His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Charon]

Kunja and Jake had been busily releasing the metal sheets that were slowing them down and acting as little more than dead-weight. But for now the pair were patient in their own attack run. When the Bavarians lined up for their own attack runs on Frostfell it was Kunja's keen eyes which spotted them most clearly.

"Frostfell," The Victorian spoke on the radio. "I'm taking the one on your right, 5 o'clock."

With that the Victorian dived out of the fogbank and narrowed in on it's prey. Kunja was still not familiar with wingblades, and as he was facing a smaller opponent instead of a larger one the Victorian and his captain ignored fancier tactics for a tactic that was very popular among Victorians, brute force.

Kunja and Jake shifted their dive just slightly, aiming to crash into their selected target and grapple him in mid-air, leaving Frostfell to crush the other Bavarian at his leisure.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell performed a wing over and swung toward the other Bavarian. Nathan slewed the grips of the quad 20 to track the smaller dragon, leading it slightly. "Time to die," he whispered, waiting for his moment.

[General Havoc]

Neither Bavarian knew what hit him.

Speckled Bavarians were a justly famous breed, known far and wide for all manner of exploits in the First World War as well as a number of minor conflicts between the wars. Even the most famed breed needed proper training however, and the two dragons before Frostfell and Kunja were green, fresh-faced recruits from the breeding grounds that Albatros had ordered left behind to guard the coast of France while the main force struck at Tangmere. They were unprepared for an attack of this magnitude, and it showed.

Kunja came down practically atop the first Bavarian, striking like a lightning from a clear blue sky. The Bavarian literally never saw it coming, and Kunja hit it with the power of a meteor. It gave a abrupt screech as Kunja's superior weight wrapped it up in an instant and it dropped like a stone, spiraling towards the ground as though a wing had been amputated, twisting in panic, trying to claw the larger Victorian off of itself. It was unable to dislodge Kunja as Kunja's claws and teeth tore into its armored hide, its captain out of position to do more than simply fire back blindly with a submachine gun and hoped he hit something.

And yet this one did better than the other.

The other Bavarian had seen what had happened to its fellow, but was too green to know what to do, now suddenly finding itself alone in the air against Frostfell. Its captain was a fresh-faced aviator fresh from the training grounds, and the dragon itself could have been no more than eight months old, a female Bavarian by look and sound, and it hesitated, freezing it seemed, from the perspective of Frostfell's gunners, a perfect target...

And then it happened again.

The tracer shells from the 20mm cannon blasted the Bavarian in mid-air like it was a paper target, sparks exploding as its armor was blasted to shreds and its hide ripped open. And as the dragon's wingbeat failed and it ducked slightly, the tracers passed over its head, and neatly cut the Bavarian's captain in half.

And the Bavarian, like the Aufseher before it, screamed.

The Aufseher's anguished scream had been more of a roar, but the Bavarian was much smaller, and it screamed like a steam whistle, like a tornado in a forest of wind chimes. and the remaining shots from the 20mm burst flew over its head, biting the air alone. The captain's lifeless body fell, plumetting towards the ground as the Bavarian screamed like a banshee, to the point that her fellow dragon, still in the claws of Kunja, missed a wind beat and froze like an ice sculpture, and the very guns on the ground hesitated to fire. And then without so much as a word or a second's hesitation, the Speckled Bavarian yearling turned over and lunged wholesale at Frostfell, her anguished screams overpowering the shouts and sounds of gunfire that emanated from her target, three dozen times her own size. The strength of despair could lend her only so much power, and she made no attempt to evade fire or claw or gaping jaws, unthinking, unyielding, already dead, already buried, seeking only to pour pain and rage out upon her enormous target before she too was to be blotted from the sky.

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

The train hove slowly into view in the distance at the other end of the valley, approaching at forty-five miles per hour, its smokestack spewing black clouds into the air above it. Æquitas was in position. He had been in position for an hour or so, and Rankin sat in his captain's position, hoping to God that Frostfell and Kunja had been able to accomplish their objectives. If they had not, this was going to be a debacle.

It might yet.

The train would be on them in a minute. He wished that they had been able to find some way to simply stop it gradually, but there simply was no way they could risk letting the Germans get a radio call out. He turned back and whispered a command into his own RT.

"Execute."

The train could not be stopped gradually. There was only one option. They would have to derail it.

