Oyaka! Dye-dact era ero-me!


-Faster! Move as if the Didact himself were watching!


Jul 'Mdama! Ero Dye-dact kishu watakara aash imush.


-Jul 'Mdama! I did not expect the Didact's Hand so soon.


Infinite kushe dura gushe gu. Gek ,Ru-kiki.


-Infinity's arrival has advanced my schedule. Rise, Gek.


Eche mata, rute shibo.


-We are still preparing, Shipmaster- we still have yet to be able to activate the shrine.


Renju shuta key-ah eda.


-You are prepared now brother.


Art-ifac deda que.


-Bring the artifact's gift.


Ruke shite shina ruke act.


-He offers his knowledge in exchange for his life.


Ieshu mehe uhe-ga.


- I am willing to accept his offer...for a time.

Title: Maddest Kind Of Love
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: 1451
Pairing: None (in this chapter)
Topic: None
Type: OPU (before time skip)
Genre: General, some slight humor
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from One Piece. One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda.
VTM: Important notes and warnings for future chapters will be in the artist's comment. So please be sure to read that if you are thinking of reading the next chapters.

-o-o-

Law was standing out on the deck of his ship, he was leaning against the rail as he smoked a cigarette. He couldn't really smell the fresh ocean air or the smoke. Instead all he could smell was the blood that had stained his hands and clothes from the surgeries he had been performing. Even after washing it off the scent still managed to somehow linger. It wasn't an unfamiliar scent, it was one he was rather used to given his two professions. However, this was one of those times that he was rather sick of it. That Strawhat kid was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.

One of the Heart Pirates was running over to the resting doctor. "Captain!"

"What do you want?" Law asked with a sigh. "Did one of the patients do something stupid and had their wounds open again?" Just why did he volunteer to do this again? Oh yeah, because he must have been high off of his ass without realizing it.

"Sir, there's a strange ship that has been following us." The crewman began to explain.

Law canted his head to the side. "And you didn't blow it to hell because...?"

The crewman looked a little flustered. "W-well, we didn't know if it was really following us until it got closer."

"And again, you didn't blow it to hell because...?" Law's voice was laced with sarcasm. Though, part of him was growing a little curious on the subject of who would be following them.

Suddenly there was another voice calling out to Law. "Captain! There's a small ship with Redhair's flag!"

At this point Law was a wee bit annoyed. "Cannons! Doesn't anyone know how to fucking use them!?"

"Sir, what do you want to do?" the crewman asked.

Law gave an annoyed sigh. "Oh I don't know, how about we invite them up for tea and cookies?"

"But you ate all the cookies..."

"Do you not understand the concept of sarcasm?" Law clapped a hand to his face and shook his head. He then made his way to the other side of the ship as he muttered a rather colorful assortment of words. When he reached the rail he looked down at a small sailing ship that bared the flag of the Red Haired Pirates. "What the hell do you want?"

Standing on the deck of the small ship was Shank's first mate, Benn Beckman and Lucky Roux. Law noticed that the bigger of the two was carrying something wrapped in a bloody white sheet over his shoulder. He was starting to grow a little interested. "And just what warrants this 'friendly visit'?"

"Captain has a little 'favor' to 'ask' of you." Benn called out as he looked up at the man on the yellow submarine.

Right then a spot on the sheet suddenly caught fire.

"Uh oh!" Lucky Roux quickly patted at the fire trying to put it out. "Damn it!"

Law quirked an eyebrow. That was something you don't see every day. Part of him wanted to turn them away, but now his curiosity was starting to eat at him. "Okay, I'm probably going to regret asking this...but what the hell is that thing?"

"Let us aboard and we'll tell you." Benn said as he crossed his arms, he watched Law expectantly.

Law's eyes narrowed suspiciously, he had a feeling that this could lead to more trouble. "It's not worth it, just go away." he then turned around and headed off.

Roux looked at been, he seemed to be getting worried. "We might not have that long Benn..." He said as motioned to the sheet covered cargo hanging over his shoulder.

Benn sighed and looked back up to the yellow submarine, he was about to call out to Law but then something caught his eye. A bear--a big, white bear that was dressed in a orange jumpsuit. "Hey, you!"

"Huh?" The bear stopped and looked down at them. "What do you guys want?"

