Chapter 2

Ricktor sat legs crossed hands resting on each knee palms up. With meticulous precision he practiced his mental exercise. Layer by layer he moved and was about to plateau when a soft knock upon his door interrupted his attainment level.

Irritation did not edge his voice, but it did his mind.

"Enter."

Ricktor spoke with dead calm, and anyone that knew him at all would have known exactly how close to danger that tone indicated.

The large mul poked his head in and noted Ricktor still sat in meditation position.

"Milord Ricktor, the process has been completed, the old priest has been resurrected."

Rising slowly, Ricktor, reached for a black shirt,. With deliberate ease he pulled it over his head. The shirt fell to his waist he tucked it into his black leather pants and then he glanced to the Mul.

"Has he spoken?" Each word uttered with an effort to attain calm.

"No milord, he was exhausted he sleeps."

Ricktor, tied the black silk cravat at his throat and brushed clean fingertips through his dark hair.

"Then his mind is mine."

The mul smiled at this and waited for his master to move past him to the hallway. Both men made their way slowly towards the holding area.

What a contrast they made as they moved down the ships hallway. The mul stood nearly eight-foot tall mul. His mode of dress was bare from his hairless chest to his midriff with only a leather knot of bones around his neck.

Upon well muscled hips he wore leather breeches with leather boots, his face was devoid of emotion. He bore his scars and tattoos proudly as he moved with the smaller human male.

Ricktor Stargrave walked with a confidence and command that left little doubt he would tolerate little and would deal swiftly with any obstacle."

The priestess that performed the resurrection, what of her?"

"She sleeps in the hold with the priest. She was exhausted."

Ricktor nodded, and moved to the door of the hold and turned to the mul.

"You know what to do with her."

The mul looked a bit disconcerted at this request but nodded his assent.

"Is it necessary? Can you not put some kind of mental blocks on her memory?"

Ricktor's hand stayed on the knob and his knuckles grew white with the pressure he was using on the knob.

"Her god would eventually correct anything I did, I do not want any of this traced back to me. So, do as you are told."

The words were spoken softly and with deliberate care to emphasize his intentions and orders. He also would not allow his orders to be subverted.

"Report back to me when it is done."

The mul heaved a heavy sigh of relief and bowed his head.

"Yes milord Ricktor." His giant form slumped and showed that he had been duly chastised. Following closely behind Ricktor he moved into the holding cell.

Ricktor glanced briefly at the tiny female dressed in priestly robes, then looked away and at the old scro priest that lay resting on his back.

Ricktor stared at the old priest, using his mental talent, Ricktor checked the priest for an open mind, finding at rest all defenses were down, he smiled.

Pushing forward he began to weave through the memories of the old scro priest. Using these memories, Ricktor was given carte blanche to the life of M'lar from the age of 9 until her current age of 25.

Ricktor could feel the old man's initial revulsion of what he was given and the duty to train and bring her up as a cleric.

How the child continually showed her willful spirit from the day he met her tried his patience.

Her long braids hanging over her slender shoulders, the small pointed ears peaking through the curling tendrils. Torin. Was remembering vividly how her wide green eyes peered at him with a questioning and trusting looks.

He was constantly astonished by her mind and the need to understand and gain knowledge.

Ricktor smiled as he watched the tiny girl begin to mature into a buxom exotic beauty carrying on with her need and yearnings to learn.

M'lar was quiet an accomplished fighter, diplomat, and charming female companion to Torin. Torin's feelings towards her had now evolved to that of a doting father for his talented daughter.

M'lar must have felt the same for there was a bond and she would come to him and call him father.

The image Ricktor now held of M'lar was unforgettable. Barely five feet tall, long flowing auburn hair that hung to her waist, full curves that pleased any healthy males appreciation for the female form.

Full heavy breasts that tempted an imagination to thoughts of lust. Ricktor felt his own loins ache for such a woman. Controlling his urges he continued to probe the old priests mind until he was satisfied with what he learned.

Releasing the control he nodded.