'That should not be difficult', he thought, as the sight of a pair of Prussian Bluejackets escorting the train made him scowl. 'That one might'.

[Charon]

It was a sound Kunja and Jake had never wanted to hear again, let alone hear again so soon. As the cry finally faded Kunja's will broke and he released his prey, pulling away quickly. Both dragon and captain were far too unwilling to risk harm coming to another captain and their dragon. They would give this one the chance to run for it's life, and if it had a lick of sense it would.

Kunja and Jake weren't stupid enough to try to get between the Bavarian and Frostfell, so they simply moved into a position to watch for the inevitable reinforcements and to keep an eye on the Bavarian they just let loose.

[LadyTevar]

Her guards wore black.

There were other German soldiers in the passenger car of the train, some in field grey, some in the brown that she recognized as Luftwaffe. They stayed far away from the two armed SS soldiers that trapped Judith in the last booth-seat, against the wall, away from the aisle and a window, although she could see somewhat out of the ones in front. A few of the brown-uniformed Luftwaffe airmen would glance her way, then look away before the SS could call them on it. Judith managed to catch the eye of one of them, mouthing 'help', which only made him drop his eyes faster and not look back.

It never occurred to her the soldiers were simply looking at the pretty girl. She was too busy praying for a miracle.

+++

Jebediah's steel cage had been bolted down to the floor of the cattle car, and his guards were also all wearing black uniforms. He'd been separated from both Judith and Fulminatus, who in all truth was too big for a cattle car and was probably suffering outside on a flatbed. Jeb's eyes wandered over his guards as he curled cat-like in the cage, noting and keeping a weather-eye out for the one with the flamethrower.

It burned Jeb, deep in his heart. Albatros had promised safety ... but the Stuka had snatched them away under the Red Baron's very nose. The Smoke Devil had no doubts the SS would kill him quickly (or he hoped). It was what they'd do to Judith that had his claws digging into the cattle-car's floor, under the bars of his cage.

[Cynical Cat]

Nathan dropped his point of aim and fired off a burst, intending to strike the Bavarian where neck met shoulder, tearing the dragon open and sending it falling from the air.

Frostfell's attack wasn't nearly as surgical and neat. Nathan would try to kill or cripple the German dragon with cannon fire and if that worked fine enough. The great dragon's mouth gaped open. The little one could go as berserk as it wanted. Frostfell would smash into the smaller dragon, bite it's neck, and crush and rend.

[General Havoc]

There had been dragons in the past who had survived the combat deaths of their captains. Heavyweights often became so enraged that nothing in the air could stand against them, and powered by the fuel of raw rage they tore the very clouds from the sky, rending and annihilating their enemies like primeval gods of warfare. Midweights too occasionally survived a berserk rage, through skill or hardship or the faltering will of their opponents. Every culture had a legend or story of a mere midweight dragon that had lain waste to enemies many times their own size either in defense of a wounded captain or in vengeance of a dead one. Almost no cultures had stories of the same befalling a Lightweight for a simple reason. No listener would have believed such stories as credible. In legend and myth, the fate of Lightweight dragons was often to suffer terrible fates, hardships, or cruel misfortunes of fate, usually as object lessons or a means of generating pathos. The very concept of a Lightweight dragon, no matter how wrathful, posing a meaningful threat to a Heavyweight war-dragon was considered laughable.

But those who beheld the Bavarian attack Frostfell, while they might still have considered the idea impossible... would not have laughed.

The 20mm was in such a position as it could not strike a target that was being engaged by the dragon himself in most cases, and the speeds of dragons were such that the initial burst of 4x20 passed over the captainless Bavarian harmlessly, and the converted ADA piece could not depress its fire enough to lead properly. A moment later, and the dragons struck.

The Bavarian did largely everything it could.

Frostfell's initial bite missed as the dragon gave one last thrust with its wings lunging forward at the last moment at full speed to slam into Frostfell as hard as it could, screams of bitter rage emitting from it like a possessed steam whistle. Frostfell's jaws closed around empty air by the slightest fractions of an inch, as the Bavarian darted past his head and slammed into the Wendigo's shoulder, all four claws rending and tearing like miniature whirlwinds, even as its teeth struggled to gain purchase on the Wendigo's armored hide. It failed, as it had to fail, for its claws, though armed with the strength of despair and pain, simply had not the force to do more than strain at the thick chain links of Frostfell's armor, nor could her teeth pry free the three-ton test links that bound the sheets of chain to Frostfell's harness. She had rammed the Heavyweight with all the force she could muster, but Frostfell literally sported ten times her mass unladen, and if the White Demon of the Canadas even noticed the impact, there was no sign. A few scales were scratched, a few links of armor shattered, a few crewmen shaken off their feet. That was all.

