Twisted Realmz Presents
Destiny�s Child
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction
Chronicled By Wyvern
Chapter One, Part One
Key:
<...>-spoken in another language
'...'-thought
*...*-mentally spoken by the gods
(...)-mentally spoken by the mortals
Author�s Note: [Wyvern appears with large bags under the eyes and red
eyes] Must have sleep.[Wham! Sound of head hitting a hard wooden surface
is heard. This is immediately followed by sounds of snoring.]
Tharnan: Sorry about that. Looks like I will have to finish up the rest
of this author�s note. Just a small warning, and that this section is a
_dozy_ (I actually have _no_ clue how long this is). Also, this chapter
is bound to get a lot of people up in arms. Why? Well, for one
thing.....Nah, I�ll just let you read it for yourself. Just let me move
as far away from our computer as possible. Now where did I put that lead
shield......
Ranma blinked. He looked around and blinked again. He couldn't
understand it. One minute he was ground zero for a pillar of chi that
rivaled Nukes in pure destruction potential, overwhelmed by a pain that
could only be the equivalent of the slow and complete destruction of
ones body atom by atom and only faintly aware that Akane and Ryoga were
also in the chi pillar with him. Then suddenly he was here -wherever
_here_ happened to be- no worse for the wear by his ordeal if but for a
slight disorientation, several questions concerning his whereabouts and
whether or not he was dead, and an inexplicable craving for S.P.A.M (or
spare parts of animal meat). Deciding to tackle the question of his
current status of being, Ranma put the actually considerable
intelligence of his mind -which of course never bothered to appear when
he _really_ needed it- to this task. He was fairly certain that he
_wasn't_ dead, partially because he had not seen his life flash before
his eyes (although if that did ever actually happen, he was fairly
certain it would take more than a few minutes to finish), partially
because he hadn't yet received the supreme knowledge that was supposed
to come after death, but mostly because he had never heard of the
after-life consisting of a flat grey plane with no one on it but
himself. Well, himself, Akane and Ryoga actually, the two of which were
still clinging to his arms, although Ryoga let go as soon as he realized
what exactly he was doing and Akane held it even tighter when she
realized that they weren't exactly in Nerima anymore. In fact, because
Akane was clinging so tightly to his arm, Ranma was convinced that he
was still alive. After all, he rationalized, _everyone_ knew that ghosts
didn't feel pain (conveniently forgetting the entire purpose of hell in
a momentary lapse of memory). Of course the three glowing figures in
front of him didn't exactly help allay his fears any.
Now generally speaking, whenever Ranma actually saw a glowing figure,
it was usually Akane right before she hit him. These figures, however,
seemed to make him think of gods before angry fiances. Well, the tiny
fact that they exuded an almost palatable sense of power that screamed
"I am-a-god-and-you'd-better-believe-it-or-I-will-hurt-you" could have
helped too. However, the sound of bickering that came from two of the
figures greatly lessened the overall effect.
Risking a quick glance at his two companions -he knew from past and
painful experience that arguments with glowing figures generally ended
with a fast and painful conclusion- he noted with relief that they
seemed no worse for the journey other than a few singes and a wild-eyed
expression on Akane's face (Ryoga being far more used to finding himself
in strange places at the blink of the proverbial and fairly large eye
than the other two). Ranma tried to fill them with a quiet confidence
but came across as only slightly reassuring and guilty (he was
desperately hoping that he wasn't the only one craving S.P.A.M). This,
of course, is completely understandable, Ranma being more of the type of
person to inspire a vengeful anger than confidence really. But before
either Ryoga or Akane could give voice to the timeless cries of "Ranma
this is all _your_ fault!" or "Ranma, you jerk!" respectively, a loud
outcry of pain came from one of the three figures.
Now the outcry itself would _probably_ have gotten their attention
(although _I_ personally wouldn't have put any money on this chance,
knowing from close and painful experience just how hard it is to
distract anyone out for blood) but, as it turned out, it wasn't the cry
_itself_ that caught their attention but instead it was the voice that
_made_ the outcry. It sounded _exactly_ like Ranma crying out in
indignation and pain right down to inflection and diction.
