His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell folded his wings and continued diving. "He's not giving up," said Mcmaster.

"I noticed," said Reynolds. "Take us to the floor Frostfell. He can either follow close or let us slip away."

Frostfell roared and continued to plunge towards the ground.

[Charon]

Jake rode through the smoke and flame, his eyes flashing in glory and excitement as his target came into view. He'd have screamed a battlecry, but the smoke and heat pulled the air out of his lungs, so he simply stood in glory. Then it happened.

Jake saw Kunja's claw coming down and he knew that the German captain was in the way of the blow. He tried to call out to Kunja, to the captain, anyone, to get the blow to divert, but he could only watch as the captain's head was crushed in one blow as Kunja slipped by at an ever increasing speed. Jake felt like he was going to vomit and leaned on Kunja, hugging tightly to his neck, not because he'd killed, he'd done that plenty of times now. It was because he'd commited a cardinal sin, he'd killed a Dragon captain. Jake often joked that he'd spent so much time around dragons that he might well be half dragon himself, and it was exageration in genetics only. Dragons were his life, his blood, he often understood the creatures better than he did humans. He knew what pain he'd just caused.

Kunja glanced back. "Jake, did I just..."

"Yeah Jack." Was the muffled reply from Jake as the cry of pure pain, sadness and anger pealed through the air. Both captain and dragon shivered uncontrollably, and for a moment, a brief moment, they considered letting the Aufseher kill them. It was not the first time they had heard that cry. When they were much younger in Australia a Venomspitter had made a mistake during practice and had killed the captain of a Victorian, by the end there wasn't enough left of either dragon to consider being able to give a proper funeral.

"Jake, what do we do?" Came the nervous question from his dragon.

Jake glanced up as the German troops leapt from their dragon as it began to fall after them. "Run Jack. And don't stop."

Kunja had not yet brought his wings out to slow his descent, and as such had gained a considerable gain on the berserked dragon, but that gain would turn into disaster as soon as they ran out of air, giving the Aufseher plenty of space above them with which to spit down. Neither captain or dragon even considered leading the berserked Aufseher into the formations of the other dragons, what they had done was cruel enough without spreading the misery.

Jake flipped in his seat so he could see the incoming acid. One goblet was coming close, and Jake dug his heel into his dragon's port side. The other wing extended almost on instinct and the sudden drag pulled Kunja out of the way without loosing much speed.

Kunja focused on flying, he had to gain altitude, now. He had the speed, he'd have to pull the g's though and with a special whip of his tail he let Jake know what was coming before the second wing pulled out. Tendons creaked and strained against the sudden resistance as Kunja pulled sharply out of his descent, compressing Jake into the captain seat with the force of the g's pulled as Kunja finally reached a point where he was going slightly up again. Jake blinked slowly as he resisted the effects to the best of his ability and saw the Aufseher closing fast. Kunja rolled sharply to his left and Jake was again compressed into his seat, threatening to lose consciousness under the constant maneuvers as Kunja turned his roll into a fast circling ascent, watching the Aufseher carefully for it's next attack.

[Agent Fisher]

Godfrey stalled, freezing, before he looked around. The spitfire spotted the aussie pair. So did Jack.

"Get after them!" Jack yelled to Godfrey. There was no way he was going to leave Kunja and Jake to a pissed of Aufseher.

The spit beat it's wings, going into a diving chase of the German Special Weapon dragon.

[LadyTevar]

As soon as Jeb hit the Aufseher, and it -didn't- start falling out of the sky, Judith knew they were in a bit of trouble, although Jebediah tore into the harness with the intent to tear it and the crew away. When a net fell over Jeb's hindquarters, and a second draped over his right wingalar, Judith knew they were in a *lot* of trouble -- then she realized what the German with the funny backpack was.

"Jeb, time ta leave...," Judith said, her tommygun spraying a hail of bullets in the direction of the flamethrower, but she never got to hear Jeb's answer, if there was one.

The anguished howl of the German dragon sent shivers down the spine of dragon and human alike. Judith had heard that sound before, when her own pa had died, and it chilled her to the bone. She stopped shooting, the weapon dropping on its lanyard as she leaned forward to hug Jebediah's neck.

"Behold, the day of the Lord cometh," Jebediah quoted, his voice soft and harsh with far-too-recent pain, "cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, as of a Dragon bereft of Captain*, to lay the land desolate: and he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of it."

A snakebite had taken Jebediah's captain, his companion since the egg. A snake's poison, spreading through his Captain's body to stop his heart ... but not before Jebediah had been commanded to protect Judith all her days. A snake that had been about to bite Judith, before her pa had taken the bite himself to save his daughter.

The growling roar rose in Jeb's throat and he gave full voice to it. He wouldn't lose his Captain again. The net on his alar was ignored as he swept around, his hindquarters slipping free of the other net as easily as he would a bramblebush. The tail-tip flicked like a bullwhip, nearly cracking air as Jeb whirled about on the back of the Aufseher with all claws, foot and wing alike, digging in for purchase on the back harness.

