Snorre was created to accompany a fan dragon species called the Nightsealer. The Nightsealer is the creation of Chameishida and can be seen in the School of Dragons Forum thread - "Introducing the Nightsealer - Customizable bases".
Wounded Huntress[]
Snorre the Still dragged the steaming moose carcass over to his sled and foisted it on top. There were no broad antlers on the head, since the deer had shed them for winter. There was a single neat, smoking hole in the chest which had felled the beast instantly. It was dressed and ready to go, for Snorre to sail back across the bay to his small village on the Isle of the Quiet Life and add to the communal stores there. The innards also formed a steaming pile nearby, but not for long - a smallish purple dragon with the look of a predatory falcon slurped the organs up quietly. The dragon grunted and opened her mouth as if roaring or muttering some other draconic sound, but nothing came out. Snorre sometimes wondered if her injuries from when he found her had damaged her ability to speak. He sat down on the edge of the sled and waited. Making sounds or not, he knew that gesture, and it meant he was to wait for her to finish. He didn't mind - his feet were a little sore anyway. Perhaps he would make a new pair of boots out of this moose's hide.
Spearrow swallowed what appeared to be the last bite of liver, burped (which Snorre was able to hear very well), then sat back on her haunches and flapped her wings to stretch. A few feet in the air was as far as she would ever get into the sky anymore. She was missing everything above the second wing finger on the left side. The right wing was intact, but like her body was criss-crossed with many scars. Her large, piercing green eyes were intact as well, which presently regarded Snorre in satisfaction. Grounded or not, Spearrow was still a superb and lethally quiet hunter. With her around, he only used his cross-bow to fell game half the time. The other half she jetted out a bright green blast with extreme precision. Hence the smoking hole in this moose carcass, right through the heart. Or at least so close the beast dropped dead in an instant.
Snorre stood and picked up the rope on the front of the sleigh and started walking, pulling the sleigh over the hard-packed snow. Spearrow stepped along beside him, and they quietly made their way back to the small camp just above the shoreline and Snorre's faering partially bobbing in the water and partially grounded on the pebbly shore. As they continued, the trees thinned out more and gave way to patchy brush, denuded of leaves and looking skeletal against the white landscape. There was a bit of a haze about, like a heavy fog settling around the vegetation. But it was too cold to be foggy at this time of year. Spearrow growled - one of the noises Snorre could hear - and her eagle eyes started shifting about. Snorre inhaled the grey haze. It smelled of smoke. As the two neared the sea, off in the distance down the coastline, a cloud of smoke billowed up into the crisp air. There were no settlements on this part of the land, and it was much too large to be curling up from a cooking fire.
Snorre parked the moose in a snow bank and kicked snow over it near a small circle of stones he had used for a camp fire. Man and dragon exchanged glances, then Spearrow snorted and sat down near the meat. Snorre sighed and started walking toward whatever was causing such billowing smoke. The dragon didn't care much for the affairs of humans, other than hunting and Snorre. She preferred his modest hut on the outskirts of a modest village on the Isle of the Quiet Life. There weren't too many other dragons around, and the other villagers didn't bother her much, though they sometimes brought her tidbits to snack on because of her contributions from hunting game.
As Snorre left the dragon behind, he knew that there was a good chance she would show up in a little while. She wasn't very interested in what humans did, but she did have a bit of a curious streak. It was possibly what got her caught in the first place.
It was twilight. Snorre was hunting near the Haunted Marshands, looking for all kinds of fowl, moose, red deer, and whatever else was edible. His island was large, but limited on the larger wild prey species. This wide swath of wilderness was the only thing separating the Northern Mainland from the Uglythug Lands to the South. They were the stereotypical Viking through and through - brutish, proud, aggressive, and dealt heavily in slaves, both human and dragon kind. In a small meadow an injured deer stood, unable to flee into the woods as it was tied out. It lay exhausted and near death from fear and pain. Around it lay some dragon bodies, bloodied and lacerated. There was one purple-colored one hanging between two trees, as if in a single still image. Wings spread out in flight and rivulets of dark red crusted blood striping its hide. The deer had been bait for these majestic hunters, and dragon parts were almost as lucrative as live ones, but much safer to handle. Snorre suspected the Uglithugs had strung up a trap of thin razor wire around the trees of the small clearing. These swift and fierce hunters, these Nightsealers, swooped in to catch this easy prey, and flew headlong into the trap, slicing through their hide, flesh, and bone to their death, the force of their majestic flight working against them. The purple one though, she was not quite dead. Her chest rose and fell occasionally. Snorre silently roared inside, appalled by the needless violence. There were other, gentler ways of making a living for one's tribe. He aimed his crossbow at the dying deer and put a bolt through its head. Might as well take it and honor the prey animal with being useful to another in death. As for the razor wire, he cut it down as best as he could manage with an axe and a knife. The purple dragon fell to the ground with a moan. She had deep cuts over her body and half a wing sheared clean off. Snorre sighed in frustration and held up his crossbow between the dragon's eyes to put her out of her misery. The dragon snapped open her vivid green eyes and glared at him defiantly. Snorre just looked into her eyes for a few moments. Life still simmered there, and refused to leave. He lowered the crossbow and tucked it away, and instead extricated the dragon from the wire. She was so weak she did little more than shift a bit and hiss at him repeatedly. So he dragged her to his camp along with the deer carcass, and then on his boat to his small shack on the outskirts of town. He stitched up what he could of her wounds and bandaged other spots, and when she hissed at him, he tossed mashed meat into her toothy mouth.
