allowing her to grip the hammer with both hands.

For a second Krogan thought she might wield it against him, in a coarse act of irony but his fate was to be less poetic. Heather herself saw no fruit to such an act beyond violence akin to cold-hearted slaughter; the fight was over, and she sought answers. As such, she hurled that cruel weapon beholding a purpose of no more than malice to the ruins below. Krogan heard it clatter against the wood and felt his fortunes more favourable, despite the choice of disarmament clearly a precursor to diplomacy. There was something else in her eyes that weighed heavily on her mind, a reluctance, or was it a weariness not beholding to the siege, but older and more terrible.

For Heather, she saw the eyes of one searching for something, and to no recognition but the frustration that quickly followed. 'Only, you have no idea who I am do you?' She said, more as a realisation than anything else, opting then to lower herself to his level and pull back her hood. 'Well, Viggo knows of me; and I have every right to be afraid of him, but you… are a mystery. What would he think of you now?' Heather drew off into a whisper, her eyes seemingly scrutinising his scarred being.

Krogan settled himself firmly against the post, despite the rope that held his neck against it and spoke. 'He has it right you know, this hopeless siege; the dragons would devour us on their own given time, it's their nature.'

Heather held his gaze and still, behind the black paint deceiving her intentions, she surprised him. 'You're too smart to belie yourself with ignorant rhetoric; you know how to train them. But with pain and fear – no. The word I'm looking for is control. You can control them, and it was that promise which bought your service in Viggo's eyes. A service you knew in advance would reap havoc because in all, you understand he is by all depths of depravity an idealist.'

Then Krogan turned a smile. 'And look where that's got him.'

Though he felt the lawless designs of his intent might weaken her resolve, Heather remained unfazed, if not returning a grin seemingly more sinister. 'I wouldn't revel under these circumstances; you are after all, tied to a post.'

'A realist then?' Krogan returned his focus to analysing her.

'A survivor,' she stated. 'And for the first time, able to take part in a greater cause.'

'Were it your choice? Whatever allegiances you hold, there is a price upon us all…' Krogan was cut short.

'Viggo never told you about the first time I infiltrated the Hunters, did he?' Heather was calm, burning true her will to dominate over any fears of this coward of a man. 'He cast me out as a traitor, and ordered my brother to kill me,' she turned a vicious grin. 'As it happens, Dagur and I drank mead together but a few weeks ago. Funny how these things turn out.'

These details held little effect upon the Assassin. 'A Berserker then? A survivor, outcast? These things are irrelevant; what quarry am I to you?'

'In the same vein that I am to you. We each have our secrets and our vices, each beholding to a side, but not wholly part of it,' Heather explained.

'Perhaps I've tempered your ego with false fortune; we are in no ways equals,' he chuckled mirthlessly.

'Were that not already obvious, seeing as you're prepared to flee,' she flickered her eyebrow to the faint light on the horizon.

Krogan stretched his neck against the discomfort of the rope. 'If only to preserve my services to another more worthy. What appears as cowardice is wisdom beyond your meagre grasp of things.'

'And by another, you mean Drago?' Heather grasped upon the mystery of this hidden entity.

'Careful girl. If tonight should serve an example, then see onto Drago Bludvist a might tenfold. This happens only because he allows it,' Krogan seethed between his teeth.

'Because his faith in you is secure?' She eyed him carefully, unmoved by his warning. 'Johann seemed unconvinced.'

'As would any merchant risking capital gain. He cares only for his riches; your dragon riding friends should know that by now,' Krogan strained against the ropes as his patience was at last faltering. 'He's tried to destroy them for years, but his subtleties withered under the pain of emboldening them. And this is a pattern that will spread the further they reach. If tonight should teach you anything, it's that there are greater forces than Viggo Grimborn. And the more noise you make, the more likely you are to draw their attention. Truly vile are these tyrants under punishment of nothing short of extinction. If you test their will, they will crush you with an ease unrealised.'

'You sound scared Krogan?' Heather mocked, though she treated his fever with honest intent.

'Not scared enough!' He cried, at last breaking his façade. 'Not as you should be. If answers are indeed your desire than heed mine. You cannot outrun the coming storm.'

'If this Drago Bludvist is anything like you –,' she was cut short.

'He is nothing like me. Drago is one man, where I speak of an army,' his face grew cold with a grievance unlike any see had seen. 'In time, you will see. The boy and his Night Fury could cast themselves off the edge of the world, but even there they would not be safe.'

Heather raised herself, content upon the details of this apparent threat, but Krogan was not quite finished. 'Ask Stoick the Vast. He'll not have forgotten so easily.'

