The world of dragons

The cold wind from the Nordic sea blew fiercely across the dark stone cliffs of Berk. From atop the cliff, the view of the harbor was breathtaking: dozens of Viking ships bobbed on the choppy waters, while the mechanical sound of the gears from Gobber's Forge echoed across the island.
The morning sun barely pierced the thick fog, but the village was already fully awake. On the steep slopes, the solid wooden houses displayed their newly built landing ramps. On one side, a group of young riders adjusted their saddles and prepared the markings for another session of Dragon Racing in the Arena. On the other, long wooden chutes channeled fresh fish directly to the large public feeding troughs, where dragons of various species landed noisily for breakfast.
Near the entrance to the main hall, atop the mountain, the great stone statue of Stoic silently watched over the village, serving as a lookout for the frozen ocean and the skies that now belonged as much to men as to dragons.