Lightweights could indeed cause harm to Heavyweight dragons, but not by head-on assaults.

And then, as was inevitable, Frostfell whipped his serpentine neck around and grasped the tail of the Bavarian with his jaws, and tore her from his shoulder like an elephant snatching a mouse. The Bavarian did not falter, nor did she scream with anything but feralized rage as the Wendigo's teeth tore her hide apart and his foreclaws shredded her scales. The Bavarian did not shudder, nor did she hesitate, as sinew and bone snapped and shattered, torn apart by the incalculable physical power of a light heavyweight dragon, returning every blow with one infinitely weaker but no less desperately laid, ineffectual perhaps, but delivered all the same. And when finally the damage had been done, and the Bavarian's death struggle had wrenched her broken form free of the Wendigo, her last act as a fighting dragon in this world was to spit a mouthful of her own blood into Frostfell's face and deliver one last weak scratch across the snout before the laws of gravity took over and the Bavarian plunged downwards, bouncing twice off the cliffs below Pointe du Hoc, before landing with a final "THUD" on the beach below.

And as this all was playing out, Kunja had released his own Bavarian, who true to his assessment had neither sought to fight nor to wait, and with memories of what had just happened to its wingman on the one hand, and what had happened to her captain on the other, turned tail and fled south, away from the battlefield, with no thoughts beyond getting its captain to safety, away from a fight which should never have been his in the first place.

Such was war.

[Dark Silver]

The train was coming.
The Heavyweight Hermeticus was as hidden as a 20 tonne dragon could be in the trees and foliage, crouching as low as he could without putting one of his crew in danger, and to give himself reflex enough to leap as the train passed.


"Easy..." Thomas spoke softly, patting the dragon's neck. It took another minute before Thomas dug his heels into his dragon's neck, as the signal to leap.

And leap the dragon did!

Hermeticus exploded from his cover, moving as fast as his body could manage, aimed squarely at the engine of the train. His crew took aim despite the gallop of the dragon, whose wings beat to give extra momentum, and kept to the chaos causing that would distract the krauts.

"We're coming for you Jerry!!" Thomas screamed, holstering his Thompson and releasing a burst at a German guard on the engine, before his dragon smacked into the steam locomotive with a bond crnuching sound.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell spat out a mouthful of blood and yawned in satisfaction, showing the world a forest of ebony stained fangs. "The small fry are so cute when they go berserk. Like a momma polar bear when you start picking off the cubs. And Nathan, you should have made that shot. You're slipping."

"Everyone's a critic," Nathan rasped. "We've gotten their attention now. They'll be coming in force. Head off east and drag them away from the return route."

[Charon]

Kunja had watched with some pity and some relief as Frostfell ended the life of the Bavarian, and as the heavy turned away from Point du Hoc Kunja moved back into position above the heavy.

Jake had meanwhile turned around in his seat and gotten out his binoculars, watching for any sign of reinforcements that he could find, torn between his desire to get out of there before Albatros and his dragons came to tear them out of the skies and his mission to keep said dragons on their tails.

[General Havoc]

Things happened at high speeds.

One second, the train was moving around a bend in the middle of Normandy, the train engineer on the radio with his dispatch officer in Caen, trying to determine the proper schedule for the day. The next, two enormous Allied dragons with a combined weight of nearly seventy tons slammed into the locomotive and first armed train car of the train, and everything went straight to Hell.

Even Hermecritus was not strong enough to actually overturn a locomotive, but Rankin had selected a location around a bend, where the momentum of the train would be working against it, and Veritas lunged out of the woods at the same time to strike the first car after it. The combined pressure did not derail the train.

It flipped it.

