Wonderful 64.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage looks down at the foothills below, the once powerful mage then looks around and on what's an overcast day, the Vexilian mage in exile sees no sign of the other wyvern anywhere.
The mage Reinholt has the maroon wyvern land, which it does eventually, much to the relief of the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, for at least the large winged creature is actually listening to him for once.
They're in the west of the principality of Maladimbáh, and Mira Reinholt who is keeping a careful eye out for any griffon. For any nobleborn elf who spotted him and the maroon wyvern, wouldn't exactly be pleased to find them. Is also looking for signs of the rest of the group from the Southlands. Who he believes are here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh. Where exactly, he's not too sure.
The swordmaster Reinholt who has hopped off the wyvern, which has scuttled under an overhanging ledge on the rocky foothill they've landed on as it starts to lightly rain. Looks around and up at the sky, through the leather wrapped, brass cylindrical eyepiece that he acquired here in Maladimbáh.
The once powerful mage nods his head when he spots something in the sky to the southwest, heading this way "There they are" murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage as he watches the large glossy green, black wyvern that lord Farque and Dorc da Orc are on.
The exiled Vexilian mage who is glad that the ork warleader isn't flying with him, waits for the other wyvern with the undead warlord and the ork weaponsmith upon it to land.
The large glossy green, black wyvern lands, and Dorc da Orc who basically falls off, gets up off the ground and hurries under the overhanging ledge to get out of the lightly falling rain.
The large ork just grunts as he passes the mage Reinholt, then Dorkindle yells at the maroon coloured wyvern to move over to give him room beneath the overhanging ledge. While the larger wyvern remains on the side of the foothill, curled up with a wing over it's head to give itself some form of shelter from the rain that's started falling a little heavier.
"I doubt they'll be here in the west" says lord Farque when he joins Mira Reinholt at one end of the overhanging ledge, the undead warlord continues with "If that portal they went through is like the one we went through to Belinswae near Falnic, then a similar distance in this direction will put them somewhere in the center of the principality" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Probably more north than south".
"But will they head south once they find out where that lord Haldéilv's lands are?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt who then adds "It's kind of obvious they'll think she is there". The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, nods his full helmed head, then says "More than likely" lord Farque then adds "It's what she'll expect Helbe to do, and he'll do it just so he can figure out whatever she's going to do to try and trap him with".
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, until the vast majority of his powers were stripped from him when he was off world after accidentally going through a rift/void spell he miscast, says to undead warlord "I don't think she'll be all that welcomed back to her father's lands after what happened when you turned up".
The swordmaster Reinholt continues with "Her father will blame that on her for having me as her prisoner in his tower" the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands then adds "From what i saw of him, he's one to hold a grudge, especially against her, who he was never that happy to have under his roof again".
"That conniving bitch will try and figure out something that will involve her father and his lands" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is also known as Des'tier to an older generation of elves who might know who he is "It's the only advantage she's got while she's here, and she'll fucking need it if she hopes to capture or kill that thieving elven prince" adds the heavily armoured deathlord, the once powerful mage nods his hooded head in agreement with lord Farque.
Looking at the late afternoon sky as the rain gets heavier, Draugadrottin then looks over at Dorc da Orc who is far back beneath the overhanging ledge as possible, where he's drinking from a gourd of fermented goats milk he got from the nomad tribe they briefly stayed with when they were crossing the dry, arid plains to the south.
After shaking his full helmed head, lord Farque dryly says "I guess we're going no where until this rain stops" the mage Reinholt lets out a slow breath, then says "I was rather hoping you were going to say that" the exiled Vexilian mage continues with "I wasn't looking forward to flying in this rain till nightfall". "Pussy" murmurs the lord of the death realm, which the once powerful mage doesn't respond to, but instead makes his way to his pack, and some firewood he gathered earlier before it started raining, to start a fire and cook himself something to eat.
The trio from south of the equator stay on the rocky foothill for the night, with even Dorc da Orc falling asleep as he, along with the swordmaster from Vexil, and the maroon wyvern spend the night beneath the overhanging ledge.
The rain stops in the middle of the night after it drops in intensity to intermittent showers. By early morning, just before sunrise, it's fairly fine, with just patches of grey clouds above this part of the west of Maladimbáh.
Even though it's heading towards the end of summer, it's a little chilly this far west in the mountainous principality, though only briefly, with only the mage Reinholt feeling the chill. Dorkindle was hoping it would get colder, while lord Farque doesn't feel the temperature no matter what it is.
