Wonderful 71.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage yawns, then stretches as the maroon coloured wyvern he's on wings it's way south in the morning sunshine. The once powerful mage looks back, and is just able to see the other wyvern in the distance to the north.
It's a bit further behind because lord Farque had to go and get Dorc da Orc, as the large ork wandered off during the night. For when the undead warlord found the ork warleader, Dorkindle was busy raping a herd of wild mountain sheep that he had caught the scent of.
"Big fucking idiot" Mira Reinholt the mage dryly murmurs to himself with a shake of his hooded head, the Vexilian mage in exile, who doesn't fly as high up as lord Farque on the other wyvern, keeps an eye out for any griffons. As he knows that a griffon and it's nobleborn rider will almost certainly attack him, seeing as he has no legitimate business being here in Maladimbáh.
Wonder if i could pass myself off as a justifier from Belinswae? the mage Reinholt thinks to himself, it's not the first time the spellcaster from south of the equator has had this thought. Though he knows it would be hard to pull off, considering he doesn't have any guards with him, and that he's taller than average for someone from Belinswae, who are shorter in general compared to most other human populations.
The mage who was the youngest member of the mage council of the city-state of Vexil, stretches again, and as usual as he flies upon the wyvern, he looks down at the ground below as he flies above some hills, with peaks further back to either side of him.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordsmaster sees the road that goes south through this part of the principality, is away to his right.
As he looks off to one side of it, and further to the south, Mira Reinholt spots something.
"Slow down you ass" says the once powerful mage when the wyvern doesn't immediately respond to him pulling back on the reins, the large winged creature after a few moments does slow down, and the mage Reinholt takes out his leather wrapped, brass cylindrical eye piece and looks through it at something on the ground he's spotted.
"Hmmmmm what's going on here?" murmurs the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, he sees an elf in the distance running across a meadow, trying to keep as low as possible. Less than half a mile away from the elf, rides a small squad of elven guards, who are going over a hilltop after riding off the main road that goes south.
The swordmaster Reinholt frowns as he sees that the guards are familiar, they're wearing the same tabards as the ones from the other day. Those who are in service of the elven lord who is after sir Percavelle Lé Dic and the others.
Who the trio of Mira Reinholt, lord Farque and Dorc da Orc, know are somewhere to the south, most likely on their way to the lands of lord Haldéilv, which is the the south of the principality of Maladimbáh, not too far from the Nomads Plains.
The once powerful mage looks quickly back, and sees that still the other wyvern, the large glossy green, black one that the undead warlord and the ork warleader are on, is still quite a distance back.
"Might as well" the swordmaster Reinholt murmurs to himself with a shrug of his shoulders, as he looks down to the ground further to the south, the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, has the wyvern circle, dropping in altitude too, quickly as they continue southwards.
The exile Vexilian mage in exile draws the long sword, with the black blade that's been hardened by dragon fire.
He knows the mounted elven guards would easily see him if they were looking this way, but they don't as they're busy concentrating on the elf fleeing from them on foot.
"They'll hear me soon enough" murmurs the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, and that proves to be true, as a short whie while later as the wyvern continues downwards at speed, he and the large winged creature he's on are discovered.
The once powerful mage creates a ball of light and sound when he sees some of the elven guards, turn in the saddle and point up to him and the diving wyvern. The mage Reinholt lets the ball of light and sound fly, and it shoots off down to the riders below.
It may only be a ball of light and sound, but the mounted elven guards don't know that, for it looks very much like an energyball which a lot of them have seen before.
The riders scatter, and the ball of light and sound explodes amongst a few of them. Horses rear and buck from the loud bang and the explosion of light, and guards are thrown from their saddles.
The maroon coloured wyvern swoops down to the ground screeching loudly, Mira Reinholt pulls back on the reins hoping they don't plow into the hillside directly below them.
The wyvern rises up, rather slowly, with a horse between it's front claws, the rider is on the ground with a broken arm and a slashed open back, while his mount is neighing in pain between the front claws of the wyvern.
"Let it go you fucking overgrown flying lizard!" shouts the mage Reinholt, who thumps the wyvern a couple of times with the flat of the sword, the large winged creature, lets out an indignant squawk, then it lets go of the horse as it tries to circle back to the right.
The horse lands right infront of another horse, that it's rider is trying to get back under control after it took off in fright. The mount plows head first into the ground as it tries to leap over the horse that slammed into the ground right infront of it. The rider is flung forward over the head of his mount, and he slams into the ground too, before finally coming to a stop after tumbling forward a few times.