"We're guests of your captain, he forgot to let down a latter." Benn explained, he had a feeling that this bear was not the sharpest tack in the drawer.

The bear gave a blink and canted his head to the side. "I'm not supposed to let strangers on board."

At that point Benn got an idea, he then forced himself to muster up a more friendly tone. "Hi there, I'm Benn Beckman and this is Lucky Roux. What's your name?" For Benn, this was not an easy feat, it earned snickers from Lucky Roux until he shot the fat man a quick glare.

"My name's Bepo!"

"Well then Bepo..." Benn said with a small smirk. "I guess that means we're not strangers anymore, does it? Mind letting us on board?"

"Sure!" Bepo said excitedly, he then let down a rope latter.

It didn't take long for Law to notice what the bear was doing. "No! Bepo! Noooo!"

Soon Benn, Roux, Law, and his crew stood on the deck of the submarine.

"You have a lot of nerve..." Law began as he glared at the two. "I don't care if you are one of the four emperor's crew or not, I don't take kindly to uninvited guests on my ship."

"Not like I care." Benn then got right to the point. "We have something that you might be interested in."

Law quirked an eyebrow. "You trick my men-"

"Sorry..." Bepo interrupted as he sulked in the background.

Law gave a sigh. "It's okay, Bepo, I'm not mad at you, just the old fart and the Blubbery Wonder over there."

Right then Lucky Roux reached for his gun, but Benn suddenly stopped him.

"No, Lucky, we need him alive." The first mate then turned his attention to Law. "Look kid, if you want us off your ship that badly, then just look at what we brought and hear us out."

Law's eyes narrowed as an un-amused look spread across his face. "We could just kill you."

Benn smirked he then nodded to his ever faithful rifle that he had slung over his shoulder. "I'd like to see you try."

Law was quiet for a moment as he thought his options over. He could fight with them, but then again did he really want to do that? Even if he did manage to kill them then he'd have a whole new world of troubles to worry about. "Might as well humor you, for now. Let's see what you have for me."

"Let's take this to somewhere a little more private first." Benn added.

"Fair enough." Law motioned his crew to go back to what they were doing. After the crowed started to break up he then led Benn and Roux bellow deck and into his now clean operating room. "So, just what is this all about?"

Lucky Roux set the bloody sheet covered object onto the table. "This." the fat man said bluntly.

Law moved over to the table and removed some of the sheet. "Wait, this is..."

On the table was none other than Portgas D. Ace, at first glance he was nothing more than a corpse, being deathly pale. However, Law then noticed something rather odd. "Embers?"

In some of the deeper cuts on Ace's body there seemed to be embers that were glowing ever so faintly. Law removed the sheet even more and saw even the gaping hole was trying to heal, there were even the slightest hints of shallow breathing. It was also obvious that there have been attempts to take care of the boy's wounds.

"Kind of shoddy work, don't you think?" Law said with a slight smirk. His interests were more than peaked at this point. "Who did this? An amateur?"

Benn sighed, he was getting a little tired of this guy's attitude. "Well it's not like we have an extremely skilled surgeon, smartass."

"I see, so Red Hair sent you to me? Why?" Law asked. He was a little amused at this point. He could feel his ego get a minor boost from the thought.

"For one, you're currently taking care of his 'little brother', right?" Benn asked. "Captain wants both Luffy and Ace to be in good hands, and if you were capable enough to handle Luffy's wounds, perhaps you can do something for Ace that our guy couldn't."

Law looked over the damage, even with the mera mera fruit trying to help Portgas recover the damage was really bad. In the slimmest of chances, it might be possible to save him, but they'd still need a miracle to succeed. "That's a pretty tall order."

"Honestly, I don't know what the captain is thinking." Benn said with a slight shrug. "Personally I was thinking that he was drunk."

Law suddenly frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing..." Benn said as he looked away from Law. It was an unspoken challenge, one that he was hoping the doctor would find hard to say 'no' to.

"Get off my ship." Law said in a near blunt tone. "Get off and never come back."

Lucky Roux then moved to pick Ace up off the operating table.

Law then stepped between Lucky and the operating table. "Hands off."

"Wha?" Roux said as he backed away.

"You two go, he stays." Law said firmly, the challenge was accepted.

