Wonderful 78.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

The griffon drops towards the ground with it's injured left wing, folded up against it. Lord Farque has the large glossy green, black wyvern dive after it.
The undead warlord briefly looks back up into the sky, and sees Mira Reinholt the mage on the smaller maroon coloured wyvern, looking away to the south. No doubt the once powerful mage has spotted the other griffon approaching from the mountains to the south.
The heavily armoured deathlord looks down, and though the griffon is injured, and only really has one wing to fly with, it's still moving fairly fast, though no where near it's top speed, or even half speed, but its still dropping towards the ground in excess of seventy knots.
The large glossy green, black wyvern is catching up to the injured griffon which is trying to level out before it reaches the treetops of the forest below. As it does, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque senses the nobleborn elf upon the injured griffon is going to cast a healing spell upon it.
"Fuck it" mutters lord Farque who wishes he had something heavier, and larger than the longspears he's been throwing at the griffon and it's rider, to be specific the barrier spell around the two of them.
The lord of the death realm then looks quickly back at who is sitting at the rear of the saddle, who is grinning from ear to ear as the wyvern dives straight down as quickly as it can. Behind the visor of his full helm, Draugadrottin as he's also known by the people of his lands, briefly grins too.
"Dorc!" shouts the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "Get up here!" as the injured griffon slowly levels out, and the undead warlord with just the pressure of his knees, has the wyvern flatten it's dive out.
After grunting, Dorc da Orc shuffles forward on the saddle, nearly falling off as he does so "Bads wyvey" murmurs Dorc da Orc, who though nearly falling out of the saddle, is still grinning from ear to ear as the mad flight continues.
"Take those cunts out" says the heavily armoured deathlord to the large ork as the wyvern gains on the injured griffon "Er?" says the ork warleader who wonders how he's exactly supposed to do that. When the undead warlord reaches back, and grabs him by the left arm.
"Keep still cunt" orders lord Farque, who then shouts out a command in the dragon language to the wyvern, as the injured griffon flies a few hundred feet above the canopy of the forest.
"Krom" gulps Dorkindle as the large glossy green, black wyvern goes into a spin as it gains on the fleeing griffon, then the large ork, who can't help but grin, as he can't exactly tell up from down at the moment, feels himself being lifted up by his left arm.
The spinning wyvern is higher up, about fifty feet or so, and probably that far behind the struggling griffon, when the deathlord of Farque senses the elven noble casting to heal the griffon with the damaged left wing.
When suddenly Dorc da Orc is flung forward and down by lord Farque.
In mid air, the ork weaponsmith blinks as he realises he's basically flying, well falling really, down and forward.
"Heh" murmurs the warleader of the ork race, who doesn't even have enough time to shout a quick "Get some!" when he smashes into the fleeing griffon, he feels a slight resistance before he does so, and he catches the brief flash of blue, that's the telltale sign of a barrier spell, he also smells the magic.
The large ork slams into the back of the griffon, which lets out a loud squawk just as it's healed by it's rider. "Fuck" growls Dorkindle as he grabs a handful of feathers and fur, knocking the elven noble in the back as he does, as tries to keep a hold of the now healed griffon, which has suddenly dropped closer to the treetops, due to the added seven hundred and fifty pounds of ork on it's back.
The elven magic user is knocked out of the saddle when the ork weaponsmith grabs a hold of what he can, to stay on the griffon that has increased speed after being healed.
The nobleborn elf falls off, and drops towards the forest, while Dorkindle hangs onto the griffon, hanging over one side, with what can only be called a perilous grip, as the now healed griffon lets out a panic screech as it realises it's rider has fallen off.
Seeing what's happened, and sensing what's about to happen, lord Farque commands the large glossy green, black wyvern higher into the sky, close to where he knows someone is about to be.
An instant later and the falling elven noble disappears just above the treetops, and as the climbing wyvern increases in speed, the elven magic user reappears higher up in the sky, in the path of the rising wyvern.
Sensing again, Draugadrottin gets up, and runs forward across the neck, and the top of the head of the wyvern, and leaps up and forward, just as a bolt of lightning slams into the maw of the wyvern.
The head of the large glossy green, black wyvern slams back, and is almost torn from it's body, it drops away to the ground dead. As lord Farque crashes into the levitating elven noble, who was just able to get off his lightning bolt spell, just forty feet before the wyvern would of flown into him.
"You know if you don't teleport us safely to the ground, you're going to die" says the lord of the death realm in the noble elven language, as well as a reasonable tone of voice as he holds onto the nobleborn elf as they start tumbling out of the sky.
Sensing what the elven magic user is doing, the heavily armoured deathlord, who has a, well death grip on the elven noble, says "It won't work, teleport or die".
