Chapter 1

Closing her eyes, she sat as still as she could. Her muscles were fatiguing and she used the moment to pace herself and used it as a study in discipline.

Keeping her focus on trying to ease the pain of cramping muscles, her little pointed ears became a microphone to the room's noise nuances.

From her dark corner, her vantage was a bit awkward. M'lar could detect the deep guttural tones of the Captain as he directed his concerns and comments to the mysterious figure shadowed by his hooded cape.

M'lar allowed her eye lashes to flutter open as she narrowed her gaze to the two males at the end of the room.

Captain Raulf glanced over the inner chamber, his reddish orcish gaze peered at the wanton destruction left my Nazul.

"Senseless, we share the same god and the fool tempts the fates!"

The guttural tones were indistinguishable to most other species but she had understood his words perfectly; after all in some respects they shared the same race.

"The foolish oaf has a weak will and an even smaller brain."

This comment elicited a soft snort from his companion. M'lar thought the voice melodic and calculated with each word uttered.

Something in the tone made her shiver inwardly and once again her attention focused to the two as the subject of the abomination became the topic.

"Why this one Milord? Why is she so special to draw your attention?" The pause was only a breath, to M'lar is seemed an eternity for the response.

"To you she is the abomination, to me she is a profitable miracle. Think about it Raulf, she is an impossibility. She is not scro, nor an elf."

His words had become an exercise in controlling his excitement as he spoke of the abomination that was her. " Instead, she a mixture of two and you may have trouble understanding this as I do; she is the ultimate insult to two gods."

He held mirth in his voice as he thought about what had been accomplished with her birth. "Two arrogant gods that decreed neither of their species should ever breed and bare fruit."

He moved around the room using his own arrogant way of describing what and who she had become. "She is the perfect genetic blend, an impossibility that was not to happen. Do you not think she epitomizes the impossible?"

Raulf shifted his weapon from left to right hand and dropped his heavy head forward to rest his chin on the lip of his armor.

"She was thought only a legend to many off world. Then those that came and saw were astonished and then frightened thinking she was a mockery."

The large male orc grunted as he thought about the profanity this man admired, "Many felt her life best ended.. The others believed she was to be the first to breed and as such bring more of her kind into this world."

The guttural tones of Raulf was grating on the mystery man's nerves. Biting back his irritation he continued to listen. "None from either side would touch her or wish to touch her to breed, she would be too hideous to mate."

The soft voiced man snorted derisively and shook his head, "Ignorance pays men like me Raulf, what do you feel about her?"

Again, the air was punctuated by silence that to M'lar appear to stretch into what was becoming an eternity. With each passing second she remained as she was just reminded her of the cramped sore muscles now becoming an issue for her.

Finally, he answered, "I feel the gold in my pocket far outweighs any superstitious tripe."

The responding laughter was cold and humorless, "Good, we think a like. . ."

The conversation ceased with the arrival of another warrior, his armor bloodied by what M'lar surmised must have been from the house slaves and priests.

"No sign of the abomination my lord." He gave a cursory glace over the room's occupants. Only minorly noting his Captions companion.

"Nazul has gone to the lower chambers searching, he was told that is where she was last seen."

The warrior gave a quick nod of his head and looked to the direction of the lower chambers of the temple. "Do you wish me to check on his progress?" Raulf nodded.

"Perhaps we can conclude our business so Milord Morgan may be on his way."

The clank of the orc's armor echoed hollowly around the chamber as he made haste towards the lower chamber doors.

Raulf moved towards the dais and placed a foot upon the first step. The one called Morgan watched from the door.

M'lar felt that although he gave the appearance of relaxed calm, he was ever vigilant and at one point when she silently cried out in pain, he had shifted his gaze to her dark corner. Then the dark man turned his focus back on Raulf.

Just when M'lar did not think she could last much longer from the paralyzing cramps in her legs, the two warriors appeared dragging an old priest by the collar.

"The arch prelate says she escaped at the first sign of the attack."