-End of Prologue-

A hostile experience is insufficient to asses the streets I sailed.
As a privileged burden, surely it must be right.
No trace of the wise was visible.
False emotions concluded the atmosphere
because skin alone held no trash propaganda of freedoms,
strongly reinforced by a stage.
Achievement was measured by verbal and nonverbal conditions,
influencing children in underprivileged differences.
Their answers found that both were submissive at unrealistic status.
For this purpose, quality can go to poorer opportunities,
and it would lower disadvantages and advantages about inheritance.
There is no doubt figures show society is probably special with the assumption
that each overwhelming culture is concerned with the versatility of a damaged brain,
programmed to improve these children.
The hope did not live up to readiness,
and language for the Failure has failed
since Progress is Changes.
It is a waste of time.

Introducing Mira the Rus'

-The sun was beginning to set over the city of Kiev.  The clouds began to roll towards the Asian steppes and the stars began to pierce through the night time sky.  Snow covered the streets, the house tops, the stone walls, everything.  Lamp lighters began making their rounds.  The average Kievan citizens retired for the evening.  Parents called out to their children who were busy playing in the snow.  Night time was no place for a child.  The night belonged to an entirely different cast of characters.  Soldiers from the local barracks searched for a good time.  Virile and rowdy teenage boys, who fancy themselves men, poured into the streets.  Serb bandits scoured the streets looking for easy pray.  Greek traders sold their goods.  Old drunks and working girls began to crowd the bars.  My oh my, this was no place for a child.

This night was starting out to be just another regular evening.  The bars quickly filled up with numerous all sorts of patrons.  As the night dragged on and as the alcohol flowed forth, a mysterious individual appeared.  Some knew who this person was just by the blood red cloak that corrupted the individual's silhouette.  The red cloak trekked through the snow to a local bar on the East end and kicked open the ice covered door.  The ruckus caused didn't seem to interrupt the festivities inside.  The individual marched towards the counter, catching the eye of just a few guests.

"Hey there, I'll take a vodka…aww wait, never mind" the individual says with a soft, feminine voice and heavy sigh.

The figure shuffles its way to a lonely table in the far corner of the bar and lowers it's hood.  Flowing blonde hair and a face as soft as the snow from above is revealed.  Those who are paying attention quickly notice the mysterious person is in fact a woman.   She unbuckles her large belt around her thick cloak and lays her saber on the table top.  She undoes her crimson cloak and tosses it on the chair next to her, all the while her back is facing drunken gathering.  At this point a few of the drunks behind her take notice.

"Woah, would you look at that?" says a heavily bearded fellow.

"Who is that?  I've never seen her before" interjects another.

"Man, I don't know who she is, but I sure would like to!"

The blonde seems to be unaware of the gossip brewing behind her.  She sits down heavily in her chair and slams her folded arms on the table.  With a heavy brow the she laments…

"I really could go for a drink but I just can't do it.  Wish I had some more money too, I'm starving.  Then again I'm always starving now.  What another lame night?" the mysterious woman says a loud, all the while staring our the window to her left.

Now more than just men are beginning to take notice of her.  For you see, she is wearing a most peculiar outfit.  Her hands are shielded by heavily, worn gloves, trimmed in bear fur.  Her feet are covered by matching boots.  Most appropriate gear for the winters of Kiev.  However, she appears to be wearing nothing more than two straps over cloth around her body.  No one can really make out the true nature of her clothing as her long hair covers most of her back.  She sits there, motionless for a few moments.  The rich blonde hair that crowns her head reflects golden rays of candle light.  Time passes until the inevitable happens.

"Aww, look at her.  I bet she's smoking hot." a young man named Mikhail voices aloud.

"Yeah, I wonder bet she is.  Why don't you go find out for us?!" replies one of his friends while slapping Mikhail's back.

"Fine, I will, but I warn you, I'm not gonna share her with any of you cowards!"  the young drunk replies while climbing to his feet.

Mikhail finishes his drink, slams the mug down, and begins to march towards the woman he covets so much.  As he makes his way towards her, she straightens himself out, dusts himself off, and sticks out his chest.  With an arrogant, obviously drunk tone, he proclaims…

"Hey there pretty lady, you in need of some company?"  Mikhail boasts.