Mira Reinholt lets out a heavy breath, more sigh than anything else as the wyvern is flying more smoothly again, he looks down and sees that those few riders still mounted, are either fleeing, or trying to turn their frightened horses around, to return to where their fallen comrades are.
After the wyvern circles back around so that they're heading south again, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster sees that the elf who is on foot, who was fleeing the mounted squad, has crossed the meadow, and is now heading up a hill, the Vexilian mage in exile heads to that hilltop.
The maroon coloured wyvern lands, and after returning the sword to the scabbard at his left hip, the once powerful mage gets down off the wyvern, and a few moments later he sees the elf come up over the brow of the hill, from between some trees.
"Greetings" calls out Mira Reinholt in the elven language "Greetings" calls out the elf a little warily as he looks at both the black cloaked and hooded figure of the exiled Vexilian mage, and the wyvern crouching behind him, which like all wyverns, has a rather distrustful look in it's eye. It isn't really distrustful, that's just it's natural look, they're more belligerent in reality than they ever are distrustful.
"You okay?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt who walks towards the elf, who he sees is pretty solid, or muscular for an elf, he can see how muscular his forearms are as he wears a short sleeve tunic, over which is a brown leather vest, that looks like it's been cut short from a longer smock.
A smith? the once powerful mage thinks to himself, as he adds "Don't think that lot will be bothering you anytime soon" and he gestures back to the hill to the north, where he and the wyvern dived at the mounted squad of guards.
"Thanks for that" says the elf as he briefly looks back to the north "No worries" says the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, then the highly skilled swordmaster asks "Any reason why that lot were chasing you?".
The elf pauses for a moment, then he decides to tell the mage Reinholt why he was being chased, the once powerful mage listens with interest, as it concerns the others who he along with lord Farque and Dorc da Orc are looking for here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
A little while later, and Harquínd, who is indeed a blacksmith, says "What's that?" after Mira Reinholt tells him "Don't worry they're friends, kind of". "What's what?" asks the Vexilian mage in exile "That big green thing on the back of that wyvern" says the elven blacksmith, the spellcaster from south of the equator dryly replies with "An idiot".
The large glossy green, black wyvern lands beside the smaller maroon one, and the heavily armoured deathlord and the ork weaponsmith get off it, and make their way over to where the mage Reinholt and the smith Harquínd stand.
"There's something you need to hear" says the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque after he introduces the elven blacksmith to the lord of the death realm and the large ork.
As Harquínd explains the reason why he was fleeing the guards of lord Parsenellé, the undead warlord slightly shakes his full helmed head.
Percy the fucking idiot, lord Farque sourly thinks to himself, after hearing what they've already heard rumour about, then after the smith Harquínd finishes explaining how sir Percavelle Lé Dic saved him from being pressed into the service of lord Parsenellé, the deathlord of Farque asks "They were definitely heading south then?".
"Yes sir, i mean my lord" says the elven blacksmith as he remembers that the human spellcaster told him not to call the large, heavily armoured human a sir "Well we're going the right way then" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands.
Lord Farque looks around as he senses in all directions for as far as he can, then he says "We'll drop you off in the nearest decent sized village or town" the heavily armoured deathlord calls out to Dorc da Orc "We're going!" the large ork who has wandered down to the nearest trees to take shelter from the morning sunshine, grunts then makes his way back up to where the others, and the wyverns are.
They head south again, with the elven blacksmith on the maroon wyvern with Mira Reinholt, and later in the morning, they see a large village on the northern shores of a small lake, which Harquínd informs the exiled Vexilian mage, is in the lands of a lord Yardeníl.
They land just outside the lake side village where they see a couple of buildings in the north of it have been completely destroyed, and people are cleaning up the debris of them. The four of them enter the large village, with the swordmaster Reinholt and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque looking for information, while the ork warleader goes in search of some booze to buy.
It's fairly quickly that they find out what they're looking for, and as Dorkindle buys some barrels of ale from an inn, lord Farque and Mira Reinholt stand outside of it, with the Vexilian mage in exile saying "They left yesterday morning" he follows that up with "Still going south after they ran into some more of those guards, and the elven lord Parsenellé himself by the sounds of it"
"The north of lord Haldéilv's lands are little over a day's ride south through the peaks from here" continues the mage Reinholt "They'll be there by now" says the heavily armoured deathlord who then adds "And so will we tonight" lord Farque looks at the once powerful mage and tells him "If that bitch has returned, which in all likelihood she has, then she'll be waiting for them with a trap as they head down through her father's lands" Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head in agreement . . . . . .