<div class="floatright">(http://s2.postimg.org/vyws6o3h5/Phantoms.jpg)</div><br/>Mola was not happy. Not happy at all. He liked civilization, fine food, warm beds - preferably occupied ones. This miserable dripping swamp world had none of the above. Not one opportunity to leave some progeny behind had come up so far, and more than anything else, going celibate for so long pissed him off the most. The fact that he had fallen into the filthy swamp<em>twice</em>now, ruining his clothes and making it almost impossible to sleep between the muck and the itching of mud and the constant droning of bugs, only worsened his foul mood.<br/><br/>Grumbling obscene oaths in tongues not meant to be spoken by mortal men, he hunched in the back of the floating boat away from the other two. Little One was nowhere to be seen; unlike its father/master, the twisted spawnling seemed to enjoy the muggy environment immensely, flying around in its raven form with abandon.