Silence begins to fall over the entire bar as all in attendance are eager to see the hidden blonde's response.  With a silent motion she turns to the right and looks over her shoulder up towards Mikhail.

"Is there something I can do for you little man?"  she replies in a monotone.

"There sure is, how about you and I get a few drinks and make our way back to my place for a little fun!"  Mikhail responds while thrusting his pelvis towards her.

"I hardly think you can keep up with me in the bed room, besides, you seem a little young for that.  Go practice your skills on your own time."  the mysterious blonde replies while turning away.

"How dare you speak to me like that!?"  Mikhail roars.

At that moment pure silence takes over.  Mikhail's friends begin to move in.  The local drunks raise their heads in wonder.  The working girls and their customers stop their business to investigate.  All eyes are on the situation brewing between Mikhail and his potential conquest.

"How dare I what?" she retorts.

"That's it, my boys and I are gonna show you a good time whether you like it or not!  Come on over men!" Mikhail voices while gesturing to his comrades.

At that moment the blonde pushes her chair back into the rowdy drunk's foot and climbs to her feet.  Much to Mikhail's amazement she stands as tall as he does.  She turns around and stares him straight in the eye.  Her sky blue eyes convey a sense of tension, not unlike a thunderstorm brewing in the evening.  However, chuckles and faint laughter begin to rise from the crowd.  First to break their silence are the working girls who quickly laugh at their loudest.  

"Look at her!!" they exclaim.

"Hahaha!  Never mind lady!  We thought you were some sexy babe, but apparently some buddy already spoiled our fun!"  Mikhail bursts out straight into the maiden's face.

The girl's face turned a bright shade of red and her brow became distorted with rage.  However, it seemed to go unnoticed by the foolish crowd.  This was mainly due to her tall, slender frame being completely overshadowed by her heavily pregnant belly.  Laughter roared through the bar from all ends.

"You insolent little worm!  Haven't you ever seen a pregnant lady before?!"  the mother to be thunderously replied.

"Ha, you say that like it's supposed to mean something to me.  You're damaged goods fatty, see ya later!"  Mikhail says as he turns away.

"No one walks away from Mira so easily!"  she screams at the top of her lungs.

Silence once again befalls the bar.  Every remains still, as if they have been suddenly petrified.  Four soldiers in the back break the silence by quickly darting out he bar.  The ladies are quick to follow.  The bar keep back against the wall.  The only people to not panic appear to be Mikhail and his drunken cohorts.

"Mira?  Who's Mira?"  he asks in a drunken manner.

"I am, you dumb ass!!  Haven't you heard of me!?" Mira replies while shaking her fists.

"Err…no?"  the drunks say in unison.

Suddenly out of no where, the bar keep declares…

"She's Mira, the slayer of the wyvern in Odessa!!  She survived a duel with Koschei the Deathless!"

"Wait…you mean she's Mira the Rus'!?!!?"  Mikhail and his friend shout allowed.  

"That's right punks!  Now you're toast!"  

With that said, Mira dashes forward and with one rising uppercut, she sends Mikhail flying through the air.  He lands with a thud in the center of the bar, completely unconscious.  Before his buddies can react, Mira lunges at another thug grabbing him by the collar saying…

"You know it isn't nice to mock a mother to be!!  We're a very hormonal bunch!!" Mira shouts as she tosses the poor man into the wall.

Only two of the foolish youths remain.  Mira stomps towards them, her fists shaking with raw anger.  Her golden hair lays down her back, her leather top shakes with anger, and her loin cloth dangles, as she presses on.  One my ask themselves "How does she survive with such little clothing on?"  I assure you, this is not what those two punks were thinking.  One would imagine right about now they had pissed their little pants.

"Oh God, please don't kill us ma'am!!

"Yeah, we're totally sorry, please don't hurt us!" the frightened youths beg and Mira's feet.

She marches right up to them, her spherical, pale skinned belly dominating their vision.  Silence once again befalls the bar.  The goons look up at Mira and are met by her vengeful gaze.  They look away quickly, at the only thing the can think of…her belly.  

"Go to Hell!" Mira screams as she kicks the one boy straight out the door.  

Before the other oaf can pick himself off the floor, Mira is doing it for him.  She raises him up above her head and yells…

"Now do you know, now do you know why no one messes with me?!"

