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I hear screams all around me. I had been spaced out a moment before, even though I wasn't supposed to on guard duty, but now my features were alight with panic. How can I run from something that can fly, breathe fire, and eat you with one gulp? Is it here for the treasure? Will it leave us alone? All of these thoughts are hammering through my mind. Half of myself wants to book it, and the other half wants to hide, or better yet break down and cry. This resulted in me being frozen, physically shaking with fear. Then the dragon picked up the cart behind me, tore it away from the rest of the train, looked into it and tossed it with disinterest. How was it that close already!? A second ago it looked to be several hundred yards away!

I make up my mind, and shoot at it. It has little to no effect. Most of my shots are misses, as I'm still shaking, but the ones I do hit don't do anything. I try to think about what we've learned about dragon weaknesses, but it's a lot harder to act in the actual situation, I discover. All I can remember is someone in the class interrupting and saying that dragons have no weaknesses. "Well that can't be true!" past me thought, but to see one in the present made me think that classmate may have not been to far off.

Finally, I collect myself to a degree and run to the next cart. The dragon quickly dispatches another cart. And another. More yet. It soon begins to get annoyed by the little metal bits being shot at it, and grows more violent, instead actively seeking out people to eat them, claw at them, shoot them with plumes of fire. It moves with terrifying efficiency, and I know I won't be able to keep out of it's grasp for long. I'm getting out of breath now...The only thing I can do is jump off the train, but it's still moving, though more slowly, and it stops whenever the dragon tugs on it to get another cart.

I know the best option is to just jump off, but once again, I find myself frozen in the cold grasp of fear. I think I would have died there if it wasn't for a sudden lurch in the train that resulted in me being flung out of the cart I was in. The dragon opens the roof of another car. This time when the dragon picks up the car, it appears happy. That's the gold truck. It tears the car away, separating it from the rest of the train. We've failed to protect it, the train has been destroyed, and most of the people on the train have died.

I didn't do anything to stop it! Fresh tears leak from my eyes as I'm forced to acknowledge the burning wreckage before me.

​

​

Dang no matter how hard I try the end of my stories are always just depressing as hell. Also sorry I forgot to add the DRAGONS part because I thought it said dragon singular.

General Mustafa whipped his head towards the heavens. The sky was cloudless, an empty canvas of an artist who had run out of ideas. Not a single balloon-of-war was in sight, no birds arced through the air.

He combed the skies carefully, squinting his eyes. He was not a young man anymore, and his eyesight was not what it used to be. Rubbing his spectacles against his shirt, he perched them back on his nose and resumed his search once more.

Perhaps a false alarm? Dragons didn't exist anymore. Everyone knew that the last dragon had been slain by Sir Galahad in the 1980s with a Remington Model 4, atop Mount Vesk.

Suddenly, a respite from the sun's heat. Mustafa shivered, not at the sudden cold, but at the black shadow that fell across the freighter.

The lizard circled the train, once, twice, and settled comfortably on the tracks ahead. They were still moving at full speed, and she did not seem the least bit concerned.

There was a shriek of claw-on-steel. The locomotive crashed into the dragon's outstretched claw, 200 tons of engine and metal and coal screeching to a halt. Mustafa was thrown back against the hard linoleum floor, and he bit back a shout of pain as his head crashed against the tiles.

He was lucky he hadn't lost consciousness, he thought. Painfully, he pulled himself back to his feet. Shattered glass littered the floor. The bolted doors were warped from the impact, but not so much that they were inoperable.

Mustafa opened the door and stepped into the daylight.

There she sat, steam hissing lazily out of her pointed snout, forked tongue licking her scaly lips.

"So," she said. "Would you like to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

---

/r/theBasiliskWrites

If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I'd be traversing Windshadow Canyon with a group of dragon riders, I would have kissed them full on the mouth.

I heard it first from Lydia, who ran into the engine room holding her blaster in her hand. I turned to face her and was faced with a look of fear. "Dragons...! To the Southeast!", She sputtered out, her chest rising and falling in an attempt to catch up. I quickly stood, grabbing my blaster and pushing past her.

"Make sure this train doesn't derail, Lydia. The Crown will have our heads if we show up with one piece less than what they expect!" I tell her, loading my gun and adjusting my goggles. She nods, quickly taking the controls and setting us on course.

