GoldenDrakon's eyes narrowed slightly at Rhet's outburst and for the second time, he considered just eating the winged man and being done with it. He sighed, indulging such a whim would not be prudent at this time. Besides, GoldenDrakon still needed the Tinkerer to operate the portal in order to get him back to his lair.

"I am not interested in going off on some silly side quest, attacking an armed camp or abandoning Wraith to whatever fate she may be facing." GD said, relieving one of the skirls of a belt and pouch and pouring his aquired trinkets within. "But if these seven have a camp or bivoac nearby, it might yeald important information."

"Go with the Tinkerer, I will follow shortly."

Slinging the pouch and belt across his chest, GoldenDrakon bounded away into the foliage where the ambushers had appeared from.

As I wiped the blood from the Skirl from the blade of my sword I heard Reht once again arguing about what was going to happen with GoldenDrakon. I let out a sigh and shook my head as that one never seemed to learn and I knew all GoldenDrakon wanted to do was eat him and nothing more. I followed the conversation carefully but before I even realized what was happening Reht went one way and GoldenDrakon went another. As he did he told us to go with Reht, to try and help Wraith and his wife.

I stood there for a second, trying to figure out what was going on. The last thing I wanted to do was go towards the main encampment of the Skirls, given the fight we had just had. The only thing that made us want to go that way though was the thought that Wraith was there. She was the main reason we had all come through the portal to this place, she was the reason we were in this place and I knew that it would not be prudent to come to this place just to leave her to die. I shook my head though as I tried to think of what to do.

I stood there and looked in both directions, thoughts about either way going through my head but with a loud sigh I slid my sword back into its sheath, picked my pack up off the the ground and turned in the direction that Reht had stormed off in.
"I'm going the way of the Tinkerer. Wraith is there. She is the reason we came to this place. I also don't want to see that fool get killed either. If he does I don't know how to get back and I don't want to risk trying to swim."

I then walked into the screen of trees after Reht, although a large part, a very large part of me wanted to kill him.

Akaron was starting to tire of the winged mans arrogant attitude, but he knew that they had to go for wraith. With a snarl he turned and followed Reht and Shadow

Reht swiped angrily at the leaves that persistantly struck his face. His wings were bound tightly against his shoulders. He slashed at another green tuft that threatened to blind him. He needed to get to Sera! He needed to rescue her! These people, they had a chance to save their Mistress and what do they do? They dally!

He barely heard the commotion behind him as three others caught up to him. He grunted at their appearence by his side but kept most of his attention to the foliage around them.

Soon, they stumbled onto a well beaten track. Reht stopped and surveyed the forest road and nodded to himself after making sure it ran westward. "If we follow this, I'll guarantee it will lead to Sera... and your Wraith."

Just then, a snuffling came from their right. The bushes quivered and an animal came bursting forth. It was roughly six handspans in height, had six legs and three horns protruding from its large, domed head. It also sported a flat mouth rowed with small razor like teeth. It snorted, staring at the strangers in its territory for a moment and then with a huff began to charge.

"Its a BullaBoar! Be carefuly, those horns are tipped with a secretion that will paralyse on contact!" Reht scrambled bacwards, trying to keep away from the charging BullaBoar.

A rustle came and Reht cried out, "They never hunt alone!" as two more BullaBoars appeared from the bushes. They too ran full pelt, their heads down, their horns aimed at Reht, Akaron and Shadow.

GoldenDrakon sprang into action without even thinking. The skirl sentry obviously did not expect much resistance from alone and unarmed individual and rushed forward, brandishing his war axe. Drakon remained crouched down, waiting as the skirl bore down on him. At the last moment, Drakon rose, bringing his arms up and out in front of him, subsequently shoving the skirl’s arms wide as well. With a reverse motion, Drakon’s hands clapped onto the sides of the sentry’s head and twisted violently, snapping the skirl’s neck. The skirl jerked and spasmed, dropping his ax and with Drakon’s great strength, flung the dying sentry away.

With the howls and snarls of the other skirls close behind, Drakon sprang up, hurdling the still twitching sentry and bolted into the thick brush. He did not run far, only enough to place a thick screen of vegetation between himself and his pursuers. His wings opened and propelled him upwards, allowing him to quickly leap into the trees. With a final leap, Drakon settled onto a branch and hunkered down, clinging to the trunk with one arm as his keen eyes scanned the ground below. Watching, he saw two skirls following along where they thought Drakon might have fled through the forest, but he also saw the third and final skirl, following some ten feet behind the other two. Apparently, the spit-turner had paused to gather his own axe and fallen behind a few paces of his fellows.