The drunken youth stops his whining only for a moment as he catches a glimpse of Mira's cleavage.  Like a fool who had forgot all that has befallen his friends, the teen spouts out…

"Hey lady…nice boobs"

"Bastards!"  Mira screams as she tosses the last thug out the door.  He lands head first in a snow mound, his legs twitching ever so slightly.

Mira exhales and sighs.  She turns around and walks towards Mikhail's comatose body and bends over to steal his coin pouch.  As she bends over, she is unaware of the lone drunk in the corner, staring at her rear.  She quickly straightens up and turns around.  The drunk lowers his head into his mug to fain slumber, it appeared to work.  Mira then walks to the counter and slams the coin purse down and says…

"I'll take an entire roasted chicken, your best greens, and…some turnip tea or something!!"

Lucy sat bolt up right in the chair, her chest heaving. She had fallen asleep in the chair.
Hicks looked at her from the other chair. "You alright?"
She breathed slower. "Yeah."
"Bad dream?"
Lucy looked into the fire place at the burning wood. "Vampires." She stated.
Hicks gave her a grim look. Lucy stood and looked out the window by the front door. It was pitch black outside, making two glowing yellow orbs stand out. She let out a gasp, only to realise that it was the reflection of two lit candles in the room on the table.
Hicks walked over to her. "What's the matter?"
She looked at him. "I thought I saw something." She whispered.
Hicks looked at the window and saw what she saw. "You thought you saw him didn't you?"
Lucy looked at the floor.
Hicks wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into his chest. His sent filled her nose. Sweat, dirt, booze and the faint aroma of after shave. Unlike the smell that still haunted her. Sweat, dirt, death and blood.
Lucy closed her eyes and returned the hug.
He'll never get you ever again." Hick promised. "I won't let him."
The moment was interrupted and a scruffy looking man burst in through the door.
"Sheriff, we need your help. A drunken brawl has turned into a drunken war!"
Hicks pulled away. "I'll be right there, go ahead without me."
The man nodded and ran from the house.
Before he left, Hicks looked her in the eye and smiled. A small shiver ran through her and nothing more. He gave her a kiss and followed the man.
Lucy walked to the fireplace mantle and looked into the fire. She frowned, when Hicks looked her in the eye, she had felt a moment of excitement that had quickly died as soon as it came. Was that it? Wasn't she supposed to feel more then that? She shook her head and looked towards the window. The two yellow orbs glanced back.
She shook her head harder; he was haunting her, playing with her mind. Even in death he toyed with her.
She looked at the mantle, on it sat a wide brimmed black hat. His hat. She picked it up and looked at it.
Hicks had kept it, claiming it was going to be his reminder of how close he was to losing her. It reminded her also. Reminded of her terror, his eyes, pain, his smirk, the smell, his pointed teeth, her dead family, his Face.
She closed her eyes against the memories, but she couldn't. His face was like a scar on her brain, the image burned into her conscience, strong jaw, unshaven face, his bright yellow eyes…
Lucy held the hat by its brim in-between her forefinger and her thumb, lightly rubbing the coarse fabric.
Thinking of when he had kidnapped her. She closed her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she could almost remember exactly what had happened.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. For a minuet she thought she saw two bright yellow eyes in the dark, but she blinked and they were gone.
As she placed the hat back on the mantel she realized something.
She had a sudden craving for Roast Duck

Name: Nathan Martinez

Callsign: Reaper

Age: 27 (29 in the sequel)

Date of birth: March 10th 1991

Gender: Male

Rank: Former captain in US air force (also due to his skill was part of an exchange program from the US navy before the war kicked off.) and now a mercenary pilot.

Race: Hispanic (cuban american)

Place of birth: Miami Florida


Bio:

Nathan always had a love for planes. Especially fighter aircraft. He came from a family with a military background. His father being an F-16 pilot for the air force and his grandfather being a former F-4 pilot in vietnam. During the war in iraq his father was killed when his F-16 crashed on landing due to being damaged by an enemy ZPU anti aircraft gun. Devistated by his fathers death nathan joined the air force ROTC at 18 and graduated at age 21 at the top of his class. He then went on to flight school to become a fighter pilot for the air force. At age 23 his aircraft suffered a malfunction during a training flight and crashed. He ejected but was injured during the parachute landing. Because of his injury he was discharged from the air force after two years of service. But refusing to give up on his childhood dream to be a fighter pilot. Nathan became a mercenary pilot for hire just one year before the great war began. During his time as a pilot he met a fellow female pilot named Tanya Wolf who later became a very close friend of his and his wingman.