I rush back through the train, shoving over workers and vaulting over crates. Once I reached one of the open train cars, there I saw them. Seven dragons, all armored in brass and bronze. Their wings casted shadows over the train car, and they swooped down. I fire my blaster, sending blue sparks towards the scaly beasts.

Two swerve away, one of them using its tail to swipe at my body. I duck, rolling under one of the tarps as the dragon and its rider soar back up into the sky. Roars fill my eardrums, singing in tandem with the sound of wind within them as fire beats down at the tarp, setting it ablaze.

I quickly escape the fiery prison, shooting at the dragon riders as they swoop down for the gold and silver. I had seen the fate of those with one piece of scrap metal or one Clover less than what The Crown needs for this damn war against the Enscryllia Empire. I'll be damned if I show up in the Capital how they did.

Suddenly the train shakes, and I hear a scream from the front of the train. "Lydia!!", I call out, shooting at the riders as they swoop down. They fall from their mounts, the dragons fleeing frantically. I look to the front of the train, wind beating against my goggles.

Lydia was on her knees, a golden sword through her chest, her crimson blood trickling down the edge of the blade as is protruded from her chest. As quickly as I had saw the spectacle, the sword was drawn from her chest, sending her to the floor. I locked eyes with my sister's killer: a tall woman, with red hair shaved on her side. She bore a Crown Empire General's coat, tattered and bloodstained was the once pearly white satin.

Anger boiled in my chest, moving throughout my body and soon erupting from my vocal cords as a guttural cry of anguish and rage. Lydia, my little sister. She would pay. I ran towards the woman, shooting at her. She moved in tandem, dodging each of my shots as she did. It was almost as if she were dancing in a ballroom.

She swung the pummel of her sword at my head, sending me down to the ground. Blood gently trickled from my head as I fired my blaster blindly, hitting her in the shoulder. She growled, kicking the blaster from my hand and grabbing my shirt. The woman lifted her blade to my chest, staring daggers into my soul.

"Diana! We have the supplies all set!", a male voice called. She turns to the exit of the car, then back to me. "This one will die if we let her return to the Capital...", she says, lowering her blade. "She's riding with me. Let's get back to the den, boys."

The man goes to object but Diana points her blade at him, and he falls silent. She looks to me, pulling me close. "You're dead to the Empire. Best bet is that you stick with me, and we don't get caught. Less you wanna join the little girl behind me...", she muttered softly. I look down to Lydia's corpse, gulping softly. What could I do? I nod, looking down and closing my eyes.

That was a few weeks ago now. Diana and her crew have been hospitable, which is nice. But why do I feel so cold? It must be the guilt from losing Lydia. I just hope she's resting well. For now, I guess I should just keep on going. For her sake.

"Four fives."

I eyed Egart as hard as I could. He leaned back into his chair, smug and satisfied, and turned his head towards to Dara. My own dice, a four and two threes weren't going to match up with that. A total of fourteen dice on the table, three of which aren't fives, leaves a total of eleven. Odds were generally about forty percent-ish for dice to match up to a called total, so he was safe-ish. But Dunston and Gynk both called fours. His switch to fives might very well be a vote of confidence in himself. He has three dice under them. If he has at least two dice that are fives, it's a good bet to make. Which is why he'd probably lying his ass off. Egart is smart, but not as smart as he thinks he is.

I take a drag from the good old cig' and push it in the ashtray while giving Dara a doubtful look. That'll put some pressure on her. If she knows I doubt it, then if she raises, I'll call her bluff. Unless she raises to fours.

"Come on, princess." Donovan mumbles, tossing fuel on the fire and he knew it. "One good guess away from calling this brat a fuckin' liar."

"You're just salty that your bones are creaking, old man." Egart shot back.

Gynk's pulled a lever on his torso and held his mask closer to his face, inhaled, then sighed. "Dara can make her own decisions, Don."

Donovan scratches he great black and peppered beard as his cheek. "She's about as capable of making decisions under pressure as she is capable of keeping a boyfriend for longer than a week, hehe."

"Hey!" Dara yelled.

Most of us couldn't hold back more than a stifled grunt. Poor Dara.

"Fuck you, guys."

"No thanks, I'd rather not be added to the list." Egart responded, then let out a scrawny howl. Donovan could keep it together and roared with him. Poor Gynk damn near blew a ventilation valve. I couldn't hold it in either.

