Chapter 1: Opening Move
Chapter Text
Invasion Fleet Command Ship “Steelclad”
Oswald didn’t like it when he heard of dragons, only believing them to largely be myths from his childhood, designed to keep children from being naughty and uncooperative. Now though, after hearing tales of the great dragon riders of Berk from merchants, pirates, and other tribes of the barbaric archipelago, and seeing remnants of bones from the red death brought by merchants, things couldn’t be any clearer. There was a new power in the world, capable of waging war in a different dimension: the sky. In his mind’s eye he watched helplessly as cavalry was snatched up into the air, trenches became mass graves for dug in footmen, and fortresses turned into stone tombs as raging flames stole precious air from any and all inhabitants inside while simultaneously burning everything it came into contact with, to a crisp.
Here, with the seventy ships from his neighboring countries, he cannot help but grin after looking out towards his fleet. Sure, they had dragons, but after doing his research through spies and merchants, he was more than confident in his ability to take down a simple village that consisted of no more than 500 vikings. If his intel was correct, Stoick the Vast was known to be an honorable (“naive” , his royal mind supplied/corrected) man. And, knowing the English reputation for leaving raided villages bereft of any life, he half expected there to be a messenger pleading for surrender, or even to find an abandoned island village.
“Admiral, the captain told me to inform you that we should be reaching Berk at daybreak. Additionally, the forward reconnaissance elements report no signs of any attempts at enemy resistance or scouting.”
Well would you look at that, barbarians the lot of them. No theory of battle to abide by, nothing but incompetent brutes charging like headless chickens.
“Very well, inform the other ships to split into the independent fleets. Have the ground assault fleet break off and pull ahead to flank the Island while the rest maintain heading until we reach within three thousand yards of the sea stacks around the isle, and to sail quickly while we still have the element of surprise.”
“Yes milord.”
The captain’s aide returns to relay his message, and it won’t be long until the message reaches the far end of the tight formation.
“Lieutenant.”
“Yes sir?”
“Seeing as how we should be done in a matter of hours- if not minutes- the moment the battle starts, how about we sit down for a game of King’s Fist?”
“Nervous about the dragons, sir?”
“Hardly. They may have fire breathing beasts, but if the stories are to be believed, then it was really only one particular demon that mattered in ending the dragon war.”
“The Night Fury.”
“What do you know about it?”
“Permission to speak freely sir?
“Aye.”
“If the barbarians are to go by, we shouldn’t even be here.”
Is that so?
Motioning for him to continue, Oswald thinks back to the sagas and stories while listening to his Lieutenant.
“Every single one of them tenses at the mention of it, they speak of it in hushed tones, frantic eyes, and panicked whispers- as if they were expecting to receive the wrath of Lucifer himself. When asked, they refuse to elaborate on it, claiming something about having their fates been sealed by their pagan god,” his Lieutenant scoffs, spitting the last two words with venom and disgust. As far as he was concerned, there was only one God and he was pale skinned and considerably lacking of armor- or a hammer for that matter.
“They’re just barbarians, it wasn’t until their training weeks ago when their world was changed from screaming and charging blindly to organized formations and combat units. And even then, why waste your time worrying about them when the only reason they’re here is so we could set up a base of operations close enough to Berk to launch an attack that wouldn’t take more than a week’s worth of travel by sea? They’ve outlived one use, so what? They can always be of use in another way.
“Cannon fodder.”
“Well, I had “dragon fodder” in mind, but that works too.”
Both chuckle as they pick up on the game, with Oswald finally placing his pawn forward.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Berk, The Great Hall
“We’ve been trailing them for the past 2 days, and as a result have gathered quite a significant amount of information about the invasion fleet.”.
“Good, what do you have” Stoick comments flatly, having initially been startled by the fact that he now has the responsibility of keeping his tribe, his people alive, again. Not from dragons though thankfully, but not from hunger or drought either, Hel, not even from a rival tribe’s raiding party. No, this was much, much bigger. An invasion fleet of no less than five dozen longboats packed with heavily armed and armored men. This wasn’t his first battle no, not by a longshot, but he had heard of how Christian raiders left pagan villages in chaos and death, as well as having had skirmishes against them during the Dragon-war. Now though, he was dealing with an organized army, and if the army sent here dwarfed his village’s entire population on the odds of one to sixteen, he shuddered to think of the power and wealth a nation would have to be capable of sending a threat as significant as this.
“The invasion force appears to be divided into three main fleets, each made up of twenty ships and divided into one lead ship, three escort ships, and the rest outfitted either with beach-landing equipment or dragon-hunting equipment. That said, each fleet appears to have its own level specialization with the first appearing to be for dragon-hunting, the second beach landing, and the last to be a supply convoy while a fourth smaller fleet sails in the center of the formation. We can’t tell if its a reserve or the lead but it is outfitted to fill in any losses of the other two combat fleets.
