It had been three months or so since Noiku's brain scrambling and it was time again for him to lead the Hunt to Glosch. His head was still tender, but no longer bandaged, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat to protect it and his eyes; he was nearly photophobic, unable to handle even the mildest of light. Vuoyia watched quietly as he worked, her fingers working idly on adjusting some of Vuocol's clips.

"Gods spite that woman," the black Vulpyr spat, tugging a touch too hard on Nocol's straps. "First she busts my head wide open, now she wants me to go back to what got me in trouble in the first place!"

Nocol swung his head slowly, regarding his bond with a slightly dull gaze. "We didn't know about the mutationssss," he hissed gently, moving a little to test another part of his harness. "Now we do. We ssshall not... uh...."

"Fail?" Vuocol offered, gaping her own dark maw. "No, we won't fail."

As they chatted, the group of newly 'recruited' Hunters began to gather, each of them far more varied than the last group had been. Humanoids to fae to horselike creatures to things that vaguely resembled the wingless Gan dragons of legend. There were, however, two familiar faces in the group: Faccie had returned for another go at the Hunts; Fahuo'Fisi, her white and yellow bond, was elsewhere in Shivran and had declined another excursion. The other was a face familiar only to Noiku and Nocol, the unusual Ranshee, who stalked immediately to her blackriding 'associate' with a firm glare.

"We go!" she growled and stamped a foot impetuously. She'd missed one hunt, and barely acquired much of a pack in the second... now, she wanted to expand her ranks as quickly as possible.

Noiku snorted. "We'll go soon, Ranshee." He tilted his head up, catching the gazes of the myriad creatures assembled. "Everyone, listen up! The rules are simple. Don't die and you might come back with a dragon. You die, you'll be left to rot. Get injured and you'll have to find your happy way to camp for healing. Otherwise, you're on your own. Now. Those that can't teleport, there are dragons outside to take you. Those that can, get your coordinates from Nocol."

His announcement made, the black fox-shifter headed outside, Nocol, Ranshee, and the other blackriding pair in tow. The dragons outside, waiting in the swirling snowstorm of the Aerd, were blatantly visible; most were black dragons, the sort that loved swampy environments. Noiku mounted, taking the head of the loosely organized dragons, tilting a quick look to Vuoyia, then to Ranshee.

Ranshee's packmate, the black bronze Azeron, had offered to go and the offworlder was seated firmly on his narrow shoulders. The rest of her pack would remain behind... but at least she had her own set of wings, so to speak. With a gesture from their vulpine leader, all were off and gone, teleporting via their various methods to the stagnant swamps of Glosch.

Base camp was set up in an abandoned Crokos bandit camp, with healers in lean-tos and supplies available in the remaining wooden building. Boxes and cages were ranked neatly, with labels on each, for the handful of dragons that offworld dragon-homes were asking for. Everyone scattered, gathering what they felt they would need for the swampy mission.

Noiku strolled along one of the many rotting pathways, his muzzle up-tilted as he sampled the air. It was foul, as always, and damp and reminded him of the way his brain felt not long ago. "They had better come soon; I do -not- want to go out there.", he muttered angrily, fingering his crossbow.

There was no need to wait. As most of the Hunters gathered on the main platform, the Wylds arrival was heralded by the incessant hissing of snakes; vines began to reach downward, groping with leafy hands for anything that drew too near. The snakes were tremendous boas, dropping from trees and wriggling up from between the water-rotted planks of the walkways.

"This is great, just great!", Faccie rolled her eyes, focusing her alien majycks on a writhing pile of aquatic serpents.

::It could be worse, you know,:: a slippery voice intruded on her thoughts, the colours slurring together in a murky mix of amusement and absolute evil. The owner of the voice was a darkly hued female, who stepped out from beneath a knot of moving vines. ::Really. It could. Allow me to assist....:: A mighty paw slapped the remaining snakes away, crushing the life out of them. ::I am Daephietouth.::

::Just what I need... another wicked dragon,:: Faccie thought to herself, her lips forcing themselves into a smile; she was dimly aware of Fahuo's sympathies. "Well met," she managed to say before moving on to the next batch of snakes and vines.

