His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Cynical Cat]

"Sir," said Reynolds, "the intent was to simulate an attack on a formation. They break up. The more time you spend in the air, the more you'll realize that happens all the damned time. The lights and middles need to be ready to handle that when it occurs, because it will happen. They need to take all their losses in training.

"As for Frostfell, leave him to me. We kept a light, a middle, and a damned Jotunmeister away from the squadron in the last fight and the middle didn't make it back home. Frostfell's been trained since he could fly on how to fight in the sneakiest, dirtiest manner possible. Formation flying isn't playing to his strength. He can, he is a valuable member of this squadron but you can't treat him like any other squad dragon. He'll be wasted and he'll get more unmanageable and believe me sir, you haven't seen anything close to that. He's an ace in the hole, a shaved knuckle. Use him like that."

[Charon]

"There's ways," said Fulminatus. "Dunno about how one your size'd go do it, but there's ways."

The older dragon noticed Kunja glancing back towards his captain. "You'd do well to take care with him," he said, offhandedly. "This war won't be clean, short, or safe, and humans are... deceptively fragile. Take it from one who knows.

Kunja paused and looked very awkward for a moment. "Uhh, what's it like? Not havin' a captain? I mean, Jake and I have flown separate before, 'n there's been a few times we almos' lost him. But, I mean..." Kunja trailed off. This wasn't something he was sure he should talk about with the dragon, and even if it was, it was not a topic that was exactly friendly.

[LadyTevar]

Jeb would have been right happy to stay and sun for a while longer (as long as Jake didn't get -too- frisky with Judith), but his stomach had other ideas. It is truly a startlingly scary thing when you're lying against a nice warm dragon and his stomach growls.

After the quiet 'eeep', Judith managed a laugh. "Ain't ya et yet, Jeb?"

"Nope..," the Smoke Devil answered, his head craning around to look under his wing at Judith and Jake. "But Ah'd like to, right soon." And just for the cussedness, he smiled toothily at Jake.

[Charon]

Jake didn't seem the least bit phased by Jeb's toothy smile. A particularly ornary Grayling had really wanted to eat him for a year when he was a child and had almost gotten a chance to try a few times.

"I don't think any of us have eaten yet. Probably a good idea before we hit the sky again."

[LadyTevar]

Once again, Jeb was impressed by the young man. Last one he'd pulled that trick on had left a steaming brown stain down his britches. "Welp... th' cows are back at-th' base, with th' rest of them. Iffen you two are ready, we'll get on outta here."

Judith took the hint, getting to her feet and adjusting her clothing so she looked more presentable.

[Charon]

Jake looked over to Kunja and then shrugged. "Alright. We'll be after you guys." Jake kissed Judith one last time, letting it linger before he stepped back and finally buttoned up his shirt. "I can walk over to him. I'll see you two on base in a few minutes." With that Jake turned and began to jog around the body of water, heading towards his dragon.

[LadyTevar]

As Judith was a little bemused from the last lingering kiss and watching Jake jog away, Jebediah was the one to speak. "A'right then.. Ah'll save Kunja a cow. Ah'm wanting ta try a sheep... n'er had wonno them afore..." He still had to gently nudge Judith to get her to blink out of her daze and climb upon his back.

"Cya a' base, Kunja! Fulminatus!" he called and leapt up into the air to head back to base. Only once up there did he speak to his Captain. "He's righ' sweet on you ... can't say'as Ah blame him."

Judith could only blush, patting Jeb's neck for comfort. "Yer match-makin', Jeb..."

The large head turned just enough to eye her. "Yer paw would thin' highly o' him ... jis' as Ah do."

There was nothing Judith could say to that, nor did she have to as Jeb's eyes spotted something. "Huh... we've comp'ny comin'... A big gold, a grey, an' one black as tar... looks snaky, lik' Frostfell."

"Hope Kunja and Fulminatus head back soon, then," Judith answered, spotting the three. "Rankin'll be upset iffen they's not here."

[General Havoc]

For the longest time, Fulminatus did not reply, staring out to see almost as though he hadn't heard the young Australian dragon's question. He gave no sign if he was angry or displeased at being asked. It was a long, long time before he said anything.

"I hope, little one, that it is never your misfortune to find out."

And with those words, neither kind nor cruel, Fulminatus slowly stood back up, and walked down towards the seashore and the waters beyond, the battered figurine around his neck glinting in the pale summer sun.