"You're a lying piece of shit, Egart. Show me!"

Egart knocked over his cup, showing three fives. And yet, no one else on the table had fives or ones.

"Oh come on! Fucking hell, you guys."

"Maybe ask the girl nicer next time." Dara muses as she scoops up one of Egarts dice on puts them on a pile at the center of the table.

The bell starts ringing. No one's laughing now.

"Seriously? A heist out here?" Donovan asks himself more than anyone in particular.

"Imagine being in this blasted dry heat for days waiting for this to come by, you've got to be mad with thirst or well supplied." Egart said as everyone left the table and scooted the seats back.

Gynk already lumbered towards his station, the heavy gears thumping away as he does. Probably to man the turret that cost him half his body so far. Donovan hit his gauntlet, and a suit of hissing and clicking armor spread all over his body, finalizing with a heavy looking helmet. Egart and Dara sped to the locomotive.

"You idiots better not get yourself killed out there, otherwise I'd have to go get other dice players and teach them how to play all over!" I holler at them as Donovan and I head for the main wagon for a sitrep.

"They can barely play as is." Donovan replies, his voice deepened even further in his suit.

"Yeah, well, it's a start."

The speakers on the walls come to life with a whirl and a whine, Captain Valignat blares through them: "DRAGONS! All hands to stations immediately! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!"

Donovan and I look at each other for a split second, before racing through the cart with me up front. Dragons? You're shitting me. Out here? They never left their continent.

"We might end up needing new players after all." Donovan drones through his helmet. As we speed by, we see Gynk hauling himself up the ladder.

"Give 'em hell, Ironarm!" I call out, though I'm not sure he hears me. Passing by the turret wagon, we enter the barracks. It's chaos out here. Late night guards are hauling themselves into their breeches, snatching whatever rifles they have and barking orders. They hesitate to move out of the way until Donovan shows up and almost ends up crushing one or two of them while moving on. I fall behind him and let him lead, while loading my pistols one by one. Let's hope is ends up being just a plane looking like dragons.

A massive shadow falls over the wagon just before we reach command. A quick peek shows some huge, something white, and something fast outracing the wagon. I stop in my tracks. What the fuck was that? I drop a bullet in the moment, slipped through my finger.

"Cressel, save the staring for the strip clubs, let's go!" Donovan roars over the gasps of the crew. Fuck the bullet. I go with him.

We barge into the command wagon, things are unusually calm. No windows. They mustn't have seen whatever that was.

"Donovan, I don't want to hear you excuses! Get back to the locomotive!" Captain Valignat orders without hesitation, "If these flying lizards have any brains, they'll wreck our primary means of moving forward. If they try anything, I need the best engineers on it to keep moving, but I only have you. Now git!"

Donovan wasted no time questioning her orders, not even bothering to say goodbye.

"Cressel, call went out already for backup, but that will take half a day. I know what I'm seeing on the slides, but I'm hardly believing it. Get topside in the sniper tower, take your rifle and start putting holes in it. Don't extend it all the way, you'll be a sitting duck." Some young officer came to me with an anti-tank rifle and a pouch of some of the nastiest ammo this thing can handle. I didn't even know we had this stuff on hand.

"Gynk on the turret?"

"Aye."

"Good. Stay in touch with him, he'll provide cover fire. Now get out there, before I kick your sorry ass out the back!"

A bestial roar shook the wagon, and some ungodly noise followed up to it, like a high pressure spraying something sizzling. Something large and heavy spoke, or something, followed by something smashing into the wagon. The ceiling didn't come down, but it dented, and the sudden weight placement shook everything and everyone.

"I didn't tell you maggots to stop! That's over a foot of titanium over our heads, it can handle an avalanche, it'll handle these scalies. Get to it, go, go, go!"

I made my way through the command cabin, taking one last look at the captain. A tiny woman with the voice of battle-queen. Her face red from yelling, her eyes wide in rage...or fear. I moved on through the masses, made my way to the other end of the cabin to one of the sentry towers installed in the side of the next cart.

I took my place in it, buckled up the harness and loaded the rifle as the rigging of the tower raised me to the side and up so I could peek around.