The locomotive rolled off the tracks and plunged down into the gorge below, exploding like a bomb as it hit the ground, followed by the first three cars of the train. The connections between the third and fourth car could not stand the strain and snapped, and the fourth car, an ADA car, buckled, jackknifed, and turned sideways before being sliced in half by the remainder of the train which derailed instantly and bounced off the tracks, fortunately to the right rather than the left. While the first few cars had crashed down into the riverbed below, the remainder ploughed into a field in a tangled mass of collapsing rail cars. Metal screached and debris flew as boxcars shattered under the weight of the impact, flatbeds were folded in half, and a tanker full of high-octane diesel fuel caught fire and exploded, sending showers of flaming debris flying in every direction.

The dragons and prisoners were in the latter half of the train, which was all that saved them from being pulverized. The boxcar Jeb was in spun out from the wreckage, hit a tree, and broke in half around it, sending the guards flying in every direction. The cage, built sturdier than the car around it, withstood the crash, and held, preventing the tree from smashing Jebediah into paste. Fulminatus' flatbed car also derailed, flipping twice in a rollover, and coming to rest upside down leaning against another car, the midweight dragon chained to it invisible underneath the smouldering debris.

And as to Judith, her passenger car was in the exact center of the train, the point of maximum security, and simply flew off its moorings and ploughed through the soft dirt of the field on the right side of the tracks. The far side of the car sheered off, taking half a dozen German soldiers with it. One of the SS guards near Judith, who had just chosen to stand up and stretch had his head sliced clean off by a whiplashing cable, and the other one was catapulted forward into the bulkhead of the train, hitting it hard enough to crack solid oak, and sliding down it onto the angled floor of the train car, motionless.

The two dragons overhead, Bluejackets both, had no warning whatsoever as this apocalypse unfolded below them. The train disintegrated into a pile of flaming debris as they watched in horror, and enormous allied dragons who outweighed them materialized from nothingness. Still, these Bluejackets, unlike the Bavarians so far to the north, were neither green nor blinded by rage, and they sprung into action immediately. One dove at Hermecritus, for Veritas had vanished into the oily smoke of the burning diesel car, while the other swooped down to support as it could, flying debris still preventing it from getting close enough to strike outright.

And deep within the trees, Rankin lowered his binoculars and chanced a small smirk, before nodding to Æquitas, whose head was craned around back to face him. He watched as a devilish grin appeared on the 25-year old Malachite Reaper, before he burst from the tree canopy towards the dragons and train wreck that his fellow Allies had caused.

It began.

[LadyTevar]

One second Judith was praying for a miracle, and the next all hell broke loose. Her position, trapped against the wall in the very last seat saved her from the worst, as she was catapulted forward into the cushion of the seat in front of her. She still hit hard enough to daze her, leaving her with a gash across her forehead that left her half-blinded from blood, as well as a bloody nose. Shakily she got to her feet, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, having no idea what or who had caused the chaos.

Train wreck. Th' guards.... She shuddered at the one left headless, and wiped at her face to clear her eyes, blood staining her sleeve unnoticed. Gun. Get th' gun... find Jeb. Kneeling, she fumbled at the SS uniform, pawing at the belt until she could get to the holster and pull the weapon out. Out... now... .... out? Wiping blood out of her face again, Judith stared around her, wondering which way to get out. The side of the car was demolished, soldiers flung about like broken toys. Out. Find Jeb. Find Jeb, an' he'll fly us out...

Unsteadily, the Luger pistol in hand, Judith fumbled her way to the broken side of the passenger car and jumped/fell out. Jebediah and Fulminatus were near... somewhere. Once she found them, she'd be safe.

[rhoenix]

Like a great, dark leviathan of the deep, Veritas moved through the thick diesel smoke now billowing in great clouds toward the early morning sky. The thick black paint still on his hide was mostly intact, though much less so on his left shoulder, where it had met with the traincar with a heavy impact.

Even so, he stalked carefully through the gloom, heading away from the largest disaster of the train engine, and toward the back-middle of where the train would be - where the prisoners would be kept.

Each step was careful and precise, though he favored his right front shoulder somewhat. As he neared the passenger and cargo area of the train wreckage, he moved cautiously, his eyes and ears straining to detect any sign of the prisoners. As for Captain Braithwaite, he manned the big gun on Veritas' back, waiting for a target to act suspiciously.

Seeing an overturned flatbed that was moving often and suspiciously, Veritas stalked over to it to confirm what he had seen. As he neared the overturned flatbed train car, his suspicions were confirmed. Fulminatus lay pinned underneath the flatbed, his wing or tail periodically scrabbling out from under it as he struggled for purchase on the dew-slick ground with a forty-ton rail car holding him upside down.