Timing his move, Drakon dropped from his hideaway perch and fell through the air towards the last skirl. Several tree branches slapped and lashed at him as he crashed through them, causing the skirl to look upwards, but too late. Drakon crashed down, his feet striking the surprised skirl on the shoulder and back. The force of the blow and momentum drove the two down and Drakon’s weight literally smashed the skirl to earth. The dragon man took no chances however as his taloned fingertips slashed down, ripping and clawing before stepping back, readying himself to meet the renewed threat of the remaining two skirls.

Golden Drakon did not have long to wait. The two Skirls, apon hearing the commotion behind them, whirled around. They did not, however, attack immediately.

The draconic man would soon realise why this was so. The Skirls who had remained in the camp were either too old, or too sick to fight. They were still fantastic specimens of fitness and fierceness, but they nowhere resembled the physical prowess of those Golden Drakon had fought previously.

They were cunning however, and when Golden Drakon turned to meet them, they came at him at the same time. One high and one low, howling at the top of their lungs. Their attacks were co-ordinated and they helped eachother in battle. Unbeknownst to the dragon man, they were Litter Mates and had fought this way since cubhood.

Wulff blinked, he had been preoccupied and it appeared that the other's had left him in the forest, "Hey! Wait up!" The only problem was, he hadn't been paying attention to which way the others had gone. He paused, "Uhhh..." He made the small sound in his throat and looked around, his eyes darting around, "Ironman?" He called, a bit nervous before he turned towards a path, deciding to take the path least travelled and went to the East, he could smell the dragon man more strongly this way. He didn't really know him all that well (after all, he'd only just run into him) but he didn't seem all that unfriendly...

He bounded after the scent, his ears pricked in interest as he wandered all but blind through the thick forest, "Dragon man..." He was very quiet, slightly scared as the trees closed in on him on all sides. He ulped and crouched down, he was still a bit weak from his first transformation, and he knew it. He looked up to the trees maybe he could climb and claw away the hyena men.

He nosed around, following the scent half mindedly, not even really sure if he wanted to meet up with the dragon again, but he veered slightly, having absolutely no clue where he is. Maybe he should have followed Fluffy and Myst....

His mind was not entirely on the danger of the forest, something he would regret later, but hindsight was alway 20/20. He did vaguely register the sounds of battle, but unfortunately he didn't register it until he was on top of it, and he found himself between the Dragon man and two of the hyena's. The idle curiosity fell off his face into an expression of shock, as they paused in their charge and returned his surprised expression. He took that split second to do two things, first he bolted out of the way, second, he whirled and leapt at one of the skirls as they ran past him, grabbing his hair and landing on his back, piggy-back style, his legs curled nimbly around his waist and his arms tight around his neck, partially praying he wouldn't get flamed by the dragon man, or some, equally horrible, manner of retaliation he had in store for the skirls.

He yelped as he was dragged about, feeling the other move and twist and flail about, snarling as he felt the claws pull along his arm. He bit down on the back of the skirl's neck, locking his feet around his waist and holding on tighter. He wasn't strong, mostly he was fast and agile, but he did have the ability to cling.

He felt the other beneath him, between his legs, his teeth drawing blood, his arms tightening. More claws, he felt them bite into his shoulders as the skirl tried to reach for him over his back, pulling his shirt, gouging his shoulders and his back.

The Skirl was weakening and soon its scrabbling claws were slowing and doing less harm. Within minutes, it sagged onto the ground, its tongue lolling out as it gasped for air. It tried to crawl away, taking the young cub with it, but before it could go a few feet, it collapsed face first onto the ground, dead.

BlackWulff, you now have the choice of running away or staying to aid Golden Drakon. Your third option is to run to the now abandoned Skirl camp.

You may now acquire the dead Skirl's weapon.

Golden readied himself to meet the coordinated attack of the two remaining skirls when suddenly; the trio of combatants was taken aback as a new member threw himself into the fray. GD and the lead skirl watched for a moment as Wulff and Jager clashed and quickly became a whirling, snarling, flailing mass of fur. The lead skirl, momentarily distracted from the dragonman, turned and reached towards the new combatants. Drakon seized the moment and lunged forward, attempting to bull rush and tackle his remaining opponent.

The skirl reacted with a speed born from an age of fighting and skirmishing among a violent race. Taken off guard and without proper room to swing his axe, the skirl turned and side stepped, jabbing his axe forward, using the axe tip like a spear. Drakon’s charge missed and the ax tip stabbed into his left forearm, drawing blood. GD snarled as he passed, giving way to avoid a second jab, but as he passed, his tail whipped out in his wake, slapping against the skirl’s shins. The skirl stumbled, but did not fall and the two quickly righted themselves to faceoff again.

