Leonardo throws his baleful shot, over the orcs. One is blinded by the flechette, howling and teetering to be trampled by his fellows. But even the best of them is alarmed and harried and blooded by the blast, who are suddenly contending both with the obstructive knight and attacks from a vector they had not expected to ever defend. They howl and roar at you as the machine buzzes by; and you trade the blunderbuss for the musket, imploring Cestié to afford you another shot. But you have swooped low in the valley to bring the blunderbuss into range; the cliffs are there with the howling orcs on one side and not so far away on the other to allow a comfortable circle about for another shot like was the case with the skaven. "Hang on!", the old tinker shouts, pumping his legs in the pedals and pitching the flying machine up from its drive, up until it is spiking directly up into the sky. You are at the extreme of your range now, but there is a perfect moment of weightlessness where you are not competing with the turning and torquing forces of the machine's movement. The world is sideways to you; but the bullet flies straight and thumps into the chest of the biggest orc in the mob; the brute seems as shocked as anyone as dark red blood begins pouring down his front, and strength leaves his limbs, and he falls below the mob of his foul kinsmen.

Bella screams. Her efforts to reload your blunderbuss are faltering at best - she is not well trained with guns, though you have taught her the basics - but now the machine is upright and the sense of soaring turns to one of falling as gravity, that grudge bearing old coot, seizes a moment to snatch at your magnificent vessel. Once more however, Cestié seems to know what he is doing. He manipulates the wings, uses the forward listing of the machine's nose to turn into a new dive instead of a flat spinning fall, and hauling up on the yoke and relying on your desperate pedaling as well as his, the flying machine skims just above the beaten track of the mountain pass and then begins ascending again, northward, leaving the heroic knight in mystery behind you to capitalize on your Benefaciendo.

"Show me a dwarven flying machine that can do that, hah? Hahaha!" Cestié calls back, face flushed with effort and thrill. His eyes are the same kind, keen set that beheld you as a newly freed slave living in Gaulfredo's barn; but his face is brighter now, more full of life and somehow more complete for all the experiences you have shared with him and the encouragement you have given him; now an inventor and master of a flying machine that the world had never witnessed.

But men are not the only creatures who dare to slip the surly bonds of earth...

As the flying machine ascends and smooths its erratic recovery, you can see in the distance what must be the Bretonnian containment line. They are blurs even for your eyes at this distance; you see red and blue pennants, and a press of what must be a band of greenskins trying their luck. But you hear them much closer. Racing past the cliffs, as you prepare to start reloading your musket and Bella resumes her work on the blunderbuss, you spy a motley crew of goblins manning strange contraptions on the cliffside beside, then quickly behind you. They are some kind of catapult, or siege weapon - they pass too quickly for you to see - but their terrible payload is quickly revealed as you are joined in the air by three shrieking goblins. They are rigged in some kind of gliding contraption of their own, like the kind that Daedalo's men wore, though glacingly you see no pedals or means to propel themselves on. They wear pointed helms and angle themselves as they are shot high, high even above you like trebuchet stones and then dive toward you like horrendous green raptors. It is not ambling, swift pedal power that drives them on, but a lunatic rush of gravity arrested just enough to steer the suicide fall of the flyers. For any point of comparison, this is a thing that skaven would never do - these goblins, these living weapons, must know they are bound to die on impact with their targets on the ground. No skaven would destroy itself for any reason; no man would do it except for some sense of honor or spite; but the greenskins zipping through the air towards your flying machine seem to be willing to do it for the idiot thrill.

Spoiler: OOC:
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Goblin revenge!

Your unloaded firearms are unhelpfully unloaded presently; but I would allow you to aim with a pistol and fire when the first one comes into your long range - the +20 for sharpshooter aiming cancelling out the long range penalty. If that's something you're interested in! Bella will keep reloading the Blunderbuss, and Cestié can only take evasive action.