Perhaps it would be a good idea at this point to provide you gentle
readers with a more accurate description of where exactly this is taking
place. First, you must imagine a box. Good, now fill it with mist and
nothing else and you have basically where Ranma an Co. were. Now to
further detail this misty box, you have on one side your Nerimites, all
in a row, with Ranma in the middle. On the other side at an
indeterminable distance (distance being a relative idea in misty gray
boxes) you have the three beings sheathed in (to use a cliche) golden
light that left little incandescent images on the inside of ones eyelids
if one stared at them for too long. These golden beings, who call to
mind images of the ancient greek pantheon or perhaps various deities of
the shinto religion (although they have enough of an inflated ego so I
wouldn't tell them), were clustered in a small triangle facing inward,
with the one who sounded like Ranma at the apex and flanked on the left
side by a much smaller figure and a slightly taller and wider figure on
the right.
Now then, after giving you the reader such a (Tharnan: Get on with
it!!!) Right. Anyway. After the Nerimites had heard this strange outcry,
they decided to listen in onto this loud and obviously public argument
(Nooooo. Of course they weren't eavesdropping), their expressions
becoming more and more shocked as they heard these obviously divine
beings arguing in a hauntingly familiar way. But then again, wouldn't
you be shocked too if you heard this coming out of a divine deity?
~~~
SMACK!! The smaller glowing figure retracted her fist from the middle
figure's head.
�Ow! What was that for?� the not-Ranma exclaimed in Ranma's golden
tenor.
�Insulting me.� The smaller figure, who incidently sounded like Akane
with her high mezzo soprano voice, 'hmphed' and glared at the middle
figure.
�Did you have to hit me so hard? That really hurt.�
�Well you deserved it. Imagine, insulting me not ten minutes after
we�ve been together.�
�As-chan," the third being spoke, who sounded exactly like Ryoga's
deep and rich baritone, as he tried (and failed miserably) to calm the
small figure,"I hate to say this but my brother is right, surprising as
it may seem.�
�Hey, I�ve been right about a lot of things before!� not-Ranma
exclaimed indigently.
�Sure bro, just keep telling yourself that. Anyway, he is right that
even after several millenniums, your cooking should still be classified
as a bio-hazard.� This remark was followed by another loud smack.
�Ow! Why�d you hit me? Your _husband_ said it, not me.�
�Sorry instinctive reaction. Besides, I know that your hard head can
take the blows.�
This argument would have soon escalated further had not Ryoga decided
at that moment to sneeze. The three figures turned toward the Nerimites,
argument ended.
"Great job Ryoga! Just attract their attention why don't you?" Ranma
turned on Ryoga, preferring the known instead of the unknown.
"Oh yeah? Well, who's fault is it that we're in this place to _begin_
with?"
"Hey! You can't prove that, P-Chan!"
"And who's P-chan!" The two boys began to power up, auras of flame
surrounding them and would have soon begun a free-for-all fist-fight had
not the glowing figures stopped them.
"I command you to stop in the name of the Light."
Ranma and Ryoga turned and looked at the three glowing figures
incredulously. They were even more pompous that Kuno!
"Who the hell are you?" Ryoga spat out, the adrenaline rushing through
his mind blocking the little voice that warned him of the folly of
insulting large glowing figures. The little voice (a small being called
Self Preservation) was used to such a treatment and moved back to it's
small corner, consoled that it had at least tried.
"I am Raenar," not-Ranma said (although now I suppose we should call
him Raenar). "God of Chaos, son of Time and Destiny. This is my
half-brother...." Raenar gestured toward the other Ryoga.
"Rynar." The other male took over, "God of Travellers, son of Time and
Fate. This is my wife." He gestured toward not-Akane.
She bowed to the three. "I am Asri, Goddess of Fire, daughter of
Nature."
The three Nerimites stared at the glowing figures in astonishment for a
moment, then Ranma broke out laughing. "Nice story, but it wasn't really
necessary. I would have fought you with out it. Now, enough with the
theatrics poses. Lets fight." He moved into a ready position.