Jebediah was a light dragon, but he still took up a good potion of the Aufseher's back. This left a lot of German crewmen without a place to run as Jeb chased them with tail and teeth.

"Jeb! Wha're ya...," Judith shouted, clutching at her own harness as Jeb whirled and snapped angrily about. She didn't get an answer, so she yanked the lanyard for her closest weapon, thumbed off the safety on the shotgun, and started taking potshots at the closest Germans. Jeb jumping and hopping spoiled her aim a bit, but when one's supper depended on the squirrel or quail shot that evening, accuracy with a shotgun was well-learned.

Hopefully Judith's sudden strong aversion to shoot anywhere near the Captain on the neck of the dragon was shared by the Germans.


*KJV Isaiah 13:9, italics mark possible in-game variation.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Waldwanderer and Richard knew their error the moment that Jeb impacted on the german dragons' spine. They would pass below him and put themselves at risk. The second that happened Walwanderer did the only thing he could do, he closed his wings about his side and he dove to avoid the viscous acid. But he did not just dive. Both of them knew that the acid was a liquid and would form the most aerodynamic shape possible, a pray of droplets. As a result it would accelerate toward them faster than they accelerate away and would eventually catch them. Thankfully once it left it's point of origin the acid was on its own. After a second or so, Walwanderer partially extended his left wing, slowing his descent on one side and forcing a turn. The acid would pass on the side and both he and Richard would bersafe.

[General Havoc]

Hermecritus soared back towards the half-mad Aufseher, which was taking absolutely no notice of him, nor of anything else except the Victorian before it. Had he been given enough of an opportunity, he might well have caught the insane beast, and delivered a savage drubbing to it with his long and vicious horns. However the world would never know if that was an option or not, as the Kampfritter following Hermecritus was not to be dissuaded by a single Vickers machine gun.

Bursts of 20mm fire exploded around Hermecritus as the Kampfritter let out a roar and charged him in mid-air. Damaged though he was, he was no worse hurt than the Longhorn, and overtaking the middleweight was not a problem. Only by virtue of roaring did it give its game away ahead of time, plowing through the sky towards Hermecritus with the force of a freight train in mid-air.

*-----------------------------------------------------------*

The battle aboard the Prussian Bluejacket was brief.

It could not be otherwise really, not after the slaughter that the dragon's crew had undergone and the battering it had taken from both Malachite Reapers. Æquitas practically fell out of the sky when he saw Semmemnon's captain leap over himself to engage the boarders, and Rankin had to tap him on the neck to re-assure him that he had not done the same. It didn't matter in any event. Outnumbered three to one by the boarders, the crew of the Bluejacket fought for only half a minute or so before being overwhelmed. The dragon's jackknifes and abrupt shifts of direction did not aid it, and soon enough, one of Semmemnon's crew was standing aboard the Bluejacket with a pistol to the German captain's head. The German dragon cried out and twisted its head around, but slowly and erratically, came about and began to fly back down towards the ground.

*-----------------------------------------------------------*

The Jotun was indeed not giving up, not even close. Jotunmeisters were of a level that permitted them to ignore most everything else in the sky, and this one was intent on accomplishing its objective. Shells burst all around the Wendigo it pursued. Having been given the choice of following close or giving up, it chose the former without hesitation, angling its dive to try and cut off the Wendigo as it would inevitably have to pull up or ram into the ground. Even if it did not hit the Wendigo directly, at that range its on-board artillery (such as it was) would do terrible work to the Canadian snow demon.

*-----------------------------------------------------------*

Kunja had managed to stabilize himself only briefly before the Aufseher was upon him.

The thing was no longer fighting like a normal dragon, or even a normal anything. It lashed and slashed and bit and spat acid like a mad thing, caring nothing for what Kunja might do to it, only for what it might do to Kunja. Twice Kunja's size at least, and an acid spitter to boot, it swung and slashed with its claws and snatched at the Victorian dragon to drag it in towards its mouth and vomit enough acid over it to kill a heavyweight.

It did not see Godfrey behind it. It would not have cared if it had.

*-----------------------------------------------------------*

The Aufseher had missed Waldwanderer, and was now trying to deal with the semi-mad Smoke Devil on its back. The crew, hampered by the close quarters and prevented from bringing their main weapons to bear, finally had to resort to the more dangerous expedient of fire. The flamethrower on the back of the Aufseher's master-at-arms sparked to life and the German turned on the American lightweight intending to sety it alight and roast the dragon and captain.

Except right about then, something ripped his head off.