Nazul flung the old man forward, and M'lar heard the muffled groan as the old one who had been like a father to her landed hard on the marble like surface of the steps.

"Shall I kill him now?" The blood covered warrior rested his hand on the hilt of his blade his thumb moving nervously over the hilt's embellishments of jewels.

M'lar felt her rage collecting and flexed her fingers around her own symmetrical blade. Her thoughts interrupted by a plaintive command from Torin, his thoughts penetrating her own rage.

"No, M'lar focus and stay alive, I have lived long enough and today is a good day to die."

M'lar focused her emotions and spoke mentally to Torin, "I will not allow him to kill you father. Today is a better day to live."

Torin's thoughts were tired and he was feeling his years and the shame of being caught.

"I wish only for an honorable death my child. You however, you are the beginning, the hope for a better and more refined raced. You are one of a kind and they know this, that is why they have come.. ."

Torin's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp kick of Nazul, "I said old one tell me where the abomination went and we might let you live.

M'lar and Torin both knew this was a lie and she readied herself to battle for her mentor. Exerting incredible control over her muscles she stretched slowly forward feeling the adrenalin beginning to move through her body.

Controlling her breathing she moved her body to a standing position, As she moved Torin made a coughing sound to cover any noise she might make as she pulled her diminutive form to a standing position.

Nazul laughed harshly, "The old fool will die before we have had a chance to have some sport with him." The soft voiced one cocked his head.

"I would suggest you keep him alive apparently he means something to the half breed. If you kill him. . ."

Nazul turned on him with a vengeance. Raising his fist to swing on the one called Morgan. M'lar watched in amazement as the large male warrior's hand stayed in mid swing and the brutish male was brought to his knees, his body trembling with the effort to control himself.

"He is a psionist M'lar place your barriers up against his mind tricks."

Torin closed his eyes and began to chant softly under his breath by taking advantage the battle that was ongoing between the two he was able to chant softly.

Raulf, called out sharply, "Enough! We waste enough time and the abomination gets away and with her escape goes my gold."

Nazul collapsed on the floor with a heavy grunt and clank of armor. Blinking he glowered at the human called Morgan.

"Mind bender one day, you will pay dearly for your insolence." Nazul pushed himself up and turned his attention to the old priest.

Torin finished his spell and as he cast it out, M'lar felt herself shift and falling. With the unexpected shift in her position and the sensation of falling she gasp.

The gasp echoed catching the attention of the occupants of the chamber. As quickly as she was there, she was no longer in site and Torin laid back closing his eyes giving up his spirit to his god.

The passing of the old man was but a whisper in the wind. He smiled as his eyes lifted up to see past the veil and to the River Styx's.

The boatman awaited him patiently by the bank, Torin gave only a half look back; then moving forward he stepped into the boat and sat. His judgment was coming and he faced it with a clear conscious.

M'lar's scream of frustration and anger dissipated into the surrounding chamber as she tumbled and fell in a rush down the dimensional door to land with a harsh thud on the ground.

Disoriented she tumbled to a standing position taking up a defensive stance. Looking around she saw that Torin had cast her into sanctuary near the mountain caves of solitude.

She was a good 60 miles from the temple. At that moment she also realized that Torin had traveled beyond the veil. This was knowledge she had learned from living with the priests all her life.

She knew he had given up the last of his energy to see her safely from the hands of the invaders. Thereby knowing she was safe from the onslaught of the attackers he allowed his spirit to pass on.

She took a moment to release her anguish with a long wail, giving Torin's the honorable passing he so well deserved. Dashing the tears from her eyes she allowed them to dry on her cheeks. Feeling her stomach knot with her emotional release she slumped down on the ground and grabbed a hand full of earth.

"From where you come to where you go, pass with the grace of Gruumsh, travel the river of blood and tears to find rest dear friend."

