How to Train your Dragon Roleplay - Archived

((WATCH ME EMBARASS MYSELF
Name: Vern
Age: 12
Rank: Viking-in-Training
Appearance: Messy medium length Brown haired and brown eyed, Vern looks like a pretty average fellow. Nothing too special.
Personality: Vern is fairly friendly(depends on his mood) and pretty quirky in nature. Although he tends to be awfully quiet unless spoken to, but he can be pretty loud about things he's passionate about. He's an average kid and tends to stay on the sidelines. He can be bratty when pressured and blah blah he isn't very developed I know
Dragons: Spitball the Storm Cutter. Spitball is an intelligent dragon, infact he's probably smarter then his owner. He's very prideful as well and acts very snootily.
That's all I got))

Rikard waited until Ismael was flying low enough to leap from his saddle and station himself by a rocky outcrop on the hillside. He took aim again at a passing sheep, but froze as something caught his eye. Further downhill sat the dying embers of a campfire, by which lay a crudely made bronze sword. That isn't Berkian craftsmanship... He swore in Dragonese.

"Outsiders!" He yelled, drawing his sword and backing up towards the outcrop. Above him, Ismael drew to a halt in the sky and began to circle the area.

Evalda gritted her teeth, struggling to remember her training. She could feel panic blossoming in her chest as the end of the hill came to view-- the lip of a tall cliff, falling down to who-knew-where. The pain of the rocks that had ripped at her skin was starting to make her feel weak and dizzy, but she managed to grab her battleaxe in one shaky hand and plunge it into the soft soil.

"Rikard." Kaia seemed breathless as she appeared beside the chief in a flash. "The others don't know what's going on, they're all confused and working themselves into a frenzy-" She paused, glancing down. "Are you going to go after her?"

"What about Brynhilde?" She glanced over at the rider-less dragon with some uncertainty, the saddle noticeably strapped to the great beast in a hurried manner. "And... and if the Outsiders appear before we do, don't you dare let yourself get killed."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, muttering several words to Astor in Dragonese before speaking aloud. "Just be careful." And with that, the Rocket Ripper shot up into the air to where the majority of their hunting force was hovering in the air. It took only a moment for Kaia to relay the chief's orders and another for them to collect themselves.

Evalda was holding onto her battleaxe for dear life. The strain of holding on was making her nauseous, pain and discomfort stirring deep in the pit of her stomach. A cut had split its way across her face, pouring sticky blood into her eyes so that it stung to keep them open. The scent of blood forced bile up her throat. The rush of blood in her ears and amplified sound of her axe coming loose almost overhwhelemed her. But despite all of this, the voice of Rikard came through to her.

"Cheif?" She called out hesitantly.

--

Brynhilde, at the top of the hill, screeched as ropes began to be drawn around her. Unseen figures began to drag her off.

She nodded, holding tighter to the handle of the axe. Still, she could hear a pebble loosen and tumble away below her. The axe was slipping. Still, she couldn't trust herself to speak anymore. You're supposed to be a Viking, act like one!