Jeb was much smaller than the Aufseher. Fulminatus was not. He collided with the German Special Weapons unit like a frieght train hitting a brick wall, and the impact was violent enough to throw the entire german crew off its feet, dangling by their carabineers over the side. The German spat and slashed and twisted, but Fulminatus was as large as it was, and was in no position to be spat upon, goring the stuffing out of the German special weapons dragon, who needed no further encouragement to panic. Balling its wings up, the Aufseher dove like a falling stone, tearing itself out of the grasp of Fulminatus, who winged over and dove after it, trying to place himself in a position to hit something other than the Smoke Devil still clinging to the German's back.

[LadyTevar]

Fulminatus' bodyblock to the Aufseher nearly threw Jeb off the German dragon as well. As the larger two twisted and clawed at each other, Jeb dig in with all four claws and ripped at the harness once again, trying to break the links holding the German soldiers onto the dragon.

Judith, meanwhile, took a chance and extended her carabineer line out to reach the net over Jeb's wing. Here, her hunting knife came into play, sawing the knotted rope as quickly as she could. But not quickly enough, as the Aufseher made its' sudden dive, forcing Jebediah to clutch at its scaly back, and snapping Judith literally to the end of her rope. She was forced to clutch the weighted net for anchorage, and found that her cuts had been enough to make it shift dangerously. She let go again, forcing herself hand over hand onto the more solid footing of Jeb's back. "Papa wuz raight," Judith found herself thinking absently. "First ya say it, then ya do it..."

"JEB! GET FREE!" she screamed, hoping that he'd hear her despite the rushing wind, and praying as she never prayed before that she'd cut enough of the net that it would not hinder him.

Again, Jeb had other ideas, shaking that wing free as best he could, and swinging it forward to stab into the Aufseher's back. Then the other wing moved up, claw digging in like a piton on a rockface, followed by a back leg, then a front. Limb by limb, Jeb was pulling himself forward towards the German captain, leaning low on his dragon's neck. Capture the Captain, capture the dragon.

And maybe convince him to help them kill the insane one.

[Dark Silver]

The roar echoed in the crew's ears, but Hermeticus reacted to it, craning his head. The Kampfritter was bigger than him, but was also slower on speed and reaction.

Hermeticus tucked his wings close to his sides, providing some protection for his crew, went limp and dropped like a stone.

[Cynical Cat]

"He's a tenacious bastard," Reynolds muttered. "Alright boys, this is going to be bad. We're going to get hurt, no two ways about it. Frostfell, get ready to turn us around. We'll strafe back at him and peel away at the last moment." Not that that would probably work. The height difference would fuck them and the Jotun would probably catch them. Bloody hell.

"Weapons ready, stand by for boarding. Balls out boys, I want a knife to the captains throat or a gun to his head the moment after we hit, if we have to mix it up with those bastards." It was the only way to spare Frostfell from a brutal mauling.

"Turn us," said Reynolds. He brought the 20mm to bear and began firing.

[Charon]

Kunja was a Victorian Reaper, he had been built strong and fast with wickedly long sharp claws. Every Victorian knew how to fight in close, it was practically in their blood, and Kunja was certainly no exception to the rule. To top it off Kunja had come from a breeding colony, surrounded by mean spirited dragons, and himself not one to run from a fight, he'd been in a number of battles where he'd been outmassed two to one. So when the mad Aufseher finally caught them, Kunja did not panic, nor did his captain.

Mostly Kunja did not attack, he knew there were others out there coming to help, so he just had to hold on. The lightweight dragon twisted and turned, keeping away from the mouth of the Aufseher as best he could. As a claw would grab at his armor, digging through it and into vulnerable flesh a long talon from his own claws would come out and mark a deep gash along the offending limb, weakening it's grasp just enough to let Kunja buck out of the way. He was outmassed, but that also gave him plenty of running room to keep away from the mouth of the deadly Aufseher

Jake only strapped himself down for now, him moving would only put greater risk on him getting crushed or melted, and then there would be two berserk dragons on the field. Jake tried to keep as much of an eye on how far up they were, the sky was running out fast and if they didn't break the grasp of the aufseher this was going to get worse very fast. Jake kept his tommy gun at the ready, prepared to take a shot at the Aufseher's head in the small chance that a bullet might take out it's eyes or screw up it's throat so bad it could no longer spit or bite.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Walwanderer pulled out of his dive. The acid had missed, but he had lost a lot of altitude and he needed to get back in the fight. Both Dragon and rider turned up to see both Aufsehers in close combat, one with Jeb on his back, and Fulminatus having body checked him, the other in a mad frenzy that could only mean one thing

"Mein Gott...Nein"

"We have to help him Waldwanderer"

"Which one?" the dragon replied, thinking about the horrible pain he would feel if Richard died in combat

"The australian nutbag... I dont think he killed the captain on purpose"

The dragon sighed, honestly thinking he deserved his fate but seeing the wisdom in it if nothing else... they would need Jake and Kunja just to survive later...