And for a moment, Krogan saw the flickering of doubt in her eyes. 'I'll be sure to let him know,' she said calmly, nonetheless.

'You won't live to see it,' Krogan whispered as he felt the swirl of thunder below.

Then at last, the entire ship rocked with terrible force, throwing Heather to the deck. There, Krogan took his chance and pushed back against the weakened post, ripping the charred wood apart and thus gravity alone could grant him mercy. The stern buckled and Heather, unawares of Krogan's escape, drew her axe and planted into the rising deck. Only then did she see her folly, but it remained inconsequential to her earlier intent; she meant not to kill him. The trouble in knowing too much is that it made one a target; and now that her captive was loose, her life baring the fruits of critical dissent against Drago Bludvist, she was his prey.

Depths of the Hold…

When Astrid dropped down into the bowels of the ship, the first thing she felt was the intensity of heat that bloomed. The Sunspear's wake radiated with feverous power; and against the pooling water into the broken hull, smoke and steam saturated the air in a dense fog. Still she delved deeper into the heart of torment and raging flame, using her axe to break through a layer of weakened boards. Where she looked to the stern, the supports were grinding against each other, slowly fraying against the terrible strain that inhibited them. This place was a death-trap in the making, a desperate plea for annihilation on the backs of scorned and maddened men. And Astrid could feel its wrath collapsing around her as she at last reached the upper mantle of the hold.

A loose knife cascaded past her face and embedded itself in a fried pillar to her right. 'Other way Astrid!' Snotlout's voice cried upon seeing her golden locks.

He was vaulting over fallen crates and netting that was shrivelled and burning while two of the few remaining Assassins pursued him. Astrid didn't spare the time for thought and pulled the knife free from the pillar, that it would serve her aim true as the blade pierced the silver mail of the leading Assassin. Snotlout had thrown himself aside; and in seeing the aid come to fruition, he capitalised on the confusion and slammed his hammer at the feet of the second Assassin. The mantle shattered with embers and dust, opening a greater hole than anticipated, where the Assassin then met her demise. Snotlout latched onto the nearest netting as his footing was lost to the maw. In turn, Astrid swept in to heave him onto firmer ground, painting her hands with a thin layer of soot.

'I broke the door mechanics… thought it would trap them,' he coughed.

'Let's just get out of here,' Astrid guided him forth to take position on his flank.

Where the chaos above seemed to soften if not for a moment, their climb to freedom was swiftly waylaid. Snotlout had reached the upper level with his hand outstretched for Astrid when a terrible force crashed through, claiming her from his reach. There, the world was tipped on its side as Astrid felt the wood halt her descent. Her axe was lost from her hand, the edge of the abyss rest just beyond her head and the filthy breath of Ryker Grimborn stained her senses where blood and burns marred his grizzled features. Yet where the flames of wraths consumed the ship, that was her immediate concern; a brute like Ryker was an ailment easily overcome but borne of frustration, and Astrid grew impatient of such designs. She kneed his ribs and jabbed at his throat, earning the precious seconds to escape; and the fastest route was lower still as she rolled back over her shoulder and swung down from the edge of the broken boards.

Snotlout was caught in a trance where salvation was quite literally ripped from his fingertips. His throat was dry and everything felt dense, with more than the heat and smoke to abate him. His vision became short and lost to the ruin about him, that the sheer weight of their mission was at last crumbling down. Was he to continue to such violent ends where naught but rage and agony would ignite his heart? Too little was there to salvage and once again, he stood alone with no friends and no dragons to avail his will; his nerve was lost.

'Does he cry I wonder, at last faced with his own mortality?' A hallowed voice slipped through the crackling of flame.

Snotlout knew it to be Murdo, cast in his armour of brilliant golds, ambers, and burnt umber chain mail. His wrath dealt in precise and fatal blows, learning quickly the vices of his foes. As he had proven with a stoicism that rivalled his master, the consequences of crossing this Assassin's path was one of thought and critical execution.

'Your efforts, valiant in their means are inconsequential; this, surely you knew?' Murdo's curse whistled upon the air. 'Give up Dragon Rider; give up your hopes and your ideals for they whither with your failing nerve.'

Snotlout had backed himself against a support bracket, desperately searching for the Assassin with both hands clutched upon his hammer. Any sound on his part would seal a bloody fate and where chaos reined above and below, he stood upon the precipice of doom. That's when he saw the shimmer of Murdo's armour to his right as he prowled the chasm created by the Sunspear. But beyond him, Astrid had since resurfaced on the Portside half, with the intent on taking Ryker's flank from the high ground. There was strength in that sight, enough for Snotlout to at least to face his demons.

