How to Train your Dragon Roleplay - Archived

Name: Evalda
Age: 16
Rank: Viking-in-Training
Appearance: Evalda is notably tall for her age, with a rather bulky, large frame. While she trains to make sure that her large shape is supported by muscle, she often feels rather insecure about her body type. Her hair is thick and reddish-brown, which she keeps in braids. She has a strong jaw, with freckled cheeks and dark eyes, as well as an almost crooked nose. She has a few scars on her arms (from falling through a bramble bush as a new trainee, although she often says that they were from training her dragon), and recently acquired one that makes its way from above her left eyebrow to the base of her right cheek.
Personality: Tough, dependable, and down-to-earth. She is often prone to making jokes; however, due to crippling insecurity and extremely envious nature, they can often be at the expense of others. While a dependable and loyal friend, Evalda is often harsh in judging others and scornful of them at first glance. With all of this, she often gives off the appearance of being arrogant, but in reality she is insecure about herself, her personality, her body, and her abilities to become a Viking. Still, her leadership skills are strong-- though she can occasionally get carried away with the position of leader, even in a game.
Dragon(s): One dragon that she was paired with, a Speed Stinger named Brynhilde. She is dark green, with fiery red eyes and orange stripes. She was the hatched daughter of Evalda's father's dragon. Having grown within the same home, it did not take much persuasion for Brynhilde to allow Evalda to ride with her and train her. Despite showing a protective, almost parental nature with some aspects of their intertwined fates, the dragon is outright petulant with others, particularly battle training.
Other: While she wishes to become a Viking warrior and receive her title (Evalda the ___), her main aspiration is to take over as Cheif and defeat Rikard in single combat. Rikard the Noble and Sigurd the Mighty, though she plans to usurp their dynasty, are her heroes. She lives with only her mother, as her father left them both to travel the world when Evalda was five.

Rikard sat on the steps by the entrance to the Great Hall, dragging a scrap of cloth over the blade of his sword. Berk was midway through one of its short summers, and he was feeling the effect of the unusual heat more than ever. The young chief's Flutterfire rested on his knee, her delicate wings stretched out to lose as much heat as she could whilst she slept. He lay down his sword and absent mindedly stroked her head with his thumb, looking out across the village with a furrowed brow. It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

"Human, get your hand off me," Astra grumbled in Dragonese, opening one ruby-red eye and staring up at him.

Rikard chuckled, surprised at how easily he could translate the strange language in his head. After Hiccup's death over two centuries ago, his books on the speaking of the lost language had been published. Rikard's grandmother had been the one to implement them into village life, ensuring that all Vikings-in-Training picked up the gist of it before they graduated.

"Apologies, Astra. I know you're trying to sleep." he responded idly, going back to polishing his blade. Hopefully something big would happen soon. Peace and a whole island of Vikings did not bode well, after all.

The Chief stood, sliding his sword into the scabbard at his waist. Astra threw out a string of angry words in Dragonese as she was forced to take flight from his knee, fluttering up to sit on top of his head instead. Rikard chuckled.

"Sorry, Astra, but it's time for the hunt. Vikings can't feed themselves on vegetables alone. Besides, you can stop off in the flower fields if you like, and I'll collect you later."

The Flutterfire blew out a cheerful puff of smoke. She had never had aptitude for hunting, being about the size of a large butterfly, so she would often sit and wait for the hunts to finish by drinking nectar in the flower field. Her hyperactivity when she was finished created a few problems back in the village, but as Chief, Rikard was more than equipped to deal with them.

Rikard made his way to the centre of the village, where his Windwalker was curled up, fast asleep. He scratched the great beast on the sensitive scales of his neck to awaken him before glancing around and raising his voice.

"Who's ready for a hunt?"

"Good. See if you can round up the heads of the families. I've been told there's a wild flock of sheep just appeared on the other side of Berk."

Rikard paused. "They've been training for a reason. We may as well bring them with us and see how they do. If we get held up though, see to it that they're sent straight back." Having never been a trainee with the other Vikings, and learning instead under the guidance of his father, the Chief had little to no sympathy for the initiates.

Evalda was sitting by the training arena, carefully pulling out thorns from under Brynhilde's scales. The dragon twitched in discomfort, her scarlet eyes darting about. "You shouldn't have catapulted yourself through a bramble patch," the trainee muttered in broken, slightly awkward Dragonese. "What in blazes ever made you think that it was a good idea?!"

Evalda looked up. "Sure! Just let me finish up here... one more thorn, and..." There was a loud screech of protest from Brynhilde as she pulled it out. "There. We're fine to go."

"Great, Rikard's waiting for everyone to assemble at the village centre. Maybe you could take this opportunity to impress him." She grinned as Astor let out a strangled noise of sympathy for the other dragon, wincing as the thorn was pulled out. "He sometimes seems sort of tense when carrying out the Chief's duties, maybe he can relax a little when he sees how capable the trainees are."