[ WP ] You hunt exotic animals that have escaped , after a series of some unfortunate events you are now hunting for a dragon through New York .

Dragons! the papers cried, damn dime sheets would n't know a dragon if it bit them on the arse. It was a Wyvern, not even a big one of that but anything beyond gangsters or an overly large rat got the big apple in a huff. 
 
 Just my bloody luck two months of nothing in this city and I'm hunting an unfamiliar crypto in a sewer system i know next to nothing about. I hate New York, i had just gotten used to chasing Therianthropes through the under-cities of turkey, the were-rats were a on going and nasty issue and quite profitable to exterminate. My agent decided we needed a bit more prestige, build the brand he said, so we packed bags and took a steamer over to America. 
 
 Suddenly there's reports of a Wyvern terrorizing the occupants of central park's shanty town and I'm on commission in the underbelly of the world's greatest city getting frost bitten and ruining my perfectly good Italian leather shoes. And getting nothing for it. 
 
 Poking through the frosted waters on the sewers my heart was crying out for the warmth of the Wimmera but it sure as hell was better than France midwinter with German shells falling around your ears. Or hell even lone pine. That was fucked. 
 
 It was all guess work at this point, I knew nothing of this kind of quarrey and I could n't be sure was scratches in the stone work was part and parcel of newyork sewers and what could be done by a large wyvern bastard trying to barge it's way to hidey hole. 
 
 I ventured into a large room, fucked if i knew what it was for but there was piping and machinery around the place. Somethng about the still water and empty space reminded me of first creature i took down. The Warracknabeal Bunyip, sneaky bugger had taken a couple labourers, some jumbucks and a few of the local black fellows plus a trooper, came across the bastard in a flooded house, stagnated water and alage smells tangled with blood. Powder in my guns had gotten damp and was no good, bunyips are ambush predators and i managed to track him without him being the wiser so i clocked him over the head with a nulla nulla given to me by one of the local clever men. Tanned his hide, slapped it up in the pub and took my first payment, then the King put out of the call and I was over in Turkey with the others dodging bullet for god knows what reason. 
 
 Fucking thing was n't anywhere near by, the trail had gone cold. I went hunting for a ladder back up to the street level, i was too cold, too hungry and much too sober for this bull-dust. Eventually heaved a man-hole out of the way and got onto the blacktop, couple of toughs decided they'd try their luck with me. 
 
 Yet to meet a thug who did n't shit themselves when presented with a real knife, it's taken down were-rats, crypto traffickers, the blaspheming risen and all kinds of other freaks and gifted to me by the British governor of India for services rendered. Apparently my knife had some kind of mumbo-jumbo to put the willies up whatever i was threatening which was handy at times. 
 
 Thirty minutes, a sandwich and an Irish Coffee later I was feeling a bit more hopeful. Clearly chasing the fucking thing was a fools errand, i needed to do some street work, find out how a creature from Europe ended up causing shit in central New York, find out what they liked and what they do n't like and if i could get down to the west indies chasing witch doctor close by to rum and some fucking sunshine. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? DOES HE SKIP TOWN? WILL HE TRACK DOWN THE SCALED MISCREANT? COMING NEXT IN **THE TALES OF THE INEDIBLE** 

