Chapter Text
Heather wasn’t one for being idle, there was something so uncomfortable about standing completely still. her foot soon began to tap with anticipation, the tension of silence boring down on her, it was quick to make her grow restless. She felt restless now. Though, restless wasn’t good enough word to describe any of it.
They were all gone.
Just gone.
The attack had been so swift their village having only just returned to a somewhat normal state after Alvin’s attack, and all the transpired because of it, when he came…
Like the rejectants of Thor they were, they attacked in the night, when defences were at their lowest. Through some morbid sense of what others may consider “luck”, Heather’s house was located near the shore line. Heather was awoken that night to horrible screaming piercing through the once silent air, smoke clawed at her lungs as she raced from her bed to stare down at her village form her window, now engulfed a walls of flame. The heavy ash clawing up heather’s throat, in a suffocating hold.
it all happened so quickly.
Heather ran from her house, eyes heavy and knees weak as gripped a heavy rusted sword, a gift. It’d felt like less of a gift in that moment and more like her only line of defence. Her ears rang at all the sounds the screams, the shouts, the thundering of boots under charging foot.
She may have only had a few lessons on fighting but she had to help her people, she’d only just returned to them.
Heathers mouth felt dry as she came across a man a few paces ahead of her. His reddish ginger hair was spiked upwards. His hands raised as he gripped a shiny axe, his muscular form was turned but once she neared, he quickly whipped around towards her. At first his emerald green eyes sparkled with a sort of sick glee but he seemed to almost hesitate as he stared at her. His brows furrowed as though he was considering something deep within his mind.
What was wrong with him?
Heather felt her hands quiver as she gripped the coarse hilt raised her blade determinedly but before either could make another move a large figure darted in front of her and pushed her back “Heather, run now!”
Mother?
”Heather!?” The man’s voice was loud, and if she had ever given it anymore thought he sounded all too surprised for someone who knew she was there.
Before she could even part her jaw to question her mother quickly snapped “Run girl, get out of here now! Whilst you still can”
Heather hesitated as her eyes darted from her mother to the only clear area from the battle, stark against the orange tint of flame the path was a dark blue, silent is it dipped down towards the coast. The battle raged on and it was clear to anyone that the invaders had the clear advantage, people, her people were falling. Meeting their ends to strangers with viscous, unfeeling eyes. Her mother looked back at her for a single moment nodding her head at the path. Heather’s eyes watered as she turned away and fled, tears claws at her eyes but she roughly shook her head as darted away attempting to focus.
The laugh that followed chilled Heather to her core, it was so jovial. she her hair stand on end as the horrid sound scrapped against her ears.
that laugh
She was guilt ridden as she ran, her movements flashing in blurred images as the ever growing clouds of smoke grew stronger around her, seeping from the ground like a he’ll summoned mist of tar black fog. Heather was already out to sea before she had even realised that she’d had her hands were bleeding from pushing into jagged wood, despite the blood she couldn’t feel any pain.
How could she have done that! Left her kin to die with those monsters.
So what if Heather was barely trained, better death than dishonour. She had betrayed everyone so dear to her, for what? Survival.
What cowardice…
It may have been days or even weeks before she eventually shipped wrecked, Heather couldn’t tell if she tried and she couldn’t care to try. The rage was still there but it was dulled by the feeling of emptiness. It was as though her sense of self was gone. In some cruel way, it was somehow better worrying that at any moment Alvin could kill her parents that nerve racking fear had kept her going, knowing that they were dependent on her waiting for her kept her alive. Kept her sane.
But now, she just felt numb. Maybe it was because Heather had drifted north and found herself on some chilly island, maybe it was because the fishing boat had little protection from any elements, maybe it was her damp clothing still dripping ice water against her skin. She knew it wasn’t any of that though. Whatever it was had consumed her, the anger and sadness that at stained her face with burning tears was long lost and replaced with a chilling numbness.
Heather had seen this before, the old lady who lived next to her lost her husband. She was sweet before, she had warm laugh that rang like a soft bell in the air, she could sing the praises of every soul she met. Afterwards her warm voice just wasn’t the same, it was hollow, so lost so soulless everything that had made her human carved out with one fatal blow. Heather had assumed the silence would be so engulfing you couldn’t feel at all, but instead the silence was unbearable somehow screaming without sound, without presence. The screams of her dying friends and family somehow preferable to the deafening realisation that she had nothing to left to give…
The island she found herself on was relatively small, with a rocky terrain culminating in a dormant volcano at its centre. A pine forest wrapped around the volcano’s base like a thick ill-fitting blanket. It was somewhere far north, with Autumn stained trees creating a muddied red and brown haze. It was much too cold, a single breath crystallising in the air in a cloud of white smoke.