Wasting no further time, Veritas flipped the car over, and almost simultaneously bit through the heavy chains holding Fulminatus with strong jaws. As his head raised, a smirk appeared on the large, presently-black dragon's face. "Well, good morning, Fulminatus. I'd offer tea, but we're fresh out - how about some Kraut-stomping instead?"

With that, he began looking for Jebediah, and Judith as well, with Captain Braithwaite watching whichever direction Veritas wasn't looking at the time.

[General Havoc]

Frostfell was right about one thing. They were coming.

A flight of seven dragons was impossible to keep invisible for long, and this one made no effort to. Three Leuchtkaffers, dark grey against the brightening sky, were on top of the formation, and below them flew a trio of Swabian Lightning Bolts, moving at not-quite top speed. Behind the wall of Light and Midweight dragons flew one more, a lightweight coated in crimson red, armed with wingblades and other accouterments applicable to one in such a position as he. Too far away to register his intent or expression, Albatros was nonetheless instantly recognizable. Such was how he preferred it.

It had been ten minutes since the assault on Point Du Hoc ended, and despite making best time they could eastward, the fastest dragons of JG-1 had caught Frostfell and Kunja. The Contentin peninsula stretched away beneath them and behind loomed the German dragons.

Albatros' orders came quickly.

All six of the dragons other than himself broke off into two clumps. A single Swabian and a pair of Leuchtkaffers bore left, to the south, while another pair of Swabians and a single Leuchtkaffer moved off north. They would move up alongside Frostfell at a distance, and then move in from both directions at once.

As to Kunja... well... the only dragon that did not bear off to either side, but remained where he was to see what Kunja would do, was Albatros himself.

[Charon]

Jake let out curses as the dragons seperated but left Albatros free.

"Jack, watch the group on Port. I'll keep an eye on Starboard."

"And Albatros?" Grunted the Victorian as he turned his head to watch the pair of Leuchtkaffers and the Swabian.

"Not our problem yet. He won't move until we have." Jake kept his eyes on the pair of Swabians and their lone escort.

"Oh, yeah, he certainly won't take us out of the sky with a practiced ease once this gets started."

"Quiet. We'll dive down on the pair of Leuchts and Swabian when they get close to Frostfell. Let him put his attention on the other Swabians, they can't go full speed if they're coming in at an angle so that'll work to our favor."

Kunja rumbled deep in his throat. "Just get yourself ready for action. This is gonna be a lot harder than those Bavarians were."

Jake nodded and released himself from his seat restraints, attaching himself to a few of the cables which ran across most of the length of Kunja's body.

[Dark Silver]

The train was off the tracks, and soldiers tried to disgorge. Hermeticus roared as he gorged a man, the horn spearing him through the gut, and threw him back. The great dragon, near heedless to the belly netting, slimbed ontop of the engine, letting loose a roar of challenge, before flapping his wings. Crewmen and captain were picking their targets, rifles and machine guns burping forth lead into the german's, to keep them pinned down, or to kill those who got to brave.


"Get them out of here" the dragon called, as his large body lifted into the air

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell dipped slightly in a turn, angling towards the northwest. "Keep up with us," Nathan said. "We want to stick together and drag them north and west. They have to spread out to box us in properly. Take out wings. Grounding or slowing them up is easier to do than crippling and just as good for us."

[LadyTevar]

Judith had seen the large black dragon move past, and was frozen in place as the smoke made it hard to tell if it was a Stuka or not. It seemed far too big, but as she wiped more blood out of her eyes, she honestly couldn't be sure. Things were confused, moving far too fast and weirdly....


Then a dragon roared from the front of the train, and she looked in that direction. Smoke obscured the scene, but then the dragon beat its wings and forged skywards ... and she saw the bloodied horns.

" .... Hermeticus?" she whispered, blinking as her forehead dripped more blood down her face. Then the shapeof the larger dragon started to make sense as well. "Veritas... VERITAS!!!"

She staggered off in the direction the heavy-weight had taken, stumbling as best she could amid the wreckage. "JEBEDIAH! FULMINATUS!! THEY CAME!!"