I took one look to the left and looked at a humongous, black, digitigrade lizard leg thrice my size, bundled up on the cart I just came from. Its tail stretched on over my wagon, leather wings folded up on its back. As I looked, it slammed its right arm into the side of the command wagon, clawing at it and trying to rip it apart with its sheer strength. The deafening blasts of Gynk turret started battering at my ears, but whatever this dragon was, it wasn't affected.

It wasn't until I got a look beyond the black dragon that I saw why. Gynk was firing at a white dragon, flying overhead. Small clusters of explosions traced the white dragon, but it was outflying the turret's rounds with a grace I didn't know such a gigantic creature could muster. For a second I jus take it in. Gynk, the mad cripple, the mechanized monster of Dorninor, it currently dogfighting with a fucking dragon.

No way I was going to let him take all the credit. The black dragon digs his claws in the command wagon again. I wait for him to raise his arm before I mount this ridiculous rifle on a rail, line up a shot at its elbow, and fire. The blast from the rifle blows steam and fire across its recoil dampeners as it nearly knocks me back. It impacts something, and the dragon twitches as a small blast hit it where I aimed. It doesn't scream, or thrash, or move. It's still for a second, before it turns its elbow towards its face.

Its stretched out, skull like, bull horned face. A good look shows that he's inspecting the spike on its arm that now gone. I hit it. It knows. It moves its long neck to the right, scan the area where the blast came from and make eye contact with me. I feel caught in its gaze. It's looking at me. It sees me. And if looks could kill, I'd drop dead on the spot. It is intelligent, and it is fucking pissed.

"Shit." I say to myself as I disengage the tower and unhook the harness. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshiiiiiii-" I mutter to myself as the tower lowers, but as fast as I'd like. The dragon unfolds it wings and beats them once, taking to the air. It coils with a barrel roll and a flip midair, slamming its weight back on the command wagon, bending it the top of it down further. Seeing it from the front like this is much, much more bone-chilling. Every single nerve in my brain is screaming at me to get the fuck out of here.

Something catches the dragons attention. I take the moment to get back inside and unhook the rifle, turning back to the hallway. People are streaming out of the command wagon into this one in a sheer panic. I get slammed back into the now folded tower by the masses, unable to leave. Something falls from the ceiling. Something liquid, black and sizzling. I look up to the ceiling. Holes are starting to form and that stuff is leaking through. It's coming from the dragon's mouth.

The dust whipped up around us as the convoy roared through the badlands, our horse constructs galloping along with the war carriage in tow. Our quarry was currently speeding down the tracks with a smoking hole in the roof of the caboose and Mr. Granitesoul tossing the dead guards out the back. The dragons overhead us started flying up to the front half of the train, enticed by the presence of riches. There was enough money on there to buy two whole continents and pit them against each other--but everyone who knew the Broken Axe Gang knew we didn't do shit for the money.

I pulled my horse up next to the caboose and had it leap at it. A set of spikes popped out of its side, jamming it into the side. I shot out the window and climbed inside, where Mr. Granitesoul was waiting for me. "Should be a straight shot to the vault, ma'am."

"Aw, don't tell me the odds, Richard," I replied with a wicked grin. "It's more fun beatin' them when you don't know what they are."

A guard wearing the Arcadian Polity crest burst into the car and shouted, "Stop! You are under arrest for violating--"

THUNK!

An arrow lodged itself clean through the guard's throat, sending him falling to the ground to let his blood fill his airway. Through the open door emerged three more members of my crew: Glokk the orc, in his three-piece suit and bowler hat, Saguaro the elf, with his body decked out in warpaint and his bow in hand, and Miss Kitty the tabaxi, dressed to impress in her favorite corset and boots, and looking to kill as indicated by her primed and loaded tommy gun. As she entered the room, Kitty made a point of kicking the dead guard in the two-pump gun. I tutted and said, "Your new friend a bit of a letdown there, sugar?"

Kitty hissed indignantly. "Sumbitch lasted three minutes and wouldn't even put on the damn collar."

"Well, that ain't no way to treat a woman of class." I gently walked my hand along Kitty's shoulder and said, "Seems that once again, it falls to me to pick up the slack when we're done."

"The operative term being when we're done," Saguaro interjected. "We have a job to do."

"Ah, quit your bellyaching, Saguaro." I pulled my twin wands out of my holsters as I added, "Vanity the Vicious always keeps track of the job. Now, let's raise some hell."