She got up, she couldn’t remember why or when. She had just sat on the edge of her broken ship for hours on end staring down at pure, untouched sand lost in her mind. Some sort of instinct must have dragged her hollow soul along, she was nothing but an unwilling passenger as she gathered supplies from her boat and moved into the darkened forest looming trees sneering at her forsaken face.
Heather built a camp.
It was a little ways away from a waterfall in the forest. She hoped the distant clashing and tapping of fresh water against stone would be soothing, a desired promise of a brief relief from silence but that would not be the case, the sound blurred easily. The forest near her camp was wild and ungroomed, further proving that she was in the North and likely the only person to have ever set foot on the island’s banks. The area was isolated and cold, leaves crackled under-foot, and tree bark was layered in mounds of uneven frost. Their needles sharp and bristled.
Heather rarely felt any energy at all to do anything about the cold. Just allowing her shivers to consume her every night she laid her head down to rest. Heather’s first day’s efforts were spent after travelling along the river-line from the waterfall until she found a fishing cove to lay traps.
Eventually Heather found herself adjusting to this “sate”, in the coming days the pain dragged on but became more of a throb than a crushing weight or piercing blade.
She’d always been the adventurous type so to avoid the growing stillness she moved further away from her camp each day. It didn’t do much of anything for her but even if her mind was numb to everything her body still despised stillness regardless of her own desire to lay still somewhere until the day she melted into the earth.
Heather observed the cove at first, at first the island had seemed almost entirely deserted but as she watched closer didn’t seem to be the case.Whenever Heather would look down at the beach from the ridge, some of the flat rocks seemed to have a vibrant green or yellow blur to them. Most Terrible terrors where fairly friendly so it struck Heather as a little odd when by the time she made it down the ridge the small animals had fled, the closest she’d come to an encounter with one was when she was hauling a broken trap up the ridge. When suddenly a small Terror flock swarmed passed her and down to the beach, letting out deafening screeches upon noticing her, incredibly frightened by her presence despite being the ones that had flown into her.
If Heather were to guess Terrible Terrors weren’t the only dragons on this island. The pine forest was fairly thin towards Heather’s camp but as the ground stretched out foliage and shrubbery stood tall, thistles and thorns seemingly having sharpened their blades for any attack. On a still night Heather could make out dragon calls too far away to be properly distinguished, she had yet to venture further than her daily trip to the cove but something was beginning to draw her further.
Boredom could be assumed but it felt like something more a longing for a distraction. if her experience with Alvin and Savage had taught her anything Heather always preferred to put on problem in front of another.
And so it started small…
As the River started to grow colder and her nets became slimmer Heather changed her schedule. She made traps for some of the common foul around her camp, at first she put them fairly close, so close in fact that during her many sleepless nights she could hear the rope coil itself around helpless prey. But soon Heather decided to move them further “reasoning” that the best chance of food would be further away from camp but she knew she just wanted to fool herself into moving further into the island she’d seen so little of.
Everyday she’d check the traps, moving them ever so slightly closer to those thick weeds and loudening slowly more distinct calls before returning to the river for fresh water and going back to camp. She knew it was dangerous being so bold in what was clearly wild dragon territory, even Gronckel could give her something rather painful to remember them by but if a typhoonerang or Changewing were out there it wouldn’t exactly end well for her.
It was on one of these days that Heather was testing her luck too much with setting up a trap too close to clearly dragon territory, that she heard a distinctive call. Most certainly a dragon and in pain. She knew the “smart” thing to do would be to ignore it after all she only had a dull iron blade and who knows what’s out there, but after the second call Heather’s feet moved for her. She lashed at tall weeds in her the wind whipping at her faces as she breathed in sharply running along the hard ground following the calls.
After a fierce battle with the thick undergrowth, Heather eventually emerged into a small rounded clearing. She bent over for a moment to catch her breath before looking around skeptically at the tall pine trees before her eyes darted over to the far end of the clearing. Partly disguised by tall grass was a mangled over turned Pine tree, hanging over a small sandy ditch. As Heather moved closer, her suspicions were confirmed small dust particles and a light almost feathers worth raising above the ground occurred every few breaths. Before Heather could get too close, a sudden click was enough to get her to dart aside just in time for a yellow and blue spine to strike the ground where she stood with deadly accuracy.
There could be no doubt of it, a Deadly Nadder was trapped underneath the fallen tree.