After the once powerful mage and the ork warleader break their fast, the trio from south of the equator are back in the air. Though only briefly, as they pause on their way to the east and north, to let the two wyverns hunt for something to eat.
"There aren't any more dragons around is there?" dryly asks Mira Reinholt, for when last he and the deathlord of Farque were here in the west of Maladimbáh, they encountered a dragon, who was hell bent on killing them, until lord Farque killed it.
"No" replies the undead warlord as they watch the two wyverns eat a brace each of deer in the valley they've stopped in "Well none that i can sense anyway" adds the lord and ruler of the lands Farque in the elven language.
"I don't know if that's reassuring or not" murmurs the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster in the same language "Relax" says the lord of the death realm, who continues with "They're territorial bastards, there won't be another one near where one lived" Draugadrottin then adds "You know this".
Dorc da Orc who is ignoring the conversation in elven between lord Farque and Mira Reinholt, grunts in disappointment when the two wyverns finnish their kills. The large ork was hoping for some of that deer himself, but no such luck.
A little while later and trio from the Southlands are upon the two wyverns again, and in the air, heading east and north through the peaks here in the western part of the principality of Maladimbáh.
With the swordmaster Reinholt flying a little lower and infront on the slightly quicker maroon wyvern. While the larger, glossy green, black one that the undead warlord and the ork warleader are on, which can fly higher and longer. Is usually a thousand yards or so behind the smaller wyvern.
As they go between peaks and over valleys, mountain lakes and rivers, the once powerful mage looks down and sees more signs of life down below the further east they go.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, spots trials and tracks, and narrow winding forest roads, leading to small villages and hamlets.
Which is were a large number of the population live in the principality of Maladimbáh. Most larger towns are near the seat of power of the local lords. Usually a stronghold, or palatial like tower that's dotted here and there across the principality.
There's only one real city in Maladimbáh, and that's in the east of the principality, where if there was a ruling prince or princess of Maladimbáh, they would live there. As of now, there's no ruling prince, there hasn't been one in nearly a hundred years. And the local lords are fine with that, as they're in no hurry to have one of their own rule over them.
As the morning moves on, and it gets warmer, then after midday then in the afternoon, Mira Reinholt as they pass over a road leading from a village towards the center of Maladimbáh, sees a fairly large number of elven guards belonging to whoever is the local lord, riding south.
The Vexilian mage in exile who keeps an eye out for any griffons, has the maroon wyvern circle around back to the one the heavily armoured deathlord and the ork weaponsmith are on. When he comes alongside the larger glossy green, black wyvern. The lord and ruler of the lands Farque signals to land. The two wyverns make their way down to a wide strip of grass near a river.
"You see that?" asks Mira Reinholt "I did" replies lord Farque, who then nods his full helmed head in agreement to the once powerful mage saying "That was definitely troop movement, and not just a local patrol".
"Something's happened" says Draugadrottin who then dryly adds "Considering who we're looking for, i wonder if it's got anything to do with them?". "Probably" murmurs the highly skilled swordmaster, who then nods his hooded head, and says "I will" in response to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque telling him "Go and see what they're up to".
The mage Reinholt vanishes as he teleports away to the trees nearby, towards the direction of the road they just flew over. As the Vexilian mage in exile goes to see what's happening, lord Farque stays with the two wyverns, while Dorc da Orc with a scowl upon his broad, green brutish looking face, wonders over to the river, which he squats down beside after pulling down his pants, and takes a shit in.
A little while later and the once powerful mage returns, and says "Take a guess who they're after?" the undead warlord dryly says "Them" Mira Reinholt nods, then says "A couple of the local guards were attacked in a village tavern further south of here, from the minds i read, sounds like it was the loud mouthed knight Percy who did it".
"That fuckface" says Dorc da Orc from the side of the river where he's kicking lose dirt and rocks into the water after he's taken a shit in it "The local lord wants to bring him and the others with him to justice".
"When did it happen?" asks the lord of the death realm "The evening before last" replies the highly skilled swordmaster, who then adds "They were spotted heading south".
"Let's go" says lord Farque who then calls out in the ork language "Hurry up cunt, we're fucking going!" as the large ork hurries back to where the two wyverns are, the undead warlord says to the mage Reinholt "There's an elven noble on a griffon somewhere to the north, heading south" the heavily armoured deathlord adds "Probably the local lord those nearby guards serve" he then says "Keep an eye out for them" Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head and says that he will.
The trio from the Southlands are soon in the saddles of their respective wyverns, and up in the air again, where they head south now, continuing their search for the rest of the group they usually travel with . . . . . .