Raenar stared at Ranma incredulously. No one had ever doubted him
before, let alone challenged him. He was at a loss for a reply. "Why you
insolent punk! To even think that you could _try_ to defeat me with the
Art. I _created_ the bloody thing! How the hell else do you think I
defeated the Dark! You're at least ten millennium to late to even give
me a challenge!"
"Yeah right. I've heard better speeches out of Kuno. Now look, if you
wanted to challenge me, you could have just sent me a note and not
bothered with all these cheap theatrics. And why the three of us? I mean
I can understand Ryoga, but Akane? She has all the skill of a brick. If
you must face a girl, you should have brought along Ukyo or Shampoo,
instead of this uncute tomboy."
Raenar looked at the glowing figure of Asri and his light wavered ever
so slightly. "Look, just to save you some pain, let me tell you right
now that Akane could destroy both you and I easily and still have enough
energy to level all of America, bake a batch of noxious cookies and
force feed them to our remains. So just tell me what proof you need from
me in order to prove that I'm a God." He winced as Asri backhanded him
with a sledge hammer. Ranma noticed Akane's angry face wisely stepped
out of the way as she too slugged the glowing form.
Ranma looked considering at the column of light. Well, he would have
looked at it if it hadn't been so bleeding bright. "Alright, to start
with get rid of that light. I like to be able to see who I'm fighting."
Raenar looked at him a little in mild shock. He had no idea that he was
even glowing to begin with. "Easy enough. A first year magling could do
this." The light seemed to be sucked into the figure, until the blazing
light became a less brilliant aura, and the god's face and body soon
appeared. This was soon followed by the other two. And what did the
three prominent....Um, the two prominent and one not-quite-as-good
martial artists of Nerima....No.....The one prominent and not
quite-as-good martial artists of Nerima and the equally noteworthy
martial artist, if not quite from Nerima, do? Why they fainted. Well
hey, what else would you do if you were faced with what they saw. The
three gods stared at the Nerimites in shock. Raenar turned to his
companions.
"What? Was it something I did?"
~~~
Perhaps now would be a good time (seeing as how the main characters
have decided to take a little nap) to give you gentle and patient
readers an idea of what Raenar and his friends look like so that you may
better understand our hero's and heroine's reactions. Not surprisingly,
the gods' features to their three visitors were not only, uh, voice
deep.
Raenar's similarity was almost perfect in all details. He could have
easily passed for Ranma's twin, right down to the gross ignorance that
was so often worn by Ranma, if not for the fact that he was missing his
left eye and the outlandish quality of his garb. A large black patch
covered the missing eye, red and silver thread twining together in a
complex pattern that defied order and nature. To look to long into the
depths of it was to lose one's sanity. Gleaming in his right ear was the
golden glint of an earring. Upon the golden stud was the shape of a
dragon, that snaked and soared through the air against the sun. Each
perfect scale was edged with fire and water, earth and sky and shone
with spirit; it had eyes that gleamed blue and silver and five regal
claws tipped with blood-red rubies were outstretched to wreck havoc on
its opponents.
Raenar wore a simple shirt and pair of pants of chinese like origin,
yet by looking at them it was obvious that these clothes were not of
this earth. Both were silken in touch, yet stronger than the hardest
metal; no mortal weapon could pierce the fabric. The dark red tails of
the shirt (a color similar to the first dawn), hung over the top of the
deep black pants and the sleeves flowed from the similarly colored
vest's arm holes; to look at his clothes would call to mind memories of
the First Day in even the most vehement atheist. Both the vest and pants
were chased in red and silver about the edges inthe same disorienting
pattern of the eye-patch. A simple belt made of a blue so light it was
almost gray completed the picture of a dawning day. Soft slippers
encased his feet; soft though these slippers were, they could stand up
easily to the heat of earth's molten core. A pair of black leather
gloves encased large but delicate hands, the form of a sleek, stalking
cat picked out in gray thread upon the cuffs.