However, Murdo's eye was equally alert. 'Ryker!' He unveiled the ruse as Astrid leap across the gap, coursing down to his level with her axe poised for defence.

It was the best opening he would get, and there Snotlout broke from his cover and drew his hammer for a punishing strike. Murdo heard his heavy footsteps of course and reeled for a fluent parry with his shortsword. His follow through was clean and dealt a nasty slice to Snotlout's breast. He stumbled in turn, barely keeping a grasp on his hammer as he clenched his chest. The pain was shallow but disciplined to a craft designed to inflict terror more than fatal ends. Any pretence for stealth was now forfeited, and against a superior foe, Snotlout was no fool to his greater arsenal. He recollected his weakened stance and gave Murdo a challenging glare.

'Have it your way,' he wheezed, and with blood stained fingers, he whistled for their dragons.

'Fool!' Murdo retaliated with a heavy volley of strikes. 'You'll not hold your own in time.'

Ruin of the Bow…

Unlike the carnage, below Hiccup took those first steps with care, so as not to slip or startle the feverous host seemingly blended into the inferno. But his passing was not unnoticed and there, two brilliant eyes of radiating gold fixed upon his slender frame, battered and filthy. The Sunspear Alpha lowered himself level with the strange human as he took delicate steps, neither of aggression nor cowardice. The ship creaked under his shifting weight and still Hiccup pushed closer, laying down his silver shield.

'Moment of truth,' he whispered to himself, armed not with the weapon of a Viking but the tool of a Dragon Rider.

He ignited the freshly coated blade and raised it for the Sunspear to inspect with a burgeoning awe. Indeed, the dragon took to its blaze with the same curiosity as any before it, his flaring gills fluctuating gently. Hiccup drew it in circles, leaving thin trails the in air as he crept away from the dragon's imposing guard. Toothless followed behind his rider, keeping low and in the shadows, but where the strains of the siege were before them there left little time to act. The Dreadnaught rocked once again as several support brackets collapsed, tearing a jagged line from the Starboard hull through the centre of the ship. The Sunspear sank under the shifting weight, where his winged forearms dug into the deck and as more debris shifted and clattered around him, Hiccup could see the dragon grow erratic.

'Easy, come on big guy,' Hiccup breathed, where his heart thrummed in his ears.

He slowly reached out his hand, and prepared to make the bond that might see the conclusion to this bloody feud. Yet these tides were course and unforgiving, and the last bastions holding the ship together gave away. Hiccup was thrown down as the Dreadnaught cracked apart; the Sunspear's roar echoed across the bay as he sank back into the depths from whence he came. Then he felt it, the shift of gravity as everything began to slide towards the outer balusters.

'Toothless!' Hiccup grunted, as he collided with a fallen crate.

Still the ship arched higher and amongst the debris, Hiccup saw how the stern lurched backwards, exposing the inner hull for view. That was until the deck beneath him caved in, dragging him down into the depths of the ruin itself. He was rutted up against the outer wall surround by flame and the thrashing tail of the Alpha Sunspear as it clawed for stable ground. The Dragon slammed against the Starboard half, exposing a section of the hold where Hiccup caught the shimmering of Astrid's axe sweeping against the jagged blades of Ryker. He also spied Snotlout using the fray for cover as Murdo curled his strikes against him. The Sunspear was alight and by the raging glow of his underbelly, he intended to discharge a storm. Yet, Toothless was alive in spirit and sprang down from above, drawing the great dragon's fire away. The terrible beam arced out its fury, slicing through interior of the ship until once again the walls were cast away with explosive fashion. Hiccup drew his shield against the blast out of instinct, despite its sheer force knocking him out the side and onto the sloping deck of the flayed frigate.

'Hiccup!' Astrid cried, spying the glint of his silver shield.

It paid only to Ryker's advantage especially when the main deck erupted with terrible fury, as shards of molten steel and burning wood collapsed around them all. Astrid was thrown from her feet with little to catch as the inner levels flexed and slopped towards the writhing abyss. She heard Snotlout whistle in their midst as Murdo made his remark, but the brackets quickly failed and they were dropped their level, wedging their bout apart. More flame spewed from the Sunspear's gullet and they could hear the mixed cries of Toothless as he scraped away at his foe. Snotlout dived in and hauled Astrid to her feet as the rampaging dragons rose once again with devastation in their ire. Ryker and Murdo pushed through the debris in pursuit where at last, Toothless earned his freedom from the Sunspear's clutches and blasted the Portside hull. The explosion rocked the foundations again and with the Sunspear's manic desire, another section of the ship split the bow in three.