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

"In fairness, captain, the light and middleweight were trying to lure you into position to be jumped by the Jotunmeister, but I agree that Frostfell can't be treated like any other heavyweight, which is why I want to know how you would have him employed. This a major war, Captain, and I simply can't afford to give him his head as much as he'd like, or the enemy will cut him out of the squadron and bring him down with superior weight, or worse yet, rip the specials to bits while he's out of position. Still, plainly we must do something other than standard formation block and tackle maneuvers with him. Even if he had the temperament for it, he'd be outmassed by the Germans fairly substantially. Given that bombing seems to be out of the question, I was thinking perhaps we might have him on umbrella duties?"

"Umbrella" was the codename for a dragon assigned to fly high above the squadron, waiting to be called down on a specific target after the main body had already been engaged. A form of airborne tactical reserve, umbrella dragons had the advantage of being able to strike targets of opportunity at the commander's whim, but the disadvantage of taking the dragon out of the line until they had already engaged, as well as losing all their advantages of height and surprise with the first strike. Using a heavyweight for Umbrella duties was not common... but... what about this squadron was?

"If you'll excuse me captain, I have to see to... this..."

Rankin saluted, turned, and walked away, towards where the three dragons were approaching from the north. One was a brilliant Golden Anglewing, burnished with scales of yellow and bronze like a phoenix, its long sail-like wings gliding over the air currents as it approached the covert. The second, much duller by comparison, was a common Greyling, which seemed to dart back and forth across the air like an insect, as though chasing shadow-germans across the sky. Both however were completely dwarfed in the sky by the third dragon, identifyable instantly with but a glance.

Rankin felt a knot forming in his stomach.

The three dragons landed on the far side of the covert, the ground crews rushing out to assist in the process. Rankin saw that the dragons carried no combat harnesses, and skeleton crews only. A visiting show. Lovely.

He had assumed which Anglewing it was, and as it turned out, he was right. No sooner had they touched down, than Admiral Tolkien had slid off Galadriel, and was walking quickly over towards Rankin, in the company of the Greyling, whose captain had not dismounted and was riding him over like a horse. From this distance, it was obvious the Greyling had seen combat recently, its flanks still mared with scabs and fresh scars of combat. The third dragon's captain remained behind, seeing to his much larger beast, leaving Rankin to greet Admiral Tolkien and the Greyling directly.

"Admiral," said Rankin, firing off a salute, which the Admiral returned as he approached. "Welcome to Tangmere, sir. I had no idea you were intending to visit today."

"Good Afternoon, Captain," said Admiral Tolkien, coming to a halt. "Forgive me, I could not radio ahead. The Germans have been stationing scouts with radiofinders off the coast, ready to call down strikes on high priority targets." He turned and gestured towards the Greyling and his still-mounted Captain. "Allow me to present Captain Douglas Bader, squadron commander of RAF Dover, on Tempestas."

"Captain," said Rankin, saluting up at Bader. He had heard stories about double-amputee Greyling captain, but had not heard that he was a squadron commander.

"I won't waste any of your time, Captain," said Admiral Tolkien. "I'm here to take stock at Tangmere. We suffered a terrible loss at RAF Dover yesterday, and half the squadron's off the line for at least a month. I'm afraid I will need to strip you of some of your dragons."

Rankin felt like he'd been punched in the face. "Sir?! You cannot be serious! We're massively shortweighted as it is!"

"I know how badly off you are Captain, but Dover is even worse off, I assure you. I wish there was another way, but I'm afraid the decision's got to be made. It's this, or we let the Hun through to pulverize London and God knows what else."

Rankin bit back his further protests. "Aye sir... who am I losing?"

"I'll be making that determination once Captain Bader and I inspect the premises. Meanwhile... I'm afraid the only replacement we can offer you for the moment is a temporary one. I assume he needs no introduction. He's here on assignment with SOE, so I'm afraid he's not under your command, but has his own orders. You can speak to him directly."

Rankin was afraid he'd hear that.

"Of course sir."

Tolkien caught the hesitation, but said nothing. "Then we'll be about to inspect the squadron, Captain. We'll have a revised TO&E within the hour."

Rankin saluted as the Admiral and Captain Bader walked off towards the "office", such as it was, and glancing back for moral support from Æquitas, Rankin slowly made his way over to the towering third dragon who had landed, its obsidian scales glinting in the light as ground crew swarmed over it.

