When little more than a boy Rask took up the trade of most men in Treve; Mercenary. His skill with sword and spear soon made just speaking his name strike fear in the hearts af all found outside city walls. He moved quickly though the ranks and soon more than 100 tarnsman followed without question wherever he wishes to strike. He grew bored with the ease of his conquests and weiry of the men that now followed his every move. Out of spite for the lack of challenge he slipped from his own war camp on a cloudy night and alone flew for three days without seeing a soul.
     On the evening of the fourth day he saw a small caravan camped for the night, three wagons of blue and gold. His tarn droped silently to the ground near the wagons, his quiva striking the guard facing him even as his eyes grew wide. Dropping to the ground he withdrew the quiva and wiped the blood from it on the dead mans tunic. Circling the perimeter of the camp soon all four guards were dead and still no alarm had been sounded. Moving into the triangle made by the wagons he sprang on the three warriors standing there, the first fell before he could clear leather, the second's atack was too slow, the third screamed as his blade was beat aside, it was the last sound he ever made....
     The camp was quiet, all had either died or fled. Rask listen closely and hearing nothing at first thought his work was done, then a soft sound lead him to one of the wagons. Inside he saw a small girl dressed in the rags of a peasant child. She had chewed through the binding fiber at her wrists and was bent forward chewing the fiber at her ankles. She looked up, bits of fiber in her teeth as her face turned to a smile seeing the one she watch kill her parents killers. At first as her expression changed again he thought is was that she knew he would still inslave her, but then the girl pointed behind him. Spinning instantly Rask killed the thin faced Master of this doomed caravan. Rask looked back at the child to find she had finished with her ankle bindings and was standing before him smiling with her arms out to be picked up.
     After days of travel Rask was in Tharna. He almost hated to leave the child, she had taken to tarn flight as if born to it, her small hand holding the riens by his as he guided the bird. He laughed, he knew what he had to do in Tharna, and that as it turned out was easy, the girl-child telra would now be raised free. Now the the child was taken care of, it left him back where he started. He looked back toward the direction he had come for a long Ehn, then turned away without looking back again. Somewhere ahead he would find what he was looking for...
     In the years that followed Rask was many things, but above all He was always free, free to do whatever he wanted whenevery and however he chose. Having pulled four women from the high railed bridges of Tharna he tried His hand as a slaver. His skill with a capture loop and the speed of his tarn and sword kept costs low and profits high. As time went on he profits grew higher still with his growing skill to judge the potentail of a women with just a few Ehn of observation. Wondering from city to city, always selling what he captured leaving the last as her reached the next, Rask saw most of the cities of gor until at last he found himself in Port Kar. There he saw for the first time the gleeming Sea of Thassa...
     It was a site like no other he had seen before, beautiful as any woman, more powerful than any beast, for days he watched it, and watched the ships appear in the distants as they came to the city, or slowly disapear as they left...His first ship was small but fast, green with eyes like flame, and a crew twice the size needed for such a ship. It took little time before he had his second. It was already green, but not of Port Kar, and as is often the way with hunters, they forgot they too could be hunted. Rask attacked swiftly in the night before the moon could light the sea and sky. As the sun rose, two ships sailed forward, a crimson flaminium painted of the sails of both. It was a sail marking that was soon to bring fear to the hearts of all who sailed the Thassa. Four months after he bought his first ship, the only ship he paid for, Rask had five tarn ships and a seat in the captains council. A year later his tarnships numbered 27. He had no round ships, for he had no wish to haul the goods of others, each round ship he took was sold with its good as soon as they hit port.
     His power within the city grew, and soon those in power began to worry this young tarnsman would rise to their level and beyond. The killer came at night, as those in black are fond of doing. He was silent, fast, and ruthless. A killer in every way. His eyes blinked repeatedly as he looked into Rasks eyes just a hands width from his own. Rask pulled his quiva from the dead mans throat and watch him fall to the ground. Sniffing the air again Rask looked down at the mans boots and saw the small trace of tarn droppings that had saved his life. It took three days to find out the names of those who had sent the assassin, and in the night that followed a new figure in black roamed within the walls of Port Kar...
     That night four seats opened in the captains council, three of the dead captains found the next morning. The fourth left empty without a word just like one of the tarn perchs. It was a new challenge for Rask, hunting those who would not fight there own battles. He was particular about who he worked for, and who he worked on. Soon he was again rich, and his thoughts were begining to turn once more to the city of his birth, and the family he had left behind. As he begain working his way back to Treve news reached Rask of an attack on his family, an honorless retaliation by the friends of one who fell to his blade...Rask's time dressed in black was at an end.
     Again dressed in a tunic of red Rask began the hunt for those who had killed his family. For months he searched, finding one or two at a time Rask met them each in fair combat and killed them swiftly. Some he took in the air fighting them tarn to tarn. Others he met on the ground where they had little time to be impressed by the speed of Rask's blade before death took them.