Nathans F-15E Strike Eagle (replaced by a T-50 PAK-FA):

During the war against china nathan previously operated an F-15A which he purchased from a boneyard and restored using spare parts (shot down). An F-22 which was given to him by the government as a gift to replace his fallen eagle and modified with carbon nanotube alloy wings and control surfaces and fitted with uprated engines by stonehenge industries. The F-22 saw a fair amount of combat and was nicknamed todesengel which is german for angel of death. Even with the modifications nathan still had trouble maintaining the raptor. india split into two due to their new leader rajnish gupta nathan brought his F-14D out of storage to once again aide the USA,russian federation and anti gupta freedom fighters. Finding out that guptas squadron of lost pilots during the previous war (mughal squadron) upgraded to the indian derivative of the SU-50, nathan then placed an order to stonehenge for an aircraft he knows like the backs of his hands. And it wasnt the F-14. It was an F-15E. The F-15 was license built (there for brand new and not a second hand eagle from the boneyard) and modified to nathans standards with the carbon fiber nanotube alloy wings and control surfaces for reduced weight and increased strength and G loading as well as maneuverability (if stressed to the max an eagle can take 11-12 Gs. Since nathans eagle is improved it can take nearly 15). And for the avionics the eagle was fitted with a very powerful AESA radar thanks to its big nose and its engines uprated to 45,000 pounds of thrust each. And finally the aircraft was integrated with the JHMCS helmet mounted sight.


After the battle over mount everest the left engine on nathans F-15E was damaged and in need of replacement. Since replacement was delayed nathan ordered a T-50 PAK-FA to replace the F-15 and because he needed a fifth generation fighter. The F-15E was then placed in storage and replaced by a T-50 PAK-FA




Nathans F-14D Super Tomcat (Showcat)

Later in the war reaper feared the risk of losing his F-22 to a crash or to capture by the enemy. So he asked a favor from a long time friend of his named JG who is also the founder of stonehenge industries and incoprorated. ordered a license built F-14D. The F-14 was given carbon fiber nanotube alloy wings,rudders and control surfaces,AESA radar(With the ability to track 30 targets and engage 10 at the same time),the joint helmet mounted cueing system,Integration of the AIM-9X sidewinder,AIM-120D AMRAAM and also the integration of a new missile produced by stonehenge industries which replaces the AIM-54 phoenix. The missile is called the pillar of fire and boasts increased range,speed and agility over the AIM-54 phoenix it replaces. The F-14D also sports the high visibility VF-101 paint scheme. The F-14 was soon shipped to NAS Oceana because nathan felt that the F-14 was a legend who didnt deserve to endure the pains of war. He now uses it at air shows and flies an SU-35S as his active combat aircraft along with his F-22. The aircraft was deployed by Nathan at the start of the war to overthrow gupta and reunite india. It has since been replaced by an F-15E and then a T-50 PAK FA.


Nathans T-50 PAK-FA

This is the successor to Nathans F-22 raptor. It retains its Russian AESA radar (although tweaked by stonehenge) and has had its standard avionics and systems replaced with stonehenge industries avionics and systems.

Chpt 2: Ancestry

"Now Gnarl," the Black Baron said as he walked over to the throne or what would be the new throne room. "You said you were going to explain the Minions and you also said there were others than . . . these," he randomly snagged one of the Brown Minions by the throat, holding the poor thing out before dropping it.

"Oh! Of course, Sire, of course. The Minions you see around you are called Browns. Due to their color of skin. Yes, Browns," Gnarl, said thinking slowly. For being one of the Ancient Minions to come out, he had a lot to remember since his awakening.

"I am waiting, Gnarl. If I am to go looking, I must know what they are as well as what they can do," the Black Baron said, slightly impatient.

"I'm working on it Sire, I'm working on it," Gnarl said, trying to think. "Hm. Browns, ah yes, they are the fighters of . . . . the four tribes I believe. Yes. I remember now from my School of Minion Mastery from the Dark Ones, which runs through your blood-line."