The dragon caught Rankin's approach before the captain did, and whispered something to the captain, who slid down a rope and waited for Rankin next to his beast. The Captain was young, very young, 19 or 20 at the oldest, having only recently inherited the dragon in question, though the stories told that the dragon had practically raised him from a young age.

The same had been true of Æquitas, in no small part.

"Hello Captain Rankin," said the young captain, just a touch more formally than he otherwise would have. There was only the slightest hesitation in the captain's salute, matched with an equal hesitation and reserve in Rankin's reply.

"Welcome," said Rankin, as he returned the salute, glancing up at the enormous black heavyweight that was watching him like a hawk. He felt a low fire begin to burn in his stomach as he swallowed and folded his arms.

"I trust the journey was pleasant," he said with only the barest hint of sarcasm, "Captain Lawrence?"

[Charon]

Kunja was quiet as Jake got closer and Fulminatus got further away, the younger dragon shook his head slowly as Jake finally closed the distance.

"Somethin' wrong Jack?" Asked Jake as he patted his friend on the snout.

Kunja shook his head. "Nah, s'all good."

Jake paused, raising an eyebrow at his dragon for a few moments before he moved to climb on his dragon's back. "Alright. Well I'm starved and I know you must be too. So we're gonna get somethin' to eat."

Kunja's stomach let out a low growl at the mention of food and the dragon grinned. "Nothing gets me hungry like dying while I bring down a heavy."

Jake laughed as the pair took to the air and began winging back towards base.

[Cynical Cat]

"Fucking moron," Reynolds said quietly once Rankin had left to speak with the brass. "Does he really fucking think that the Jotunmeister was going to sit out combat and only attacked because Frostfell broke formation? God damn formation obsessed Brits. This isn't the fucking navy. In the air things move. Great War stupidity all over again."

[General Havoc]

"Yes, well," said the Malachite Reaper, still sitting barely three feet from Captain Reynolds. "We're not all skilled enough to get lured out of position by the first lightweight that crosses our path and blown to pieces by a sticky bomb in the harness. You're going to have to convince Frostfell to teach me that trick some day. I do so enjoy having my entrails torn out."

[Cynical Cat]

Reynolds look was full of contempt. "Formation flying is only good for protecting bombers and, in case your eyesight is failing, Frostfell doesn't carry bombs. The point of the exercise was to train our rookies and that includes what happens when a formation splits or a big Jotunmeister lurking in ambush tries to make lunch out of you. They did damn good to, not that their victories had any damn thing to do with flying in a formation."

[General Havoc]

"Frostfell will carry bombs when he is told to," said the Malachite Reaper, "as will we all, but that's beside the point. The purpose of the exercise was to experiment with different ways to attack and break up formations, for all our sakes, not just the lightweights. Frostfell was killed by a fluke, yes, and by a very daring trick on the part of that Victorian, but you might have noticed that Veritas got himself killed dead to rights by Capricorn while you were gallivanting about chasing down a lightweight. That little masquerade we attempted with him hanging onto my harness would never have worked had you been in position to cover Veritas. You'd have intercepted and beaten me black and blue. Instead, as with last time, he decided to abandon his fellows to go chasing down the first thing that came his way."

Æquitas settled down onto all fours. "The only reason you held that Jotunmeister at bay is because he was hunting for Frostfell specifically and tried to jump you. What would have happened, may I ask, if that Jotun had decided to jump someone else? Godfrey perhaps, or Capricorn?"

[rhoenix]

As Vertitas got up and stretched cat-like, loud noises of his joints and bones popping back into place echoed across the field, which had the additional benefit of waking up his Captain.

Captain Braithwaite was mildly inebriated, and tired enough to doze off in the shade of his huge draconic companion. When said huge draconic companion got up, Captain Braithwaite grumbled to himself, moved a few feet to sit beneath the nearby tree, and yawned, watching Veritas walk toward the cow fields.

The expression on Veritas' large red face was thoughtful, as if his mind were elsewhere as he near-automatically caught a cow and ate it unhurriedly. After his second cow, his expression was still far away as he contemplated, noticing the other dragons only if they spoke directly to him or if he had to move around them.

Once he had finished his second cow, Veritas began to look frustrated, as the details of trying to think of new directions of tactics for one his size began to weigh on him. He walked back to his Captain, looking vaguely unsettled. "Alexander, I'm going to talk with Fulminatus for a bit, and see if he has any thoughts."

