Permanent Damage (Tyr)
Looking out the window revealed worlds he had never imagine. On the run from one mechanized destroyer after another, iron works of horror from another age, Shamash had never expected to see allies. All around they were there. Dragons, jaws agape, blazing past them with a mighty roar as they went to face the enemy. Give them a chance to escape. At his side in this flight, astride a dragon of their own - named Ember, in fact - was Tyr. The one-handed Norse god of justice who had a penchant for whiskey and black women. Shamash didn't know how they had come to be here, but here they were. Wait. No. He knew. Guarded by the pilots of those monstrosities who called themselves Po-Po. They were preparing to sacrifice both deities to the great and powerful Judge Ronald Thompson. Terrible creatures, those judges, with five mouths - each one letting slip a peal of flame born in hell when they roared their dominion over all creation. Shamash couldn't help but let loose a war whoop, and raise the saw high above his head.
The dragons would end this once and for all.
Existence wasn't meant to be defined by the mundane things. Or the sorrow one felt in their heart at a word they didn't say, a laugh that never escaped could cause more pain than a laugh that did. Dragons knew this as well as human beings did. Oppression was a ridiculously outdated notion. Men weren't just equals, they were brothers, associates in all that existence had to offer. Shamash wouldn't any longer let the Po-Po feed helpless mortal men to the jaws of the Judges, there to experience true suffering as their souls cooked atop the brimstone tongues of the wicked. Ember roared out its approval with a widening of jaws, a continuous burst of flame escaping its nostrils. They were moving very fast now, low to the ground as more and more dragons soared past them to join the battle. Beside Shamash, Tyr's bellow of approval and righteous fury couldn't be contained by jaws of flesh nor a prison of will - it had to be free, and let its rage be felt by the vile oppressors before the end of their miserable lives.
Shamash had never been prouder.
Never.
And beyond this horizon lay the magical realm of Endya, where Ember and his clan of dragons made their home. Endya. Meadows that could never be broken by boot or flame. Swords could not tame its inhabitants and malice could not stain their lives. They were a free people for true. There the gods would make their home forevermore, according to the dragons who'd come to help them in their fight. It might be necessary to turn and fight, but Shamash knew they wouldn't die. They couldn't die. With an army of winged fury at their command it was only a matter of time before the iron monstrosities were overcome and the Judges' foul appetite for torment and agony would be stopped at last.
"Can you believe it?" Shamash asked, barely audible over the mighty wind. "All these dragons together in one place!"