Snorre walked on through the bare bushes and trees. He heard not a peep, not a light crunch of snow, nor snapping twig. But he felt Spearrow's presence stalking him to the left a few yards back. He did not call to her and bring attention to the dragon, but kept moving forward. He rounded a bend in the landscape and came upon the source, or rather sources, of the billowing smoke. He stepped up next to a boulder, ready to duck out of site if need be. A large Knarr listed in the waters off a pebble beach, very slowly sinking into the sea. There was a large smoking hole in its hull and several fires flaring on deck and burning the remains of the sail. A demonic image of a helmeted skull and crossbones slowly dissolved to ash, empty black sockets flaming red and the destruction it witnessed. There was an odd dragon here and there flying off in the distance, and a single Monstrous Nightmare thrashing on the beach, kicking up sand and stone and water erratically. It flamed up its hide irregularly and spit up occasional fountains of fire from its mouth. As far as Snorre could see, there were a few arrows pricking its scales - probably Dragon Root or some other poison that had only partially sedated the dragon, and now was more dangerous than ever in a delirious state. Eventually ... eventually it would wear off. Yet there was more destruction than what a single Nightmare could do. The worst were the blackened mounds dotting the beach. These smoked with the stench of roasted meat but much fouler. The charred helmets on the mounds and the strange shapes said they had once been humans. The crew of the Uglithug vessel, possibly. Snorre reflexively swallowed back a bit of rising bile. And even the bodies burned beyond recognition where not the end of the scene - they roughly surrounded a small group of 5 or 6 bodies, untouched by fire, but pierced by Uglithug arrows. These were not clothed like Vikings and appeared to have been allotted little more than rags to wear. They looked like slaves. Wanderers perhaps. So the doomed ship was a vehicle for dragon and human slaves.
Snorre lowered his head and breathed deeply for a few moments to bolster his horrified psyche. The snow crunched softly as Spearrow appeared beside him and sat down. Her green eyes were as alert as ever, darting about and assessing the scene. They kept returning to two things - the flailing Nightmare and the group of slaves. She started grumbling to herself. Too much danger here, not much to hunt. Burned bodies were of little interest. Snorre took another deep breath. Hel herself could take the Uglithugs as she pleased, but the Wanderers deserved something a little better. He didn't know what their beliefs were, but there were a few small boats pulled ashore. Burial at sea was preferable than being food for the crows and worms. He stood up straight and squared his shoulders, and walked over to the small group of Wanderer bodies. Spearrow trotted along, mouth parted, showing a greenish light glowing inside. They had to jump aside to avoid another gout of flame from the Nightmare, but slowly the beast was huffing heavily and wearing out. It'd probably need to sleep off whatever it was drugged on.