[General Havoc]

As Frostfell turned northwest, the pursuing dragons behind him took up new positions. The three to the north accelerated to their top speeds, faster than anything any heavyweight could make, pulling up alongside Frostfell, but far out of range. The southern trio accelerated too, not quite as fast, but equally carefully positioned, beyond the accurate range of machine guns or cannons, just moving into position.

The Leuchtkaffers were above the Swabians, watching Kunja, as the three midweights prepared to do most of the work. Albatros was non-comital, gaining altitude but keeping behind the fight, trying to gauge where Kunja intended to go. The jostling for position lasted several minutes, but eventually all was apparently in readyness, and Albatros inclined his head, as his captain received a transmission, and communicated it to him with a tap on the shoulder.

And as one, the Germans struck.

They attacked in Scissor formation, the two Swabians from the north and one from the south angling in to broadside Frostfell simultaneously. One Leuchtkaffer supported the southern-most Swabian, while the other remained above, not committing yet, waiting on Kunja. His counterpart to the North did the same. Kunja was larger and stronger than any single Leuchtkaffer, but two of them together had a decent chance against him.

And then there was Albatros.

Albatros was not as fast as his subordinates, but he had the power needed to accelerate towards Kunja. His role was obvious. He was the hammer, and the Leuchtkaffers were the anvils. Kunja could break off to the left or the right, and be engaged by both Albatros and one of the Leuchtkaffers. He could also attempt to flee, abandoning Frostfell to his fate, but that was no security, for the Leuchtkaffers were faster than he was. Finally, he could simply drop like a stone, but that would place three hostile Lightweights above him, and take him out of the fight around Frostfell.

And of course, Kunja could stand his ground and engage Albatros alone... but Albatros was not particularly concerned about his chances in that engagement.

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

What Hermecritus took to be soldiers disgorging from the train was actually more like the stunned survivors of a terrible train crash staggering out into the light. He gutted two, shot several more, and a few desultory rounds were flung in his direction, but the train guards were mostly dead, and those remaining were not about to take on an enraged light heavyweight with their lugers and mausers.

But the Bluejackets were.

One descended on Hermecritus with a roar, plowing into the half-bred dragon like a falling rock. Smaller than Hermecritus, the Bluejacket still had massive momentum going into its dive, and it struck not to get entangled with a dragon larger than it, but to hit and then fade away, striking at crew and equipment to drag Hermecritus into the air. A similar strike was launched by its counterpart against Veritas, a hit and fade from above that was designed to merely occupy the massive Crimson Angel for the moment, as the German did not know it was injured.

One might have asked what they were occupying the heavyweights for. Æquitas did not need to, for he had already spotted it, for above and behind the train, heaving into view, came the charcoal-grey form of a Kampfritter. Larger than Hermecritus, haler than Veritas, it was more than enough to handle either of them in conjunction with the two Bluejacket escorts.

So Rankin acted.

Æquitas could not stop a Kampfritter, not by himself, but he could certainly distract and slow it down, and the Malachite Reaper hove to up and over the emerging battles and lashed towards the Kampfritter at full speed, so quickly that the German's crew did not realize what the Malachite was doing until it was too late. The Kampfritter, trying to blink the smoke out of its eyes, was caught flatfooted by a scything slash across its flank that laid armor bare, and drew blood, and a withering hail of Vickers .303 fire that stretched two of its crew out dead and left another cradling a shattered arm. And then Æquitas was past it, and it roared and bellowed and turned to pursue, sending machine gun bullets whistling around the Malachite Reaper as it darted across the valley after its prey.

Precious time had been bought that could not be maintained forever, but yet, despite Rankin's quick thinking, and Æquitas' expert action, they had not actually struck the most dangerous threat available.

A fact borne witness a moment later.

Veritas had shattered Fulminatus' chain links like glass, and the pinned midweight shoved what was left of his flatcar off of himself and stood up, his flanks and back flecked with black blood from the crash, yet looking far more alert and alive than he had the previous night. Disorientation could perhaps be forgiven, considering the circumstances he had just undergone, but before too many seconds had passed, he had largely determined that he was no longer on the train, and that large dragons were engaging in bloody combat nearby.

... perfect.

Fulminatus did not generally look gift horses in their mouths, particularly when they came with an offer of immediate, gratifying vengeance against the people who had been preparing to drag him off to a death camp, and kicking the remnants of his chains aside, he had crouched down to spring into the air when a shadow passed over him very briefly, no larger than a small cloud, unremarkable in every way save that he froze as solid as if he had been petrified on the spot, and looked up.