With that, the five of us started cutting a bloody trail to the front of the train. Between Richard's constructs, Glokk's brute force, and the combined ranged weaponry of me, Miss Kitty, and Saguaro, the guards mustered up about as much resistance as a tumbleweed could against a dust devil. Eventually, we hit the car right before the vault, and encountered the last guard standing: a man with greying mutton chops in armor decorated in Arcadian Polity medals of valor. General Frederick Indras. My stepfather.

I leveled my wands at him and said, "Open the vault for us and we let you get off this train unharmed. Best deal you're getting, Freddie, so I suggest you take it."

Freddie sighed but wouldn't budge. "How long are you going to keep this up, Veruca? All of this senseless killing for the sake of one dragon?"

"Oh, the Polity's always had this coming. Tell me again, what kinda war crimes are those gonna fund?"

"Our war is just, you ignorant child! We are crusaders, marching onward to a future free of the creatures that are blasphemous in the--"

RATTATATTAT!

Freddie fell to the ground screaming, Miss Kitty's volley of bullets having torn through his leg. Glokk then walked over and took the key to the vault off of Freddie's body as he carried him to the previous car. Before Glokk dumped him, I called out, "And for the record, Freddie, that dragon was a better daddy to me than you could ever dream of being."

As Saguaro detached the car from the rest of the train, I let out a shrill whistle. I heard our dragons swoop down and land on top of the train car. As my crew braced themselves, the vault was lifted into the air and carried off to our hideout.

The creature’s shadow loomed over the carriages like a child leaning over a toy railway set. With each flap of its scaled wings, the track trembled under the small gale and dust from the canyon erupted upwards, clouding the little light not yet shielded by the dragon’s awe-inspiring blood-red body.

The shouts of men were hardly audible as the train let out a bellow of steam, and the steam trumpet whistled piercingly. Suddenly, there was a hissing from the sides of the carriages, and with the crank of cogs and wheels, small platforms emerged mounted with golden-rimmed turret contractions manned by men dressed in red greatcoats and elaborate black hats.

“Sir, awaiting orders,” shouted a pompous-looking redcoat to a solemn man in a medal-coated jacket of black and gold.

The solemn man, General Xavius, stared out the window of the front carriage, placing his glass of red wine onto the gem-encrusted table. He then tapped a small button, causing a copper tube to emerge from the wall of the cart.

“What is the dragon doing?” He asked, speaking through the pipe.

A quivering voice from the caboose responded.

“I-It’s slowing down, falling back to be-behind the train.”

Xavius frowned and ran a finger along the scar that stretched from the top of his left eye to the bottom of his chin. He thought back to his last skirmish with a dragon. He made his decision.

“Fire the grapples. Pull the creature forward.”

The great creature had raised its wings to make a hovering motion, allowing it to slow down. Suddenly, its throat glowed a deep-orange colour, and its eye flickered a menacing red. But, before damage could be done, there was a series of explosions, like fireworks, and several harpoons pierced the beast’s wings, shattering its scales and hooking to it with merciless efficiency. Following, an officer let out an inaudible shout, and each manned turret cranked, sending out jets of steam, as each soldier pulled back an oversized lever. The monster roared, but it was too late, the harpoons were tugging it forward, and it was losing height.

Meanwhile, the train was slowing under the immense force required to pull the several-ton dragon and, as the track switched from rocky terrain to a rickety bridge reaching over a canyon, there was a judder as several of the harpoon chains snapped. A moment later, a loud crack filled the air. The dragon was free again. Then, to make matters worse, from the depths of the canyon, scaling up the foundations of the bridge, came two much smaller dragons.

“S-sir, it has company! Redbolts, I think,” The quivering voice revealed.

Xavius grumbled a response and stood up, heading towards the exit of the carriage and taking a rifle from the weapons rack. The pompous-looking redcoat paled.

“Soldier,” Xavius said, “Alert the driver to stop the train.”

“But, sir, we’re on a bridge.”

“Stop the train. We don’t drive with Redbolts on our tail.”

The redcoat whimpered but obeyed, leaving the carriage from the opposite door to Xavius.

Outside, men were calling to each other, pointing frantically at the two smaller dragons that were now airborne and circling like vultures above the train.