A few men, a few women, and a girl child of perhaps seven or eight who was partially covered by one of the women. Perhaps a mother and child. Snorre just shook his head in disgust and started dragging the bodies to the boat. Spearrow sniffed each body as if inspecting them. Snorre got to the mother and as gently as he was able rolled her body off the child. The child stared up into the overcast hazy sky. Snorre leaned over her to lift her small weight up. Her dark eyes rolled back regarding Snorre, accusing. A ghost? Spearrow bounded over and lit up her mouth ready to shoot. The girl - or ghost? Undead? - let out a loud scream over and over again, staring at Snorre. The Viking jumped back, startled beyond belief. The girl jumped up and ran screaming into the cold barren woods. Spearrow jumped forward and aimed her green shot at the small fleeing being. The girl breached the black tree trunks and started to disappear, but a darker creature yet moved into Spearrow's line of fire growling. Wisps of black ether rose from its skin. Spearrow let loose the building charge directly into the blackened beast at the forest edge. The green spear of plasma found its mark, but it fizzled and sputtered into darkness as it cascaded across the creature's skin. Snorre sat on his knees, barely registering all that just transpired in a moment's time. But he jumped up and ran to Spearrow, placing a hand on her side to prevent her from firing further. "Black Beast," he whispered, as if she would know what that is. The girl was alive - perhaps - and alone in the winter wood with a deadly dragon lurking about. Snorre took a few steps forward to go after her, but so did the beast. Spearrow opened her mouth in a silent scream of challenge. Nothing he or she could throw at the beast could defeat it. Snorre's mind churned. The Uglithug bodies burnt to a blackened crisp. It was the Black Beast, the Coalskin, or whatever other name it went by. Even from here, Snorre could feel the heat and energy radiating from it, were one touch from it would cause a serious burn on a man. Snorre stepped back a few paces. There was nothing to be done. The beast stayed a moment longer then bounded into the wood along the path the girl took.
Spearrow glared at Snorre and shot a blast into the air in frustration at having reached a stalemate. Snorre stood, processing these events for a moment more, then went back to placing the Wanderer bodies in the boat. He covered them with a bit of sail, added some already burning wood, and shoved the boat out onto the water. It shifted slowly out onto the water, the fire starting to catch and grow larger. Snorre said a silent prayer to Odin and turned to leave. He and Spearrow walked back to their tiny camp, but not before leaving a bit of wrapped bread and cheese from his pack on a stone near the wood's edge.
There was nothing to do. Snorre launched his own boat with the moose and the fuming Spearrow aboard. Tomorrow he would sail back and look around, though he did not expect to see anything else of the girl, who would most likely be attacked by the Coalskin or frozen from the cold. But he would at least try. Maybe, just maybe, he could get Spearrow to track her, but stopping her from following through with a full hunt - killing her if she weren't already dead - would be difficult.
Back at his small village, Snorre deposited the moose with a neighbor to cure for storage, then returned to his small hut and slept fitfully.
Information[]
Dragon Name and Gender:[]
Spearrow the Female Nightsealer
About the Nightsealer:[]
(The following is directly quoted from Chameishida's thread, "Introducing the Nightsealer - Customize bases" on the SOD Forums. Please visit the thread link for more graphics about the Nightsealer!)
- Class: Strike
- Attack: 16
- Speed: 19
- Armor: 19
- Firepower: 16
- Shot Limit: 6
- Venom: 0
- Jaw Strength: 5
- Stealth: 17
Nightsealers are small silent hunters that dominate the sky, sealing it all to themselves.
Although small, these bat-like dragons have the strength, speed and firepower that is more than enough for them to go toe on toe with the bigger strike dragon. Nightsealers don't play well with others and would rid of everything crossing their night sky. If encounter, they can lock you in a battle for hours, usually until the opponent is eliminated.
Personality: One-track minded destroyer who fight to survive
Fire Type: high concentrated, thin-shaped green plasmid charge that was said to pierce clean through object like a javelin.
Hidden Abilities: When they say Nightsealers are silent hunter they actually meant it. These dragons don't make any sound, no growl no roar, no squark nor whine. It's believe that the sound Nightsealers made can't be heard by human's ear or even some dragons. These sound help the dragon nevigate silently and hunt better in the dark.
Additional Information:[]
- The Island of the Quiet Life, the Mainland, Haunted Marshes, and Uglithug Slavelands are all locations mentioned in the original "How to Train Your Dragon" Book series by Cressida Cowell.
- The Wanderers were a group of people appearing in the original Book series. Some Viking tribes captured them as slaves. It is unclear who the author meant the Wanderers to be, though they feel like some Arctic native peoples.
- Vikings would have encountered not only the native Scandinavian Saami, but also Native American groups that were the precursor to the Inuit and lived in the Arctic and Greenland.
- The slaves were one of the top commodities for real-life Vikings.
- The 'Coalskin' dragon mentioned in the story is another of Chameishida's fan-dragon species!
- A Knarr (or Knorr) is a type of Viking ship somewhat like a Longship, but larger, wider, and built for oceanic travel. It would have been the typical ship for traders, as opposed to the Longship which was more designed for warfare.