Captain Braithwaite nodded, looking somewhat concerned. He knew that Veritas was smarter than he was, though he'd never admit it out loud. And, nine times out of ten, whatever Veritas thought was a good idea usually worked well. It made him wonder why Veritas was willing to try the fake-and-swoop maneuver during the exercises, until it dawned on him: Veritas wanted to show him why it was a bad idea, and explain it afterward. This stunned Captain Braithwaite for a moment, and it made the fine Scottish liquor in his flask taste almost as turpentine in his mouth. He decided then to study what Veritas was up to much more, and put away his flask as he began to carefully study Veritas' notes.

For his part, Veritas walked over to where Veritas was speaking with the Australian dragon - Kunja, his name was. He didn't stomp to announce his presence, but given how much he weighed, he'd be announcing his presence by walking even if he were attempting not to.

"Fulminatus," the echoing bass voice echoed, but not loudly, "when you've a moment, I'd like to ask your advice."

[Cynical Cat]

"Dead Jotunmeister. Since you're too stupid to work it out, I'll run it down for you. I ran off a light and a medium and fatally wounded the medium in a fight where we were outnumbered. That means, since this is tough stuff I'll go slow, I even upped the odds for our side at the beginning by taking two German dragons out of the fight with my one and doing it in such a way that I was able to return to the battle. That's when the Jotunmeister pounced. If he had committed early, then I would have been in position to pounce on him instead. Our lights and mediums are fast enough to elude him for that long. I didn't get lured away, you stupid bastard. I lured them away and came back. Net result: one lightweight removed from the fight, one medium killed, one Jotunmeister removed from the fight. Something we both know you could never manage. Now, are we through or do you want to continue to play alpha dragon?"

[General Havoc]

Æquitas rolled his eyes. "You bloody imbicile," he snarled, "you were three thousand feet below the rest of the squadron before the Jotunmeister even engaged. They dragged you down to treetop level, and but for their foolish decision to attack you instead of the vulnerable dragons, they'd have neutralized you utterly. What were you going to do if the Jotunmeister attacked the specials? Climb that far in ten seconds? You think the others can just dodge a Jotunmeister until you see fit to return from whatever happy hunting expedition you're on? You think you're excused because Frostfell managed to neutralize half his own weight in dragons? I neutralized one equal to my own weight just by staying in bloody position! You think that's going to win us the damn war?"

"The Leuchtkaffer dragged you out of position so that the Jotun could jump you. That's exactly what Leuchtkaffers do. If you and Frostfell keep acting like formation flying is for 'lesser' dragons, then someone, and not necessarily Frostfell, is going to die horribly because of it."

"I can't stop a Jotunmeister by myself. Frostfell might be able to, with support. The next time we skirmish with the germans, he had bloody well better be in position to do so. Don't tell me about how successful you were at diverting that Nazi heavyweight when it was the one that decided to engage you, not vice versa. If it had chosen otherwise, we could easily have lost two or three dragons."

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

It would have been quite hard for Fulminatus not to know that Veritas was coming. Crimson Angels made their presences known.

"Everyone's in the mood for talking all of a sudden," commented the American Reaper. "What do you need?"

[Cynical Cat]

"Since when is a Jotunmeister half of Frostfell's weight in dragons?" said Reynolds acidly. "I was a thousand feet above the melee before the Jotun pounced. I had climbed up, into the clouds to come up on the Germans from surprise after taking two out of the fight, one permenently. I went down to tree top evading the Jotunmeister and keeping him away from the rest of the squadron. Get you facts rights before you presume to lecture me. Now, do you wish to continue to prove that you don't know shit?"

[rhoenix]

"Everyone's in the mood for talking all of a sudden," commented the American Reaper. "What do you need?"

The look on Veritas's large red face was one rare, for him: uncertainty. Settling down on his stomach, he replied as he got comfortable, or tried to - admittedly, Veritas didn't ask advice from anyone very often. "I'll be blunt. I need some advice about aerial tactics for one my size. Perhaps I'm not accounting for my own capabilities, or perhaps I'm missing something else. I've been sketching ideas since we got back, and I'm no further along than when I landed. Do you have any thoughts?"

[General Havoc]

"You are a rank liar, sir," said Æquitas flatly, as though daring the human captain to contradict it. "You were not a thousand feet above the melee when you were jumped, indeed you were well below it. The Jotun attacked you by choice, not by necessity, and had it not, it would have left one or more of us dead on the surrounding fields. You however are either so ignorant or so consumed with yourself that you don't realize that what Michael just offered you is a chance to do exactly what you claim you should have been doing all along. Fly topcover and attack targets of opportunity. But god forbid you listen to what your superior officer tells you, after all."