The dragon hunting fleet has twenty ships at its disposal, and of the sixteen combat ships, eight of them make up an outer ring with four providing cover in the center as well as another four appearing to be its independent supply ships. They don’t travel that fast and are easy to spot and watch, I’d use the sea stacks, icebergs and make rough seas against them if I could.
The Beach landing fleet moves significantly much faster than the other two, and is equipped with anything from landing planks, footmen in plate armor, and heavy iron shields, halbers, warhammers and the like. Same level of organization only instead having ten landing ships and six supply vessels. They still have bowmen, but at a noticeably less amount compared to the hunting ships.
The supply convoy is even less armed, but is in the center-rear of the formation, having twenty ships as well only this time with five dragon hunting, five beach landing, ang the other ten ships being loaded with weapons and provisions.
Lastly, the fourth fleet has the most decorated ship in the entire invasion force, and it consists of a larger command ship, five escorts and two ships of both the dragon hunting and beach landing variant with it, supposedly acting as auxiliary reserves to fill in gaps should they have any losses.”.
“I see”.
“And just to bring things to perspective, each ship itself has sixty to a hundred men on the deck, and given the size of the oars powering each one, we can guess each oar takes two to three people to man. With twenty oars per side, its safe to bet anywhere between forty to sixty thralls. Add this with the deck crew and we have about a hundred and twenty men for each ship, multiply that with twenty and we suddenly have two thousand and four hundred per fleet, and with three fleets that’s roughly seven thousand and two hundred troops-not counting the lead fleet even.”.
This wasn’t good, no, it may even be worse than the dragon war… but, he was here, now, and with an entire island of boar-headed stubborn vikings and their newfound but no less loyal dragons under his command… and protection. With a short prayer and plea for guidance from the gods, he turns to his land, his people, his home, and reminds himself firmly:
a chief protects his own.
“Gobber, I want your people with experience in smithwork to man the forges, we will need them constantly running and churning out fresh weapons. Ask Hiccup too if he has any ideas for defensive tools and weapons he designed in the past, and have your most trusted craftsmen try a hand on producing as much as you can”.
“Aye”.
“Gothi, ready your healers and fellow priestesses, you have access to all of the island’s resources to find and create any medicine, treatment or equipment that you need for what we’re preparing for.”
She gives him an acknowledging nod before turning towards the door.
“Spitelout, I want every able-bodied man and woman to be armed with a shield and weapon, as well as the map of the entire island, we may not have the numbers to drag this out into a war of attrition, but this is our home turf and they’ll have to play by our rules”.
“On it Stoick”.
“Ingerman, tell me all you know about the English habits in battle, tactics and weapons count: but I care not for their organization.”
“I’ll grab my books”
“Thorston, try to find if we have any sea-faring dragons in our flock: thuderdrums, scauldrons, seashockers, anything that’s capable of swimming or fighting in the water. We need to buy ourselves some time”
“Yes Chief”.
“Hofferson, start organizing the warriors into squadrons, find Hiccup, he’ll know what to do with the riders”.
“Sir”.
With all the clan heads of his tribe set out to do what they can for the village, he turns to look at his home for what might be the last time, and prays…
Odin give us strength
________________________________________________________________________________________
Berk, The Fighting Ring
“Fishlegs, gather the dragon riders and try to get as many pairs equipped with a saddle. Also, dragon-fire range varies wildly from each species so try and divide them into groups based on their shot range.”
“On it”
“Snotlout, can you gather the nightmare riders you have with you and try putting on the fireproof suits I had made three months ago? English ships are made of wood, and despite the abundance of water, most of the ships’ internals are relatively dry and should be easy to light up.”
“Of course, I was just gonna do that”
“Ruff, Tuff, can you gather as much of barf's gas into the pots we made? Have a wick about a foot long extend from the lip of the pot”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because you just asked Berk’s best defender to come to your aid.”
“And this is awesome”
“Astrid, we still have old armor from old viking and chrisitan raids in the past. If you can find them, try and see which dragon projectiles can punch through the armor and at what range. If we can get enough groups of nadders attacking in more than one direction, the enemy won’t have time to organize themselves in the chaos to fight back effectively.”
“Let’s go Stormfly”
As much as Hiccup didn’t like the thought of taking up the mantle of chief, he had to admit he understood why his people followed and believed in him. Sure, he basically just turned from village pariah to its pride and hero, but with the hero-worship somewhat toned down, his natural skill at leadership had shown through with the right support and encouragement.
He only hoped it was enough to protect his home.
“Let’s go bud”
With a beat of onyx wings, the pair zoom into the sky with the intention of buying time for the defenders.
