Lightning tore across the night sky burning the scene into their 
retinas once again.  The clearing.  The alter.  The horrible book.  There 
were things no man was meant to know, and most of them were in that book.  
The sorcerer was supposed to be coming to do some sort of ritual.  
Sodoke the village elder had told them he was going to conjure a terrible 
demon.  He told them that he could use this demon to terrorize the 
village.  Most importantly he told them who could stop him.

   Henkoji was a coward.  He was really happy about his success in his 
chosen field, cowardice.  He had gone to great lengths to stay away from 
conflict of any type.  He had become a priest for the sole purpose of 
not being near conflict.  He had carefully not risen to any rank.  He 
frequently made vows of silence, usually right before feuds broke out or 
his opinion might be asked.  So he had been careful and had managed to 
perfect mediocrity, until now.  The stinking monastery had sent him with 
these mad men.  <oh yes brother Henkoji is one of our best priests>  Now 
he was expected to trap not only this evil sorcerer but what ever demon 
he was conjuring as well.  He had arranged the stones as all the texts 
recommended.  Now all that was left was for him to energize them and trap 
the sorcerer.  Now he and twenty men from the village were hiding in the 
bushes and waiting.

                           ************

   His name was Valenja Tosono.  He had sent all his life learning the 
black art.  He had learned the secrets of youth, life and death, but most 
importantly he had learned the secrets of conjuring.  All the villagers 
feared him.  And for good reasons.  His life had changed when he had 
bought the book, its cover twisted with age old evil.  Children had 
disappeared.  Women had been found mutilated.  And crops withered and 
died.  Now he was ready.
   The legends spoke of a god of gods.  That was all they really said.  
But with careful planning and work he had found more.  With the proper 
rituals and sacrifices he had been able to contact those who were 
revered as gods.  And they who were at once terrible and beautiful to 
behold, told him of their master.  An ancient being from before time, 
more powerful than all the gods together.  A being of immense power, 
and evil.  They told him that he had created worlds, just to watch them 
die.  This was the being he sought.
   Tonight, with his most recent victim he would call the great one back 
to the world, and together they would help the world die.  The child 
kicked fitfully in its sleep.  He smiled, soon child, soon.

                           ************

   Something moved in the darkness, and the men as a whole held their 
breath.  Was it the sorcerer?  The next lightning strike revealed a new 
scene to them.  The sorcerer standing before the alter, holding the 
book.  On the alter was a naked infant, its feet bound by cord.  It was 
impossible to tell for sure because the sorcerer's blood red robes 
obscured the view, but it seemed that the infant was asleep.

   Someone prodded Henjoki in the ribs.  He was transfixed by the sight.  
This was bad.  Not just normal evil-sorcerer-summoning-up-horrible- 
monsters-from-some-hideous-book-of-demon-spells bad, but the kind of bad 
that comes from summoning things that can only be aroused by the 
slaughter of an innocent.  The kind of things that are normally locked 
away with the most powerful spells of the ancient ancestors.  Henjoki 
shivered.  We're dead.
   "now priest.  before he can flee," someone whispered.
   Henjoki looked at the alter, barely able to make it out in the gloom, 
"he will not flee.  should I wait for his demon, or shall we be done with 
it now"
   There was a pause, and in that thin gap of time there was the sound of 
something being cut.  Something organic.  Something that wouldn't be able 
to live without its heart attached.  Then the abhorrent lightning 
shattered the protective darkness to reveal a sight that would leave many 
of those present mad for life.  There upon the alter the sorcerer had cut 
the child's skull open.  Its brain was clearly exposed.  The child 
continued to move as if it knew nothing of what was going on.  Then as 
the scene began to fade from their vision there was a terrible sucking 
sound as of something wet being pulled from its container, and the child 
cried out.  Its cry cut short, as if a hand were clamped over its mouth.
   There was a low moan from those assembled, and then the sounds of 
retching.  Henjoki felt something warm and wet splash against his 
ankle.  Then he saw it.  The figure hanging in the air above the alter.  
It had a human shape, but in the darkness he could make out no more.  
Some intuition or deep long forgotten knowledge told him something was not 
right.  No one could conjure forth a demon that quickly.  Then, as if by 
some act of heaven, Henjoki stood up.  His brain did a back flip.  What 
am I doing.  No one is going to force me to do this!  They're all busy 
retching!  I could run away!  I . . .
   The words came to his lips unbidden as he walked toward the sorcerer, 
"P'anghn F'hen C'quelhu Hn'tanh"

