MYSTERY POV
-------------------I am only newly born. My hate radiates from me. I feel I need to be away, away from the place of my birth, from the place where I am vunerable. But my need to hurt is stronger. I am starved. They place that surrounds me is choking, claustraphobic.
The body of the vessel of my birth lies beneath me, charred and burnt.
It is a montrous nightmare, but it is of none of my concern. Its soul is shattered now, fragmented.
I hear the astonised gasps and cries of terror, clear as pure snow. But I hear them and I know what they come from.
Prey.
I snarl drawing my self to my full height. Their cries are music to my eyes.
But they are vikings: they will not flee. They are foolish: rash.
I smile. I am not changed: yet. My vision slips and I fall into darkness. The boy is not gone. He claws to the surface.
'NO!' he roars. 'No!...'But they do not listen. They do not heed the warning. They do not realise.
He screams. He is frightened, and scared. But he is not giving up. He refuses to.
'Dad! DAD! Listen to me...' He sobs. I smile to myself. I can feel it. He is falling... soon he will give in. Soon we will be one. Soon we will be an avenging force : soon...
Soon I will be reborn.'Hiccup...' I see the horrified look on the cheif's face. I hear the boy plead with him, plead for his life and the life of the pathetic beast.
'Dad! Listen to me ! Dad... dad, it wasn't me. I promise. Dad!!' He cries. He is clinging to the ememy's leg like his life depends on it. 'Dad please... I'm your son... dad!'
In a shrug of his shoulders and a venemous flick of his the enemy rounds up on him, his eyes blazing with the deepest hate and ... fear?
'You have no right to call yourself my son, demon! You were always different. Always off.' Disgut coats his face and the boy reels back. He pleads and begs.
'Dad... anyone! Help me... it wasn't me, dad. Help me... I'n scared.'His voice is growing smaller and smaller. He is backing away. The fear eminates from him.
Pathetic. Scrawny. Not much to work with. I grimace.
'Dad... anyone.. ' his cries are already loosing hope and he is vacked into a blackened charred corner, surrounded by three pathetic viking warriors and the cheif.
The silence is whisper-thing and as
fragile as it's name. The warriors close in, and I know that my time on this earth will be over sooner than expected. The fishbone is white and he breathes rapidly and panicedly chokes out.'Toothless...' it is barley a word. Tears stream from his eyes.
'TOOTHLESS!' this time it is a scream.
He is choking, gasping, hiccuping and sobbing. He is terrified and confused. His whole body is trembling and I smile.
My time is nigh.The tension is unbroken and they close in. I concentrate, knowing that this is my chance. I fill the body: and as scrawny and pathetic as it may be, it feels good to have a mortal manifestation.
I drink in his soul's energy, and I pull myself up, up...
A roar shakes the ground.
I am startled, and angry that I would let a roar distract me. A leaping, sleek, black panther-like shape hurtles towards the gates. With a single blast, the portciulis is molten and the dragon bursts through, unaffected.
'STOICK! LOOK OUT!'
It is running straight for the cheif and a look of utter horror flits over his face.
'Golber! You take the beast, I'll take the demon! Spitelout, Twigbrain, you're with me! The rest of you: go with Golber!' The Blonde viking with a peg leg, a hook nods and a smell worse then a dying corpse, and most the vikings follow him as he charges.
The cheif stares the boy in the eye. His back is against its charred surface ans the whites of his eyes are showing.
The night fury is dodging and roaring. The plasma blasts killing a raven-haired young viking anf his tail knocking fully-grown vikings to the floor . There must be at least two dozen vikings there and yet it s evades capture.
I gaze at the dragon.
Night furies are of an interest to me. I've heard it said that out of all the creatures mortal, the night fury is the only one gifted with the ability to see my kind. They are powerfull and dangerous, which on top of being able to see us, make them a worthy adversary.
I take this oppotunity to study it. It is nible and lithe, and the way it uses its claws and teeth imply that it has fought many times before, but...
Why does it not fly? Why does it not use its flight to its advantage? Why does it not flee? it is darting and twisting, trying to breatch the wall of attackers, yet it does not flee. Why? It is almost as if it is heading for the toothpick...
The air has been filled with cries and shrieks, and a faint undercurrent of the smell of blood is rooted in this place. I howl in rage as a wave of claustrophobia overtakes me. I am trapped. Trapped on the ground for want of better host...
Trapped.I shake. Why? Why me? WHY ME?
I am angry and confused. I howl again, but this yime louder. Darker. More audiable.
The slowly... ever so slowy...
The night fury turns and looks at me.
And it leaps.
With a single beat of its wings it leaps high in thr air, over the vikings, over their terrified, shocked expressions.
It is magnificent. Muscle, sleek and slim, smooth, armour-tough scales, lithe, reptilian wings.
Excitement rises in me.I will take on this dragon as a host. Maybe I will manage it. It will be painfull and risky. It will destroy the boy's soul but that is nothing to me.
If I survive...
I will the most renowned of my kind: the most looked up to.
I cannot throw away an oppotunity like this.
'Stoick! STOICK! The dragon-' The blonde- haired- smelly- viking sounded desperate.
'Not now, Golber. I've got to finish this.'
The cheif advanced on the boy. I felt exuberated. The pure terror and betrayal the boy felt was feeding me, making me stronger.
'Dad... ' The boy pleads a final time
'Save it, demon'The sword lunges out, and I prepare myself for the rush of rebirth.
But the night fury comes.
He roars challengingly, pupils slirs and his mouth open, ready to fire. He is standing over the boy, almost as if...
He is protecting him.
Suddenly it all makes sense. This viking controlls the night fury. This viking can bond with dragons. This viking...
May not be so useless after all.
My thoughts race. So many possibilities! With dragons at my side, I can do so many things... achieve so much... throw all my ememies into the fire of hell where they belong.
I feel my exitement surge. I pull my self up again, inhabiting the boy's body.
I feel weak and puny: as un co-ordinated as a newbotn mortal. But she power of my kin surges through me.
'ㄱk소ㅓiarㅏㅣㅠkfㅜㄹriㅇㄴ ㅗㅇftㄴㅌd ㅓㅏtㅠㅇh'
The vikings reel back, as waves of my power wash over them.
It feels good.
For once, I am in control.
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