Wails intermixed with the cries of pain pierced
through the night of the New York County Hospital. That night a
fierce storm had blown through the city tossing winters chill
into the air. Dubbed with the name Padishar Motox Vatuga Jr., in
rememberence of her lost love, he grew with his mothers care.
Shannon, a woman of resounding beauty with fierce blue eyes and
flowing flaxen hair. Like his mother, he had the same icy cold
glare, his hair a vicious midnight, long and flowing. "You
are to never cut it." she would oft say to him, not more
than she would mutter to
his pocket and sobbed himself
to sleep, only to awaken still at night, but no where in sight of
his mothers tombstone. Crystal eyes lifted he gawked at what he
saw, obviously thinking he has finally gone nuts seeing three
spheres within the sky. He roamed the land, searching for what he
did not know. He travels were almost cut short when he came face
to chest with a Kur. Fearing the great beast it instantly pounced
only to miss with Bryces surprising speed. The battle was soon
ended after a dagger was plundged into the beasts heart and the
hero coming away with five face length scars from forehead to
chin. Glancing over to the cooling body, a smirk upon his
bleeding face, he spat upon the thing and
uttered..."Thundercats.. Thundercats.. 
Thundercats.. ho.. bitch..". Turning he limped
into the forests. His time within he found an abandoned cabin,
within its door a almost new looking hawk-hatchet, which became
his most prized weapon. A day had came, as he gazed upon the
picture his mother gave him and the Priest Kings were kind enough
to let him keep, when he desided that he must find his father.
During his journey he encountered fierce animals, most oft the
larl, till he finally made it to the city. There he learned the
language, intermixing it with his Earthern accent to produce an
odd combination of speech. Within many taverns he would pull out
the 
picture and look to each only to walk away in
disappointment. One glorious day he found one who new of the man
within the photo, a once slave Free Woman. He was lead to his
father, simply awed for the fact he thought what his mother told
him was a fairy tale. There within blue and yellow stood his
father. He approached, his throat dry barely whispering, asking
if he knew of one called Motox for he was his father. He was
looked upon as insane as this one named Dypani, 
whom he knew had to be his father, called him simply
a loon. He and the man were drug off to a secluded area to try to
talk sense into the Slaver. Harsh words wer spoken.. threats..
then nothing for a long period before the mans words took Bryce
abashed. "You are *not my son, never will be.." Hands
passed when people entered and left his life. The ones that did
say were his girls.. domi, his succulent slave.. tanjee who
begged with all her heart and soul to be his.. and hellga his
rather buxom beauty.. each marked with his brand of three crossed
quivae, his initials, after taking of part of his former name,
BMV. Having left the lands of Ar for a time a return has been
made to be taken again within the hold of the Black, and finding
that his "father" is the Second Chair of his beloved
Caste. After a fight with him that nearly ended his life he
slipped into a darkness of its own, to roam about. A Killer with
an alternative life of equal, if not brutal, malice that he oft
deems as Rene. This disease is within the blood, perhaps.. only
those of the Vatuga know.....