So he started climbing, to get above the mad dragon, come down on him, and hopefully crush his skull in and end his misery

[SirNitram]

"That's good.... Good girl..." Blackthorne said, holding the pistol to the Captain. "Just take us to the ground and everything'll be fine. No one has to die." Semmemon was covering the landing, as Blackthorne forced the Bluejacket down to the ground. "Now. You be a good prisoner of war and your Captain will be returned to you at the end of this wee scuffle of a war, yes?"

[frigidmagi]

Of course not even a Kampfritter could actually arrest a Nebraskan Amberback in a full dive. Indeed, that was not its goal. Instead it latched onto the dragon's armor and harness and used the Amberback's own momentum to fold over into its own dive, coming down on top of the diving dragon and slashing and ripping with its claws, aiming to use its own weight to drive the American dragon down into the ground like a pile driver.

Of course in DOING that, it had completely spoiled the shot of the Aufseher behind it, but then the Aufseher suddenly had bigger problems...

Paul cursed. Nothing ruins one day more then a multi tonned dragon on your back. But they had trained for this.

Lydia closed her wings and begun to spin, corkscrewing rapidly. Screams arose from both dragons has men were tossed agains their safety harnesses and gear moved threathening.

"Oh... Oh.... OH!" Paul groaned and then opened his mouth puking across Lydia, the sky and the beautiful green English landscape below.

[General Havoc]

A German soldier fell screaming with his arm crushed by Jeb's claw. Another fell silently as Fulminatus bit him in half, ripping him from the harness and casting him aside. The remaining crew valiantly beat at Fulminatus with axes and shotguns, but the veteran middleweight was not to be detered as it darted in and out at the diving Aufseher, slashing and biting. They did not strike at Jeb with their weapons for they could not, not with the violent motions of the German dragon.

One by one, the crew was forced to sever their ties and bail off of their dragon, trusting to their parachutes to save them. It wasn't long before the German's captain, observing the threat that still remained from Jeb, making his way nearer and nearer, finally decided to cut his losses.

Literally.

The entire harness snapped in four places and came loose, the dragon giving a single final heave as he dove out of reach of Fulminatus and shed Jeb along with the harness. Liberated at long last from all encumbrances save its captain, the Aufseher did not hesitate, but dove, swooped around south towards the channel... and flew away.

*------------------------------------------------------------*

Hermecritus dropped like a rock just before the Kampfritter's claws could close around him, and the Kampfritter struck nothing but empty air. The bellygunner on the massive German beast opened fire point black, but his MG-34 struck nothing but armor and dragonscale, and the deflection shot was ineffective.

The Kampfritter was prepared to dive. Indeed the Kampfritter was in the process of diving, but while the dragon was fool enough to become target fixated (and large enough for this not to matter), its captain was not. The middle, light, and special weapons dragons were all falling back, and his own beast was injured. He was not interested in taking further risks in this regard, and to engage a superior force, without cover of lighter dragons, was just such a risk.

The Kampfritter aborted its dive in mid-wingthrust, and growling with anger, slowly turned around and began to head for home.

*------------------------------------------------------------*

The Bluejacket meanwhile was in a near desperate frenzy, but unlike the Aufseher half a kilometer away, its captain was still alive, and it had no intention of changing that fact. It continued to jerk its head around erratically, periodically crying out in thickly Prussian-accented German, while its captain tried to the best of his ability to calm it down, to no avail. Still, the dragon did as it was told, touching down in a field below the battle, paying no further attention to it, nor to Semmemnon who loomed threateningly nearby. It touched down, it crouched down to allow its passangers to disembark, all the time whimpering and crying out in German dialect words that were unknown to most present, but clear enough in their meaning.

*------------------------------------------------------------*

Kunja was indeed a Victorian, and was indeed a veteran of close quarters fighting, but Kunja was also half the size of the crazed Aufseher, and moreover, the Aufseher could no longer process such things as pain. Desperate and uncoordinated though its attacks was, less well muscled and less skilled than the close quarters fighter, it made up for these defects with pure rage. Kunja was just barely able to avoid being dragged towards the Aufseher's ravening jaws. He was unable to avoid anything else, be it claws, tail, or sheer bulk, and so the Aufseher beat Kunja mercilessly, savagely, flailing and striking and striking and flailing until its very claws were broken, caring nothing whatsoever for what punishment Kunja might deal back to it. Nothing save an absolute killing stroke would even serve to slow it down, and confronted with the tormented screaming demon that the Aufseher had morphed into, Kunja was unable to give his captain more than a split second's shot at the mad dragon's head, lest he be flayed to ribbons or crushed to pulp by the gyrations of the crazed Luftwaffe beast.

Had it kept up for too long, even so doughty a fighter as Kunja would have been beaten to death by the mad monster, but fortunately, Kunja was not alone in the sky. There was Waldwanderer, who loomed overhead, and came down aiming to crush the dragon's skull. He failed, landing on the shoulders of the great beast and staggering it with a blow that no doubt had crushed bone, but his impact caused the Aufseher to drop Kunja and fall past him. Screaming with rage, the Aufseher spun like a crocodile in water, cracking Waldwanderer in the side with his foreleg as he did so, flinging him off like a flea, paying no attention to the horrible injuries he had sustained. He jackknifed and turned back to chase after Kunja once more, but as he did so, he hesitated just for a second in mid-air.

