Border Region.
The Vexillian aircorp warship tilts to starboard as it starts circling a few hundred feet above the treetops.
Those onboard can see fighting down amongst the forest. Obviously soldiers from their own army in combat against an enemy.
Most likely mercenaries who have crossed the border from the kingdom of Girdane. As there's been reports of this happening over the last couple of months, here in the hill country that makes up the border region between Vexil and their neighbours to the north.
The airship captain not wanting to fire upon their own. Decides to set down about five hundred yards back to the south, where there's a clearing.
After all he has a company of fifty soldiers onboard, and they'd be better served down on the ground fighting the enemy.
Besides there's a Girdanian warship not that far away, just across the border. And there's another one just a few miles away to the north, heading this way.
And the Vexillian aircorp captain doesn't want any stray magetube shots going their way. Which could accidentally set off a war between the two nations.
As the Vexillian aircorp vessel heads back to the clearing, and starts dropping down in altitude. A wyvern goes by just a few hundred feet to port.
It's one of the scout-spotters assigned to the aircorp of the city-state of Vexil. No doubt it's rider will be getting an even closer look at the battle taking place down in the forested hills below.
Walking along the small tree covered rise, Lord Farque suddenly stops, and Helbe the elven thief asks him "What is it?".
The highly talented elven magic user looks down to their right, and sees the Geist cousins mercenary army continuing to head to the southwest.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel looks at the large heavily armoured deathlord standing beside him, who is looking up into the clear morning sky, here in the border region between the city-state of Vexil and the kingdom of Girdane.
"Get me up there" says Lord Farque who nods his full helmed head up at the morning sky. The elven master assassin looks to where the undead warlord has indicated.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, quirks an eyebrow when he sees what the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque is looking at.
"Might take me a couple of goes to get you there" quietly says the elven masterthief who is a member of the person council to the deathlord of Farque.
Infact he's the most important member of that particular council, as he's also Lord Farque's envoy.
"Damn thing's circling away" adds the elven master archer in a mutter, who then nods his hooded head when the undead warlord tells him "I want to clearly see what's happening".
The large heavily armoured deathlord who has the name of Draugodrottin that the people of his lands also know him by, then says "Head back north" followed by "Mira and the rest of the group are approaching, make sure they get across the border unscathed".
"Will do" says Helbe the elven thief, or prince Helbenthril Raendril of Laerel to give him his full name and title.
The highly talented elven magic user then grunts, when the lord of the death realm tells him "Tam and Beldane should be able to keep that big fucking idiot Dorc out of trouble".
Then Draugodrottin who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means The Destroyer, says to the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel "Now".
The undead warlord allows magic to have an effect on him, and he disappears as the elven master assassin shifts him away.
The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque briefly appears in mid air, about a hundred feet above the ground, though a couple hundred yards from the small tree covered rise he was just on.
The large heavily armoured deathlord disappears once more as Helbe the elven thief shifts him again.
The lord of the death realm reappears just above a Vexillian aircorp wyvern that's flying by, he drops and lands upon the back of it, just behind the rider.
Who goes flying off it, when Des'tier grabs him by the head, and throws him out of the saddle, sending him falling to the treetops below.
The wyvern lets out an indignant, not to mention angry screech. And is about to dive, and try and shake off the new arrival who is now in the saddle upon it's back.
That's until Lord Farque gives it a command in the language of dragons. Something the wyvern has never heard before, but instinctively knows to obey.
"Idiot thing" mutters the undead warlord after the wyvern shakes itself, then settles down as it realizes it has an experienced rider upon it's back, who has total command of it.
Draugodrottin who has never really cared that much for wyverns. For the simple reason they're fractious creatures, who are more than a little flighty to say the least.
The large heavily armoured deathlord has the twenty five foot long wyvern, which has a sixty foot wingspan, circle back to where the fighting is taking place down amongst the trees.
So that he can get an good overview of what's happening between elements of the Vexillian army, and the mercenary army gathered by the Geist cousins Gamil and Farsen, who have rushed over the border into northern Vexil.
On this cold winters morning, here in the forest heavy, hill country that straddles the border region between the nations of Girdane and Vexil.
"Where Farque?" asks Dorc da Orc when Helbe the elven thief suddenly appears beside them again on the top of the small tree covered rise.
"There" replies the elven princeling who gestures up into the clear morning sky above the hill country.
"Dafuk" mutters the large ork when he spots what the elven masterthief gestured to "Motherfucker has all the fucken fun" grumbles the ork warleader as he watches the wyvern in the distance, upon which is the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque.
The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world has always liked to fly, in fact he's obsessed with it.
Only eating, drinking, killing and fucking animals, particularly goats. Is better than flying in the opinion of the ork weaponsmith.
As Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, mutters away to himself in the incomprehensible language of the orks.
Helbe the elven thief quietly tells Tamric Drubine the field commander and Beldane the cleric "Mira and the others are nearing the border".
The highly talented elven magic user who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel, continues with "I'll get them safely across the border".
The elven master assassin glances over at the muttering ork warleader, then quietly says in elvish to the other two "Keep an eye on the big psycho here, make sure he doesn't go off and does his own thing".
The elven master archer says that last bit with a nod of his hooded head down to the passing mercenary army of the Geist cousins, who are engaged in a battle with the Vexillian army.
"We will" says Tamric Drubine the field commander in the same language, who along with Beldane the cleric know, more or less, how to keep the large ork out of trouble.
The grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel nods his hooded head, then after a final glance at the ork warleader, who is still muttering away to himself.
He disappears as he shifts away, heading back north. To cross the border, to meet up with the rest of the group who are on their way here.
Lord Farque has the wyvern climb in altitude, and slowly circle to the east. Where the undead warlord with his farsight, looks for something.
After a few moments, the large heavily armoured deathlord nods to himself when he spots one of the abandoned mines, about eighteen miles away.
He sees movement near it, and spots a few tents amongst the trees near the old gold mine, that was until recently abandoned.
The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque nods in understanding when he realizes who that is. And now with the death of Salinéll the elven maiden, the lord of the death realm has plans for that mine, and the others that have been abandoned for decades, but there's been activity in them over the last year or so.
Draugodrottin has the wyvern fly even higher, as he knows from the map that Helbe the elven thief showed him, that there's a couple of more of these old mines, between the one he spotted, and this area of the hill country, he's flying over.
The deathlord of Farque can't see one of them, which he guesses is about a dozen miles further east.
But he can see the one that's closest to the part of the border region where the running battle is taking place between elements of the Vexillian army and mercenary army that the Geist cousins Gamil and Farsen have gathered.
"Hmmm" murmurs Des'tier as he sees the nearest abandoned gold mine is a lot closer than he thought, as it's less than three miles away to the east.
And though he's got Helbe the elven thief make the Geist cousins along with their guard commander, have their army head to the southwest.
Which in turn has made the running battle down amongst the trees, head that way too. It's still a little too close for Lord Farque's comfort.
As he can clearly see, not to mention, sense. Movement to the east in both directions. With Vexillian troops heading north, and mercenaries from the Geist army, heading south.
Can't have them blundering into that old mine, the undead warlord thinks to himself, who then spots a Vexillian aircorp vessel, rise up out of a clearing, after dropping off the detachment of soldiers it's had onboard.
The lord of the death realm slightly frowns to himself behind the faceplate of his full helm when he sees the Vexillian warship turn east after it clears the treetops.
"Fuck" mutters Draugodrottin after he estimates the path of the vessel in the aircorp of the city-state of Vexil, and what it could possibly pass right over.
"Can't have that" murmurs the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque who with a command, has the wyvern head east, in pursuit of the Vexillian warship.
From the tree covered rise where he's watching Lord Farque and the wyvern he's riding, Dorc da Orc who has also seen the Vexillian aircorp vessel, rise up out of the forest, and head east, grunts.
Tamric Drubine the field commander and Beldane the cleric who have been watching the fighting down in trees to the west of the rise they're on, turn and look at the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who is a general in the Armies of Farque.
"They fucked" says Dorkindle with a nod of his head up into the clear morning sky to the south of them.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, along with the fighting cleric in the church of Glaine, look to where the large ork has nodded.
And they see the wyvern in the distance, quickly gaining on the Vexillian warship that's flying to the east.
"Wonder what he's up to?" quietly says Beldane the cleric, field commander Drubine is wondering the same thing.
"Gonna fuck 'em" states the warleader of the ork race as the three of them watch the fast moving wyvern approach the vessel in the aircorp of the city-state of Vexil from a stern.
Lord Farque waits to see if the Vexillian warship turns either north, or south. But it continues to head directly east.
Don't say I never give anyone a chance, the undead warlord dryly thinks to himself, who then has the wyvern pick up speed.
The large winged creature is far quicker than the warship in the aircorp of Vexil. Which like a lot of vessels operating in the border region, is a patrol ship. In this case, a converted twin masted brigantine.
The warship isn't quite big enough to have a wheelhouse, so Des'tier has the wyvern fly directly at the stern of the Vexillian warship.
The aft lookout, isn't worried about the fast approaching wyvern. After all it's part of his own aircorp.
And he suspects it's come to deliver a message. Probably about the battle down in the hill covered forests.
Though he thought the wyvern riders wore leather armour. And not a suit of full plate armour. Nor are the riders so large as the one in the saddle of the fast approaching one from a stern.
Draugodrottin pulls back on the reins of the wyvern, and it abruptly pulls up less than fifteen feet from the stern of the Vexillian warship.
Lord Farque commands in the language of the dragons for the wyvern to hover just behind the airship.
Then the undead warlord leaps up, and out of the saddle, and forward, passing over the long neck, and head of the wyvern, and lands upon the aft deck of the Vexillian airship .
The lord of the death realm lands right behind the helmsman at the wheel, and the captain standing next to him.
The large heavily armoured deathlord before either can turn around and see what's behind them.
Grabs the helmsman, and biffs him over the starboard side rail. With the other hand, Des'tier does the same to the warship's captain, though he goes flying over the port side rail.
The undead warlord then grabs the wheel, and rips it, along with the plinth it's on, out of the deck, taking a fair chunk of the decking as well.
The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque then throws it at the aft mast, so hard that there's a clearly audible crack, and the mast from about halfway up, starts to break and fall forward.
Draugodrottin turns, and as a crossbow bolt harmlessly bounces off his back, he leaps off the aft deck, shouting a command in the dragon language to the hovering wyvern.
As the large winged creature turns to starboard and starts to drop, the undead warlord lands upon it's back, into the saddle.
The wyvern turns back west, while behind it, the doomed warship in the aircorp of the city-state of Vexil is quickly dropping out of sky towards the forest below.
On this cold winters morning here in the hill country that makes up the border region between Vexil and it's northern neighbour the kingdom of Girdane . . . . . .
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