Chapter 2: First Blood
Summary:
Opening Hours of Berk's Stand against the English
Chapter Text
Invasion Fleet Command Ship “Steelclad”
Oswald looked up into the sky in curiosity and anticipation, there were reports of dragon sightings off the left wing of the formation and he was eager to see the legendary beasts. “Right, show yourself dragon” he mutters while scanning the skies above.
There it was, black speck against the orange and red of the evening sky, circling around the fleet: before disappearing into the Sun’s outline.
“Only one?” his lieutenant asks questioningly
“Probably gathering information, although I’m surprised it took them this long to send a scouting party and observe us”
“Well, let’s just be thankful of their incompetence”
With a sigh, Oswald nods in assent before heading to the stairs that lead below deck in order to inspect the maps from past expeditions into the barbaric Archipelago.
Was this the first sighting of the fleet? Or is this the first that had chosen to reveal itself?
Before he was able to form an organized train of thought however, a screech from the depths of Hell itself tore through the frigid air as a blast of brilliant purple destroyed the leading ship, its remnants destroying if not damaging the other ships behind it and causing the formation to fall.
“NIGHT FURY”
“GET DOWN”
“ARCHERS AT THE READY”
It didn’t take long for the demonic scream to start again, and moments later Oswald’s fears were confirmed when he saw the Ground Assault fleet’s command ship get blown to smithereens. Throughout the battlefield, chunks of wood, metal and men flew across the air in various sizes and states of destruction.
“DRAW”
He watched helplessly as the chain of command fell with chaos trickling exponentially across the ranks.
The scream came again, taking more time to build in its intensity. Despite the English soldiers’ training, nothing could have prepared them for the wrath of what many of the conscripts called the Night Fury. Other men who had previous experiences had already fallen to their knees, prayers spilling from their lips as tears cascaded from their eyes while they tried to get under something, anything…
“LOOSE”
At the peak of the damned scream: a final blast destroyed the next leading ship before a blur of black darted across the darkening sky.
Amidst the frightened men, many were too on edge by just the destruction of the first attack to move. Every man, taut like a bowstring ready to let loose chaos and destruction at the drop of a nail. Not a single sound, none but the slapping of the seas against barnacle-laden hulls and the creak of strained old wood. This unwelcome silence, this sickening anticipation for the promise of a fiery, explosive, death.
In their state of shock, they got lost in their surroundings and found-alamingly- that they had no visibility whatsoever. The sea was covered in a thick, warm fog-had that been there before?, engulfing the first fleet which pulled ahead due to their ships’ lighter and more agile nature.
Oswald would watch uselessly from the flagship as seconds later, the first fleet was reduced to silhouettes and screams, ash and smoke, scorching hellfire and bone-freezing water.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Ground Assault Fleet Escort Ship “Will-O-Wisp”
Five minutes
That’s all it took for Gladius’ Ground Assault fleet to fall
No sooner had the last ship entered the fog when shockwaves from beyond the mist rattled every man’s eardrums and disoriented them, only to be followed by squadrons of dragons coated in their own flame boarding their boats and finishing off the disoriented and disorganized troops. Despite his men being equipped with heavy plate armor, the defenders’ armaments seemed to cut clean through with only the heaviest plate armor resisting their swords and axes. The dragons and their riders were both aflame, confirming for many that they had stirred the hornet’s nest, only for the hornet to be Lucifer himself. Who were these barbarians who had no fear of fire, who rode on the backs of demons and looked to be part demon themselves? What did they want? What did they do to deserve their wrath? What would they want in exchange for surrender? Soon, cries of relief were heard throughout the tattered fleet as the dragons and their riders left shattered decks, blunted stearns and snapped oars as they broke through the other end of the thick fog.
Only to be greeted by a shower of hot, explosive, magma on the other side. One by one, his ships sank as the Gronkle blasts either punched man-sized holes through the hulls, solidified and added weight to the already barely-afloat ships, or simply set them ablaze.
Gladius closed his eyes in acceptance of death from the Pagans.
If I am to perish here, at least I will have perished in battle and prayer against the demons of the archipela-
He was unable to finish his thought, as he was thrown off the deck and into the freezing ocean after a blast landed no more than a meter from where he stood. Breaking the icy water’s surface, he had no choice but to watch in horror while his men screamed in prayer, for mercy, or in desperation before feeling a sharp spike of electricity and fading into nothingness.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Dragon Hunting Fleet Command Ship “Oakenhide”
William couldn’t believe it, in a matter of mere minutes the entirety of the Ground Assault fleet was nothing more than a vague area of blood, burning or sinking ships, torn sails, floating bodies and injured men. Not only were the demons brutal, he realized, but they were organized. Despite the chaos of it all, it was easy to see that the different groups had different jobs throughout the battle, and all preconcieved expectations of fighting an incompetent opponent were set aside. These weren’t the barbarians they had gotten used to beating in battles past, these were trained AND organized warriors with a plan and tools to make said plan a resounding, bloody success.