It was the skirl who attacked next, attempting to capitalize on his successful strike; he lashed out at GoldenDrakon with wide swipes from his weapon. Drakon fell back before the slashing blade then suddenly extended his wings and snapped them forward repeatedly. The skirl brought his arms up to ward off the sudden flurry of motion. With wings still held out high, Drakon slid forward and directed a vicious kick towards the skirl’s crotch.

The skirl reacts in typical fashion. Even a violent race such as theirs valued the right to procreate. He retreats with a snarl, clutching a paw on his crotch and twisting his knees inwards. Golden Drakon's strike only touches, but does little damage.

The skirl snarls again and advances towards the dragon man with axe held high. It was at that moment that the other skirl dies. With a howl, the skirl seems to feel his kin's death and a wild light enters his feral eyes. Turning with a wordless grunt, the skirl rounds his wickedly sharp axe at his litter brother's killer. Blackwulff.

Momentarily, he forgets the dragon man now at his back.


Golden Drakon, you now have the choice to come to Blackwulff's rescue or take advantage of the Skirls distraction to move onto the skirl camp, leaving the shifter to fend for himself.

The skirl suddenly howled and then...turned it's back to GD. The dragon hesitated for a moment, thinking it might be a trick, but sure enough the skirl quickly began to bear down on the young Wulff.

GoldenDrakon did not hesitate for long however. Seeing his opponent distracted, he lunged forward and practically jumped onto the skirl's back. One strong arm snaked around the skirl's neck and was quickly locked in place by GD's right arm. The dragon-man also stepped back, forcing the skirl's back to arch and overextend, making GD a much more difficult target to catch with the axe and limit the skirl's own mobility.

'Yeald!" GD hissed into the skirl's pointed ear. "I know you can understand me, so if you wish to continue breathing this day, drop your weapon and yeald!"

Wulff grunted as he fell with the skirl, his legs coming loose and he tipped forward, flipping frontwards over the skirl and landing on his back, nearly face-to-face with the hyena man. He yelped and leapt back, wincing. He had cuts and claw marks over his arms, his back and one or two across his face. He was sure he could feel blood running down the side of his face somewhere. He stood slowly, looking up as he heard another how, his face paling as he saw the second creature bearing down on him.

He gave a yell, scrambling to his feet and backing away, desperately trying to dredge up the energy for a change, but before he could, the dragon man came to his aid, thank god and hallelujah. He paused, unsure what to do, his eyes wide, very frightened, should he help the dragon? No, the dragon was strong enough that he could handle himself. He'd wait, see what he did, it was impolite to just run away.

The Skirl only snarls at Drakon and thrashes in the Dragon's strong grasp. It would never give up, not after his litter brother had been killed. Skirls were a peculiar sort. They took little care of each other, but sometimes, a special bond between litterlings were created. They usually did everything together, even to the point of sharing a mate!

His litter brother had died, and now, strangely, the Skirl wanted to join him. So he thrashed, baring claws and fanges and snapping his toothy maw. He snarled and fought, straining against Drakon's arms. He was slowly choking himself to death.

GD you now have two choices. Allow the Skirl to die, or prevent his death - be warned, the Skirl is now suicidal and will be hard to keep alive.

The skirl's reaction was much less the GoldenDrakon had hoped for as the kicking and thrashing became more violent, not less. GD added pressure with his grip, hoping to choke the creature into submission, but even as the skirl began to spit out ragged hacks and coughs, it still twisted and clawed in attept to either win freedom or death. The dragon's options were quickly becoming fewer and less appealing.

"So be it." he growled, still struggling to hold the frantic beast in his arms.

His lockig arm slipped down, letting the skirl inhale deeply at last, but the dragon's hand instead cupped the skirl's 'chin'. With a quick and savage jerk from left to right, the skirl's neck broke with a very audible cracking sound. Suddenly silenced, but not immobile, the skirl jerked and spasmed in the dragonman's arms, quickly at first, but rapidly slowing and becoming more and more feeble.

GD slowly lowered the creature down, turning it face down as he did. The creature was dying, but still might summon one last blow before slipping into the final darkness and GD did not wish to honor this creature with any more of his blood. It was only well after the last twitch had faded that GD released the skirl and stood up, surveying the scene around him.

He offered a single sigh before kneeling down to begin his search of the defeated skirls. The camp was still in need of review and he did not know how long it might be before the camp would be overdue and others come looking.