She lifted her hand clinched in a fist watched the dirt pass through the parted fingers to be caught by the wind and blow across the expanse of the land she sat on. Lifting her hand she closed her hand to make a fist and kissed the dirt that remained.

Turning she moved towards the cave's mouth. This was her birthplace, the place she had spent her formative years.

Scrambling up the rocky cliff side, she slid into the dark cave and inhaled deeply the scent of damp rock and pungent earth smells.

A primal setting, moving into the darkness she allowed her memories to direct her to the interior cavern. Her sight adjusting to the darkness allowing memories of her childhood flooded her.

Moving along a time worn path as she let soft footfalls leave tiny dust balls to spiral up around her sandal clad feet.

Going deeper into the cavern she stopped at the entrance of another tunnel that branches off into three directions.

M'lar knew one direction would be instant death less than 20 feet in, the floor dropped away to a roiling pit of a hot lava bed.

The other one led the ignorant one to wander relentlessly for days until finding their way out to a valley on the east side of the mountain.

The one she traveled took her to the inner sanctum. Moving to the tall basket in the corner she lifted the lid and the glowing rocks lit the large cavern.

Moving to the make shift bunk she looked to the wall and locating the rock, she pressed and waited as the wall moved under her hand.

The hinged door moving silently allowing M'lar stepped into the interior room. With movement the room lit up. On silent hinges the door slid shut.

The only sound was a soft click as it closed. She stood in the center of the room and was reminded of a tomb.

M'lar looked at the odd concoction of tables, vials, and tubing. Oddly, M'lar likened the scent to the womb from which she was conceived and had been birthed. Moving to the small rough hewed cot resting against the back wall she collapsed on it and closed her eyes.

Feeling her muscles slowly starting to relax, and then wanting to seize. Wincing she fought to control her muscles then she allowed her eyes to close and exhaustion to take her over.

It was then she felt truly safe and secure. It had been an exhausting day beginning at sunrise. That was when the scro ships arrived. With their arrival they had brought death.

She had barely enough time to search for markers or sighs and then she saw it was the Severed Elf Head Clan. Blood thirsty and filled with rage they swarmed over the temple.

That was the beginning of the end of the life she had once knew and shared with the elder priests that had all at one time or another been her teacher and fathers. Of them all, M'lar had selected her favorite and her heart had been given to Torin, her mentor, and father figure.

The others had felt uncomfortable around her but had not questioned the highest order of the Arch Prelate to take her under their protection to teach her, train her, and above all else respect her.

They had found her loathsome to look upon that to share the same room with her she had been forced her to wear a cowl to hide that insidious thing she represented.

Her life among the males of the temple had been a hard one suffering taunts for her intelligence, which was far superior to theirs.

The most difficult thing part of her upbringing and had harden her to their taunts was their constant reminders that she was different. She was not full scro and was something so vile they found her defamation to their senses.

Too many times she had heard how she would never be fit as a mate for any self respecting warrior of the scro nation because she was too ugly to be considered for mating purposes.

As Torin cast his spell and M'lar disappeared, he gave up his spirit to move past the veil. At that moment, Torin knew M'lar was safe and he died with a smile edging his lips.

The one called Morgan growled under his breath as he watched the small cloak figure disappear into the vast dark dimensional door.

He turned on Raulf and Nazul. "Go after her you fools." The two spilt moving in different directions as the one called Morgan moved to the still figure of Torin.

Focusing his talent, he attempted to read the dead man's memory right before he died. The frustration that filled the human was evident in his movements.

The black abyss and then cold stonewalls. That was what memories the old scro priest still held and before shifting through the veil.

The one called Morgan withdrew his probe for fear that to follow him, would take Morgan over into the darkness as well. His frustration was complete as he lost all contact for the prize he sought.

Ruthlessly he pushed his anger down and began to reconsider his association with these idiots that were his minions.

He really needed to find himself some better minions if he was to be successful. He was considering that Nazual needed to die and the sooner the better.

Having been thwarted he moved to the doorway and shouted, "Florin! Please get in here NOW!"