“HOLD”
He gave the order for his troops to stop sending arrows as soon as the first volley proved to be far too short of their intended targets. Nonetheless a few of the bowmen, whether out of fear, anger, frustrated stubbornness or lack of training from being conscripts, kept firing.
“Send a message to the other ships; get into tight formation and hold their fire as the demons are still out of bow-range. Have the supply fleet merge with ours and try to see if they can assemble some of the siege weapons on their decks. Send a message to the Lead fleet, shift priority to arming as many men as they can with bows as a suggestion.”
“Yessir”
The messenger pigeon handler promptly set about his task, and in a few minutes pigeons were flying back and forth between ships of the Dragon Hunting Fleet. Thankfully, a response was received from Oswald himself in the Steelclad stating his agreement on the suggested change in formation and orders to assemble siege weapons.
Unfortunately, no message was yet to be received from the supply fleet traveling four leagues behind the two(now one) combat fleets and the lead fleet.
Then it came to him.
“SEND OUT ANOTHER MESSAGE TO THE SUPPLY SHIPS, HAVE THEM SPEED UP AND MERGE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, ISOLATED SHIPS EASY PICKINGS SO HOLD TIGHT FORMATION”
“Aye sir!”
Before he could start praying that the supply ships -which were loaded with additional provisions, material and the aforementioned siege weapons- weren’t located, the hellscream which signaled the attack that destroyed the ground assault fleet roared across the waters again.
“Dear God”.
It was one thing to try and hit a dragon flying at diving speed at dusk where light was at least somewhat present -although it had used the sun as cover and therefore wasn’t seen- it was another to try and hit a midnight black dragon against the night sky. Soon, the less experienced and conscripted parts of the fleet were shooting blindly. In the panic, many English arrows found their mark not in dragon skin but in those of their own comrades.
An explosion of plasma splits the lead ship, its remains once again damaging the ships unlucky enough to catch the heavy floating debris. And a few seconds later the trailing ship would explode in much the same fashion.
“HOLD FORMATION, WE CAN’T BREAK UNTIL WE FIND BERK”.
“But Sir-”.
“Five hundred vikings, five hundred, lightly armored vikings on a small Island. We don’t have to kill the dragon riders here: we just have to find their home and make them pay in kind. In the meantime we hold and push through. Send a message to the other ships, any vessel that breaks off and survives is to have its crew executed for treason and desertion”.
“Right away sir”.
Suddenly, a ring of fire surrounds the fleet, dragons aflame and hovering just outside of bowrange.
“SURFACE TARGETS” calls the forward observer.
“We could pursue them sir, wouldn’t take much to extend, fire and pull back in formation”.
“No, we hold. Any ship that breaks off is easy pickings for the demons so hold”.
Nonetheless, a few ships from the conscripted section break off and attempt to shoot down the circling dragons.
Before being abruptly wrapped in nets and dragged forcefully beneath the waves.
“You can’t be serious, WHAT PART OF EASY PICKINGS WAS HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!”.
“Sir-”.
“Leave them be, all ships full speed ahead: we make landfall on the beaches of berk then we’ve won the war”.
“Right away sir”.
Satisfied with the speed at which they cruised, William prepared to give out orders for the officers commanding the bowmen before sharp, whistling sounds broke through the sky. It wasn’t the hellscream from before but it was still frightening, especially considering there wasn’t just one but more than a handful of the sharp sounds intensifying rather quickly.
While reinforcing the order to hold tight formation, a sudden volley of boulders the size of holding cells smashed clean through their decks, accompanied by what appeared to be twenty-foot ballista bolts punching through the ships’ waterlines. After a moment of hesitation and awe, he frantically he checked his maps; there shouldn’t be any landmasses in the final stretch to Berk, no solid patch of land upon which to plant massive ballistas, catapults or trebuchets. Yet here were the giant projectiles hammering his fleet as a carpet of death and destruction slowly creeped across the formation.
Overhead, the silhouette of at least two dozen dragons crossed the moon from his perspective while he watched as a second barrage of boulders and giant bolts careened towards his ships. It all made sense now, he wasn’t attacked by catapults and giant ballistas from beyond bowrange, he had just been suscepted to a bombing run from the dragon riders.
“EVASIVE MANEUVERS, SPREAD OUT”.
His voice alone could only do so much as his orders were drowned out by the overhead whistling, smashing of wooden hulls, and screams of dying men. Arrows fired from sea-level could only go so far, nowhere near the required altitude to defend against the Timberjacks dropping heavy projectiles on his fleet.
Suddenly the world fell into blackness as one of the giant bolts landed where he stood, leaving a mangled and bloody corpse.
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