Yet it served a sense of salvation as the Rider's dragons used them as access ports. Ryker was caught out by Stormfly's claw as it grappled with his vambraces; they cracked under the strain and loosened on his arm allowing him to slip free. Murdo pushed on with his eye on Snotlout but another wall of sticky flames licked at his armour, wearing down his momentum. Each of their own volition, Astrid and Snotlout seized the opportunity to strike back, that they might escape this nightmare unsullied by brutish hands. Murdo was caught out by Hookfang as the blistering fire was absorbed by his armour, his own senses worn and consumed by the heat. Astrid struck his sword arm relieving him of his weapon while Snotlout knocked out his knee, leaving him to cry out in pain.

'Ryker!' he screamed, but it was folly as Windshear appeared at last, and blasted the last the of the Assassins into the maw of the Monstrous Nightmare.

Murdo could do nothing against the terrible teeth that pierced him and there his fate was sealed. Hookfang drew back, pulling the Assassin through the hull and he was flung far out into the ruin of bay where at last, like his brothers and sisters, doom availed him. It might have been that rest was theirs to claim, but Astrid's eye was drawn away without hesitation.

'Go,' she directed Snotlout to his dragon. 'Rendezvous at the dome. I'm not finished yet.'

Far be it from him to remain in the bowls of a sinking death-trap, and yet the guilt that stained his departure was only quelled by a recognition of vengeance. This was her fight as she so deemed it, in that the tides of its origins stretched long. He knew the pull; and now seemingly at the end of the world, he understood perhaps more than he'd allow himself credit for – this was, so to speak, more than man to man. Still, he'd be a fool to think his tidings were safe beyond the Dreadnaught, and the ravenous call of dragon they'd only just heard of within the hour pulled him from his muse.

'Hookfang, lookout!' Snotlout leant back in his saddle to draw their weight away from the hull.

Hoofang swept low to the sea of ruined ships, as two minor Sunspears adhered to the call of their master. One of them peeled off to deal his wrath upon Hookfang, and the two of them gripped and battled above the bay. There was no calming, no reasoning with these beasts of unbridled rage and there a moral mind was doomed for mortal winds. Snotlout drew his hammer against the Sunspear, at last separating them. If he was certain they were free, indeed the malice of these dragon would test his mind anew as it spit fire, claiming Hookfang's hide. He roared against the searing pain that even his scales were unmatched for and their path was drawn into a steep glide. They would make it to the upper plateau, but beyond that was impossible to say.

Such uncertainties were not in Astrid's mind as she stared down her foe with the might of two dragons at her side. 'Ryker!'

'Enough of this,' he growled, at last fending off Stormfly's assault. 'I've beat you down before, tonight will be no different.'

Astrid marked their surroundings for the various weak points; she had no intention of drawing this out, for in truth his strength surpassed her own. He was relieved of one of his jagged blades, his arms were burnt and weakened by use and his face bore grime that surely hindered his vision.

'Heads up,' she whispered and set upon a straining pillar with her axe.

More of the deck above collapsed upon him, knocking him to his knees. 'Stormfly, Windshear!' She directed them to fire upon the Hunter.

Their flame pounded against the debris where Ryker flailed in retreat. He drew up fallen shields and slung hammers and wood with his free hand to little effect. Yet fate would shine upon his vile ways and both dragons were suddenly incapacitated. Astrid was caught off guard as her best defence was lost to a mysterious force. But those cries, a cry of recent memory echoed within the hold and she knew that her time was spent.

'Hofferson!' Ryker announced his return, emerging from the debris. 'I will not suffer the wrath of beasts, nor man alike. This war began with us, and it will end just the same.'

'So be it,' Astrid remarked quietly as indeed, an inkling of fear set its will against her.

She readied her footing on solid ground to apprehend his assault; like she had trained with Hiccup in the meadows yesterday, a defensive stature was her best bet. Ryker drew his blade upon her with such force that nearly toppled her entirely, and now armed with a weathered shield, he was equipped to balance her parries. Nonetheless, Astrid accounted for his strikes using both the blade of her axe and its neck. Ryker planted a vertical strike cracking the boards beneath them, yet Astrid spun round on her knees and jabbed his ribs with the butt of her axe before slicing at the opening. Ryker cried out from the pain, falling back on his shield defence with otherwise proved its worth in countering her continuous flourishes. Yet in a manoeuvre that outplayed her wits, Ryker dropped his sword and latched onto a hanging chain. She barely countered the flailing links, as their clipped her pauldrons, drawing her down into defensive roll. Her momentum was ultimately lost, and Ryker capitalised on the opening once again with his blade.

