Astrid Hofferson x Male Reader

Chapter 3

Military Base

(Around an island is a congested harbor, cluttered with warships. A reflection in the passing water below reveals the source, abizarre, quad-armed airship, flown by four red-bellied dragons. A pair of dragon scouts lead the way, speeding over sprawling network of wooden docks toward a bustling military base. Smoke hangs in the air, billowing from blacksmith chimneys. Store houses and barracks weave toward a hilltop arena, built within the ruins of a Stonehenge-like druidic circle. The airship hovers to a landing atop the hill, scatterings lack-jawed soldiers. The dragons hiss, commanding a wideberth.

These deathgrippers are monstrous brutes, bulging with armored back plates and blood-red underbellies. In place of front legs, they scuttle on bulky, serrated pincers. Grimmel, descends from the cockpit, tall, slender, anddressed head to toe in black, scaly leather. Grimmel enters a stone archway, flanked by his pair of Deathgripper scouts. Soldiers watch him keenly, hands gripping their sword hilts. Archers above follow his everymove, bows drawn, as they whisper a warning to each other)

Archer: Deathgrippers.

(Grimmel and his pair of Deathgrippers disappear into the tunnel leading us into an enormous arena the size of the Colosseum. Sooty stone walls rise imposingly from a scorched dirt floor. A spider web-like dome of steel forms an impenetrable ceiling. Along its walls, a small collection of dragons lay stuffed into undersized cages, while at the center of the arena, an enormous dragon is tethered in place. soldiers brandishing shields and spears poke at the unruly beast. It roars through muzzled jaws and thrashes its club tail in retaliation, swiping soldiers off of their feet.

The pair of Deathgrippers emerge from the tunnel into the arena. They hiss, eyeing the captive dragons. Tusks extend from their heavy jaws. The training ring mayhem turns eerily quiet. The captive dragons shiver and shrink to backs of their cages as the Deathgrippers pass. The unruly large dragon at the center grows still, averting its eyes from the stalking predators. A trio of warlords in unblemished, decorative armor, hover over a map. Ivar The Witless positions a small ship upon the table)

Ivar: The dragon riders attacked us here, off the Eastern Strait.

(Ragnar the rock drives another boat piece into it, mouthing acrash. The others glare at him)

Khan: Ragnar.

(Ragnar stifles his amusement)

Ragnar: Uh. Sorry.

Grimmel: My dear warlords.

(They part to reveal Grimmel behind them, grinning as he peels back his hood, exposing a shock of white hair)

Grimmel: How go your plans to conquer the world?

(Ragnar goes to embrace him with open arms)

Ragnar: Ha! Grimmel! My old friend! Thank you for coming-

(A Deathgripper pins him to ground. He yelps. Grimmel looks around, nonchalantly)

Grimmel: A year since Drago's defeat and nofurther along with your dragon army, I see.

(Griselda The Grevious glares, sourly)

Griselda: You can thank the young chief of Berk for that.

Grimmel: Stoick's oldest boy?

(Ragnar peeks out, still pinned under the Deathgripper)

Ragnar: He and his peace-loving dragon riders continue to raid our ships and steal our dragons.

Grimmel: Hmph. That does sound like a nuisance. But I'm in the business of killing dragons, not retrieving them.

(He turns to leave, signaling the Deathgripper to follow. Ragnar sits up, catching his breath)