The dragon leisurely stood and yawned, before looked back down at Reynolds. "I'm going to say this exactly once captain, because it's not worth saying twice. You neither impress nor scare me, and nor does your Wendigo. You are a blowhard, a fool, and a petulant child, who whines behind the back of his parents when he does not receive a sweet. The very fact that you think formation flying itself is obsolete tells me more than any claim of yours ever will, and I do not care what you think of me, because the opinion of the brainless counts for absolutely nothing in my mind. You are all of the things I just said, but you are also brave, competent enough at fighting tactically, and most importantly, indispensable."

"I could threaten to have you sent back to Canada or encourage Michael to come down on you, but we both know that is not going to happen, so I shall be plain. You will fight in this squadron. You will do so as part of this team. You will support your squadron-mates when called upon to do so. You will take whatever place you are assigned in the squadron, and you will do so without comment or smart remark, or at least not within earshot of any crew, captain, or dragon here. You will carry bombs if ordered to, you will refuse engagement if ordered to, you will do everything you are ordered to, with a salute, a smile, and a 'yes sir'. If Michael chooses to place you on overwatch, that is what you will do, and if he chooses to make you part of the squadron, that is what you will do. Without complaint. Ever. This is a war, not a brawl, formations exist for a reason, and if you don't know that reason, then you will soon learn it, because we are flying in formation in this squadron and in every other on the continent. Period. We may change the formation to take advantage of your dragon or other dragons, we may be unconventional and adopt ambuscades and trickery and try to fool our enemy. What we will not do is simply allow you to roam the battlefield by yourself like some viking berserker, attacking the first thing that crosses your path."

He leaned down. "You will do all of the things I said above, and you will do them without complaint Captain, and without acting like a buffoon, because so help me, if you endanger the rest of this squadron with your antics, if you intentionally set out to erode morale and act as a cancer on this unit, then you will be made to pay."

And with that, Æquitas walked away from Captain Reynolds back towards the covert's feeding grounds.

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

Not a moment later, Captain Rankin returned to where Reynolds was standing.

"Apologies, Captain, the exigencies of the service and all. The Admiral is here to oversee our efforts and to strip us of some of our dragons for transfer to Dover. There is nothing for that now. At any rate, we were discussing the employment of Frostfell as an Umbrella reserve?"

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

Kunja and Jeb found a pair of newcome dragons already in the feeding paddock, alongside Capricorn, who was as usual devouring a cow in the manner of a mole tunneling through dirt. One dragon was a Golden Anglewing, middleweight size, and was feasting on another cow in a much less gorey fashion nearby, while the other was a Greyling, whose captain was still strapped to his back, and who appeared to be, of all things, a double amputee.

A middle aged man in an aviator's uniform with admiral's bars on his shoulders stood on the side of the paddock, looking over the dragons. He turned to the two new arrivals and nodded, waiting for them to land and dismount before addressing them.

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

Fulminatus let out a soft chuckle. "Whelp, I kill heavyweights for a living, I don't fly them. If you want to be making yourself more deadly in the air, you'd probably know better how to do it than I would, or were you looking to see what tends to get dragons like you killed? I've taken six heavyweights in my time, four in real combat, so I might be able to help you there."

[rhoenix]

Fulminatus let out a soft chuckle. "Whelp, I kill heavyweights for a living, I don't fly them. If you want to be making yourself more deadly in the air, you'd probably know better how to do it than I would, or were you looking to see what tends to get dragons like you killed? I've taken six heavyweights in my time, four in real combat, so I might be able to help you there."

At this, Veritas seemed to relax somewhat, and chuckled. "Indeed, that's precisely why I asked you the question. I could start with not repeating the fatal mistakes of others, and work my way up from there."

[Cynical Cat]

"Your dragon called me a 'liar'," said Reynolds calmly. "And threw a fit. I'll tell you this once. Once. I have, in my time, made errors. I look at one of them every day and its not pretty. I do, however, know dragons and fighting dragon back in the modern era better than the men who wrote what passes for the book on dragon fighting. I did not lie about the Jotun and I am not lying now when I tell you this: formation flying is a bad way to run a light squadron and it's suicide to fly an understrength light squadron that way against the Germans. You need a looser, more free form arrangement with command picking general targets and dragon captains using their individual initiative. Otherwise we piss away our only asset against them. Your lights are green, but they have courage and know how to fly. Let them.