"Tell the pilot to take us to the citadel I have a report to make on Morgan Manshak's . . ."

He smiled at the thought tonight's antics would be blamed on Morgan.

"Activities.. . "

The mul nodded and watched as the psionist moved out of the room. Ricktor was relentless and the fact he had managed to fool the other warlocks of his dark side had been an amazing feat.

They would have found him wanting and would have cast him out of the order branding him as a dreadlock no longer worthy to be a member of the loyal order of warlocks.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to the female priestess as she lay exhausted from her resurrecting the dead she was only vaguely aware of the large hands that now pressed down over her nose.

The last thing she heard as she took her last breath was the snap of her neck. At that moment when death claimed her; she gladly gave herself over to her god and went beyond the veil to the River Styx.

She was too tired to cry out in pain or frustration the deed was done and she was no more for this earthly plane. She looked forward to seeing her god and staying in his house.

Sorak took the Priestess' body to the air lock of the ship and sent her body drifting into the dark abyss that was realm space.

He shook his head and knew it was the right decision. Ricktor had made sure nothing was left behind to tie him to the raid on the scro temple.

He never really showed that he relished in blaming Morgan Manshak for all his evil deeds and could plead his case for Manshak to be hunted down and brought to justice by the citadel.

It would be quite a feather in his cap if he could capture the dreadlock and bring him before the council of warlocks for judgment.

With so much attention paid to the evil doings of Morgan, they would not notice one of their own was as dirty as Morgan and hiding behind a polite mask of righteous justice.

Ricktor sat back down in lotus fashion and took a deep cleansing breath. Tonight had been a disappointment not finding the 'breeder'. He recalled her appearance and smiled, He could show her how to breed.

He wondered what kind of children would they have then brushed it aside, it was enough that he could seek his pleasures elsewhere. She was worth 50,000 gold and he could put that gold to good use.

First thing he would do is to buy new mercenary. These oafs had destroyed more than they could have salvaged and sold. He studied the image projected in his mind and was intrigued.

How could this be possible, she was half elf half scro, none of the earlier reports had been as accurate to what he now studied. He made his next plans carefully.

Marstoq had set course for the home world when from the starboard side of realm space a volley of cannon fire was felt to shake and rattle the ship.

Marstoq moved quickly to the helm and peered at the viewer. A hammerhead war ship was bearing down on his ship.

"We need to try and out run them, we are not heavy enough to fight them."

The scro steersman maneuvered the ship trying to anticipate the next volley of fire. Anticipating the destination and finding instead it was tearing away at its outer hull.

Marstoq moved to the scrolls and looked for a place to seek shelter, when the next volley was a broadside and he felt the ship lurched and the steam rolled, he could hear the shouts of his men as they were burned or had taken damage.

"Skreel, you and the men take the escape pods and leave the ship."

Skreel shook his head. "I will not leave you Captain, it is an honor to die and a good day to die."

Marstoq and smiled at his steersman. "It is a better day to live. I will stay with the ship. You and the others must flee and bring help."

Skreel understood and saluted his captain then turned and sounded the abandoned ship alarm. Marstoq moved to the quarters that held the little mother.

"Little mother, I need your blessings now. I am sending you to realm space and hopefully to safety." M'lar looked to Marstoq and smiled.

"My son, rise so we can face this time of troubles together." She lifted his chin and smiled into his gaze.

Five of the advance guard moved down the hallway and stopped, "Milord Marstoq, the rest have left the ship, what do you wish? The advancing hammerhead has backed off. However, I fear they are preparing to board."

Marstoq smiled. "Let them think we are dead in the water, then we will drop down to the first area of land we find and see if they follow."

They nodded following his lead as they knew he was a fierce warrior and would die first before being taken captive.

"Has anyone identified the ship that has attacked us?"

Malek shook his head; he was a large scro warrior that had learned his respect for the male hybrid in front of him. "No a solid black hammerhead with no notable markings."

The ship lurrched and then began to drop, "Shall we go to the pilot room?"