He used his height as his advantage, forcing Astrid to defence over her head with little more than the scarred and chipped blade of her axe. Once again, Ryker played her as the lesser warrior and countered doubly with his shield, breaking Astrid's pattern of defence. She had reversed her grip to spear his left breast, but Ryker narrowly evaded it as it passed above his shoulder and followed through with his blade. He chipped a section of the butt off her axe handle then countered her low angled return with his shield. Astrid twirled in a clockwise motion against his downward follow-through that he circled in underneath his left shoulder. Then, as she aimed to impale his ribs with the toe of her blade, Ryker continued the momentum with his blade arm and ducked underneath Astrid's strike. His shield arm was the first to appear as he parried off to the left opening Astrid's stance for his blade to sweep up through the belly of her axe. It split in her hands, overbalancing her stance for Ryker to continue his spin and once again, deliver the full brunt of his weight as he swung through with his shield. She felt a darkening force impound her senses where the pain centred on her left cheek.

Her footing was overturned as she collapsed against the smouldering boards. They flexed heavily against even her weight, where embers plumed from within the fibres. The sheer density of the air was enough to sever her will and yet Astrid felt each burning muscle and throbbing tendon as clear as she did the burnt and bloodied hand of Ryker, closing around her throat.

'I should've done this in the beginning,' Ryker growled with his face blackened by filth.

Astrid had no words to spare, no thoughts beyond the impending doom lest she felt the flayed ends of her broken weapon. His blackened eyes were locked onto the glistening of her azure blue with the intent to see them fade; yet, for his prowess in battle, he remained blind to their failing environment. The main deck continued to splinter away as the dragons battled on with the Sunspears and still, the boards beneath them sagged and strained under their combined weight. It was a desperate plea in her mind, that they might be lifted by some greater force, that the dragons would descend victorious and rescue her, but the fortunes that would avail her lay not in the hands of gods or creatures. She finally felt the handle of her weapon and brandished it, no matter the fashion against her enemy. She slammed the face of the axe head against Ryker's head, throwing his senses before, in a frantic effort, she drew down the blade and crippled the boards for good.

Astrid felt their weight surge as Ryker fell forward; and there she levied her foot against him and overturned them so that Ryker would meet their fate in full. The sudden cries of Ryker were ceased just as quickly and where his body served to aid her descent to safety, she bought it with a lesser price. Her right side burned with terrible pain and she could feel the tear of both her tunic and her skin as blood mixed with the waters of the bay. Yet she had by any means escaped an eclipsing fate, one that Ryker burdened as he lay, impaled by the stalagmites designed to rip their ships apart. His blood seeped down the glistening stone where only the waters gently pushed his flayed limbs, and that was enough to set Astrid's mind away. It was her victory no less, but she was spent in both body and spirit.

'Stormfly?' she croaked, still burdened by the effects of Ryker's grip.

Still, she waded through the rocks to the lasting skeleton of the Dreadnaught's hull and despite the protesting of her limbs, she began to climb.

The Flayed Fleet…

Against the formless abyss, darkened by ash and the embers of death, Hiccup heard not the screams of the vengeful, the cries of the sullied or the thunder of splintered vessels. Only a high-pitched ringing enveloped his senses as he stumbled around, collecting the effects of his person. Against the fresh breeze of night, the residual heat that blaze at his back was a shock at first but not without a sense of awe to host his loss. A loss towards the stoker of rage and fire as his one chance to avail their fortunes were stripped like the waning hold of the Dreadnaught. He saw several Minor Sunspears scuttling across the hull in defence of their master and at the mercy of their own, as Stormfly, Hookfang and Windshear sprayed their own fire against them. But a deeper rumble cut through his audible daze, and the cry of one all too familiar was enough cause for Hiccup seek cover.

A brilliant blast of white light wrought both his salvation and the trails of terror as Toothless burst from the inner hold. He was of course, closely followed by the demon of Surtur with flaming debris to rain across the graveyard of frigates. Toothless angled his short leap towards Hiccup as he entered a sprint, but the Sunspear drew a line between them, forcing Hiccup to divert his path onto more treacherous terrain. He dropped down from the balusters of one ship to the sunken deck of another, and the freezing water was an awful contrast to the inferno he'd just departed. Toothless skidded around to hold his line with another series of blasts to waylay the Sunspear, but his malice was not so easily calmed. He leaped over the blasts and pounded down with his left winged claw. Toothless narrowly evaded the strike, using the limited ability of his wings to escape over the deck.

'Toothless!' Hiccup called mid-run, attempting to close the distance by scaling up the side of another ship.

In light of the brutality befallen upon these vessels, he'd misjudged the efforts of his former foes as they too were vicarious in their escape. A particularly rugged Stonepicker caught his eye as he rolled onto the deck. 'I see you tiny man.'

