Rotmek loved the feel of the wind through his beard, flapping over his shoulder, as the ground soared by below. He was the first non-dragon to join the Wing-Host. After the demon city appeared, as well as the destructive god Coria, it was soon realized that dragons would need some aid in defending their territory. So they made a single Flight within the Wing-Host to include battle tested non-dragons, and Rotmek was made Flight Commander. He had a brilliant eye for strategy as well as a joy for flying. He was one of the only dwarves that had been allowed to ride on a dragon's back. Many dragons still consider being rode as a great shame, as if they were cattle. But some considered it a partnership and made it work. 

Rotmek rode without any form of saddle, using hooks that kept a hold on the dragon's scales. He was leading a flight of dragons and half dragons to Gold Ridge. Many of the older, wealthier dragons were curious about the valuables that people collected from the demons, things that could only be found in the Abyssal realm. And dragons had learned that the archfiends that ruled that demonic city were quite powerful, on par with themselves. So some preferred to send hired mercenaries to gather for them. Many a dragon had been killed or injured attempting to steal the treasures from the archfiends. 

Rotmek looked over his shoulder and saw the many wings, mostly reds and greens. Blues were incredibly rare in Pyresia any more, ever since their great exodus to follow their god. Looking forward, through his tinted goggles, he saw Gold Ridge, the hodgepodge village on a cliff. He peered through the telescopic lenses, made for him by some of their finest engineers, and saw a dark cloud moving toward Gold Ridge. He smiled, it was time for fun.

He pulled out a cylinder, ripped the cap off with his teeth, and slammed the butt against the dragon beneath him. It caused no harm, but it did cause a reaction that shot a green fireball high into the air. It was a signal of combat incoming. Many roars bellowed from behind him indicating they'd seen the signal and were ready for the carnage.

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Verissa glanced back at the many children, most of whom were rushing inside, leaving behind any metal toys or tools that they might've had with them. It made her heart pang a little, that children would have to know such vital survival tactics. With a flick of her wrist, her bow staff snapped around, whirling and locking up behind her right shoulder. It was automatic now. Her preparation. Asher had taught it when she had become more adept. It let her test the weapon, ensure that it was still good, and it was used as a sort of trigger to put her into a combat mindset.

Her dogs knew the motion as well. They both hopped up, staying close, but out of reach of her staff. They were calm, now that they knew there was a threat, they slipped into the training that was taught to them by Asher, their mother, and the houndmaster of the Thunderfang tribe. They were bigger than most of the incoming skeeters, and would put up more than just a fight. They would be a veritable threat.

Verissa checked all of the shields she currently had in place. She had some of the standard shields around her dogs necks and vulnerable bellies, still humming with power. The only other shields she maintained hummed around her weapon, particularly at both ends of it. The guards that had greeted her at the village entrance, along with many others, were now taking up positions around the village center. One looked over at her, grinning like a fool, [color=39b54a][i][b]"If we survive this, wanna have a drink with me tonight?"[/b][/i][/color]

Verissa wanted to just flat out say no, but she knew these type of men. They didn't stop at a simple no. [color=bc8dbf][i][b]"Fine. That just makes you another creature I have to bash in the skull of."[/b][/i][/color] The threat wasn't even close to real, and Verissa still always felt awkward about having to display false bravado. But it elicited a round of laughter from the man's friends. 

The buzzing in the air was now deafening, the cloud showing that it was quite a large swarm. Maybe sixty or so of the giant bugs. Thankfully, the village seemed prepared for the most part, as several ballistae began firing bone tipped spears into the swarm. Few were starting to fall, as the dive bomb began. The bugs dove down, heading straight for the main group of people. Skeeters had a single tactic; fly by, attempt to cripple the prey with their bladed wings. Repeat until dead or victorious. 

The dive met the group, many of whom dove aside or threw themselves on the ground. The more skilled of the later slashed at the underbellies of the creatures as they flew by, sending the insects crashing. Verissa snapped her bo staff around several times. When a skeeter dove at her, she whipped the low end of her staff upward, the end crashing just beneath its mandibles. The creature's head snapped back harder than any might expect, throwing its momentum upward and over her, before it crashed into the ground, oozing around its neck where the exoskeleton had cracked. 

Remus and Remilia took a different tactic. Remus was the bait, a skeeter diving toward him. As it got close, Remilia dove in behind the bladed wings, getting an unbreakable hold on the creature's body and tackling it to the ground. Remus followed with his sister and they tore the creature to shreds. The first wave passed over them, weakened but still a threat. A couple of the guards and mercs had fallen, and there hadn't been many to begin with. It would be a tight war of attrition. Who would run out of forces first?