... and a gob of venom the size of a beach ball landed square on his face.

Momentarily distracted, the Aufseher spat and flung the venom off of itself, and looked up to seek the source. A hundred yards above flew a dusty yellow-and-brown colored dragon with a single captain aboard, and the Aufseher snarled and roared again and prepared to chase after Kunja, but the nerve toxin hit him before he could do so. His roar was aborted in mid-cry, his movements disolved into spastic jerks, and foam dripped from his mouth as his eyes rolled back into his head. It gave one more fleeting, useless pulse with its wings, straining to reach the object of its wrath and hatred, holding in the air just for a second longer...

... and then, with all the grace of a collapsing tower, the mighty dragon rolled over and plunged a thousand feet down, plowing into the English countryside below like a meteor, raising a cloud of dust and debris which settled over it like a shroud, the body of its captain still laying motionless atop its neck.

*------------------------------------------------------------*

In the end, what saved Lydia was not her own actions, but the advanced nature of the battle.

The Kampfritter would likely have been content to stay there all day and fight, but the captain was not, as he had heard his commanding officer order a full scale retreat. Kampfritters were not intelligent enough to be relied upon to follow orders, but then this was why they had crews, and so reluctantly, like his fellow dragon, the Kampfritter released Lydia to gyrate and spin alone, after delivering a final parting slash. It turned away then, flying back for France, the dragon and captain engaged in what sounded like a long and bitter argument along the way.

*------------------------------------------------------------*

The Jotunmeister too had heard the call to retreat, but a beast such as it did not do so lightly and, fearing no smaller dragon, it pressed ahead, the machine guns bristling on its back and sparkling like diamonds as they spat fire at the white devil of the Canadas.

Frostfell came about.

Wendigo dragons, like all heavweights (save Celestials), could not turn on a dime, and the Jotun had a chance to see its quarry turning and prepare to meet it head on. A feral smile crossed its features and it roared, half in defiance, half in encouragement, willing the lighter heavyweight to come back and fight. Its thunderous cries nearly covered up the sound of the 37mm gun on its back which barked once, twice, three times as it sent armor piercing anti-tank shells arcing towards the Canadian snow demon. The first round missed wide, something that would appear impossible to a ground-artillerist who had never attempted to fire a cannon from dragon back. The crew was expert however, and they corrected themselves quickly. The second round struck Frostfell's shoulder, tearing through the armor and harness and lodging in his shoulderblade, while the third smashed straight into one of the midwingmen's machine gun turrets, smashing it into a pulp of blood, plexiglass, and gunmetal. But before the gunners could loose more shots, before the Jotun could close to engagement range, Frostfell's 20mm opened up.

And the Jotunmeister's nerve broke like a twig.

Jotunmeisters were terrors of the sky, monsters of myth and legend who feared no foe, dragon or otherwise, but for all their glory, power, and ferocity, a Jotunmeister remained a dragon, and one concern remained that overrode its desire for battle and war. In chasing the Wendigo, who was at a lower altitude, it had to angle itself downwards, and so when the 20mm opened up, only one member of its crew was exposed, the one sitting at the base of its neck, calling commands and warnings into its ear. The Captain.

The Jotunmeister had heard the screams of the anguished Aufseher, had felt them deep inside its boiling heart... and so as soon as the gun opened fire, every other concern vanished from its mind, and the Jotunmeister pulled up.

Men fell off their feet as the dragon beat the air with its wings and pulled up as hard as it could, exposing its own armored chest and breastbone to the calling machine cannon fire. Sparks and fire and explosions burst all over its chest, but Jotunmeisters were built to take such punishment, and it gritted its teeth and snarled and took the beating of the flailing Bofors 20mm cannon, and then winged over and turned away from its quarry, shaken to the bone, deaf to the confused cries of the crew and the astonished exclamations of its captain.

By the time the Jotunmeister had straightened out, it had lost all advantage of position or pursuit, and with its captains direction, it too turned and beat its wings for the coast, an unhurried, undefeated gait, that nevertheless held a moment's hesitation. It took a great deal to phase a Jotunmeister, but it clearly could happen. Still mostly unhurt, intact, proud and poised, the great beast flew off towards the coast, weaving back and forth to ensure that none would molest the remaining German dragons, all of whom were now retreating as fast as they could. Any who attempted to do so would face its wrath, and shaken or not, a Jotunmeister's wrath was nothing to take lightly.

[Charon]

There was no certainty that in the state he was in that Kunja could keep in the air even if he wanted to, but it was clear that neither dragon nor captain wanted to stay in the air anymore. Tilting his wings gingerly, painfully, Kunja dropped down to solid ground not more than a minute after the Aufseher had crashed to the ground.