"My, what--?" Malkor asked, looking quickly over at him.

"You are one of the few that have the blood of the Dark Ones."

"The Dark Ones?" Malkor blinked. He had never heard of them, least he thought. He did recall one elf mentioning them when he laid his eyes on Malkor. That was, hell, years ago when he first visited Evernight Forest with his parents. The elves wanted nothing to do with him but instead took interest in his brother. Anger flashed through his veins but he did recall a few watching him intently. The rest of it was blurred.

Gnarl sighed, "Of course your family would try to hide this. Your family is one of the decedents of the Dark Ones. Gromgard, an elf that fell to darkness. Your Ancestor and one of my many masters before you."

"You mean . . . I'm part Elvin?"

"More than you think, milord. I would actually say more elf than human in many ways then one, but why else do you think you can wield magic? True, your mana storage isn't as vast as an Elf's, but it comes close. You also show some features of the elves more then the rest of your family."

"But why me?"

Gnarl looked at him. "Because you were chosen. It was time for a new blood of evil to be born and to purge on humanity. The Dark Ones are becoming few and few. Why one of them would, ugh, mate with a human is beyond me, though however," Gnarl said thinking. "There have been a few human wenches that were just as dark as them, and oh hell, just lovely to look at. I see now why a few would."

Malkor took off the helmet and looked at his face in the mirror. He noticed his ears, while not pointed, did have a slight subtle slant to them and were more narrowed. He had the bulk features of a human, not the slenderness of an elf. In ways, he looked human save for his ears but his features were more fine than rugged like of a human's. His eyes also stood out. Elvin eyes did have a glow, but they were always a gentle white glow. His burned like red-hot coals.

"Then does that mean-?"

"Unfortunately yes, your whole family has this tie but you . . . you are more like one of them than they are. They are what we call, the Blood Carriers. You are the spawn of it the blood. Blood-Spawn is what they call it. A select individual born straight from the blood."

Blood-Spawn? Malkor pondered before putting the helmet back on. So many questions filled his head. He wanted to know more about his heritage, who he really was and all the why questions he could think of. He gave a sigh. Those would have to wait.

"Anyhow, continue about the different minions?"

"Ah of course milord, of course. The ones you see running around us now are the Browns. These are your melee fighters and your brutes. Not as smart as they look however," Gnarl admitted watching a Brown minion chase after another with a pot on his head before the one with the pot crashed into the wall as the two laughed.

"They have their moments," Malkor said remembering Qeb. Speaking of which, where is he? He pondered.

"Indeed they do," Gnarl sighed softly. "The browns are your most resistant of all your minions. They are the first to charge and the first in the front lines. They can withstand enemy attacks but not elemental. They are also the most common type of all minions."

"I see, so that explains their . . . needing to constantly fight and smash?"

"Indeed," Gnarl said. He looked up at Malkor, studying him closely. Malkor held much promise and in ways, he reminded the old Minion of his former Masters before they were forced to flee.

Malkor nodded then looked around the underground chamber. "How long have you been underground for?"

"Since we can remember until the Dark Ones summoned us forth."

"Why were you summoned forth?"

Gnarl blinked before walking over to Malkor and sitting down beside him as he took off the glowing stone from above his head, holding it in his hands. "I remember Teacher telling me over thousands of---"

Malkor butted in, "Wait, thousands? You're centuries old?"

"Why else do you think I'm this old looking? I'm not the only minion here this old, Scabby, Choker, Qeb and a few others are from the Ancient times."

"I see. Hm. So, what happened to the other minions?"

"During the Dark Exodus, the other three minion tribes and their hives vanished, spread out across the land. No doubt all are in some sort of trouble or turmoil."

"Of course," Malkor said with a roll of his eyes. "Why wouldn't it be easy?"

"Indeed. I believe the Halflings have taken the Reds. Who knows what those fat pigs would want with them."

"I have a hunch," Malkor said.

"Indeed but back to your question, we were summoned forth by the dark ones for one purpose."

Malkor looked at him, his red eyes narrowing. "And that would be?"

Gnarl looked up at him. "Oh, that's simple, Sire, to punish humanity."