The six of them moved towards the front of the ship, the small priestess moving between the large sea of male shoulders, her cloak billowing out around her as she made her way to the stern castle.

There she looked around at the mess the whole ship had become from the volley after volley of canon fire. Sighing she moved to the side and began to pray, her words filled with courage and passion and her companions took heart with her faith as the ship began to free fall.

Using incredible strength Marstoq grabbed the steering stick and held on trying to slow their descent and the hammerhead firing on them as they fell.

M'lar was knocked to the floor as the ship made land fall in a large body of water. She waited to see if the ship would sink and gratefully she found that the ship held its ballast as they moved on a body of water.

M'lar looked around and notice the men all had taken harder falls than she had and moved to check their injuries.

Three of the five were unconscious having felt the weight of the ships walls bowing in then shattering with the impact.

Marstoq had held onto the shift and now looked in pain as his shoulder and arm were dislocated at the elbow.

Rushing to his side she looked at the Captain's arm and sighed. Grabbing his arm, she bent her body and put her foot to his armpit and then she jerked hard and heard the double pop as his shoulder and arm were once again reunited.

Marstoq looked at his little mother and smiled, "Thank you little mother, that is kind of you to give me your gift."

M'lar turned to look at the others on the deck. "We need to get off this ship and hide, we do not know if we are in the land of friend or enemies."

Marstoq looked around and cautioned her. "Hold Little Mother I hear voices."

From the shore of the lake in Foot Hills Park, the afternoon strollers were astounded to see a large spell jammer move through the clouds. They became anxious watching it head for their lake to make an unceremoniously hard landing. The ship sent a tidal wave of water spraying forth to bath the shore and those fishing the lake edge with its refreshing deluge of water.

Though there were screams of surprise and there were others shouting, "Watch out!" The heavy ship landed nose buried and then rocked back and forth before settling with a groan.

A contingent of guard had been on patrol and seeing the ship's approach knew it was in trouble and if it did not bury itself in the park it would surly hit the large hill that made the park and the lake into a bowl.

Captain Greyhawke road his large war horse towards the lake and awaited any signs of life from the ship. Not seeing any sign's he dismounted and ordered his guard to find boats.

As they were about to mount their search they saw from the side hold a large door open and six large figures and the seventh a petite figure appeared.

One large male wearing a uniform that denoted him a Captain, held another of his kind supporting him to the side. While on the other side two more soldiers appeared helping two more like kind males.

Grayhawke turned to his second in Command.

"Jenkins, go get Doctor Manshak there appears to be injured."

Jenkins spurred his horse and rode off. In a short period of time, a dimensional door opened with Manshak's carriage and a wagon being driven into the park.

Marstoq looked around and muttered, "Humans mostly I am sure once they realize we are scro they will challenge."

M'lar held her hand up. "Allow me to negotiate our care and assure them we mean no harm."

From the bottom deck another plat form moved out and rose up.

M'lar smiled "Tinser's floating disk."

They stepped to the floating platform, M'lar taking the forefront of her contingent. Closing her eyes she moved the elements to drift them to shore as the lake.

Stepping forward she removed her hood to a gasp of disbelief by many of those around her. "We need help we mean no harm, we were attacked in realm space."

Morgan was as shocked as the rest of those enjoying an afternoon stroll in the park. He would have never expected six scro males to drop from the sky.

That coupled with the fact that the female was now what many would term impossible. She was obviously a hybrid. But the words he heard muttered from behind by some of he elven contingent was, "abomination".

Three burly guardsmen that glared at the scros moved forward with stretchers to put the injured scro males on so they could carry them to the wagon.

Exiting the carriage Morgan put on his charming smile looked around at the residents and expressively opened his arms.

"Welcome my new friends to New Damara."

M'lar looked at the smartly dressed male and was reminded of a snake oil salesman that had come to the temple one time.

He spouted miraculous cures and amazing feats that could be performed by ingesting his elixir. It was later discovered to be extract from the swamp snakes that had bordered the badlands of her home world.

If anything it would have been poison for most but to her it was nothing but a bad taste in her mouth and that is what this human male was making her feel he was no better than that snake oil salesman.

