Chapter 1

Ricky sat high on a branch of his beernut tree, which was at the centre of the Dragon Mountain crossroads.

Ricky was a bit of an enigma. Glancing at him, you could easily be fooled into believing he was a lad in his mid-teens, not the man of a hundred and fifty years that he was. A keen-eyed or a gifted person could pick out that Ricky’s build, while slim looking, was surprisingly well muscled.

Most, with a little help, only saw a skinny kid who needed a feed, just as he wanted them to. Ricky’s large pale purple eyes, with strange golden flecks, were well practised at making him appear to be wretched and abandoned. Few got to see the crafty glint that they frequently held.

He barely scraped in at 140cm (4’ 7”) in height. He was just above average, for a man of the Pix race that he resembled. Mind you, very few people in the Tear Islands were taller than 170cm and most averaged around 145cm.

Ricky’s thick mane of shiny, silver hair fell over his eyes, and it was kept in a rough, below the shoulders-length cut with the help of his favourite skinning knife. The sole item of clothing that he currently wore was a pair of tatty pants.

They were barely held aloft by a thin, equally ratty-looking rope. The frayed legs of the pants didn’t extend far past his knees even though the crotch hung nearly halfway there.

To be honest, if he didn’t have such a large cock when flaccid, the baggy pants would have been hard-pressed to stay up at all, they were tied so poorly. The white pants were so thin with age and hung so low on his hips that if he had a hair on his crotch or anywhere else on his lower body, you would have been able to see it.

Ricky was an equal opportunist. He preyed on all travellers, neither gender, race, nor age above consent, were discriminated against. His one major abhorrence was the sexual abuse of children that had not met mature sexual status for their race. It didn’t stop him extracting recompense from them to camp under his tree or on his plateau if he decided to, but he never sexually abuse them.

On the occasions that he felt like socialising, he would appear at the campfire for the evening and be long gone (back in his bed inside the tree) by morning. Most travellers who camped under Ricky’s tree or at the crossing, never even knew of his existence.

If he was in the mood for a bit of tension release, he was very practised at sniffing out if his prey was of an age and willingness that he could exploit. More than one traveller had left the campsite under his tree with the oddest erotic dreams, damp crotch and a broad smile on their face.

The majority never determined if the dreams were real or not and didn’t care. Those who did care often blamed others for any soreness they felt or any secretions around their nether regions that they found in the morning. Those that left feeling the sorest were those that chose to abuse him because of what they thought he was.

Most of those type of people also had the worst nightmares for many months and even years afterwards. Ricky did so like leaving them that little gift. If Ricky could turn the tables on an abuser, then all the better as far as he was concerned.

He did snicker about the abuser always ending up with a case of crotch-biters even though he didn’t have them, himself. It did amaze him how many people had such little regard for bodily cleanliness.

Now some belligerent people may consider that Ricky was a thief and a rapist. However, the entity, or spirit if you prefer, that was attached to his first magical item and had claimed the others, had never condemned his actions.

Ricky never took from another what they could not afford him to take. In fact, many people were not even aware that he had taken anything from them.

As for the sex, Ricky preferred to be asked first, or he offered his services. He was also very apt at reading peoples surface thoughts, and he was easily able to determine who with a tiny bit of persuasion if required, were more than happy to let him sate himself upon them.

Over the years he had determined that most, particularly males who practised perverted pleasures, didn’t need any persuasion at all. Admittedly some, particularly ladies, didn’t remember the exchange of permissions that well and some did get a bit more than they bargained for.

However, as far as Ricky was concerned, he simply took what was offered freely or even better, they were happy to pay for his time.

Ricky was a mage of some considerable reputation.

Over his lifetime, Ricky had made infrequent, but often notable visits to the six major cities and the six dales that were on Zeta Island. His escapades, mostly when a youth meant that many people knew legends about him by one name or another.

Yet few people would recognise him if he walked up to them. Even less knew where he truly lived. He was a master of disguise and knew his mage craft well.

Ricky wore a four-gemmed medallion that he had found when he but eighteen years of age. He smiled as he membered the incident.

“Dad, we’re are lost,” he had whined.

“Son, I’m an Earth novice, I never get lost,” Seth had replied indignantly.

“Yeah right,” he had muttered as they stopped to observe another tumble of rocks.

“Damn, this way lead to the small crystal cavern the dragons showed me. We must have had a cave-in,” Seth grumbled.

“How about we take that last fork, that tunnel looked like it was more man-made,” he suggested to his father. This time Seth had grumbled but agreed, so they turned back, and he had led the little expedition. Ricky frowned as he remembered the odd feeling that he’d had as if he was being led rather being the leader. At each junction they marked the way they came and when they turned.

When he had come to the wall, he had just stood their and looked at it. “What’s up Richard?” his father had asked.

“I think we have to go that way,” he had replied.

His father has stepped up to the wall and put his hands on it. “Ah, a secret door. The spells are very weak, I’ll try that spell that shows what can’t be seen,” he had said.

Ricky remembered tripping on a rock to get out of his father’s way and fell against the wall as his father said the spell. He had stumbled over his own feet as he fell through and ended up landing on his side in a cloud of dust.

He remembered that his ribs had ached for a few days afterwards, but it had been worth it. The trill of what they found still tickled him as he loved a good adventure.

They had located several tunnels that led from the cavern, some of them had rooms attached to them. Most of the rooms were empty, and some had even caved in. Even so, they got lucky as one room still had a door that was charmed. His father was able to break the spells on this door too, and it opened for them.