Firefew Island: Unstable Atmosphere

Prologue

TS: Taits Death (BBC EARTH)

"This...Is Firefew island. Fancy name, I know... It's located 20 days north of the Mountains of Misery, 2 days east of the Forbidden Isles, and located solidly on the Sea of Volidemer." They pause.

"Most have pests...Mice, Mosquitoes, rats even. But we...We have–"

The voice breaks off as a viking screams: "DRAGONS!"

"–dragons..." the voice continued.

. . .

"Fire breathing dragons, in fact!" They exclaimed.

The village was on fire, vikings screaming, as one in particular ran by.

"ARRRRRgh! G'evening!" The Viking shouted, bringing their axe down on a gronkle, who died soon afterwards.

"We are raided nearly every night, whether it be Terrible Terrors, Red Finned Terror Wings, Fire Nadders, or even Cactus Gronkles. There's even a few Ridge Back Zipple Backs! But theres one dragon no one has ever seen–..." the voice continues. In the background, someone screams: "STORM FURY! Get DOWN!"

A heavy downpour began, as thunder roared, a whistling screech could be heard, and one of the fire pillars collapsed, crashing into a house, and sending Vikings screaming.
...

"–The Storm Fury....Mysterious and elusive, this elegant dragon never takes food, never shows itself, and NEVER misses...Shooting down one of those...That would definitely get me a girlfriend!"

"Carloa! Get inside!" His father screeched, leaping on a nadder with a few other vikings.

He ran through crowds, the opposite direction the crowd was going.

"I just have to get....To–the net shooter!" He exclaimed, setting up.

"Where are you?...Show your ugly face dragon!" He pans the net shooter, praying for the gods to give him something to shoot at.

Finally, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, outlining the Fury. Pulling the lever back, he watched as it ensnared the Storm Fury, sending it crashing down near a nearby ridge.

"Haha! YES! Did ANYONE see that?!"
He turns around, gulping at the Zippleback behind him.

"Uhhhhhhhh–except you!" He took off running, abandoning his invention, and hid behind a hut, slowly turning around at a hissing sound. "Oh gods!" He crouched as the house exploded, and his father grabbed him.
"You muttonhead!" He roared, tossing him softly into the hut.

"What were you thinking?! Ya could've died!"

"I uh..."
"Thats right! You weren't thinking! You've gotta head, don't you?!"
They shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"Well—Ishotastormfury!" He exclaimed, and his father furrowed a brow.

"Every time I let you out...Them dragons seem to be coming afta ya!" He thundered, slamming the door, before opening it a moment later. "You...Stay....There. Don't go anywhere!"

He rolled his eyes.
"Whatever dad..."

"Oh–there's one thing I haven't told you...My name. My name is far from the worst. My name...Is Carloa. If I'm being honest, the names far from the best as well. Quite strange for a viking. You see, most Vikings believe giving their children a hideous name will scare off dark spirits, such as demons and trolls. Erri told me a troll has stolen his socks once! Surprisingly, it was only the right one! Anyway–my parents didn't believe in dark spirits, therefore, I was given the most random name, poorly chosen."