From what the book of dragons said Nadders prefer caverns and smaller, closer to the surface dwellings. So the dragon was likely resting there when the tree fell. Rasing her head to the Sky Heather noted the dark clouds, it had rained in the previous days so it was possible the tree had been struck by lightning near the top and fell onto the ditch. Judging from the fact Heather hadn’t heard the tree fall despite being in the general area since late dawn it was possible the poor creature had been stuck there for a day at least.
She blinked once again staring at the ditch, locking eyes with the dragon underneath. It was very dark but the distinctive blue was easy to spot as was her over bite, her horn seemed rounded but small so likely a juvenile. Likely small enough to just fit in the ditch in the first place but too large to fit through any cracks. When their eyes first met the Nadder glared up defensively making a slight hissing sound but as Heather drew near the dragon seemed to deflate, her narrowed eyes growing and glazing with exhaustion. An exhaustion Heather often saw reflected in her own glazed eyes. She seemed tired as if ready to let herself to whatever fate this “strange predator” would make her endure. Heather’s brows furrowed at the thought before drawing her blade and looking determinedly at the tree.
The fall had damaged it, in the right spots she could make enough of a dent but… with those spine shots the process may be difficult. Heather dug around her worn leather bag attached at her shoulder, a couple pheasant skins was all she had. Not comparable to chicken but what is to a Nadder? After being trapped in there so long she should be hungry enough to eat, even if Nadders were known for their more disdainful side. Slowly Heather reached into the back and flung the food into the ditch, not even taking the time to see if her plan was successful as she darted forward at the tree slashing with a dulled wooden blade at the weakest parts until they weighed, crackled and eventually snapped.
Heather’s sigh of relief was short lived as the dragon rather quickly caught on the change. With determined roar and an earth shattering bang, the dragon flung herself upwards managing to break the rest of the tree and hurl herself out of the ditch. Heather dove backwards landing awkwardly on the ground with a shooting pain in her side. The Nadder turned around her tail spikes exposed, clapping against the air with a snapping sound. The Nadder snarled as she watched Heather and moved forward slightly to within a few paces of Heather as if to threaten the downed girl.
Fear spiked through Heather as their eyes met, she could hardly breathe let alone think, her chest felt as though it was covered in icy thorns as the two starred at one another. It was the most alive she’d felt in the almost month since being here and were it not for the dangerous situation she might have enjoyed it. The Nadder snarled and Heather did the only thing she could possibly do in that moment , she tossed her sword to the side and raised her hands in a show of submission. Clearly The Nadder hadn’t expected her to do that either as she recoiled in surprise and low hissing sound echoing from her vibraint blue form, her back arching as she started down at her.
For a what felt like years Green and black eyes locked in an unending stare before the Nadder gave one final squawk before flapping her wings and taking off into the pale grey sky, leaving a rather startled Heather, unscathed for now.
After that rather memorable experience Heather had been cowed in the following days, still curious but more cautious. Contrary to one may think after witnessing Heather risk her life for a dragon that was tail slice away from cutting her in two, Heather doesn’t believe herself an idiot just a bit impulsive. Satisfying her boredom or curiosity wasn’t worth a rather unpleasant end by Nadder venom, which if the book of dragons were to be believed didn’t leave much to be desired in a rather grim end.
However that all being said, there was something off about the forest now.
A lurking presence could be felt.
There was a unsettling itch to her walk down the cove now, a watched feeling.
Unfortunately for her young observer, the Nadder had a fair bit to learn delicate art of stalking. Whilst she certainly had the instinct for softer movements and to move to thicker undergrowth. Her bright blue scales easy to make out within a sea of green grass, her surprised yowls whenever Heather happened to glance in her direction and the unmistakable click of a Nadder’s tail spines when Heather traveled to close too her “hiding spot” were rather hard to ignore. Though, Heather let out an amused breath, not necessarily unwelcome, it didn’t feel like she was being watched out of predatory hunger and more so… interest.
It would seem as though she was just as curious of Heather as Heather was of her.
After a couple days of this “stalking” Heather decided to name the youthful dragon Swiftstalker, mostly out of some sort of irony. Finding something amusing less that 3 weeks after the incident made Heather both guilty and strangely warm again. It wasn’t as though she had any escape from her grief but being alert made her feel present in a sensewatching out for the only dragon on the island that noticed her small camp, and seemed interested in her kept her mind present instead of away.
Swiftstalker seemed to be growing bolder by the day, in the dawn when Heather first left her camp she’d hang back a little mostly uninterested in the small foul that Heather’s traps had caught in the night. Not that Heather had much judgment to pass that opinion, she had to stop herself from recoiling in disgust a fair few times at the small creatures she picked up due to the poor quality most of the animals she picked up were sick so she ended up having to throw it out, other times a fox would’ve gotten there first and left a sight that’s less than desirable. When Heather made her way along the river, was when her new friend began showing her interest.
