They were outnumbered and they knew it. J'nox lifted his six-shooter as he and his comrades prepared to defend the herd of hippogriffs with their very lives. The elf's upswept ears strained to hear every sound, every muttered word from the enemy as he shifted in his saddle, the pegasus beneath him pawing at the air. It was a beautiful day, he thought grimly. A good day to die, and take as many of the savage dwarves with him as he could.
Suddenly, those short people attacked, their twisted beards flapping in the wind as they hooted, hollered, and raised their mithril axes. J'nox's almond eyes narrowed. "Shoot low, boys!" he called out to his kin as he fired the first enchanted bullet. "They're ridin' Shetland ponies!"