Wonderful 77.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Once again, lord Farque along with Dorc da Orc are flying to the west, sweeping out in that direction. While Mira Reinholt the mage upon the smaller, maroon coloured wyvern, is away to the east, and further south.
The undead warlord looks away to the east towards the rising sun of the clear morning, after what was a relatively cool night, the coolest so far since they've been in Maladimbáh. Then he looks away to the south, sensing as he does so.
Behind the visor of his full helm, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque slightly frowns, then he nods "There they are" murmurs lord Farque, he hears an inquiring grunt from the large ork behind him. The heavily armoured deathlord switches from the ancient language of command, to the ork language and says "I've found them".
"Oh, fucken who?" asks Dorc da Orc in his native language "Who you fucking think, you daft cunt" says the lord of the death realm "Oh" says the ork warleader, who after a slight pause, continues with "Helbe and them other cunts" the large ork then mutters "That's right, we been looking for them silly cunts" while lord Farque rolls his eyes and shakes his full helmed head.
Draugadrottin as he's known to the people of his lands, has the large glossy green, back wyvern turn eastwards, as it does, the deathlord of Farque spots something in the distance to the southeast.
"Fuck" mutters the undead warlord, a few moments later and Dorc da Orc says "Hey Farque, you fucken see that?" the lord of the death realm slightly nods, then says "I see it".
Away to the southeast is a griffon, who along with it's rider, is flying straight towards Mira Reinholt and the maroon wyvern. The heavily armoured deathlord knows that the once powerful mage probably hasn't spotted it, unless he's looking straight at it through his cylindrical eyepiece, or if he's cast a farsight spell upon himself. And the undead warlord senses that the mage Reinholt hasn't done the latter.
Seeing that the swift moving griffon, which can easily fly more than twice as fast as a wyvern, which isn't exactly slow, as the large reptilian like flying creatures can easily fly in excess of a hundred knots, will get to the Vexilian mage in exile and the maroon wyvern, before they get there.
Lord Farque commands the large wyvern he and Dorc da Orc are on, to fly as quickly as it can, the large ork at the back of the saddle, chuckles as he holds on as they pick up speed.
The heavily armoured deathlord who is low in the saddle, glances back and seeing that warleader of the ork race is sitting upright, grinning like an imbecile, being a massive form of wind resistance doing so, says in the ork language "Lie flat cunt".
Dorkindle does so after grunting, as he knows not to argue with that tone of voice directed at him by the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Then Des'tier as he's known by an older generation of elven kind who might know who he is, pops his full helmed head up and looks directly south as he senses again, and he spots another griffon heading north, this one from the mountains in the distance, on the otherside of which, lord Farque knows lies the palatial like tower, that is the seat of power of lord Haldéilv.
Dorc da Orc after seeing the heavily armoured deathlord pop his head up briefly as they lie near flat in the saddle of the fast flying wyvern that's just gone over a hundred knots in speed as they head to the southeast. Briefly pops his head up too, and sees what the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has just spotted.
"Hey Farque, there's another fucken birdy cat!" shouts the ork weaponsmith over the noise of the wind whipping past them "I see it!" calls back the lord of the death realm, who then adds "Keep low, and fucking hold on" then in the dragon language Draugadrottin commands the large glossy green, black wyvern for more speed.
Mira Reinholt the mage who has just taken out his leather wrapped, brass cylindrical eyepiece, that's of elven design and is also elven made, looks through it, down at the ground where he spots a track through a forest on the edge of some farmland, where a road is a couple miles to the east of the forest.
"No movement there" Mira Reinholt the mage murmurs to himself, who then adds "Yet" as it's still early in the morning, just after dawn, and though there's people in some of the fields in the farmland, he sees no one as yet going along the track through the forest.
Taking his eye away from the eyepiece, and frowning as the wyvern suddenly squawks in agitation, and almost back wings, before it starts circling west, the mage Reinholt mutters "Not that way idiot" as he pulls back on the reins after returning his brass, cylindrical eyepiece to a large inner pocket of his black summer cloak.
The once powerful mage sighs, then sourly says to himself "It's going to be one of those mornings is it?" as the wyvern ignores his pulling back on the reins, as he attempts to get it heading back to the south and east, instead of circling west, which it's doing at the moment.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks westwards, and blinks in surprise, when he sees in the distat to the northwest, the other wyvern, that lord Farque and Dorc da Orc are on, is heading this way fast. Infact the mage Reinholt figures the large glossy green, black wyvern is flying about as fast as a wyvern can possu fly.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster looks back behind him to the east, he squints into the rising sun, and he quickly casts a spell so that he can see more clearly, as well as see into the distance.
"By the shape of fire" mutters Mira Reinholt at what he spots heading straight towards him out of the rising sun, the once powerful mage grimaces as he gives the wyvern more rein, as he sees that the approaching griffon must be flying well over two hundred knots, and will be upon him quickly.
Well you're not going to run from it Mira, the mage Reinholt dryly thinks to himself, as he stops holding his power within himself, and puts up a barrier and protection spell around himself, as he sees the elven noble upon the rider upon the fast moving griffon, doesn't look to be in an inquiring type of mood. He actually looks pissed off to see a lone rider upon the back of the maroon coloured wyvern.
The Vexilian mage in exile briefly winces as he knows the wyvern will be no match for the griffon in a fight, and he knows the elven noble will be far more powerful than he is when it comes to magic, so the once powerful mage knows he only really has surprise as something of an advantage.