Swiftstalker could tell where she was going and that she’d be getting fish there. Shadows would shift behind darkened trees and it took a lot to stop herself from looking at her follower, the book of dragons didn’t have to tell her that dragons were naturally cautious so the only way to develop any kind of bond was to let Swiftstalker make the first move.
By sunset and Heather had made her way up the ridge Swiftstalker was much closer, barely even hiding has she stared down at her from one of the taller cliffs. Heather knew what she was after and so she left her a few fish behind most days, a test of sorts. If Swiftstalker was interested in her there wasn’t to much harm in leaving behind a little something. As she had discovered with Stormfly the quickest way to a Nadder’s heart was through there stomach, as was the truth with most dragons.
Heather let out a small sigh as she laid out her equipment on the stone next to her and sat next to the river bank and casting her rod out into the river. The day was unusually warm, hardly a cloud in the sky but she had a bit of work ahead of her so her spirts weren’t exactly high. Her fishing traps weren’t as durable as once thought so he’d little test had cost her a fair bit of fish and now with the first wisps of winter in the frosty air Heather was forced to do more than wait to get food. She’d considered foraging. She’d been taught about a fair amount of plants but this island only seemed to have a rather large supply of cattail, a rather distasteful plant she’d prefer not to eat until she had to.
A sudden squawk from above distracted Heather from her thoughts. She wasn’t entirely sure of how many dragons were on the island but from the occasional smoke arising from the far east of the Island there was at least one monstrous nightmare, some terrible terrors of course but otherwise it was anyone’s guess. This far north dragons were as common as the trees or as rare as they come with the ever changing weather. Sure enough her forest walking “companion” soon appeared from a bustle of pine trees flying over the river and making some sort of noise upon seeing Heather. A noise she’d have attempted to take in endearment had it not been for the oh so familiar click of tail spikes.
Much to her surprise Swiftstalker glided down to the bank opposite Heather. Heather lifted her head to greet her but she was met with an almost defiant up turned head, when she noticed Heather’s lingering gaze she jutted her head side to side her wings exposed slightly as if to say "I could leave at any time so don't try anything" for a few moments we looked at each other before Heather returned to her fishing. Whilst fairly curious about Swiftstalker, Heather had indulged a little too much in feeding her so she would prefer to ignore her for the time and focus on not starving to death in winter when the cove began to freeze over… it felt odd to do that. To plan for something she wasn’t sure she cared if it happened. Starving to death would be painful but unwelcomed?
Apparently that was an incredibly offensive thing to her young Nadder friend, as Swiftstalker let out an irritated snort and leapt over the bank and stood apprehensively a few feet away from Heather, not as bold as she once was now that she's this close. Heather trained her face to keep away the shock that she had suddenly moved so close, giving the dragon a small head nod without turning away from the water.
Swiftstalker seemingly deciding that Heather wasn’t a threat, let out what she could’ve sworn was a sigh before lowering her wings and resting her legs and bunching her wings underneath her.
Heather felt strangely honoured by the acceptance it was one thing to ride Stormfly, an already trained dragon it was another to feel accepted by Swfitstalker in this moment. Heather soaked in the rare autumn sun rays as she and Swiftstalker sat in a prolonged silence nothing but the lapping of waves against the shoreline could be heard. Even though it was a silence and a stillness it wasn’t painful or irritating or emptying it was just a moment, in her current state she wouldn’t go as far as to calll it happy. Heather didn’t deserve happy, but it was calm. A calm in a storm of silence she supposed.
After a while, Swiftstalker even fell asleep, though it wasn't long-lasting…
Swiftstalker woke with a surprised hiss-like growl jumping back a little, she looked around her body arched back defensively and her pupils narrowed into small slits. Heather gazed at her from the bank and after a small moment of confusion Swiftstalker looked back at her with her head cocked to the side. She had clearly expected to rise to Heather’s dulled sword at her throat and now seemed a mix of confusion and uncertainty her head glancing around as she lowly calmed.
Heather smiled to herself slowly rising to stand. If there ever were the time to try it…
Swiftstalker fluttered back a bit as Heather moved towards her but not all the way. Heather felt her heart pounding as she raised her hand forcing herself to look away. At first nothing happened, the grass swayed beneath worn shoes and talons, the wind that had began to grow in the evening sun pressed against skin and scale. She almost regretted trying to early-
When a sudden ruff texture connected with her hand.