                           ************

   The demon had appeared not even half way into the ceremony.  It was 
nothing like he had expected.  From what he could make out of its 
floating form, it appeared to be a human, dressed in black.  Black boots, 
black pants, black coat, black shirt.  Many years later the style of 
dress would have been recognized as a military uniform.  Then from behind 
him he heard a voice.  It was reciting words to a ritual that he knew 
well.  It was a ritual of binding.  He spun around.
   The voice belonged to a priest.  Valenja smiled, binding rituals don't 
work on the living.  No, this priest was about to find himself a sacrifice 
to the demon.
   "Actually," began a voice like a sandpaper toothbrush, "with proper 
care anything may be bound.  Its all in the skill."
   Valenja snapped back around.  The lightning picked up its tempo, 
giving the entire scene a stroboscopic air.  In the strobing light he 
could see the demon clearly.  Its skin was black as midnight, and 
possibly scaly.  Its clothing was indeed black, it seemed to be a type 
of symbol of rank.  Attached to the coat were several tiny silver 
inch long bars piercing tiny silver skulls.  The demon had small inch long 
horns protruding from each temple.  Its hair was cut in a crew cut.  As it 
spoke he could see its "teeth" were little more than jagged ridges of bone.  
Its eyes, they were the worst part.  Those eyes were the kind of eyes that 
look at your soul, and no matter who you may be, you can be sure that 
they will never, ever look pleased.

                           ************

   "F'htaghn!  G'hohnwa P'gwen J'he," finished Henjoki.  The lightning 
seemed to snap to the arranged stones.  Electrical arcs leaped across the 
clearing, and as they increased in intensity, everything seemed to fade 
to white.

                           ************

                         The King of Pain
                               By  
                         Matthew Trotter

                           ************

   They were shaking him awake, "Great priest, you have done it!  You 
have saved the village and imprisoned the demon sorcerer!"
   Henjoki looked around, things seemed much the same, except that the 
demon and sorcerer were gone, and in their place was a rock about the 
size of a head.  It was smooth as though it were a river rock.  Upon 
closer examination it appeared to be speckled, but no.  Those specks were 
tiny runes of warding.  Incredibly, the deed was done.
   Suddenly something felt wrong.  He heard the collective gasp of the 
villagers.
   "I would put that somewhere very safe were I you," said a voice that 
reminded him of chewing sand.
   He heard the villagers scream and saw them running in all directions.  
Slowly Henjoki turned around.  The demon was there, just as before.  
Floating inches above the ground.  Too late to run he thought.
   "You needn't run from me.  I think you will find a cave over that 
way.  It should keep the G'adjif safe for a few thousand years."
   Henjoki couldn't move, the demon was telling him were to hide the 
prison, but why?  How had he escaped?
   "Henjoki, there are things men should never know.  I did not escape.  
I do not need to.  Time is not the liner path that you see it as, it is 
a plane in which your life is a path.  Hide the stone Henjoki, and return 
to your monastery, you are a hero."
   Henjoki watched the demon fade from sight.  The cave was where the 
demon told him.  Henjoki considered returning as a hero.  There would be 
feasting, speeches, commendations . . . and the next time there was 
trouble he'd be the first one they sent . . .

   Henjoki was never seen again.  The villagers mourned the passing of 
their savior and great hero.

                           ************

                Parts of this story were inspired 
                 by "Doomed Megalopolis", most other 
                 parts were inspired be Rumiko Takashi.  
                 Everything else is inspired by dementia 
                 and Terry Pratchett.

                           ************

   "Demon!  Why have you betrayed me!"
   "Betrayed you?  No, you have betrayed yourself.  Only a fool seeks 
power by destroying the world."
   "Then what are your goals?!  What have you achieved by letting yourself 
be captured with me?!"
   "My goals are pain.  Haven't you noticed the pain the world is in?  
All the suffering, all the misery, why would I seek to end that?"
   "But now demon, you are locked away from it all.  Because you could 
not simply tell me of your desires!  You are the fool."
   "I see.  And you believe there is no one here to suffer for me?"
   "If there is I shall oppose you!  No one will suffer for you while I'm 
here, demon."
   "My name is Jack.  And I have but one last question for you.  Who is 
going to stop your suffering," saying this the demon Jack faded from sight.
   Valenja looked around.  There was nothing but darkness.  Well that was 
a start, he was quite fond of darkness.  Still, he would have to learn 
the ways of light if he was to oppose this demon named Jack.  Heh, what 
kind of name was Jack.  No proper demon would be named Jack.  Demon 
names were twisted multisylibic constructs that felt like trying to 
pronounce the entire Latin dictionary all at once.
   A voice somewhere deep inside his skull replied, <Jack Death>
   There was something about that simple name, about the way it was 
said.  It seemed worse than all he other conglomerate names of demons that he 
knew.  Something about the name, Jack Death, said, "Try to be impressed, the 
others try so hard."  The thought of other demons trying to live up to someone 
made Valenja shiver.
   The horizon brightened, then slowly, the sun rose.  Its golden light 
spilling over the barren sandy waste like syrup.  Valenja shifted, 
something was not right.  This is a prison.  It contains an infinite void 
of nothing.  That was the point.  Anyone trapped there  for long would go 
mad and destroy themselves.  It wasn't supposed to have a desert in it.
   <I've created worlds to watch them die, remember?>

                           ************

   "Ranma!  Come back here and die like a man!"
   "Give me a break Ryoga," said Ranma dodging another flurry of attacks,
"your too slow to beat me."
   "How dare you insult me!  I'm here to kill you NOT beat you!"
   Akane put her chin on her fist.  It had happened ever day this week.  
Every day Ranma and Ryoga got in a fight.  At the dojo.  Every day Ranma 
beat Ryoga.  And the next day Ryoga was back, yelling for blood.  She 
sighed.  What had Ranma done this time.  Honestly, the boy couldn't stay 
out of trouble.  He probably stole Ryoga's girl friend.  That sounds like 
something Ranma would do.  And with all the other girls he had fawning 
all over him.  It made her mad.  Why did she have to be engaged to this 
womanizing jerk.  He could at least have the common decency to flirt with 
them behind her back, but no . . . .