His comrades, beaten and burnt followed his call and amassed on the opportunity. Hiccup eyed off the opposing forces and felt his chances diminish by the second; and still, his rear was burdened by an absolutism of death. This was not unnoticed, as even the Stonepicker hesitated against the creature that prowled towards them. Hiccup lowered his face-shield, settling their fates with an agenda that lay forward rather than the doom behind him. The Stonepicker advanced, drawing a flayed plank of wood as his weapon, his eyes fixated upon the dark suit of the Dragon Rider. Yet Hiccup played to his strengths, despite the burdens of the night and reversed the grip of his blade to expel Zippleback gas upon his foes. The Stonepicker was drenched without mercy and in the cover of the ensuing flames, Hiccup resumed his offensive intentions. They were, all of them, weary and desperate to flee the calamity incarnate, and where Toothless was relentless to hold its wrath at bay, he too was outmatched without the skies to his advantage.

Hiccup caught glimpses of his midnight scales glistening against the firelight, as he weaved between the remain hunters still on the ships. He had no intent on reaching the shore in such a state, as indeed the greater force drove a singular path towards the base. Yet they countered his passage, clinging to a desperate hope that they might be saved from this horror, and that his life would buy it. It was folly, as Hiccup wielded his Dragon Blade with the weight of Astrid's training, that in times of peace as they so nurtured at home, he now understood its true value. On his right arm, he parried the blows of his enemies with the shield he crafted in light of such peace; that he still carried it reminiscent of his moral philosophy.

A Hellion strung two arrows with the means to sunder Hiccup's spirit; and despite the lone capacity he wielded, he might've for just a moment, forgotten the rider was not so distinct from his dragon. Toothless cleared a path to rally his own strength against the Sunspear, the amber clad onslaught unwavering in their bout for supremacy. Yet, if a fool was to be made, indeed the Sunspear in his hunger overexposed himself to Toothless' pinpoint accuracy. The Night Fury's claws, dug into the deck and he raised his aim to intercept the Sunspears' leap. As the dragon cleared the balusters from below, Toothless released his retribution upon him and smote his dreadful hide into the black waters below.

Hiccup felt the blast and it spurred a sense of safety that loomed with the broken blades of the Hunters closing in on him. He charted a new path towards his faithful companion and drew what little company would dare follow. A Hellion, relieved of her bow sideswiped him from a landing above, yet both were fast to recover their defences. Hiccup counter her gauntlet aided strikes with his shield as another Hunter struck with a mace on his flank. He narrowly escaped the attack by linking his sword arm around the Hellion's to limit her movement as a third Hunter entered the party. Once again, his shield would serve formidable of its own accord in stunning the Hellion, countering the return of the second Hunter before his grip on the Hellion slipped. The third Hunter capitalised on the confusion by driving Hiccup back as he defended with both armaments. They crashed up against the central mast of their fallen frigate forcing Hiccup to abandon his blade. The second Hunter was pressing his advance once more; yet with his left hand free, he gambled his next move in ripping the helmet off the third hunter and striking his head with it. The horned ridge struck him in the cheek causing him to relinquish his hold and there, Hiccup pelted it towards the second one. The Hunter's mind was eclipsed as he stumbled in pain, at last collapsing to the deck.

That he might take solace in this round, in earning a small victory was ultimately fruitless, for Hiccup warily gazed upon another wave of Hunters, now invigorated with the defeat of the Sunspear. Yet their eyes sunk with fear in but an instant as a shadow passed over Hiccup. He was encompassed by the power of his friend; and even in their numbers, they knew death would befall their waning bodies. Toothless prowled low to the deck with his eyes in slits, marking each and everyone of them with the threat of death dare they move. And as Hiccup rose, his young suit worn with the marks of war, he met familiar eyes amongst the decrepit and despised. Though he knew not their names, Istavan and Helen stood before him with such terrible conflict in their eyes. Despite his aching muscles and the thought of endless conflict to plague his mind, Hiccup thought his eyes betraying him as Istvan threw down his sword.

'Go,' Istvan stated with a heaviness to his voice. There was rebellion in his voice but to what cause was a mystery as last Hiccup saw, the man was supposedly obliterated upon the Straights of Baulder.