A dark force, a black zone of unlife formed in the shape of a dragon, a thing that the universe itself seemed to cry out against, was descending from the smoke and cloud overhead. Its eyes burning like red coals, its black hide unmarred by armor or harness, the dragon in question loomed menacingly in the air, its wings beating only lightly, hovering above the carnage below, watching with dispassion as the dragons and men and other assorted insects fought, unconcerned and unhurried, monster, creature of darkness, creature of madness...

... Stuka.

"... oh shit!"

If the Stuka saw Fulminatus, and how could it fail to, it acknowledged him not at all, selecting with infinite care what target it chose to fall upon. Fulminatus knew what it would select before it did, and he lashed at the air with his wings and tail, but his balance was not yet recovered, and he could not make the distance in time.

And perhaps the Stuka knew this, for it jackknifed out of the air with a suddenness so fast that it was almost magical, plunging down towards the ground at a speed even gravity could not provide, and its foreclaws, sheathed in black iron, extended out towards a single target, a human target, for humans were frail, and one blow, one glancing blow from a Stuka would turn Judith into paste.

Perhaps this was what it sought to do, knowing that Fulminatus was too far away to interfere, and that the other allied beasts were already engaged. Perhaps it sought to slay this human, or devour it alive, or enact some Teutonic torment known only to the SS, before the very eyes of every allied dragon, soldier, and captain here. Perhaps this was its plan, a horrible and yet effective one, save that there was one aspect neither it nor Fulminatus nor anyone else realized.

Jebediah's cage, laying against a nearby tree and covered by a sheet of what had once been boxcar roofing, had previously been locked, but the violence of the impact and crash had snapped the lock in two.

And alone among the dragons present, Jebediah was close enough to his captain to reach her before the Stuka did.

[Cynical Cat]

The Germans were late. Nathan had watched as they moved to scissor him. Frostfell was slower than the medium, but not by much. His course changed forced the Germans to spend time for that maneuver, time that Nathan used.

"They're going to adjust the jaws of the trap and then close them when they're ready," said Nathan over the radio. "Wer'e going first. Hit the north. Fuck the lights. Bleed the mediums."

Frostfell swung towards the northern half and the half that would block their escape. Powerful wing strokes ate through the difference. The Southern dragons could and would close, but not before blood had been spilled. The northern dragons could scatter, but that carried its own price.

Four twenty milimeter cannon aligned on a Swabian's flight path. Nathan pulled the trigger.

[Charon]

Kunja and Jake were forced into a tough decision, one that ended badly for them no matter what they did.

It was perfect.

Kunja grinned. "New plan."

Jake looked back to watch Albatros. He was still a ways out but he was terrifyingly close now. "Oh?"

Kunja nodded as Frostfell made his turn towards the Northern wing. Jake grinned, "Oh I like this plan."

The Victorian picked up the pace and gained some altitude as they closed on the Northern wing, Jake meanwhile tried to keep his eyes on Albatros and the other half of the dragons that were closing. Then, just as the distance closed, Kunja dived hard, twisting and spinning to best hit the Swabian on Frostfell's left. Kunja's objective was to hit the Swabian's wing with his own wingblade. Jake meanwhile had gotten out a grenade, pulled the pin, counted off one second as he prayed and then threw as they passed the Swabian they'd attacked, hoping that even if it didn't stick it would be close enough to rattle it.

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah had been working himself free of the busted cage, a task that was aided by the SmokeDevil's long lean form but still taking time. His cage had been thrown far enough from the train that he'd been overlooked as Veritas moved past. Jeb didn't mind, as he recognized the heavyweight and saw he was rescuing Fulminatus.

Judith's voice lifted Jebediah's heart as he got free, and he was about to answer when he saw the shadow in the sky. Like Fulminatus, for a moment Jebediah froze like a rabbit before a hawk. Then ... Jeb realized who was standing out in the open, where the Stuka couldn't help but see her.

"... judith ..."

It was a whisper, was a prayer, as Jebediah lunged forward quick as a rattlesnake. Half-running, half-flying he tried to snatch his captain out of danger and put the train wreckage remaining on the tracks between them and the Stuka. Jeb's front arm reached out, claws that could rip dragon armor closing around Judith as the Smoke Devil never slowed, snatching her up as if she were a deer he would have for supper. Jeb ignored the fact he could be hurting her -- the Stuka would do worse. With Judith in his claw he flew/ran lickety-split for the partial cover of the wreckage.