Jake said nothing as he slowly unhooked himself and rolled off of his dragon. He staggered and swayed when his feet hit ground, and then he fell to his hands and knees, pulling his scarf away from his face as he began to vomit. Kunja was not far behind his captain in that action, and after they were done, they were eerily silent. Large cuts weren't bleeding quite so freely on Kunja anymore, and the droplets of acid that had hit Kunja had finally stopped boring holes into the great beast. Very slowly, Jake got to his feet again, barely bothering to wipe his mouth before he placed a hand on Kunja's injured hide.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell rose into that sky. "What that one did, never do!" Reynolds shouted to Frostfell. "Never break! Never lose your nerve! Even if you think I might die!"

The Wendigo roared back in pain and fury. He had been wounded and he wanted more than anything the blood and suffering of those who had dared to strike him. Below him the Jotunmeister winged its way back to the other dragons. "I want his head. I want his naked, fleshless skull bleaching on the beach!" roared Frostfell.

"Then take," said Nathan. "This is why you don't fuck around and you don't break. Get us in close." So I can kill them all went unspoken. "If you get the captain, hold don't bite. Fight smart, unlike those dumb bloody bastards."

The dragon roared in acknowledgment and plunged towards the dragon. The 20mm in Reynold's hands shifted to properly lead the German's on the Jotun's back. "Let's fuck them up!" said Reynolds as Frostfell plunged on the other dragon from behind.

[LadyTevar]

The entire harness snapped in four places and came loose, the Aufseher giving a single final heave as he dove out of reach of Fulminatus and shed Jeb along with the harness. Liberated at long last from all encumbrances save its captain, the Aufseher did not hesitate, but dove, swooped around south towards the channel... and flew away.

Jeb almost didn't get his wingclaws free in time from the sudden slack weight of the chainmail and leather harness, but he managed to spread his wings and start flapping frantically to slow his descent. Leveling off at a lower altitude, the SmokeDevil kept hold of the shed fighting harness, a heavy but bearable load. "Hooooooooooooo-ee. Lookit 'em run," he drawled with a very draconic grin. "Hey, Fulminatus! Ah'm a-thinkin' we gots a soov'neer."

Judith couldn't help but break into laughter, it was the best release for the fear and strain of her first battle, which was making her feel light-headed. "Iffen ya think you kin get it back, Jeb, keep it," she managed to say, before wincing and rubbing her left arm.
Her hand came away wet.

"Jeb? Find a good place fer landin'?" she said carefully, looking at the blood on her hand in distant concern, not realizing she was still laughing softly. "Ah think Ah'm gonna be sick."

Jeb swung his head around sharply in concern. "Jude?!"

"Lik' me first deer, Jeb ... th' one I gutshot...." Judith clarified, calming the dragon down with the image of how she'd lost her breakfast and lunch that day. It had not been a clean or quick kill. " 'Sides... Ah know yer plum tucker'd out too."

Reassured for the moment, Jebediah had to agree, slowly spiralling in for a landing on the grassy pasture of English soil.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Pain lashed through Walwanderer's side as the larger dragon knocked him aside like an insect, it took him a moment to get control of the pain, a bruised or broken rib, and get his wings beating again, and enter into a circular flight path, noticing the German dragons on the run, he made his way down to make sure the prisoner of war, dragon and human, were unharmed and that they understood what was to become of them

Not knowing whether or not any of their radios still actually worked Richard spoke into his

"This is Waldwanderer, is everyone alright?"

[General Havoc]

Aboard Æquitas, the radioman was frantically cycling through frequencies in time with Captain Rankin's orders.

"I know that Kunja went down, damnit, I have eyes! Raise him with flags if you have to but get me a report on how his dragon is, cross-check his position against the maps, and get some bloody DTs out there to get him back to Tangmere. We've broken the jerries and I won't lose a dragon this late in the game."

"Sir," said the radioman as he signalled for Kunja Jake to respond.

"Michael...?" said Æquitas slowly.

"One moment," said Rankin as he turned to the navigator. "Find out how far we've drifted so that the transporters can fetch Jebediah, Kunja, and our prisoner, as well as anyone else who doesn't look like they can make it back. And someone raise Semmemnon on the radio and figure out what the status of that Bluejacket is."

"Michael?!" said Æquitas far more forcefully, causing Rankin to turn around sharply.

"What is it?"

"Michael, what is Frostfell doing?"

Far, far ahead, there was a picture perfect view of the retreating Germans, and of a single Dominion dragon, visible against the sky as a smear of white against a blue background, that was, alone, pursuing them. It was following the German's Jotunmeister, which was weaving back and forth as a tail-end Charlie, and could not have failed to spot the massive Canadian dragon in pursuit.

Rankin was at a loss for words for a second.

"Is he... he can't be thinking of..."

"Michael, I believe that's exactly what he's thinking of."

