Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Aug 27, 2016 17:48:53 GMT -5
"What you're searching for isn't out there. . .
introduction
× "This... is Berk. The best kept secret this side of, well, anywhere. Granted, it may not look like much, but this wet heap of rock packs more than a few surprises.
Life here is amazing, just not for the faint of heart. See, where most folks enjoy hobbies like whittling or needlepoint, we Berkians prefer a little something we like to call Dragon Racing. Dragons used to be a bit of a problem here. But that was five years ago. Now they've all moved in. And, really, why wouldn't they? We have custom stables... all-you-can-eat feeding stations... a full service dragon wash... Even top-of-the-line fire prevention, if I do say so myself.
Yep. Berk is pretty much perfect. All of my hard work has paid off. And it's a good thing, too, because with Vikings on the backs of dragons, the world just got a whole lot bigger."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. Hold up," a male's voice says, and you hear the sounds of footsteps in the distance just stop. His voice sounds different, somehow. "Simmy, gimme some light over there." Oh, your eyes were open? Huh, pretty dark, wherever you were, wasn't it? There's a small blast above you, the sudden light making you wince. There's a collective, surprised gasp and then a rush of footsteps towards you.
"Oh, thank Thor you're alright! What were you thinking?" a boy asked you, having mismatched eyes. "Everyone back at the village has been worried sick!" He helps you sit up, but you can't put a name to his face. You don't recognize him or anyone else in the cave with him. Or the dragons, for that matter. But you recognize the species. A Razorwhip, a Deadly Nadder and . . . a few more. And telling from the saddles... these were dragon riders. And they seemed to know you.
"Uh. . . thanks for being worried but. . . who are you again?" you ask. There's a moment of silence between the group as they process this. The boy who helped you sit up looks at you. "Sorry, I . . ." you trail off and hold your head, wincing. You squint and look at the Nadder. Little Simmer, often called Sim or Simmy. You look at the metallic looking dragon, the Razorwing. Minho was his name. A pair of gray-brown eyes look down at you from towards the back of the group. You feel like you've felt that gaze before and it wasn't something you could say you admired, to say the least.
"You. . . don't remember us?" the Irish accented male asks, standing up a bit. "What about your dragon? Do you remember your dragon?" A dragon...? You . . . had a dragon. That's right. . . There was a familiar growling roar and you looked up to see a familiar set of reptilian eyes. The dragon approaches you and you squirm back a bit, at first a bit frightened at the sudden close proximity of it, but then... you hold out your hand and the dragon pushes its nose against the palm, closing its eyes. Everything floods back, your life on Berk, the stories of why there was ice scattered in large bits around the village even to this day, the story of the great chief, Stoick and how he saved his son, Chief Hiccup.
You get up, with a smile. This was your dragon. These were you friends. And there was a longing for a return to home. What happened, it was still fuzzy. There was a slight feeling that you were captured or taken after getting separated and lost. But now . . . you were found. You still couldn't remember the names and a whole lot of events, but this was natural. These people and their dragons in front of you, they were your friends and you knew that. You give your dragon a large hug.
"I don't remember much, but . . . I think it's time to go home."
"This... is Berk. A bit trampled and busted and covered in ice, but it's home. It's our home.Those who attacked us are relentless and crazy. But those who stopped them? Oh, even more so! We may be small in numbers, but we stand for something bigger than anything the world can pit against us.
We are the voice of peace. And bit by bit, we will change this world. You see, we have something they don't. Oh sure, they have armies and they have armadas... But we have... our dragons!"
Life here is amazing, just not for the faint of heart. See, where most folks enjoy hobbies like whittling or needlepoint, we Berkians prefer a little something we like to call Dragon Racing. Dragons used to be a bit of a problem here. But that was five years ago. Now they've all moved in. And, really, why wouldn't they? We have custom stables... all-you-can-eat feeding stations... a full service dragon wash... Even top-of-the-line fire prevention, if I do say so myself.
Yep. Berk is pretty much perfect. All of my hard work has paid off. And it's a good thing, too, because with Vikings on the backs of dragons, the world just got a whole lot bigger."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. Hold up," a male's voice says, and you hear the sounds of footsteps in the distance just stop. His voice sounds different, somehow. "Simmy, gimme some light over there." Oh, your eyes were open? Huh, pretty dark, wherever you were, wasn't it? There's a small blast above you, the sudden light making you wince. There's a collective, surprised gasp and then a rush of footsteps towards you.
"Oh, thank Thor you're alright! What were you thinking?" a boy asked you, having mismatched eyes. "Everyone back at the village has been worried sick!" He helps you sit up, but you can't put a name to his face. You don't recognize him or anyone else in the cave with him. Or the dragons, for that matter. But you recognize the species. A Razorwhip, a Deadly Nadder and . . . a few more. And telling from the saddles... these were dragon riders. And they seemed to know you.
"Uh. . . thanks for being worried but. . . who are you again?" you ask. There's a moment of silence between the group as they process this. The boy who helped you sit up looks at you. "Sorry, I . . ." you trail off and hold your head, wincing. You squint and look at the Nadder. Little Simmer, often called Sim or Simmy. You look at the metallic looking dragon, the Razorwing. Minho was his name. A pair of gray-brown eyes look down at you from towards the back of the group. You feel like you've felt that gaze before and it wasn't something you could say you admired, to say the least.
"You. . . don't remember us?" the Irish accented male asks, standing up a bit. "What about your dragon? Do you remember your dragon?" A dragon...? You . . . had a dragon. That's right. . . There was a familiar growling roar and you looked up to see a familiar set of reptilian eyes. The dragon approaches you and you squirm back a bit, at first a bit frightened at the sudden close proximity of it, but then... you hold out your hand and the dragon pushes its nose against the palm, closing its eyes. Everything floods back, your life on Berk, the stories of why there was ice scattered in large bits around the village even to this day, the story of the great chief, Stoick and how he saved his son, Chief Hiccup.
You get up, with a smile. This was your dragon. These were you friends. And there was a longing for a return to home. What happened, it was still fuzzy. There was a slight feeling that you were captured or taken after getting separated and lost. But now . . . you were found. You still couldn't remember the names and a whole lot of events, but this was natural. These people and their dragons in front of you, they were your friends and you knew that. You give your dragon a large hug.
"I don't remember much, but . . . I think it's time to go home."
"This... is Berk. A bit trampled and busted and covered in ice, but it's home. It's our home.Those who attacked us are relentless and crazy. But those who stopped them? Oh, even more so! We may be small in numbers, but we stand for something bigger than anything the world can pit against us.
We are the voice of peace. And bit by bit, we will change this world. You see, we have something they don't. Oh sure, they have armies and they have armadas... But we have... our dragons!"
It's in here."
about
× Welcome to the island of Berk! It's been about twenty years since the events of the movie, with Drago and his Bewilderbeast. Time enough for a new generation. And with that new generation, is a whole new world to explore. Some things might be the same, some might not be. One thing is for sure though; Berk has vikings and dragons, both of which live together. Sure, sometimes things don't go down smoothly and there's a house fire or two a month, but even so. It's home. There are fishers, hunters, blacksmiths, that's true. But there's also the more 'modern' part of Berk's ranks; the healers, trackers, warriors and defenders.
will be continued
will be continued
"Okay, first of all, I don't sound like that. Who is this character?
rules
× text
And second... what is that thing you're doing with my shoulders?"
navigation
× text
"A truly flattering impersonation."