A large well-muscled male mu with broad shoulders, scars, from the top of his baldhead to his large muscled legs dressed as a slave from the pits of Athos moved into the room.

He paused in the doorway and glanced at the hooded figure. "Yes milord Ricktor."

The man threw back his hood and revealed a human male with dark hair carefully coiffed, muscled shoulders, narrow hips. He had a pleasing enough face with dark black piercing eyes and a cruel set to his lips.

He had given himself time for just a cursory look as he looked around for the dead priest. "I told you to call me Morgan, bring that. . . " He nodded to the dead priest's body.

The mul looked at the dead body of the scro priest and then to Ricktor. "Why? What good will it do?

Ricktor snapped his dark gaze back at the mul his voice was tinged with a coldness that came from his lack of emotions to any word he muttered.

"It will be resurrected and will lead us to the most valuable piece of property ever. Those foolish orcs have caused enough destruction for today. Let us take what we can and salvage the rest another day."

The mul towering over the human male by a good two feet lifted the dead priests body and followed Ricktor out the door. His own thoughts kept hidden behind his own mask of indifference.

Ricktor stopped outside the temple meeting up with Raulf, "Well?"

Raulf growled in frustration. "We have searched the entire complex and the sentry reports armed warriors moving fast to this location. We should vacate immediately."

Ricktor nodded, "My ship is docked on lake."

Nazul joined them and the party disappeared into the heavy tree line around the once tranquil lake. From the lake the sound of engines firing and from the tree line a hammerhead war ship lifted into the air and was soon lost from sight as it made it's way into space.

Thunderous hoof falls rang along the hard packed earthen roadway. The snort of the beasts rent the air as the compliment of soldiers arrived at the temple entrance.

Dismounting they withdrew weapons and moved through the entrance, their boots crunching over the splintered doorway.

The leader shouting out orders, "Searched for survivors." Marstoq looked the room over and then moved slowly towards the temple room. Everywhere there was utter and complete destruction.

Torq moved from the servants quarters, "Captain, the west wing has been destroyed no survivors."

Marstoq an uncommon looking scro with dark eyes, a slightly protrusive forehead that leant character to his hybrid features, felt the red rise on the back of his neck as his gaze slid over the destructions.

"Any sign of the little mother?"

His honey brown skin colored was a great contrast to the others that had surrounded him. Those that had come under his command were true scro, tusks, protruding from their upper gums over their bottom lips. Typical of most scro they had wide nostrils that flared when in the heat of battle.

Their skin toe had ranged from being a ruddy grey skinned to a muddy brown skin tones while others held a red clay skin tone to their over engorged muscled bodies which were in cased in leather armor.

Marstoq had been one of the first to be bred to a softer skin tone, less pronounced forehead smaller nose proportionate to his features with his tusks removed.

He had been a hybrid marvel much to the satisfaction of the creators. He had been a genetically altered prototype of a hybrid expected to breed and add more to the armies of the space-faring orcs. An idea originally conceived by the Generals of the Scro Army and Navy.

His intelligence and reflexes were to be superior to those that followed. His prototype was to be used for infiltration and the advanced forces for conquering other worlds.

He stood surveying the damage and he clinched his jaw tightly and turned his dark penetrating gaze over to the east wing.

Kvid moved from the east wing escorting two young male priests, their faces pale and eyes wide.

"Where is the little mother?" Marstoq's words unsettled the already distressed monks and they cowered before his massive form.

Realizing his tactics would do little to alleviate the monk's already over used senses, Marstoq took a deep breath and sighed.

Barking out another order, "Kvid take them to Stormhold, see they are treated well and fed well, we will bury the dead and say the appropriate prayers and see if we can find the little mother."

Kvid turned to the priests and shouting orders for the priests to be secured and transported, he turned back to Marstoq. "Do you know where she might be milord Captain?"

Juvon, moved towards the dais and looked at the fallen image of their god. "I wonder he did not seek vengeance on the desecrators."