"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Morgan Manshak. I am the doctor here and can assist you with repairs for your ship and help your injured."

The rest of the town folk appeared to revere this man but to M'lar he was the face to the name she had heard when the Temple had been over run and destroyed.

M'lar found the doctor unnerving. Every instinct within her body was shouting she should stay away. Manshak studied her carefully, looking at her intently.

M'lar turned to Marstoq as he loaded the last of the injured men onto the wagon. "Little mother, will you be okay? I want to go with my . . . "

M'lar smiled and patted his arm, "You go, I shall be fine. I can wait here with your men."

Manshak kept staring at her and then Marstoq. Manshak began concentrating, as he pressed his extraordinary mental powers out first to focus on M'lar and then to Marstoq.

Carefully, he ~ego whipped~ M'lar penetrating her mind. Manshak began to sift through their recent memories. His features clouded considerably when he saw the utter destruction of the scro temple and heard his name mentioned.

Then he turned his attention the male and found he had to exert more effort to ~ego whip~ the male. Careful not to alert the male to his intrusions, he withdrew from his mind after sifting through is recent memories.

Turning he turned on his charm and smiled watching Marstoq. " I wish to welcome you all to New Damara and wish to offer you both shelter in manor house while your men heal."

M'lar was too quick to respond. "Thank you no, I am sure there is an inn we might be allowed to rest and await their return to health."

Manshak's features tightened as he held firm control on his emotions. "Yes, there are several places you might seek out. One of which is the Golden Palace. Its my gaming establishment. You would be welcome there or my home."

M'lar frowned. "How quaint, a gaming establishment owned by the local doctor."

Captain Grayhawke smiled hearing the dryness of the comment from the feisty female.

"Dr. Manshak owns quiet a bit of property on the isle of New Damara."

M'lar turned her gaze up at the human on the large bay. "How convenient. Is there any other place where one might be able to procure a room for the night?"

Morgan narrowed his gaze and began once again to focus his mental powers on M'lar's mind. ~ego whip~. Opening her mind one more time, he pressed forward with his power. ~probe~

Noting she had not felt his mental manipulations he smiled. \ Focusing he found what he was looking for and planted the suggestion, ~~sleep~~.

M'lar turned to Marstoq as the suggestion to sleep enveloped her, she closed her eyes and unexpectedly began to slump to the ground.

Manshak deftly swept her up in his arms as she appeared to faint. Marstoq moved towards her. "It would appear your cleric has exhausted herself. Please, I insist you stay at my home until you are well enough to decide what you will do."

Marstoq looked at the wagon as his men were finally loaded onto the wagon. Torn between M'lar's reluctance to take his offer and being with his men.

"I can assure you Captain, that your cleric will be well treated and so will your men. For now, though I believe a good night's rest for all parties and allow me to heal your men. After that we can see what repairs will need to be made to your spell jammer to set you on your way."

Marstoq nodded, "Thank you sir, if you wish you may allow me to take our cleric and you can see to the men."

Manshak was not so ready to give up his prize. "Your men will be attended to as soon as they arrive at my office."

Morgan held M'lar firmly in his arms as he studied the set of the male hybrid's jaw. "There is an elven priestess there who will tend to the injuries and I will later regenerate their skin."

Morgan looked down at the female in his arms then assuming a very concerned tone he spoke softly, "My concern sir is your cleric appears to be exhausted and so do you. I will make you both comfortable and see to the rest of their needs."

Marstoq was not about to let M'lar out of his sight. "Then sir, shall we be on our way? I would like to make sure she is safe and comfortable."

Morgan nodded and moved to hand M'lar's limp form over to Marstoq. Marstoq took M'lar and held her gingerly to his wide chest.

Manshak turned to Grayhawke and subtly moved fingers signaling to him in thieves cant. Grayhawke nodded and ordered his men to stand down.

Leaving a small contingent to stand guard over the steaming jammer in the lake. Grayhawke followed the doctor and he Captain as they moved to the carriage.