In the meantime, Ranshee had trapped and pinned one of the culprits, the puppeteer of the vines; a night bronze-green that twisted and writhed beneath his captors. Azeron had a firm grip on the dragon's skull and Ranshee crouched on his shoulder, glaring into one hotly burning eye. "You go with Ranshee!"

::Tell your demon to get off my head!:: the dragon mentally screamed, struggling to escape. ::I'll go with you, but get him off!::

Ranshee nodded sharply to Azeron, who released the furred dragon. The other male stood, his head hanging low. ::I'm Jauotath.::

Vines began to hang limply, although not all of them did so; only after a streaked black dragoness was caught did the vines and snakes return to their normal way of being. She was slapped into a box for Xidaver after announcing herself as Noquea.

The rattling of bones and low groans of the undead followed as the last of the snakes slid into the murky swamp. Demonic light filtered into the area, and the next wave struck with far more force than the first. The Wyld had gotten smart enough-- or talented enough-- to get troops to do their dirty work.

Whooping with joy, Gangstath and Rixth vaulted into the action, followed by a highly agitated Irjalstu. They tore and clawed their way through the undead and demonic ranks and Roczath picking off stragglers with casual indifference. Ranshee and Azeron, with Jauotath, were also in the thick of things; Tear hung back, eyes wide as she considered just what being Wyld meant. Others were busy with ranged weapons, although it was growing difficult to see. Night time was rapidly settling on the camp and that meant bad things for the Hunters.

::I got me one!:: Gangstath crowed, emerging from under the water with a twilight black-white flitter dangling from his maw. The tiny creature wriggled from between the proud purple dragon's jaws and landed with a wet 'smack' on an equine's face. Imp shook her head haughtily, glowering darkly at the flitter as it slid down her muzzle and landed on the ground. 

As the Wynd raised a hoof to crush the small creature, it squawked and cried out, "No! Please, please don't kill me! My name is Solai.", it was rapidly identified as a she and the curiously coloured flitter promptly took to the air. "I promise to serve you well; oh I promise with all I am... just don't hurt me!"

"Ooooh! Can I come too?" a high-pitched, yet somewhat masculine voice chimed in and a second flitter emerged, his shimmering bronze-brown hide besmirched by swamp muck. "I'm Tosto... and I shall assist you as well!" Imp was smug as she backed up a bit, her new companions flittering around her head and singing her praises in their terrified voices.

Rixth plunged further into the leech-infested waters, vanishing in a mangrove thicket. He was joined again by Gangstath; Irjalstu finished clean up of the undead skeletons that still managed to twitch despite being nearly crushed to dust. Roczath tilted her muzzle up, inhaling deeply. ::There you are,:: she muttered mentally to herself and took to the air, winging deftly between the overhanging branches. As she vanished into darkness, a queer silence fell on the swamp; Noiku tensed, his ears perked as he listened for something, anything, moving about in the dark.

::Attack!:: a splintered, masculine mindvoice erupted in the dark, sending the black fox-shifter to his knees. A sudden thrashing in the swamp drew the remaining Hunters' attention and many stared at what had emerged. His segmented coils whipped black water into sickly green foam, his many legs grabbing and moving; he had oily black plating, rather like an insect, and his many heads lashed out, skeletal visages snapping at everything. And all around him was a dangerous hum, like a nest of wasps in a fury. ::Attack, my children, attack!::

As his alien wings snapped wide, the Wylds themselves erupted into the clearing and the true battle began. But the Mutation's forces were already dwindling; Roczath burst into the air, a sunset black male and a black female winging beside her. ::Xumos, Moerth, move!:: she commanded and the pair spread out, guarding the Hunters from the air.

