Kalysto loudly chuckled as the other passengers fled in horror and fear. He watched one of them run clear off the edge, falling at least 20 feet onto the ground below. “You know,” He grinned. “We’re not supposed to fight within our own ranks. Though they deserved it.” He muttered. “Tree-hugging hippy Druids…”
He remained on the Dreadsteed as Zepplin took off, and then began it’s journey across the sea towards the other continent.
General Sephiroth shook his head. “Then I should warn you in advance about something you might like to familiarize yourself with. Check in your indexes for the phenomenon known as ‘brewer’s droop’. To quote Shakespeare, alcohol ‘provokes the desire but takes away the performance’.”
He folded his arms and glanced out the window nearest the table.