Oddly enough, these clothes were not the strangest thing about him. His
sky-gray eye sparkled in with a strange mischief that was never seen on
Ranma. Intelligence, cunning and yes, even a little bit of wisdom, a
thing that would have undoubtedly shocked Nabiki to her yen loving core,
were evident there too. However, something that would have shocked
Nabiki even more is she was there to see it was the pupil. Not rounded
like a dog's or human's eye, the pupil was a claw shaped blackness
amongst the pale iris. This coupled with his dusky golden and scale
covered skin, the claws that ended his finger tips (and ruined a
perfectly good pair of thieving gloves in the process), and feet that
looked more at home on a dragon than any lowly warm-blood had many
people looking for a forked tongue and reptilian wings. Only one thing
spoiled this reptilian image and that was the monkey tail waving in the
air from his tail bone. This comical add on, however did nothing to
disturb Raenar's elegant and rakish image of a deadly fighter. At least,
that was what he wanted to project. Personally, he seemed more like the
battle scarred, if handsome, warrior with an ego the size of Texas. But,
seeing as how he _was_ a powerful god and thus deserved _some_ amount of
respect (although I believe that no one ever told Asri _that_ particular
piece of information), and those deadly scimitars did hang from his
sides with a ominous familiarity that promised painful death for any who
mocked his tail, many of those who would criticize Raenar's appearance
had conveniently left his immediate area.
Rynar too was as strange in appearance as his brother, although not in
quite such a dramatic way. He was in full possession of _both_ his eyes;
no long claws adorned his hands; and yes, there wasn't a monkey tail
waving in the air behind him. No, Rynar's difference was a bit more
subtle. His eyes too, were not quite human, with pupils the size of
small stones and brown irises that blocked the white of his eyes. His
face was shaped suspiciously like that of a wolf (a motif that was very
much in evidence in all of his possessions) and this resemblance was
boosted by his overly large and fairly prominent canines.
However, he did not go for the more flamboyant appearance of his
half-brother. Long and loud had he lamented their relationship to each
other (although he was secretly very fond of his brother, though you'll
never catch _him_ saying so) especially when it came to clothing.
Dressed almost exactly like his contemporary, Ryoga, right down to the
dust and food stains on his favorite shirt and the impossible number of
tiger stripped bandannas on his head, Rynar's only deviation of clothing
was the rather strange hooded cloak wore over his regular clothes. When
not used, this cloak rested on top of the heavy bamboo umbrella (a
custom made job by the god of strange weaponry, a minor god of little
importance) and seemed discordant with the rest of the dust stained
apparel. It was in pristine condition, despite the fact that it was as
old as Rynar himself (and believe me on this, that was _old_). The back
ground of the cloak was pristine white, not the most suitable color for
travel, but the pattern embroidered upon it with threads the color of
all of Nature's creations, was of such a nature that even if the cloak
had been the color of puke it still would have fetched at least ten
million American dollars. The pattern was that of Life itself; the life
of wind blown trees, small kits, gentle brooks and barren rocks; the
life inherent in ever thing whether it had a pulse or not.
Strapped securely to his side was a huge war axe; gingerly indeed did
Rynar carry this weapon of death, for he had learned early on that the
metal spike top was not just for show. He still bore the scars upon his
elbow of those many times when he had accidently rested his arm atop it.
The curved, blade was notched with the scars of many battles. At least,
that is what Rynar would tell you, too ashamed to mention that most of
those nicks were used to count the enemies he had slain before he
realized the futility of it all. Written in the harder-than-steel metal,
was the name 'Demonbane', a title that came not lightly, although it was
coveted by many a hot-headed warrior. Usually those warriors faced Rynar
in a duel, hoping to defeat the current holder of the title and take it
for themselves. They soon learned the folly of their actions around the
fifth time their head slammed into the ground. And this was _without_
the use of the mighty axe. The axe seemed to thirst for blood, from the
honed tip of the blade to the spike that was the balance. When Rynar
used the huge metal weapon, he seemed to use it in such a way that
suggested that this was all just a civilized way of ripping one's
enimies throats out. A small compass hung forlornly down his neck; a
useless gesture this, as Rynar had no more ability to use a compass as
he did to prevent a nose bleed every time he saw his wife undress.