Meanwhile, Xavius exited his carriage, passing through a cargo cart full of gold and silver before beginning to climb a ladder. The train screeched and jolted to a halt; Xavius reached the roof of the carriage.

For a moment, it was silent.

“Turrets, focus on the big one. Infantry, shoot at the Bolts,” Xavius bellowed, his voice echoing across the canyon.

The turrets hummed as their cogs creaked and spun, and the soldiers aimed the machines towards the grand dragon. It had now landed on the bridge, causing the entire train to shudder and the wooden foundations of the track to crack slightly.

As this went on, the infantry, who manned the caboose of the train, aimed their rifles towards the circling Bolts in the sky. Yet, when they shot, only one was hit. The other had locked in on Xavius and darted towards him with extraordinary speed, like the lightning bolt the breed was named after.

Xavius, however, stood firm and aimed his gun forward with determination and the confidence that only comes with experience. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet was an unstoppable force, filled with power and unparalleled destructive capabilities. The Redbolt was also unstoppable, laced with the strength of lightning. When the two collided, therefore, there was only one possible outcome: A draw.

In one chaotic moment, the Bolt’s head was pierced, and its body crumbled as it became a corpse. Yet, still carried by momentum, the small dragon crashed into Xavius, and the two were propelled from the safety of the train roof towards the depths of the canyon. Towards the void. Towards death.

The other Redbolt, pierced by the bullets of the infantry, joined its sibling heading towards the graveyard of the canyon depths.

Meanwhile, the large dragon let out a ferocious roar and spouted a deadly stream of fire onto the track. While the metal carriages resisted the flames, the bridge burst into flames. Suddenly, an alarm was raised, and all down the train ran messenger children ringing bells and shouting, “Fire! Fire on the tracks!” For the communication pipes were too unreliable for such news.

The redcoat, still at the locomotive of the train, heard the yells, and within minutes the vehicle was spurred into action. All the while, the turrets let out a volley of hefty cannon balls that crashed through the flames of the dragon and slammed into its being, cracking bones and shattering scales.

Yet, it was not until the third volley and until the train began to pick up speed that the dragon was finally felled, taking down a portion of the bridge with it.

And, as the final shots were fired, Xavius hit the dusty floor of the canyon. A smile was on his face, for, at the very least, his men had done their job. His honour and reputation were secured; The war efforts could on. The sky was black with smoke.

[Training Tower]

Pyxis felt like she was soaring on the wind. She sat cross-legged on top of the dining car enjoying the view. There wasn't much to see other than the canyon walls speeding by but it was a new experience for her she'd never even seen a train before. Her friend and teammate, Emily, stood next to her with a large glass pane hovering in front of her. She spent the last minute of the journey laying out various cards onto the Slate. Then, Pyxis heard gunfire from behind them.

"DRAGONS!" the shout came shortly after gunshots. Pyxis looked up at Emily; her silver-haired friend nodded.

"Here we go," she said. Pyxis hopped to her feet and turned to look back. Emily turned too, and the Slate turned with her staying in front. A pair of blue dragons glided low close behind the train. A squad of guards fired at the approaching threat; but, the bullets did nothing to deter the beasts.

Pyxis took several eager steps forward as one of the dragons unleashed a blast of icy breath at the guards. They were frozen to the top of the caboose in an instant and the pair of dragons noticed the two girls and began gliding forward. She looked back at Emily.

"Should I thaw them out?" she asked.

"At the end...," Emily shook her head. "...they're safer frozen. Take out the one on the left," she nodded at the dragons, then moved a card on the Slate to a different position.

[Clown Launcher] a deep voice filled the air and a bright red, oversized cannon materialized in front of them.

"Got it," Pyxis giggled then focused on her target. She raised both hands and aimed a pair of finger guns at the dragon. She began shooting compact fireballs as the cannon fired next to her. A short clown with wild red hair poking out from under his helmet shot from the cannon at the other dragon. He laughed wildly as he flew in an arc and struck the target; they both exploded into colorful confetti as the dragon on the left ignited and burned to ash. Then, Pyxis heard rumbling hoofbeats over the rhythmic clacking of the train and the wind. She glanced to the side where a flank of armored knights prepared to assault the train. Emily moved another card on the Slate.

[Safety Net] the voice announced. A large rope net appeared in front of the knights and caught them all as the train left them behind.