Rankin's hand flailed back towards the radioman. "Get me Frostfell," he said without looking back. His eyes did not leave the sight before him.

"Captain Reynolds," said Rankin into the radio, "the Germans have jettisoned, and are in full retreat, break off and cover the lightweights as we return to Tangmere."

"Michael," interjected Æquitas, "the Kampfritter!"

One of the Kampfritters, the one least damaged from the battle, was coming about and flying back towards the tail-end Jotunmeister, having received a signal from the captain thereof. The two dragons were each half again larger than Frostfell, and Frostfell was all alone in the sky, advancing towards them.

"Reynolds, this is Rankin, break off the attack, now! You've got no support behind you and they outmass you 3 to 1 in weight and 2 to 1 in firepower. Break off, acknowledge!"

"Sir," said the radioman, "I... I don't think he can hear you."

"What?! What the bloody hell do you mean he can't hear me?!"

"The aerial sir, I think it's been damaged by a stray round. We've got air-to-ground off the belly transmitter, but he's well outside the range of that. I don't think he can hear a word you just said."

"Bloody hell!" swore Rankin. "He'll be torn to ribbons. Get something working!"

"Michael," said Æquitas, "the Kampfritter's coming about starboard. I might be able to cut him off..."

"He'll go right through you!"

"I'm a seventeen-ton dragon, Michael, he'll certainly have to stop and fight at least. We can run up the disengagement flags as we move in and hope Reynolds sees them. With luck it'll all be over in a second and we can head home and leave them to do the same."

Rankin took a deep breath. "All right," he said. "Make for the Kampfritter and delay him if possible. And run up a new aerial! I want to speak to Reynolds before he gets himself killed!"

[rhoenix]

Sitting back in his chair, Captain Alexander Braithwaite smoothed his mustache as he watched the scenery flit by. He did not want to admit it to himself, or show it to his crew, but he had a bit of trepidation about this new assignment. After several successful sorties, they were being reassigned to a newly-reactivated base in Tangmere. Scuttlebutt from around Group 11 Headquarters was that this assembly being formed at Tangmere was a real motley crew.

The flight almost due south from Group 11 Headquarters in Uxbridge had taken a bit more than an hour now. Captain Braithwaite was growing a bit anxious, worries about the base aside - the winds appeared to be slowing them down. His only sign of worry was to calmly check his watch. Veritas chuckled softly, somehow sensing his Captain's worry, though the great blood-red dragon didn't say anything. He was on duty, after all.

"Captain," Lieutenant MacAllister said, in her soft Irish brogue. Years of living within the RAF had helped her almost shed it. Accent or not however, she was one of the finest navigators Captain Braithwaite had ever met. "We're on final approach to Tangmere now."

A few years of working together had honed the Captain's crew to a finely-tuned machine, the odd prank aside. Captain Braithwaite nodded to his radio operator, Lieutenant Doohan, who sent in the signal to the base. Lieutenant Doohan curiously enough did not have a detectable brogue, despite being born and bred in Scotland - unless he was drunk. "Tangmere Base, this is Veritas, confirming approach. Do you copy?"

There was a brief pause as Veritas gracefully angled his flight into a circling of the base while they waited for ground clearance. While they waited, all of them observed their new home, on the ground below. Thankfully, they did not have to wait overlong. "Veritas, this is Tangmere Base Ground Control. You are confirmed as having authorization to land."

Angling smoothly, Veritas altered his flight path into a spiral, with the endpoint being the landing grounds below. Landing with barely a sound, surprising for a dragon of Veritas' size, Captain Braithwaite then rapped out his orders to his crew. "Right, everyone - let's get this rubbish off my dragon, cleaned, and bundled away properly. And Biggelston - let's not have any of your experiments until after we're all properly introduced. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go rub shoulders, and do some laundry afterwards."

With that, and hearing some semi-stifled grumbling from his crew behind him, including a deep chuckle from Veritas, he leapt non-chalantly from his perch, and slid down the great right forearm of Veritas, who angled it to help his Captain land smoothly. Doing so, he dusted himself off, and began walking to find the squadron commander's quarters.

His crew had removed all of the armor, equipment, and guns from Veritas, who was stretching cat-like to get the kinks out of his back when Captain Braithwaite returned with a slight frown. "Well everyone, looks like the squadron commander and the rest of our flight are off having fun without us, so you're all dismissed for now. I'll wait with Veritas to meet him while you lot go get smashed." At that pronouncement, he heard a scornful gasp. "Except you, MacAllister. You feel free to just make fun of everyone else getting smashed."

As the rest of his crew walked way, Veritas finished his stretching, and spoke up, in a low voice that carried, like low thunder over the hills. "Well, this is anti-climactic," he said while looking around the base. "I'm going to introduce myself to the cows over there. Would you mind getting my bookbag from out of storage? I think the crew got overzealous and packed it away. Again."

Chuckling, Alexander began walking toward the equipment storage. "Sure thing - I'll meet you at the cow pen."