"Surprise fuckface" Mira Reinholt murmurs to himself as he quickly creates a mageglobe and flings it backwards, it takes off towards the fast approaching griffon, the highly skilled swordmaster silently adds, bet you won't be expecting that.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, gets low in the saddle, as the wyvern flies as quickly as it can. The highly skilled swordmaster glances back, and sees the small coloured dot that is his mageglobe, fast approaching the fast moving griffon.
The mage Reinholt slightly frowns as he sees the griffon and the rider upon it, is still coming straight at him, and isn't trying to avoid the rapidly approaching living piece of magic, even though the elven noble must of sensed what the mageglobe is.
There's a loud explosion and a large ball of fire in the morning sky that rapidly grows, one moment the griffon is within the expanding ball of fire, the next it's flying through it, then out of it, with both the large winged creature and it's rider completely unharmed.
"Fuck" mutters Mira Reinholt as he realises the elven noble is indeed powerful, and has a barrier spell up around himself and his griffon, strong enough to withstand a fairly decent, in power at least, mageglobe.
The exiled Vexilian mage who isn't exactly brimming with power, feels himself shunted forward, and he barely holds on, stopping himself from being flung forward out of the saddle, and over the head of the wyvern.
The mage Reinholt winces, and he forgoes creating another mageglobe, and puts up another barrier spell to replace the one that's just been torn to shreds by the blast spell that the elven noble just cast, trying to knock him off the fleeing wyvern.
The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands looks back when he hears the approaching griffon, he sees that it's almost upon him and the wyvern. Which instinctively drops, to avoid a swipe from the griffon.
"Fuck me" mutters the mage Reinholt as the talons of the front left claw of the griffon miss him by just a few feet, bouncing off his barrier spell that's just able to withstand the force of the blow. He knows his spell can't hold up to many hits from the physically powerful creature's claws.
As the wyvern drops, and the griffon basically stops in mid air, tucks it's wings in, then dive at the dropping wyvern. The once powerful mage looks west, and spots the other wyvern, rapidly approaching this part of the sky.
He hurriedly creates another mageglobe, and it goes shooting away from him, heading up at the diving griffon. Mira Reinholt knows the elven noble will withstand it, he just hopes for a brief distraction, as he needs all the respite he can get, until the other wyvern gets to him.
There's another loud explosion in the morning sky, the Vexilian mage doesn't even bother to look up to see what happened, he just holds on to the reins and saddle as the maroon coloured wyvern levels out a bit, as it squawks as it flees the quick flying griffon and the elven spellcaster who is riding it.
The swordmaster Reinholt whose guts lurch up and down with every sharp movement from the wyvern, sees that it must of spotted the larger, glossy green, black one, as it's heading towards that one.
The Vexilian mage in exile chances a look up, and he flinches as he sees the screeching griffon, with it's front claws extended, just above him, about to strike him and the smaller wyvern.
Suddenly the griffon moves sharply to the right, and veers quickly away with an indignant screech, after raking at the wyvern and missing. "What the fuck" mutters Mira Reinholt who looks around to see what's happened.
"Another!" shouts lord Farque, and Dorc da Orc hands forward another of his long spears to the undead warlord. Guiding the wyvern with his knees, the heavily armoured deathlord slightly stands up in the saddle, ready to throw another of the ork warleader's long spears. The first of which the elven noble narrowly ducked as it went through his barrier spell.
As the smaller maroon coloured wyvern that Mira Reinholt is on, flies free and puts some distance between itself and the griffon. Which stops, and almost turns within it's own wingspan, as it circles so quickly.
The lord of the death realm pulls back his right arm, as the large glossy green, black wyvern flies towards the smaller one that the Vexilian mage in exile is on.
The mage Reinholt looks ahead, and sees lord Farque standing up in the saddle of the larger wyvern that's rapidly approaching him. "What the fuck?" murmurs the once powerful mage as he sees the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has one of Dorc da Ork's long spear gripped in a gauntleted hand.
Mira Reinholt ducks low in the saddle and slightly winces as he sees the lord of the death realm throw the long spear. The highly skilled swordmaster is pretty sure he feels the long spear pass just over him and his barrier spell, then he looks quickly back.
This time the undead warlord doesn't throw the spear at the elven noble upon the griffon, this time he throws it at the fast flying griffon itself, which has it's front claws extended as it rapidly approaches the maroon coloured wyvern again. And though the elven spellcaster sees what's about to happen, and the griffon quickly dodges to one side.
The spear is thrown with such force and speed, it goes through the barrier spell of the elven noble, and hits the fast moving griffon in the left wing.
It lets out a screech of pain, and instantly drops, as it's left wing folds in to itself. Mira Reinholt lets out a pent up breath, then murmurs "Fuck" as he sees the griffon drop away behind him. He then ducks down again, as the larger glossy green, black wyvern passes directly overhead, less than twenty feet away.
The once powerful mage then frowns as he heard lord Farque shout something at him as he passed overhead "Another?" the swordmaster Reinholt murmurs to himself, who looks around in the morning sky as he adds "Where?".
With the farsight spell he still has, Mira Reinholt spots something away to the south in the sky heading this way, he sourly smile and says in a tone of voice that matches the smile "Great" as he sees another griffon in the distance flying in this direction . . . . . .