"Wow...," Pyxis grinned. "This is so different from roller derby. Why don't more people play this mode?" The two girls waited almost five minutes before they found a game. In Pyxis' brief experience, joining roller derby almost never had a wait time.

"Only Card Mages can start a Towers & Assaults game," Emily shrugged. "Usually it's one on one, so it's harder to find a match with teammates." As she explained, she activated another card on her Slate.

[Ringmaster] A man in a red blazer and black tophat appeared ahead of the girls. Pyxis spotted a black dragon gaining on them. It was much larger than the previous two; and, she noticed there was an armored knight on its back. Then, the voice spoke again.

[Knife Thrower] five men appeared behind the Ringmaster. Pyxis suddenly had a question.

"Wait, they win if they destroy our Tower... how do we win?" she asked.

"The Assaulter has limited resources; we just have to survive," Emily explained.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! BOYS AND GIRLS!" The Ringmaster called. "Please direct your attention to the center ring!" There was no center ring; but, he pointed at the black dragon. It caught up to the train and flew over the frozen guards.

"I need some fire," Emily said. Pyxis nodded with a broad smile.

"Where do you want it?" she asked.

"The Ringmaster," she said. Pyxis raised her hand and aimed at the man with her finger; but, she hesitated.

"Your own unit, are you sure?" she asked. Emily nodded.

"Towers has some neat tricks that don't work in roller derby," she said.

"Okay," that was enough explanation for Pyxis and she shot a small burst of fire at the Ringmaster. He casually burst into flames and did not seem the least bit concerned.

At this point, the black dragon was close enough to engage the knife throwers. They began flinging daggers at the dragon. Then, Pyxis noticed the projectiles ignited in the air as soon as the Ringmaster was on fire. All subsequent knives ignited as soon as they were launched.

[Drumroll] the system voice announced. A young boy with white face paint appeared next to Pyxis and began tapping the snare with both sticks. Pyxis felt confident energy surge through her, and a small icon appeared in the top left corner of her view. She recognized the damage buff and grinned.

"Shoot the dragon?" she asked as she raised her hands, and pointed her fingers at it.

"The rider," Emily corrected her.

"Oh," Pyxis dropped her hands and surveyed the situation. The dragon hovered above the car behind him with the Ringmaster and a line of knife throwers between them. The dragon breathed black acid at the Ringmaster; but, the fire enveloping him burned most of it before it did much damage. The dragon floated up and down while the rider simply sat. Unfortunately, the dragon's beating wings obscured him every other second. "Okay," she nodded.

Pyxis raised her hands again; but, this time she held an invisible rifle instead of pointing her finger guns at it. She held her left hand in front to support a non-existent barrel. Then, she closed one eye for effect as she focused on target. She counted the wing beats to find the timing, then she squeezed the trigger with her right finger. A dime-sized fireball shot forward fast enough to leave a faint trail of orange light behind it.

The rider was struck in the head and the entire dragon burst into flames. It no longer kept up with the train as it struggled to stay in the air; but, finally, it fell to the tracks behind the train. It disintegrated into ash while the train continued.

Thundering hooves drew Pyxis' attention again. She looked to the side where another squad of knights ran alongside; this time, they were riding unicorns.

"This is so fun!" Pyxis giggled. Then, a sharp screech filled the air and she felt the train begin to slow.

"What's going on??" she asked. She focused on the unicorn-mounted knights to see if they were the cause; but, they disintegrated into white dust and disappeared. Emily sighed as the train screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere. The canyon walls around the train also began to disintegrate.

"They quit the game," she said.

***

Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1748 in a row. (Story #302 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at this link.

"Fuck! FUCK! DRAGONS!" the captain yelled with as much power as his lungs allowed, alerting the crew. They froze, all of them, for just a second - seeing the impossibly massive creatures swooping from the skies was a sight that would affect anyone - but mere seconds later their training kicked in and they all set off to their respective positions.

"Reynolds! McCarthy! Crank guns!" the captain commanded. They had far more sophisticated weaponry on their train - from large explosives to electrified harpoons, but the closer the dragons would get, the less functional they would become. The crank guns were tried and true, their simplicity allowing them to function even in magic-rich environments.

"LeDawhe! As much coal as the firebox allows! We have to pick up as much speed as we can before the steam stops flowing!"