He wouldn't waste such a chance, not a scant mercy born of fatigue and defeat. Hiccup extinguished his blade and mounted Toothless's saddle at last securing the freedom of the skies. Only then could they see the true nightmare unleashed upon the bay as the minor Sunspears trawled across the ships working their way around the coastlines and forests. They had set ablaze the trees with such totality he dreaded to think what efforts might save their island; the Dragon Eye if only in its barest of writings foretold death such as this. What was an army when behind it came a storm so utterly the mark of providence? And then, like knives carved from the icecaps of the North he felt the curdling cry of an enemy thrown down twice, and still lived. The waters fizzled just beyond the head of the frigate line before the alpha Sunspear burst through the surface with a gaseous fume. He focused beam of flame that swiped across the ships, igniting blast-powder and severing masts instantly. The impossibility merged with hopelessness as Hiccup's eye wandered across the trail of destruction. Yet there was movement on the Dreadnaught not born of fire or the brood of an ancient horror. Even from a distance, he knew it was no Hunter nor any Assassin of Krogan's.

'Astrid!' Hiccup gasped, though he missed the subject of her attention, high upon the Stern-bound mast.

And there was little to conjure of their worn and battered self, only a hope that they might make it in time; and what a driving force that was. Yet, the fate of Heather and Krogan was in their own hands with the state of decay enduing their mortal ends. The splitting of the stern had isolated them and neither was in any position to negotiate further; what had been said remarked a will to survive, and while Heather sought freedom from this menace once and for all, she was beginning to see her path reaching a close. It was a desperate tactic on Krogan's part, but a patient one nonetheless as he'd otherwise have departed these shores unsullied in mind, where his unchaining was bought with a dangerous price. One of them was going to die tonight, and as a testament to Heather's will, because she knew something she should not.

Krogan clawed at the netting thrown asunder with the splitting of the ship. Heather flourished her axe to cut away the belts holding the weight of her assailant, but against the weight of her own climb, she struggled for purchase. He was unperturbed by her efforts; so with little gain, Heather sought the solid wood of the mast housing, at least for a moment. A brief respite, a refuge at the height of the fleet and all there was to see was smoke and fire. It could have been at any time in the last year, but the thought that near weighed her still, enveloped her senses.

'This was inevitable,' Krogan's hoarse tone pulled her attention.

Heather, reflexively assumed a defence stance, axe shoulder to toe. 'Why?'

'It's as Drago would have willed it,' Krogan slowly advanced, raising his hammer. 'No quarter, save for those he'd personally treat with. Their undoing would be by his hand.'

'And you?' Heather juggled the conscious weight in taking one step back.

His dark eyes burned with the irritation of delaying his intended quarry. 'To hell with this place! I wished only to leave, not suffer the idealism of a foolish girl.'

Heather adjusted her stance side-on to angle her axe vertically. 'I had to see this through.'

'No,' Krogan thumped the butt of his hammer to the wood. 'Haddock and his devotees might have cause but not you. Your horizons do not meet the same desire, the same pride, cast off in your craggy rocks with naught but a shadow of your once great tribe. The Berserkers are without vision; and you, your quest for vengeance has wandered you upon shores beyond your zeal. You thought this task appointed to you was an honour? I see only a curse, hands continuing to draw you back into the filth of despair. I know these tides; I've lived it my entire life. What peace do you possible hope to find in this bloody crusade?'

And at once, the true man behind the assassin was revealed and Heather felt only pity. 'That, you already know. The question as such, is borne of desperation. You are, despite all your wisdoms, still a slave. Now absolute failure stands in your path and for the first time, you don't know what to do. I've bested you twice now, with shame as your fear. And if what you say about Drago is true, then that ship waiting for you will ferry no freedom,' she gestured to the ruined fleet around them, 'This. This will be your fate,' she then sought his dark eyes for purchase. 'But there's another way.'

'There is no other way; no one, not even the Dragon Riders can save me from him,' Krogan retorted.

'Then surrender! plead for some kind of amnesty, share what you know that we might have a chance. Earn your freedom,' she released her defence to face him without hostility.

'A dragon killer advising the Berkian court. Hiccup would not suffer it,' Krogan scoffed, unmoving.

'I didn't say Hiccup,' she raised her hand in offering, 'One chance Krogan, that's all I can offer.'

'What insurance have I, that you won't slit my throat?' he eyed her carefully.

Heather's eyes lowered in thought, reconciling the truth of things. 'Viggo has lain more harm than you have; I have nothing to gain in killing you. But if you kill me, it will burden you till the end.'

His hesitation, the slight twitch in his eye suggested there was merit to her words. He was listening and subconsciously he knew it to be true; but fear was a stronger motivation, and to that he was indentured to such trials. 'So be it.'