    The last five, knowing they were being hunted, banded together and fled, moving fast and lite they left a trail of dead peasants in their wake as the robbed and looted thier across the land. While they moved fast, it was not fast enough...
    Rask took in the scene as his tarn circled high over the small village. He could clearly see the tarns of those he was hunting for in the center of the village. and scattering in almost every direction he could see peasants running for their lives. A few bodies lay motionless on the ground, some who had tried to resist, but most were unarmed and had doubtlessly just been too slow to get away. He watched as they went from one small hut to the next taking food and anything they thought might be of value. They were almost done with their cowardly work as Rask's tarn dropped silently down with the sun behind it. Landing behind the last hut Rask went in through the window and waited. As they neared the door he stepped out into the warm Gorean sun.
    Steel flashed as they met. Rask circled as he fought them, keeping them from all being able to get to him at once. Still as the first one fell blood begin to stain Rask's tunic. Rask's sword countered swiftly as the the best swordsman among them made his attack, two of the others closing on his flanks at the same time. The clash was short and violent, when it was done, Rask's left arm hung at his side, but his quiva rested within the heart of the man on his left, and the one to his right lay bleeding from his neck...he would die soon. Rask looked at the swordman before him, he was unmarked and looked unworried. Rask looked for the fifth man, wonder from where his attack would come. The man, there leader simply stood watching, it seemed he had great faith in the swordsman. Rask relaxed letting himself slump against the wall, he was bleeding and needed to finish this quickly. As he expected the attack came fast when the other saw him faulter, no glory could be found in it should Rask passout before he was killed. It was a simple thrust ment for a clean fast kill. The swordsmans showed suprize as they looked into Rask's. Rask had sprung from the wall and met him half way, there faces now all but touching. Rask saw the relization hit the man, and then watched the fire of life leave his eyes. The swordsman fell as Rask pulled his shortsword free to face the leader.
    It was a hollow, frightening laugh that echoed through the deserted village as Rask saw the leader running from him. Unwilling to risk facing Rask on tarnback man was running on foot into the jungles. Rask tied the cut sleave of his tunic around his left arm to slow the bleeding, then pressed his right hand to the wounds on his chest as he followed the leader. The leader was making no attempt to hide his trail, his plan surely being to wait until lose of blood forced Rask to stop. Rask dropped the shield he wrore slung on his back, and so to his helm. He set pace, his breathing even and gave chase, he would not stop until the leader was dead, this he swore. The leader tired quickly, his fear robbing him of his breath, in less than to Ahn Rask was upon him. It was not much of a battle. One crushing blow from Rask's sword had both knocked the leaders parry wide and ended his life. Rask stood over him and smiled.
     For several Ehn he simply watched as the flys began their feast. Then he heard a sound, and then another. Looking up he saw her, a panther girl. She was taller than most, beautiful with her long dark hair flowing around her, and she carried in her hand of all things a sword. As he watched her girls moved into the open around him, arrows notched and drawn. Rask pulled himself stright again as he made ready to meet them, he may be killed, but he would not be taken, and they would find his death a costly one. He smiled as she signaled her girls to fall back. She would meet him with a blade, it pleased him. He saw hesitation in her eyes as he moved closer to engage. Then she smiled, but not the smile of one going into battle...It was the smile for a lost loved one. And it was a smile he knew. She dropped the sword from her hand as she raised her arms up to Rask. He sheathed his sword and scooped she that he had once rescued and left in Tharna up with his right arm, lifting from the ground as he had years ago from the wagon.
    He was well pleased with the skill used to clean and bind his wounds. He was ammused and flatered by the way this girl he had once saved now guarded the door to the hut in which he slept. The story of how she went from being scribe in Tharna to the leader of panthers impressed him. He had wondered about the girl when Tharna fell, and had hoped she had found Free companionship in the grace period offered. To find her in the jungle was something he would never have dreamed. As he healed other of the girls would come to him in the night, their need burning in their eyes. He made sure each knew well the pleasure of being with a free man. As he got stronger Rask practiced sparing with Telra, and was pleased at with what she had learned on her own with a sword. With his help her skills grew further.
    When Rask was well enough, he again dressed himself in his crimson tunic, he smiled looking at the care Telra had used repairing it. Rask laughed to himself as he flew with her on the large gray tarn she called "Tharna". Her skill with the bird was natural, but in her style he could see his own. She had indeed been learning well when it was he flying her to a city so long ago. Rask smiled and waved as she left him within site of city walls. After entering it's gates he found a vantage point and looked in the direction she had brought him from...he could see her only because he knew where to look as she circled in and out of the sun still watching the city. Rask grinned as he turn away, he was sure he had not seen the last of that one. He watched a girl move past, she was owned by the city and much to his liking...."girl" he called after her "Which way to the tarn cots?"