Marstoq nodded in agreement and turned to his second in command. "We have bodies to bury and then a search of the area to find the cleric."

The detail laid the last body to rest and turned back to the temple. "On the morrow we will need to send workers to repair the temple and put a contingent of guard here. Are there any signs or word of where the cleric might be? Was she one of the dead?"

This made Marstoq's stomach clinch at the thought. She had been very much as he, only her genetics had gone a step further and she had been called 'the breeder'.

She would be the mother of a new nation of her kind. Though word had filtered down that she was grotesque and hard to look upon he was only minutely aware that she was much as he honey skin, eyes the mixture of green and yellow tint, she had been bred to be smaller than he but a body that was sturdy and fit for battle.

Torq shook his head, "No milord no sign and not one of the dead."

Marstoq moved to sit on the temple steps and brushed dirtied fingertips over his brow and pushed his hair back. "Malady M'lar where are you? Have you been taken?"

A soft breeze blew over his hot body and he glanced up. It was so subtle yet commanding his attention. His heavy brow furrowed and his glance fell to the mountains.

"Torq! Mount up we ride to the cleansing caves."

Torq commanded the others to mount up, As a group they assembled and mounted in successive order, they turned their huge beasts and headed to the mountains.

Marstoq smiled, "Torin you old devil a bit of you still stays to help."

Mounting up the security guards rode due west and towards the mountains. Their burden lifted and their spirits a little lighter. Soon, he would be able to see if the little mother was as hideous as most had claimed. He rode to a monumental occasion.

M'lar lay in a meditative dream state; her body exhausted and her mind devoid of thought. An exercise Torin had taught her to keep the mind benders from reading her thoughts.

Shifting her weight on the hard bunk, she slipped deeper into her dreamless sleep, A cascade of long flowing auburn hair haloed her head, her small body curled beneath the robes and the animal fur she was unaware of the beautiful creature she had become.

The tiny pointed ears; the slight abbreviation to her forehead was the only indication of her scro breeding. She had become the impossible a half-breed of scro, and elven kind. Sleeping the deep sleep of a child was how Marstoq found her.

Looking down on the delicate features he smiled and moved dirty fingertips to brush a slight wisp of hair from her forehead. The fingertips were gently massaging the slight boney ridge. "Little mother wake up."

His words were gentle and kind as he spoke. From a distance, M'lar heard his voice and struggled to open her eyes and gazed up to peer upon one of her adopted children.

All on this world were her children, those that choose to call her cleric and mother were her charges to see and nurture. Looking a bit confused the day's events rushed over her like the swelling tide.

She sat up clutching Marstoq's sleeve. "Son, you have come to take me home?"

Marstoq knew it was not fear that griped her it was more than the emotions of the unknown threat he saw it spark in her eyes as he stared and saw that it was shear determination and fortitude.

"Aye little mother, you are going home, not to the temple but the hold. You duties here are ended."

He gently ran fingers down her fall of auburn curling hair. The press of her heavy breasts against his leather-clad knees reminded him of her female charms.

To him she was no abomination but a child woman, in a body most men would crave to hold with features so delicate that she would be considered beautiful.

Her eyes held the grit and determination that marked he r a creature to two worlds. She bore the blood of two strong nations one of elven kind and orcish kind.

He had to remind himself constantly she was not for taking to breed, though the creators wanted her as their first proto-type.

To him she was to be venerated. She was like the holy mother to his kind. An abbreviation from blooded scro, the ultimate creation of his god's blood and the blood of their sworn enemy the elven kind.

She was stronger, quicker, smarter, and blended with the best of the many worlds. This information had been given to him in confidence.

As the head of the Imperial Homeland Guard, Marstoq had that right. Gently scooping M'lar up into his arms, he pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and moved into the outer room.

"Mount up and prepare to ride to the stronghold. From there we shall summon the ship to head for the home world." The contingent, moved with Marstoq and his precious cargo to the beasts.