Krogan flashed his weapon without warning, whipping the long handle around to clip her shoulder before drawing another large strike. Heather was almost thrown off the edge and only in her recovery did she suffer another blow more definitive than the last. She caught his hammer against the grips of her axe and was knocked to the ground. Krogan didn't relinquish his barrage, forcing Heather down with his boot as he drove his hammer down upon her, again and again. She countered with her axe in sheer desperation, glancing its jagged edge, hoping to open his offensive to strike. She managed to dislodge his foot; but at last, he switched his strokes and drew the handle up through the axe, opening Heather's defence. With no alternative, she bore the full weight of the hammer as it then pounded against the grips. The central bolt split, the fastenings cracked, and Heather felt the iron pierce her breastplate like molten steel, as her axe lay split in each hand.

Heather gasped under the sudden blow, her hands immediately bracing the hammer's head leaving her shattered weapon unwielded. But her gaze was stolen by the soulless eyes glinting naught but the fire light around him. His means however, were as if the smoke parted to reveal a clear a bright sky. Her wound that seeped beneath her garb was minor nonetheless and dare she remain coiled by injury, it would do her no justice for what lay behind her. Krogan gripped the handle to draw his weapon free, keeping his eye on her stained features; but the folly was seen in of its last flicker. Of what few arrows remained in her quiver, Heather still drew one and rammed the barb into his right hand. The shock that induced him bought her the time to dislodge the hammer where she scrambled for her fallen blades. Krogan tore the arrow free, feeling where the fibres of his hand were ruptured. His guard was weak and Heather barraged upon it, each under the strain wrought by one another. Yet his cunning, for all its worth, abused her infant wound as he clashed forearms and pounded her breastplate. She was ripped of air with each critical blow and enough so that her left blade was stolen only to return and clash hers in a thin shower of sparks. It wasn't an idle fear that hindered her will, and as Heather broke their contact she knew what fate lay in persistence. Against the husk of a lawless hunter, where death stalked in his shadow, she had nothing to prove.

Heather drew back and clambered out onto the only path that drew distance between them, a single path with no return. 'Windshear!' She cried, searching for the silver glint of her dragon's scales.

Where only smoke and flame availed her, the enemy that hunted her stepped onto the mast and began his own ascension long its bowing length. 'She won't come. Your path ends here.'

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps this would be the final stand drawn on too long now, at last an eclipse to this bloody tale. 'So be it.'

Krogan advanced on her guard where only the utter head of the mast would retreat her. Yet she held her desperate ground with only a chipped and jagged blade to her aid. Her one advantage lay with his damaged hand, forcing him to bare arms in his left. He advanced hard and low intending to open her defence, but Heather met his strike and flourished it out wide, depriving him of the stolen blade. But how such a simple manoeuvre could reveal so much; and where at last, a staggering white-hot pain ignited her core. Her breath was stripped and at last her emerald eyes found the hunters' knife driven into her abdomen with a blooded and butchered hand to twist it truly. Her blade was lost first, before the strength in her knees laden her with the terminal horror dealt unto her. The world was cast into a haze not born of fire and there the shadows swam as if creatures of the void glided to retrieve her ruined being.

Krogan lowered himself to steal her of such fantastical visions, a cold and cruel reminder of defeat. Only the fires beyond now illuminated Heather's features with a feverous glow, as life drained away to leave her eyes paling with grief. Yet the knife, the blade impaling her was not yet severed from the hand that dealt its purpose, and where her own hands gripped that arm, she saw but a glimmer. The last act in this terrible tale, and one Krogan was short of seeing as he longed to see the light whither from within. But amongst the darkness, at last a single ray opened to her heart and she knew, despite the weight upon which she carried, the knowledge she meant to ferry forth, the gods; Odin was with her. Hiccup and the Dragon Riders would have to fight on without her and see this mystery unfold in its own time. Drago Bludvist would surely meet his match in time, and without the warning to come before it. Of that, she was certain, of that she would be avenged.

Her arms lurched around her killer's neck and with the last strength imbued by the All-father, Heather set her doom upon that man, toppling them from the leaning mast. Krogan's surprise was consumed by a rage as she twisted her weight to draw them into the abyss, but Heather heard none of it. The world was a bliss of soft hymns and pleasant thoughts; Dagur now lay at the forefront of her resting mind, the last images of his scarred face and brilliant smile before her closing eyes. For what pain may seem a burden to those unable to greet death knowing the hall of their forefathers were there greet them was shallow and truly unfathomable. She would meet Oswald her father. But what guilt she felt lay simply in that she didn't get to say goodbye to her brother. But her heart was at peace knowing the closure on his behalf would come with the tidings of her friends. Together they would share their grief. Together they would share her story and honour her memory.

This was the part Heather of the Berserkers, of the Dragon Riders played in defeating the Dragon Hunters, now forever one in the halls of Valhalla.

To be Concluded in RESOLUTIONS