The stoker wasted no time and started to shovel coal into the fire with as much speed as her muscles would allow. She knew the fire would start behaving strangely soon; she did not look forward to it.

"Edwards!" the captain said and turned towards his adjutant. "When will they make contact?"

The adjutant, a young lad with freckled cheeks, carefully looked through the looking glass. Despite his young age, he was one of the best spotters the captain had worked with and despite the dragons in close proximity, his hands remained rock steady, much to the captain's surprise.

"1 minute 34 seconds, sir," Edwards replied calmly.

"Blast it all!" the captain swore. "I told the Admiralty this much gold and silver would attract these magpies, but they wouldn't listen! Fools, the lot of them!"

He walked to the back of the cabin again. "LeDawhe! Engine?" he yelled.

"No good 'sah! Water's past boiling but no steam!" she sounded off.

The captain smacked his clenched fist into the wall. He had hoped there'd be more time for them to pick up speed and get momentum going. Still, he at least got a bit ahead; he dealt with dragons before. He knew that nothing of that size was able to fly with just wings. It was simple physics.

So the dragons defied the laws of physics.

Magic seeped from their very beings, bending the way the world worked. It allowed them to fly despite their mass, breathe fire without injury, all sorts of nasty business. And, unluckily for the humans, their technology relied on the laws of physics not being broken.

"Edwards?"

"150 meters, sir."

"Crank guns! Engage!"

The words barely left his mouth before being drowned by the deceptively loud twangs of the rotary crossbows that filled the air. Bolts, good 2 meters long, flew through the air towards the attacking dragons who started weaving in the air to try and dodge as many as they could. Several shots hit, but only got stuck in the armoured scales, hanging from them harmlessly.

The captain cursed under his breath before noticing something even he had not expected - they were picking up speed. Despite the steam engine slowing down, they were going faster than before... unless...

"Engage the brakes!" the captain yelled.

"Sir?" Edwards turned.

"The magic! It's twisting our friction on the tracks! Brake! NOW!"

Edwards, slightly confused but confident in his captain's expertise, reached for the massive red lever at the front and pulled with all his admittedly limited might. Loud screeching filled the air yet their speed once again increased.

"SUCKERS!" the captain yelled with mad cackling as the dragons started lagging behind after only a few unsuccessful attempts to dislodge the vault wagon filled with the sought-after precious metal.

Until one of them sped up as well.

The captain's laughter stopped suddenly as he saw one of the dragons look behind and let out a massive burst of blue flame, propelling it forward.

"Cap'n! We're outta bolts!" one of the gunners yelled with more panic than he wished. The captain looked around the train car until an idea popped into his head. Vaulting the cabin's railing, he dashed towards the back of the car where the ballista was and yelled to one of the gunners to help him.

"Sir, we've got no bolts left! It's-"

"Stunner!" the captain barked. The gunner opened a nearby box and lifted a long wooden bolt that lacked the ordinary metal tip, instead sporting a large, flat slab of wood - a bolt usually reserved for non-lethal engagements. Loading it, the captain grabbed the back of the ballista and aimed carefully.

"Only shot, sir!" the gunner yelled. "But it will barely slow it down!"

"Come on you bastard..." the captain murmured as he carefully aimed at the approaching dragon. "Just... a... little..."

*thwump*

The bolt flew from the ballista.

Time seemingly slowed down for the crew as they watched the bolt fly...

And miss the dragon's head entirely.

Instead, it flew past it and hit the dragon's chest where one of the previous bolts had lodged itself. Like a hammer on a nail, it pushed the bolt past the armoured scale and into the dragon's chest. It screeched loudly and plummeted from the air onto the ground with an ear-shattering crash.

The crew collectively let out a breath of relief as the steam engine once again roared to life and the adjutant released the brakes that would, properly this time, slow them down.

The captain released the handles of the ballista and turned to his crew, their smiles wide and impressed. He reached into his coat, pulling out a pipe. Lighting it, he took a long drag and grinned back at his crew.

"Messed with the wrong crew, didn't they?" he exuberantly yelled. The crew cheered loudly, some even throwing their hats in the air; one of which was regrettably lost to the wind.

"When the dock, the drinks are on me!" he added.

And, somehow, the cheering got even louder.

Coool