Feeling the ground shake slightly but hearing little sound, Alexander knew that Veritas was en route to sating his hunger. Veritas' natural grace only surprised him in perspective later, after meeting several other heavyweights. Meanwhile, he had located the large leather satchel, stuffed neatly with Veritas' favorite volumes. Looking inside, he checked to see which one had the bookmark, and pulled it out carefully. At seeing which one it was, he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked toward the cow pens while reading it. He smirked to himself - The Red-Headed League, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - he should've known. Though Veritas was certainly a fan of Sherlock Holmes, this story was far and away his favorite.

[Cynical Cat]

"We're going to have to let him go," said Nathan.

"I want his skull!" raged Frostfell. "I want to drink his blood and hear him scream as a I tear open his captain's belly with my claws!"

"Another time," said Nathan. "We're not in any shape to take on him and his friend. We dragged him and two other dragons out of the fight. We scored a win. We can always get him later. Now head on back."

"Fine!" snapped the Wendigo as he lazily began a wing over back towards base. "But if either of those bastards comes after us, I'm taking its hide!"

[LadyTevar]

There's an old saying about landings... 'any you can walk away from'.
Jebediah's landing with the Aufseher's abandoned flight harness in his claws fell under that heading. It wasn't pretty, but he got landed without the chainmail and leather tripping him up too badly. Due to the wieght, he wasn't able to land close to the rest of the flight, winding up about a hundred yards from Kunja and the wreck of the dead Aufseher.

Judith was feeling bit woozy as she unbuckled herself from Jeb's harness, but tried hard not to show it. It wasn't working that well, as blood continued to seep sluggishly out from under the make-shift bandage she'd tied around her arm. Still, hillbillies are stubborn cusses, and Judith knew what she had to do first. "Jeb, Ah needs ta look ya o'er," she said, slowly lowering herself down one-handedly from his back. "Can't have ya bleedin' out on me..."

"Ah'm not bad hit, Judith," the Smoke Devil reassured her, pausing to spit out one last mouthful of blood. "Ah migh' o lost a tooth... but Ah'll jis be lik' yer granny an' gum th' chicken ta death."

The image of Jebediah sucking the meat off a leg bone like her granny did chicken legs did Judith in. She started laughing still half-way up his back, then overbalanced and fell to the ground.

"JUDITH?!?" Blood... Jeb could smell it now, once the wind of flight stopped hiding it from him. He forgot the trophy, his head turning to peer down at the little girl who'd grown into his captain, and was only mildly reassured by the fact she was weakly laughing as she lay on the ground. "Judith! Yer hurt!" The Smoke Devil's horned head rose up, looking right and left to see how close help was. "KUNJA!" he roared, hoping to get the other light dragon's aid. "Judith's Hurt! Where's yer Captain?! She needs help!"

"Dammitall, Jeb... ya dint hafta tell th' world..." Judith muttered, waiting for the sky to stop spinning before she tried to sit up. She was sure it'd stop any minute now.

[Charon]

Kunja only vaguely looked up as Jeb and Judith landed. Jake hadn't seemed to notice at all as he slowly looked over his dragon. Still feeling sick to his stomach he was pretty much unhurt, though slightly lightheaded from the g's he had pulled not more than a few minutes before.

When Jeb yelled both captain and dragon perked up and looked in the direction of Jeb. "Christ. Please not her too." Whispered Jake as he looked at Kunja who stood very shakily. "Hell no, you sit right back the fuck down." Kunja was about to argue the point when one of his legs gave out and he came crashing back to the ground.

Jake grabbed some more medical supplies and made his way towards Jeb and Judith as quickly as he could, which he would admit was not fast at the moment. "Judith? Judith where are you? Talk to me Judith!"

[LadyTevar]

When you're flat on your back, watching the sky whirl 'round, you think the silliest things. "Jeb? Iszat Jake? He's gotta sweet way o' talkin' don' he?"

The Smoke Devil looked down at his captain, then back up and towards Jake. It was clear from Jeb's protective position that Judith was on the ground beside him. "Ah'm a-thinkin' she's hit 'er head bad ... she's thinkin' ya talk sweet...." the older dragon told the Aussie captain wryly.

[Charon]

Jake glanced at Jeb, their eyes met for a moment and it was clear that Jake was likely in little better condition than Judith. The Australian captain quickly looked away as he climbed around the small dragon and spotted Judith. Making his way to her Jake got on his knees. "Damnit. Jeb 's your comm. still working? If not where's Judith's? We're gonna need some help here."

Jake looked down at Judith. "Hey there lovely. How you feelin'?" While he talked Jake began to look over Judith, inspecting her wound and grimacing at the blood soaked impromptu bandage that was mostly off of her gaping wound. "I've seen worse than this." He muttered as he got out the medical gauze from his small pack and after blinking a few times to focus himself he placed it on her arm, applying pressure, just like his dad had taught him.