With Vorpal sword in hand you light your brands and with all the fury and might of all the Teutons you strike out at the dragon.  Your rift blade hits ruby red scales and fire and flesh explode out but not before the dragon whips you with its tail and grabs you with its claws.  It lunges into the air, but your wound to it was deep and the two of you tumble into the sand.  You rise to your feet Vorpal sword ready, but all you can see is dust and sand that was kicked up by the impact.  Then a glow of light is your only warning as it explodes from the dust cloud like a cannon of teeth an claws.

You strike at its armored hide and it bites and claws at your flesh, fate bending and breaking for both.  You will not die here!

Both you and the dragon are so focused on the fight that you fail to see the wave of Infectors bleeding out of the ancient buildings.  Like a wave of gnashing teeth, they engulf you both.

Infectors each have ten legs and chainsaw like bodies with rows of shiny metal teeth hacking out at limbs and guts.  They have a flail of the top of their head of steel tentacles with sharp mouths at the ends.  When they overwhelm you the mouths bite down and inject venom.  It numbs you, stops your bleeding, and leaves you paralyzed, alive, and sometimes in bits.

You and the dragon, your fates were intertwined, are cut and pulled apart, then scuttled quickly back into the dark.   Your head and torso are separated from your limbs and as you are taken into the darkness you can see your arms and legs struggling in the sea of Infectors.  You will live, for weeks as your body dissolves and the Infectors lap you up.