"I'll have a request to transfer out of your squadron on your desk by evening. If you don't intend to follow my advice, I would appreciate you signing it and passing it on. Odds are good I can arrange a heavier dragon and a more, how shall I put it, agreeable dragon pilot in my place. I still have favors owed enough for that."

[LadyTevar]

Kunja and Jeb found a pair of newcome dragons already in the feeding paddock, alongside Capricorn, who was as usual devouring a cow in the manner of a mole tunneling through dirt. One dragon was a Golden Anglewing, middleweight size, and was feasting on another cow in a much less gorey fashion nearby, while the other was a Greyling, whose captain was still strapped to his back, and who appeared to be, of all things, a double amputee.

A middle aged man in an aviator's uniform with admiral's bars on his shoulders stood on the side of the paddock, looking over the dragons. He turned to the two new arrivals and nodded, waiting for them to land and dismount before addressing them.

"Now there's a righ' pretty gal...," Jeb muttered... and then recalled what happened the -last- time he'd said that about a female dragon. "Hope she weren't raised by Marines."

"Shush, Jeb...," Judith said, sliding off his back and onto the ground. "You get yer sheep, or wha'er ya want. Ah'm a-thinkin' Ah'm 'spected ta go talk ta tha' man righ' there."

Jeb looked over at the elder gentleman, and then back to Judith. "He's got gold on 'is shoulders... mind yer Pees-n-Quews."

"Yessir..." She took a brief moment to straighten up her uniform again, wishing Jake hadn't taken her hair down out of the bun. After her dunking it was still damp, a long reddish mass of hair down her back, and she didn't know where the hairpins went. No use cryin' for them now.

Straightening her shoulders, she left Jebediah to his meal and walked purposefully over to the top brass. She even remembered to pause and give him a decent salute, then wait for the Admiral to speak first.

[Charon]

Kunja and Jake slowed some as they saw the new dragons. "Anglewing and a Greyling. Wonder what they're here for." Muttered Jake.

Kunja smiled some. "I doubt they're here to join up."

Jake laughed. "Like we'd need 'em anyway right?"

Kunja missed a beat of his wings and Jake looked to his dragon. "You alright?" Kunja didn't speak for a moment. "Yeah... yeah... but, is that an Imperial?"

Jake quickly looked up and spotted the black dragon. "Holy hell... I thought those things were extinct." The dragon captain got out his binoculars from the still damp bag he carried on his dragon and looked closer.

"Sweet merciful Jesus! Jack. That's not an Imperial."

Kunja glanced back at his captain as he began to land. "Not an Imperial? What the hell else could it be?"

Jake was grinning from ear to ear. "That's a Celestial."

Kunja landed hard on the ground, not taking too much notice to the Admiral yet or the other dragons as he was caught up in the conversation with his captain. "A Celestial? Those are definately extinct."

Jake didn't put his binoculars down. "Yeah. But look at the head, that's definately a Celestial."

Kunja shook his head as he brought his attention back to the food at hand and the other dragons in the pen. "Whatever you say."

Jake slid down the back of his dragon before looking back. "I'm gonna get some food, don't start any fights while I'm gone."

Kunja grinned. "No promises. You might want to change your clothes too. Maybe a cold shower"

Jake waved his dragon's comments aside as he moved towards the edge of the pen. He didn't seem to particularly notice the Admiral that was standing at the pen's edge.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had taken place between Aequitas and Nathan, touched down gently in the feeding pen. He trotted passed the other dragons, playfully wing tapping Jebediah and Kunja as he went by them. "Nice flying," he said, showing a mouthful of razor teeth. "If you have any more tricks like that, keep using them."

He pounced on a cow, shredding into gory strips in seconds. The Wendigo was, to indulge in understatement for a moment, a messy eater. "Why all the brass?" he asked.

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah blinked as the huge white wing tapped him, and then stared as a ... happy? ... Frostfell complimented his and Kunja's flying. Well... complimented through a mouthful of sharp teeth, and then proceeded to demonstrate what could be done with them.

"Kunja? Ah'm thinkin' my ears ain't workin'..," he said, looking over to the Victorian. "Ah though Frostfell jis' said som-thin' nice ta us."