With a look of anger on the face of the elven magic user, the undead warlord senses he's finally going to teleport, Des'tier as he's known by an older generation of elves who know who he is, loosens his grip a bit, allowing the elven noble to cast.
Just before they disappear, lord Farque sees in the distance, Dorc da Orc barely hanging onto the griffon, that has turned, and is heading back in this direction. The large ork has fallen to one of the front legs of the large winged creature, and is swinging one of his hammers at the other front leg, that's trying to claw at him.
"Idiot" dryly murmurs the deathlord of Farque in the ancient language of command as he rolls his eyes, then he and the elven noble disappear just before they're about to hit the top of a tree in the forest.
"Bads birdy cat, no!" shouts Dorc da Orc as the griffon with it's front left claw takes a swipe at him, as he holds onto it's front right leg.
"Fucken cunt" growls the large ork after he swings his hammer, wildly missing the the claw that's trying to rake him. Hmmmmm, the ork warleader thinks to himself as he glances down, he murmurs "Me hit that one instead" Dorkindle silently adds 'I wouldn't do that fatty'.
"Quiet whore" mutters the ork weaponsmith to the voice of his 'Mother' in his head. Then as he holds on to the griffon's leg with one arm, and his legs wrapped around it. He swings down at the talons below him.
There's a raucous squawk from the griffon, that sounds like a bellow or roar from a feline, more than an avian screech. "Fucknuts" growls Dorc da Orc as he holds on as the large winged creature vigorously shakes it's front left leg after he shattered one of it's talons.
The griffon which is slightly listing to one side due to the added weight on it's front right leg, drops down towards the forest below, as it increases in speed.
Dorkindle who dodges another swipe from the other front leg, is just glad the more lion like rear legs, and their large paws, are stretched out backwards in flight, even more so as the griffon increases speed.
"Naughty fucken birdy cat" mutters the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks as the griffon continually shakes it's front right leg trying to dislodge him. Dorc da Orc frowns as the griffon which is flying back to the area where he was thrown onto it, drops even lower towards the forest canopy.
"Uh oh" murmurs the large ork, who quickly returns his hammer to his weapon harness, and holds on with both hands, as the large winged creature drops down so that it's just a few feet above the tallest of the trees below.
The ork who was named warleader of his race by lord Farque, winces in anticipation, then the griffon slightly turns to the side it's listing to, extending downwards the leg that Dorc da Orc is holding onto.
The ork weaponsmith growls as both he and the griffon's front right leg are slapped by a branch, then another, and another. Dorkindle shakes his head, when a fairly thick tree branch smacks into the side of his head, as the griffon basically flies through the canopy of the forest, with it's front right leg, with the large ork holding onto it, extended down below it.
"Bads trees" and "Bads birdy cat" along with a lot of "Fucken cunt" and "Krom" punctuated by a fair few growls, and grunts, issue forth from the large ork, as he's continually buffeted, slapped and whacked by tree branch after tree branch after tree branch.
"Eeeeewwwww yuck" says Dorkindle as he makes a face of disgust after he spits out half a sappy branch, and a lot of pine needles that went into his open mouth.
'My son the fucking tree eater' the ork warleader thinks to himself, Dorc da Orc refrains from replying to that comment from the voice of his 'Mother' inside his head, instead he grunts as the griffon basically stops in mid air, and just hovers there.
The large ork looks up, then he ducks down, slipping down the leg he's holding onto to. As the griffon after looking down at him, goes to bite at him with it's beak. Though the ork weaponsmith is a raving idiot, he's not exactly stupid, as he knows the griffon could easily rip his head off with it's beak.
Dorkindle grabs a shortspear from his weapon harness as the large winged creature as it hovers there, swings it's right front leg that the large ork is holding onto.
The ork warleader grunts, then hisses in pain after thumping, back first into the trunk of a tree. He almost looses his grip on the leg of the griffon. Then the large winged creature swings his leg again.
"Fuck you" growls Dorc da Orc who shoves his shortspear, short being relative here, as it's six feet long, up into the breast of the griffon. Just before he hits the tree behind him again. The spear lodges into the breast of the large winged creature, which lets out a loud screech of pain.
Unfortunately for the large ork, he used both hands to stab his spear into the griffon. And when he hits the tree trunk this time, he losses grip with his legs.
"Fuck" yelps Dorkindle as he goes to grab anything as he starts to fall, above him the badly wounded griffon reels away out of sight, struggling to flap it's wings, screeching in pain every time it does so due to the spear stuck in it's breast.
"Krom" mutters Dorc da Orc as he slams into the first branch as he falls down to the ground below . . . . . .