Morgan led Marstoq to the carriage. Stepping inside, he reached forward, "Allow me to make her comfortable for you."

Marstoq held her up to him and Morgan reclaimed his prize. She was something he had never seen before and thought never to see again.

The gods would be in quiet a fit over this blasphemy as he looked upon the features of an abomination. Morgan had to admit she was such a lovely perversion that one would not have thought it possible to blend the two species. Yet here she was and there was that Captain.

Manshak with infinite care placed M'lar on the cushioned seat the rich leather giving off a distinct smell of well-oiled leather.

With as much care as he had placed M'lar on the seat, Manshak then used his fine satin cloak to cover her. Marstoq looked at the gentle care that Manshak had used and then to his men.

"Doctor Manshak, if it is no bother would you mind seeing to her care, while I attend the ship and my men?"

Manshak nodded to him. "Please and I will see to your cleric's needs."

Marstoq extended his hand, "Thank you and I can find you. .. "

Marstoq left the sentence open as he looked back to the wagon ready to leave with his men.

"I am making arrangements for them to take your injured to my clinic on the main street. Your cleric will be housed at my estate. I will send the carriage back for you. The carriage driver will then escort you to my estate."

Manshak gave him a firm shake and allowed him to close the door of the carriage. Knocking on the roof, Manshak signaled the driver to move on.

As the carriage jolted forward, Morgan rested back to study the half breed in front of him.

"Hmmm, I sense that perhaps someone has been meddling in places they should not have."

Manshak leaned forward and brushed the hair from her face. Looking at her features more closely, he found that she truly represented the best of the two worlds.

"You were never to be and yet. . ."

He ran soft fingertips over her small ridges, down the narrow line of her jaw over her full lips, then traced the line of her jaw up to her ears. Brushing the hair back to peer at the delicate pointed ears.

"What were they planning? What did they have in mind and who wants you now enough to risk a full out war with the scro empire. Then to try and blame me for their misdeeds?"

M'lar stirred briefly shifting her body to a more comfortable position. Morgan Manshak smiled as he caught a glimpse of swell of her near bare breast.

"Easy Morgan, its just the pleasure of the body. Feed your mind, not your body."

Morgan sat back studying M'lar, "You could make a man want and wish for more. But what could you do for a man lets see if you have what it takes."

Morgan slowly entered her mind ~probe~. Then began to sift through what she knew.

Sitting back he was amazed at what he had discovered. Fire, passion as yet untapped and knowledge the woman was full of untapped knowledge.

There was so much he could capitalize on and use for his benefit. However, the time was not right for now. She had more to learn and so did he.

Planting a thought within her mind he sat back and smiled. "Now, to take care of your son."

Morgan turned to peer out of the window at the passing scenery and sighed, one more move to place her where he wanted her.

Concentrating he opened a ~dimensional door~ to his estate in front of the driver, horses. The team of horsed pulled the carriage into the dimensional door appearing in front of Morgan's stately home.

Gathering up his prize, he moved from his carriage into his home. "Mrs. Johnson!"

Morgan called and from the rear hallway a plump comfortable looking woman with a grey bun bustled from what must have been the kitchen area.

"Aye Milord?" She dropped a quick curtsy.

"Prepare the large guest room."

"Miss Katon's old room?" She puzzled this request with some apparent concern.

"Miss Katon will never be back. I personally want that room fumigated and the bedding burned. As a matter of fact, everything in that room should be destroyed and new furniture brought in to replace it. I want all evidence of Miss Katon's presence erased from that room."

She bobbed a curtsey. He looked down at the woman in his arms and smiled, "Now, I want the bed chamber next to my own bed chamber prepared for our honored guest."

The housekeeper glanced at the unconscious female in his arms. Obviously, this request was highly unusual. But she was not one to question his directives so she went about preparing the large guest bedroom.

As she glanced over her shoulder she watched him moved to his library with the little one. "Let me know when the room is prepared." He closed the door behind him.

Morgan lay her on his sofa and turned to see his butler, Jericho.