Heather blinked her vision a blurred haze as she slowly turned towards the dragon. She gazed softly at Swiftstalker. It seemed as though she had made a new friend
“Slow down girl, I’m trying to keep up” Heather huffed as she chased the over head dragon.
Things had certainly changed in the past couple weeks, that’s for sure.
Heather wasn’t very certain it was that good of a change, Swiftstalker had become a fair bit more invasive and today she had decided to steal Heather’s sword forcing Heather to chase her along the shoreline land lead her towards the beach. Whilst she was okay with her around, Swiftstalker was starting to press her luck. Heather tossed away the irritated thought as she focused on following the dragon her boots scuffing unevenly against sand, the sun beaming yet bringing little warmth not helping the exhaustion beginning to take hold of her
Finally after what felt like minutes of running along the beach she eventually found the dragon nestled a top a wooden structure, Heather felt herself inhale at the sight.
Her fishing boat…
It’d been almost a month since she washed up, something evident by the barnacles crawling up every end of no doubt rotting wood. The sail now long destroyed.
Swiftstalker ever testing her luck was nosing around crates, Heather’s sword carelessly discarded along the edge. She rolled her eyes moving closer “come on girl let’s get out of here before you hurt yourself.” Heather hasn’t really touched Swiftstalker since they fished but she had started using commands, to rather minimal affect given the way the dragon continued to ignore her.
Heather sighed before making her way over to the boat jumping on board to get her sword, Swiftstalker squawked at her once she boarded her head pushing against a crate. Heather picked up her sword before moving closer, prying open the create. Swiftstalker instantly shoved her head inside incredibly interested in one moment and then after a few deep sniffs became rather bored in less than a second. Heather snickered “not what we were hoping for huh?” Swiftstalker huffed before jumping off the boat the earth shaking under her weight, not interested in Heather’s teasing. Heather was about to follow after when a sudden thought over came her as she realised that a crate remained unopened.
She slowly moved towards the crate, she was surprised she’d so easily missed. It was fairly small she noted but really, she was better than that. Heath brushed her fingers along the rough edges until she felt an opening, lifting it up and peered inside.
There lay a single brown book, rather unassuming but Heather couldn’t help but feel strangely allured by it. Raising it from its placement in the box realised it was a journal of sorts, well designed to be at least. The soft book had been reformed into something a of ledger but new enough that it had den even been used yet. She looked back at Swiftstalker who cocked her head in response “Well what do you think about helping me out with something?” Heather questioned and received a rather uninterested response as she opened the journal flicking through empty pale yellow pages.
“A journal, like the book of dragons could certainly be useful…”
The Deadly Nadder
Intro:
The Deadly Nadder is a loyal, deadly, and powerful mid-sided tracker class dragon its most noticeable features being it’s spike crown and razor sharp tail spikes.
Appearance:
Length : 11 feet tall
width: 53 feet wide (Wing span included)
depth: 32 feet long
the Deadly Nadder is a very beautiful and bird-like dragon with two legs instead of four like a Nightfury or Gronckle whilst a towering figure the Deadly Nadder is medium-sized. It has small yet sharp eyes, with black slit-like pupils that narrow when focusing on something.
Its body is vividly coloured, with a light beige underbelly, while its wings are mottled, darker shades their dominant colours are blue, green or pink. In front of its eyes is a curved nasal horn, which is often used to batter opponents; its lower jaw is shorter and wider than its upper, giving it an overbite.
Ringing its skull is a crown of spikes. Coating the tail is a series of poisonous spines which can be fired at an opponent with deadly accuracy. When relaxed, its head spikes and venomous tail spines lay flat, but when alarmed, they shoot upward to intimidate its foe. The tail spikes can also be used to make a rattling noise which it makes right before it attacks, similar to a rattlesnake's.
The nasal horn of female Deadly Nadders is longer and more curved than those of males', whose horns are short and straight. The males are also larger in body size. Female Nadders also have a slight overbite that resembles a beak, while male Nadders have complete underbites and more robust jaws.
Traits:
One of the main things Nadders are known for is their incredibly hot firepower, melting rock like yak butter in with almost pure right rays.
Nadders are also incredibly dangerous because of their tail spines, razer sharp tips with deadly poison most who are hit with one of these spines do not live to see the next moon and endure an agonising fate.
Not only are they deadly but Deadly nadders are also extremely swift dragons, even able to evade a Night fury if given chicken.
A deadly Nadder is not without fault however, when shooting its Spine-shots they leave its belly exposed and open to attack. Nadders are also easily distracted and bribed by food chicken being a favourite of the breed, gaining their trust is best done through food.
