[ WP ] `` One if by land , two if by sea , three if by sky . ''

Just then a roar as loud as pealing thunder split the sky, carving through the darkened clouds like Death's harrow. 
 
 All the eyes of both Men and Fae glanced upwards, the furious melee coming to a halt as a massive serpentine shape flashed through the smoke. With each beat of its leathery wings it fanned the burning flames to even greater heights, the force of each flap forcing soldiers to their knees. Talons as long as spears descended upon the packed ranks, carving men in half and leaving bloody streams behind. A fanged maw dripping with saliva seized upon a knight's charger, swallowing the poor beast and its unfortunate rider whole in a single terrible bite. 
 
 Its scaly hide was peppered with broken arrows and shattered spears embedded in its side, their steel points unable to pierce its armored skin. Scars won from caustic flames and wicked claws covered its jaws and neck; its greatest foes, its own kind, unable to bring it down. It was that creature which had long been thought myth, dismissed as story and legend. A dragon had arrived. 
 
 From on top of the laager, Captain Hilary Flint swore. The battle, which had until then been unfolding as planned, had taken a distinct turn for the worse. His gaze was fixed on the soaring monster before them, and watched as the beast tore through both his men and the Salamanders'. Roaring, it unleashed a spray of Dragonfire, the sickening green fire dissolving flesh and sizzling bone. 
 
 `` I want that fucking lizard dropped and dead! *Ferris, up here on the double! `` * 
 
 Faith Alathir, standing next to Flint and dressed in armor of her own turned to see a man in his late thirties with a ruddy beard covering his jaw and a massive rifle in his hands. She blinked in surprise as she realized his green ranger cloak was made of leather instead of the usual wool, and pinned at his throat by a length of blackened chain. What she originally mistook for grenades hanging from his bandolier were in fact fangs as long as her hand. There were six of them, each a slightly different tinge of yellow or ivory. 
 
 
 `` Scout Sergeant Gregory Ferris, Captain!'' the man said with a brisk salute, a gesture that required him to juggle his enormous rifle into the crook of his arm. 
 
 `` Sergeant Ferris,'' said Flint. `` Feel like adding a seventh dragon to your collection?'' 
 
 The ranger named Ferris grinned, a feral, wild thing. `` Always, sir.'' 
 
 `` Then get to it.'' 
 
 Just then another soldier, his arm bloodied and in sling gestured with his good hand as he shouted. `` I recognize her, Capt'n! She's the Mortalis, out of the Chicago Death Zone!'' 
 
 `` Son of a bitch... Ferris, bring her down! The rest of you, keep delaying the fucking Knife-ears. The plan has n't changed. We hold, we defend, and we kill. We're gon na win this fight, the addition of a goddamn dragon notwithstanding.'' 