"Find Shala and bring her here. I need her services and its worth 1000 gold pieces."

Jericho a small wiry man that gave most pause when he entered the room was a shifty eyed thief that had been in the House's employ for many years.

Though he was of an undeterminable age, Morgan had regenerated him in exchange for his loyalty. Morgan knew he was well over 300 years old. He knew this because he had been in his employ for that long. Moving to find a soft blanket he covered his guest and moved to his desk.

He knew she had heard his name when her temple had been ransacked. She had seen all the priests killed. So who was brazen enough to dare and impersonate him at the risk of his mind being scrambled to mush?

He sat down and studied the woman and then turned to peer at his own image. He was a fairly handsome chap even if he had to admit it himself.

There were few that could resist his charm and he had enough charm to cover this island. Strong jaw line, blue eyes, with a heavy fall of eyelashes and blond hair that swept over his high forehead.

He thought his lips were very kissable or at least that is what he had been repeatedly told. Lifting his chin he smiled and thought it was a wonderful smile and easy manner.

Oh yes he even had the hands of an artist. Long slender fingers that were made for surgery except the surgery he did as what was called psychic surgery.

He would make an excellent husband some day or perhaps a wonderful father some day. So far, he had found no woman that could equal his needs or wants for perfection, after all he was perfect and he knew he would need a mate that would be his equal.

So far none had come up to his expectations or his desire. He was bored and he needed a distraction. His swordsmanship was beyond compare and no one had been able to defeat him.

He studied his nails and looked at the cuticles and frowned, he would be needing a manicure soon enough but not today he had other fish to fry.

From the open doorway he watched the form of a tiny lovely woman slip into the room and look around. She wore a short sword at his waist and her vibrant red hair shone under the hood of her cape as she moved forward.

"What is it you need Morgan?"

Her voice was soft and lyrically sweet as she pushed back her hood to reveal her elven features, tiny pointed ears peeked out from the glorious fall of mellifluous red hair.

Morgan smiled and when he smiled Shayla did not like him. It usually meant someone was about to die. She just hoped it would not be here this day.

"Come my dear and look upon elven kind and orcish kind's downfall."

He turned her to look at the sleeping woman in his settee. "Is she not magnificent?" How do you think Corellon or Gruumsh will like what someone had done?"

Shayla blanched and pulled her weapon ready to strike. Morgan put his hand over hers and shook his head while he did a "Tisk- tisk -tisk my dear. Don't be rude."

Shayla turned her pale features to Morgan."

This thing needs to be destroyed!"

She hissed her anger at such an abomination. Morgan wagged his finger in her face.

"This thing is worth a lot of money to someone. We know that it has to be enough money to bring about a war with the scro, orcs and elven kind. This thing is a very beautiful representation of what could be if elf and orc were to mate and blend their species together. This thing was also in contact with a mind bender today that wanted everyone to think he was me."

Morgan had moved far enough away to draw Shayla's attention back to him. "This thing is going to make you a lot of money and satisfy my curiosity as to who would dare to say they were me. Thus, why we are here."

Shayla felt the anger roil in her chest as she listened to the peacock make his case and waited crossing her arms.

"Which brings me back to my question Morgan what do you want?"

He smiled again and sat back in is chair putting his feet up on the table.

"I want the name of this upstart that thinks he can do such carnage in my name and why is he doing this carnage in my name."

He reached in his desk drawer and with drew a bag placing it on the desk. Opening the bag he poured the contents onto the desk's top. What spilled forth were shiny baubles of rubies, diamonds and emeralds.

"That is worth easily 10,000 gold 10 times what I said I would pay. I want answers get them for me."

She nodded scooped up the gems pocketing them in her jerkin and moved from the room. Pausing at the door she spoke softly, "Keep that thing from my sight. She is an abomination and should be killed do not afford me that opportunity or I will see it done myself."

She moved out as quietly as she had moved into the room and left behind her soft scent and anger, which only gave Morgan something to giggle about as he sighed and looked to the ceiling. "Oh yes things are about to get more interesting."