Written in the style of A Storm of Swords by GRR Martin:

We’ve lost, Jean thought, it’s over.

Her pilots were dying, their flugcraft shrieking down in flames over the kanal, Amelie and Laurents and Sami with the dark bangs, they were all dying. Fires raged across the city, someone screamed on the comms over the boom of aerial pounders, Flight Command remained silent. Somehow the zeppcrafts, big as they were, remained aloft and unharmed, drifting toward the kanal through a sea of tracer fire. An aerial battery down the block from Jean took a direct hit, which also leveled the buildings on either side. The enemy bomb-zepps pressed ponderously forward, screened by a swarm of aeroes thick as gnats. Lumbering behind them came the enemy luftnought, turbines tall as a building, blades spinning fast like solid white discs, tracers lancing out from its batteries as it released its payload upon the city below.