   Ranma blocked another punch, this was pathetic.  What was Ryoga mad 
about now?  It was always hard to tell.  Ryoga could be mad about 
anything.  Ranma believed that Ryoga probably wanted to beat up Santa 
Claus for not getting him the right gift one year.  Duck, block, block, 
punch, punch, duck, leg sweep.  What ever he'd done, Ryoga was sure mad as 
hell about it.

   Nabiki looked up from the homework she was trying to study.  Ranma and 
Ryoga were still at it.  Normally this was a welcomed diversion, but this 
was the fourth time this week.  There were diversions and then there were 
threats to her grades.  Ranma and Ryoga had just elevated themselves to 
the threat level.  There had to be something she could do to break this 
up . . . hmmm, maybe a nice bucket of cold water?
   "oh my, Akane, do you feel all right?"
   "I'm fine Kasumi," growled Akane.
   Or maybe a red hot Akane, "You know, Akane, I think those two like 
fighting in front of you."
   Akane looked at Nabiki, "What is that supposed to mean?"
   "You know, showing off how mocho they are.  Its supposed to impress the 
girls."
   "Oh, that's really sweet, Ranma's fighting for Akane," crooned Kasumi.
   "What!  That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life!"
   "Now, now, Akane.  Ranma is your fiancee," if there was one thing you 
could count on to get Akane really mad it was reminding her that Ranma was 
her fiancee.

   Ryoga ducked another kick.  Damn it, how did he get so fast?  Block, 
block, kick, punch, charge.  It didn't matter, he would have his 
revenge!  How could Ranma do that to him?!  Turning him to a pig and then 
throwing him in HER yard.  Ryoga shivered.  It was horrible.  Even now 
the voice haunted him.  <Oh Charlotte you've come back!>  Ranma would pay!

   Oh boy what a find, what a find.  He had been drooling over the picture 
for about a week now and it was still his favorite.  It had been sitting 
there on Nabiki's desk for the taking.  There were other pictures in the 
black book, but he had better pictures than that in his room.  But this 
one!  This was a masterpiece!  His two favorite sweeties caught in an 
embrace!  It was a picture that was worth a thousand panties!  Maybe even 
a hundred thousand!  Then again, this was kind of shaky ground.  A 
thousand panties was one thing, but a hundred thousand, that was nearly 
half his collection.  Giving up all those panties for one picture would 
be a big risk, what if you lost it or the wind . . . 

   From up on the roof he heard a cry of anguish.  Ranma dodged another 
series on punch kick combinations.  It was definitely the old pervert, he 
was chasing a scrap of paper around the roof.  Duck, block, punch, kick.  
What was it his nightly route of people to harass?
   "Ranma!  Pay attention while I kill you idiot!"
   "Aw come on Ryoga, I gotta find something to keep me awake.  I could 
fight you in my sleep."
   "Shut up and DIE!"

   Damn wind.  Where had it come from?  Happosi stalked closer to the 
picture.  It was resting gently on the roof a couple of inches away.  
Now, thought Happosi, there is no where for you to run my pretty.  He 
leaped.  The wind whipped it away, over the edge.  The wind is a cat, and 
it likes to play with its prey.

   Ranma knocked aside another of Ryoga's punches, this is getting boring ...
   Just then the scrap of paper floated between them.  It was like 
something alive, you could almost picture it with a wingspan, gliding 
like an eagle.  They turned as one and watched it float over the wall.  
They looked at each other briefly.  It was the quick kind of look that 
said, "Don't ask me."
   "You know you two have been fighting for hours," began Akane sweetly.
   "Uh," Ranma knew something bad was going to happen.  Akane never 
sounded sweet unless she had cooked something that she wanted to poison 
him with.
   "Its Ranma's fault, you see," Ryoga didn't know the early warning 
signs, he just thought Akane was being considerate.
   "so QUIT IT!!!!!"
   Ranma was caught off guard by the punch, lost in his desperation to 
think somewhere to hide from Akane's cooking.  As he lost his balance 
Ranma noticed the pond out of the corner of his eye.  Figures.

   Ryoga watched the sky go by as he fell, he didn't understand it.  
Akane was normally really nice to him, why would she punch him.  This was 
Ranma's fault.  Another thought occurred to him, I'm falling into the 
pond.  In front of Akane.  I'm going to die.  POW!  Someone punched him 
in the back of the head.  It was a good punch, it countered his backward 
motion.  Ryoga regained his balance.