That same night the younger members of the 'Bone Crushers' led by Hunk met at the stroke of midnight waiting for Swasie at the fork of the old abandoned dirt mountain road. Chilled to the bone by the icy wind that had stirred from the sinister depths of darkness, these young thirteen year olds were unaware that tonight would be the precursor of the strange fate that awaited them.
The howling of the wind increased, blowing fiercely around them, and as the darkness of the moonless night deepened into an eerie murkiness, Swasie's solitary black-garbed figure mysteriously appeared.
An uncanny stillness filled the air, quelling the icy wind into a gentle breeze. Without a word Swasie commanded those around him, indicating that they should follow. Silently they obeyed, resolutely trudging behind him along the dry, dusty dirt road, unperturbed by the troubled howling of dingoes in the distance. Their mournful cries blended into the night adding to the mystique of the dark mysterious ruins of the ancient city looming above them, on nearby Apogee Mountain.
Solemnly the subdued teenagers followed Swasie as the road began to climb, leading them to where a solitary dilapidated mansion sat, overlooking the town below. And as they drew closer, all sensed the evil intent of the phantom spirits lurking near the huge, old rusty iron gates that secured the inner sanctum of their demonic world.
They watched uneasily as Swasie lifted the heavy metal latches bearing the ancient Braden Family Crest. Slowly the creaking gates opened, grating noisily over the uneven worn cobblestones of the old carriageway, arousing the sleeping, bestial Dryads that dwelt in the huge trees of the once grand estate.
Unaware of their presence the terrified teenagers stood in utter silence as the Dryads crept from their lofty resting-place. Sluggishly they dragged their foul smelling, hairy bodies through the undergrowth rudely awaking the Hobgoblins asleep in their burrows.
The impish Trolls, who never slept, heard the gibbering of the Hobgoblins and as was their nature scampered over to eavesdrop. What they heard astounded them and anxious to spread the gossip, the impish Trolls excitedly scurried off through the bushes, their little legs tripping over each other in their haste to be the first to tell the Naiads the Incredible news.
The smallest and the cheekiest of the Trolls named Weeny knew a short cut to the creek where the Naiads swam with the Nymphs each night, and laughing with glee ran off in the opposite direction. Through the long grass and wild flowers she ran, arriving at the creek long before the others. Mischievously she slid down the slippery fallen log that crossed the creek, cooing frantically to the Naiads and Nymphs at play in its crystal clear water.
Stuttering with the importance of her message, Weeny excitedly blurted out her incredible news. Amazed, the Naiads listened as they fluttered their water soaked wings, they'd never heard of so many of these evil ones entering their mystical world before. All sensed that this was no ordinary occurrence and anxiously they agreed to alert their Mistress without delay.
Still oblivious to the chaos they had caused among the creatures that lived in the wilderness of the overgrown garden, the new recruits nervously followed Swasie through the opened gates. Along the long, winding carriageway they walked, fear dulling their senses, unaware of the glowing, yellow eyes of the Dryads watching them, studying their every movement. Soon the smelly Dryads grew tired of observing them and returned to the trees. They had smelt the gang's fear and knew that they were no threat to them.