The whole time he could almost feel the Stuka's eyes upon him.

[General Havoc]

A strange thing happened as Frostfell turned north.

Frostfell, like any Heavyweight, like any dragon for that matter, could not turn on a dime, and the Germans, specifically Albatros, got the chance to see what he was doing before he did it, and shouted out an order. Anything complicated would have been utterly impossible to carry out before Frostfell collided with the line of northern dragons, but given the substance of Albatros' curt order, it was not at all difficult. His order was to wheel north and disengage.

The dragons all turned tail.

They did not scatter, they simply aborted and refused to engage, and as each of them was individually faster than Frostfell, the Swabians in particular, Frostfell's claws and teeth could not catch them as they bore off north and east, giving Frostfell room to run north if he wished.

What could catch them was the mighty 20mm aboard the heavyweight dragon, but they rapidly moved out of effective range of that, even as the southern wing of dragons put on their speed, swinging around Frostfell to the west, and advancing up alongside him once more.

Of course, the maneuvering had given Kunja enough time to make a run at one of the Swabians, but the Swabian's burst of speed put paid to that effort. The grenade fell short, as did the wing slash as the Swabian powered forward away from it, and the burst of automatic fire the Swabian directed Kunja's way was equally effectless. But now there were Leuchtkaffers on-hand, and two of them dove after Kunja, their own wingblades shining in the early morning sun.

Albatros was keen to follow, but before he did, he shouted yet another order into the radio. Frostfell could adjust like this all day, forcing them to maneuver around him like some kind of Viennese waltz until he either reached England or caught one of them alone. When all was said and done, the three Swabians, and one Leuchtkaffer, were once more flanking Frostfell on either side, just outside effective range of guns, the only exception being that they were now moving North, rather than West. Further positioning was unlikely to result in an advantageous result. It was time to start rolling the dice.

"Angriff!"

All at once, the three Swabians swung towards Frostfell as one, angling towards him into weapons range. Machine guns burst to life from all over the three racing dragons, and from the personal weapon of the Leuchtkaffer supporting the westernmost one, most of it angled across Frostfell's back. No amount of MG-34 fire could possibly meaningfully injure Frostfell, but enough of it could take that monster of a quad-cannon out of commission, and so hundreds of rounds were flung roughtly at the 4x20 and its crew.

Of course, Frostfell would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind to simply sit there and take it. Any individual Swabian who took on Frostfell would be at a distinct disadvantage. Frostfell's cannon was lethal, even to the midweights, with enough raw firepower, and Frostfell himself outmassed any Swabian by more than 60%, coupled with the agility and power to ruin their days. The Germans' sole chance here was to operate with coordination. They would fly within guns range, though not claw, and supress the enemy crew before moving in for the final strike.

And Albatros himself, having seen to these preparations, dove after Kunja.

[Dark Silver]

The Bluejacket struck at Hermeticus and his crew, claws razing into chainmail, but the crew were not hampered.

The ground German's were dealt with, but the dragons were the threat. The mostly black crew swung their weapons with practiced ease, and even as the Bluejacket came in with it's momentum, each crewman who could do so, opened fire on the lighter dragon.

[rhoenix]

Though preoccupied with making sure Fulminatus, Jebediah, and Judith were freed, Veritas nonetheless didn't miss the Bluejacket diving right for him. "Ready for the unusual, Alex?" asked Veritas, as he turned to face the diving Bluejacket from a better angle.

"Whenever you are," said Captain Braithwaite, making sure he was well-fastened to his much larger red friend.

Moving more slowly than he could, Veritas moved in front of a few thick trees, so he was between the trees and the now-diving Bluejacket. Facing the diving Bluejacket, he roared at the diving dragon loudly. "I hope your hobby is peeling your skin off with your own claws, since that will be a caress compared to what's about to happen to you!"

His jaws open eagerly and his claws almost kneading the ground below him in anticipation of the smaller, diving dragon, Veritas licked his chops as if about to dine. As the Bluejacket nearly reached him, Veritas seemed to straighten up a bit, looking eager.

However, at the last moment, the large dragon threw himself flat on his stomach, revealing the thick tree trunks that were right behind him to the incoming Bluejacket.