Nor was she the only successful one of the trio that had gone into the dark; Gangstath arrived in style, a metallic black-copper-green female winging in alongside him. She snapped angrily at the purple, but earned only coarse laughter from him. ::Go on, Lekeb, kick their asses! I know you want to!::

Rixth's catch, a blue-streaked bronze, launched himself at something that might have been a sibling of Lekeb's. ::Go Szatik, go!:: Rixth laughed, encouraging his newest recruit. The target of Szatik's aggression recoiled, dashing to the equine Wynd's side. Imp was amused at the black-steel male that cowered at her feet. ::I am Imroc'Sabu. Please take me with you!:: he cried, burying his muzzle in her side as best as he could.

A shimmering black-green was crammed into a box bound for Darkling Dawn, a creature named Llaxaem. He snapped and growled, but was silenced by a gout of freezing water from Nocol. Ranshee watched the act with a snarl, then turned and pounced fearlessly on a tremendously large black and orange serpent. The snake hissed, but was pinned, and finally submitted to her, curling so its throat was exposed.

::So you've found me. I am Broken Rage, but I shall join you... you have proven your strength.:: The snake-form fell away and Ranshee found herself mounted on the great dragon's back. She was easily the size of an old world bronze, dwarfing Jauotath, but herself dwarfed by Azeron's greater bulk.

Mea flittered about, terrified by the whole thing; it was alright until the dracoliches had come and she found herself staring down the muzzle of a tremendously large dragon. When it smiled, she tried to flee, but found herself restrained by a gentle paw. ::I am Nysidoth, Mea. I will protect you, I promise,:: the dragoness stated gently. Her colours were unusual, difficult to classify under any circumstance; light, dark, and sunset all blended on her hide.

Another dragon and a hydra were trapped-- in the midst of the chaos, work still needed to be done. The chrome-green-bronze hydra declared that he was Rharrthragh; the other was a dark gold-bronze air dragon named Valadaen Caelumpictor. He was ill-tempered and fought back as best as he could until they tranquilized him.

The thrashing hydra-Mutation found his ranks dwindling and he screamed in defiance, his many heads lifting to the sky, and his chitinous segments thrashing even more violently. ::My minions! SplinterFang the Destroyer will not be defeated so easily!:: His wings snapped open again, looking like stretched skin over ribs, and he rippled into the sky like a malicious, malformed ribbon.

Tear found the sole source of dracoliches and cried out, tears welling in her eyes. ::Why do you want to hurt us so?:: she cried, baffled by his actions. The shimmery mottled purple paused, his heads -- for he was a hydra -- swiveling around and focusing on her. ::It is what we do. Should we be doing something else?::

::Yes, anything else but this! You shouldn't be trying to hurt anyone!::

::Then we will go with you,:: he determined, bobbing his head fervently. ::We are Verschgregh. We would like you very much.::

The remaining and most powerful dragon considered her options, her eyes burning with a deep rage; none were truly worthy of her attentions... but it seemed the options that remained were being boxed, being killed, or finally Choosing. Finally, her gaze settled on Irjalstu, who was stalking angrily around.

::Irjalstu. I am Iryru'Fimu,:: she stated simply, feeling a brief sting of shame as she who was once so powerful was forced to bend her knee-- however figuratively-- to another. Irjalstu looked at her and grunted, moving back to the food building.

Selzterr found himself walking away with a mottled black female who seemed pleasant, if not altogether there. ::Llolith is my name,:: she whispered to him, her eyes darting quickly to the other dragons. ::And they will not hurt me, right? I am safe with you?:: The hyedhostar nodded simply and followed his fellow 'daffodil' to the food building.

Ranshee continued to stalk, even though there were no dragons remaining that weren't bonded or boxed. And she found a spy, hunkered in the cold mud beneath one of the platforms. "You come!" she barked, pointing sharply at the half Avengaean. The bronze-white fire rose, his fur matted in clumps with dark mud. 

"I'm Autaru Selamputo," he said quietly and found himself being dragged rather forcibly by Ranshee to one of the main platforms for examination.

Left behind was Noiku, watching with a steady gaze as everyone worked together to finish up. It was a good Hunt... and this time, he would make the Lady proud. SplinterFang was the only Wyld she didn't know about and she would be pleased to hear of his peculiar form. 

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