Rynar was almost completely devoid of any type of jewelry, save for a
small brooch of gold that was shaped in the likeness of a wolf and an
armband of a red-gold metal that was twined about his arm in the shape
of a tiger. The wolf on the brooch was every bit as formidable as the
dragon on Raenar's ear. Embossed in a smoke colored metal, the beast was
arrested in mid-stride facing forward; onyx eyes looked fiercely out of
a white face. It was beautiful, this golden brooch; beautiful and
expertly made, worth at least a king's ransom. It clashed horribly with
Rynar's clothing.
The tiger armband was much more in sync with the rest of Rynar's
clothing (although, that still isn't saying a whole lot) and was just as
expertly made. However, instead of the bloodthirsty image of war that
the wolf presented, the tiger curled about Rynar's forearm in a
comforting and intimate manner. While the wolf cried for blood, the
tiger cried for love. Written along the length of it, in runes that were
filled with the dust of a thousand rubies, were the marriage vows that
the two had exchanged. They spoke of an everlasting bond of love betwixt
Rynar and his destined wife, Asri. And so, even after Asri beat his head
in with her hammer, when she poisoned him with her cooking, when she
caused him more grief and sorrow than he had ever known every time she
stepped onto the field of battle with him and Raenar, he would glance
down at the tiger on his arm and sigh before squaring his shoulders and
going off to face anther of her toxic meals. That, my friends, is true
love. Or the ultimate in masochism. But you never heard _me_ saying such
things.
The most noticeable thing about Asri, other than the fact that she was
the most elegant person in the room, was the almost laughably large war
hammer that was strapped across her back. Laughable up to the point
until she hit you with it, that is. At that point, many people found
that it hard to laugh. Or think. She used the mighty hammer with an
astonishing dexterity and both Light and Dark alike had learned to fear
the sight of her bearing down upon them with it in tow. However, this
fear did not seem to be instilled in Raenar, and he oft felt the painful
kiss of it's heavy head. Or, when she was feeling extremely pissed, the
spike that adorned the back. Spelled by a most powerful magic, the
hammer would always return to Asri when she willed it, no matter where
she was, much to Raenar's great disappointment.
She was garbed in fire. No, not like _that_ you perverts! I just mean
that her clothing looked exactly like fire. Jeez, get your minds out of
the gutter. Anyway, she was garbed to fight and she moved with far more
grace and with more of a bearing of a practicer of the Art than Akane
could ever hope to have. Although just to be fair, I suppose I should
tell you that she _did_ have far more years of practice than Akane ever
did (about a thousand, but if you ask her she will swear that she's not
a day over fifteen hundred) and she did grow up in the household of War.
A master of many weapons (hey, how else is a girl supposed to defend
herself against some one like Ranma, only worse?) her bright, unblinking
eyes likened one to the imagery of a large bird of prey. Something that
was further enhanced by, well, I guess we couldn't call it grace, per
se, but it was a movement of some type and it wasn't all _that_ clutzy.
A pair of phoenix earrings dangled from her ears (no, Wyvern, they
dangled from some _other_ place. That's why they are called earrings)
and they seemed to capture the true essence of a phoenix reborn. They
were encrusted with more precious jewels and strange gems than the crown
jewels; by all rights they should have been far to heavy for her ears to
bear. But then again, one does not question a god's bending of reality;
such questioning can usually lead to death, suffering, or, horror of
horrors, a force feeding of Asri's latest experimentations. Those that
survived such treatment were usually committed to a mental institution.
The twin to Ryoga's bracelet twined about her own wrist and, unlike
Rynar's, actually went well with her clothing, proving once more that
females have _far_ better fashion taste than males. Her short cropped
hair easily fit underneath a helmet, for she did not have as hard a head
as the two males who shared her company. _She_ knew the value of brain
cells and never did anything that involved her head hitting a hard
object with great force.
But I can see the impatience (or is that perhaps a blood thirsty
gleam?) in your eyes to get on with the story, and so I shall.
Author's End Notes: Yes, I know, nothing's happening. But trust me,
things will start to speed up in chapter two. Right now, I'm providing
an explanation about certain things so that you won't be totally
confused later on and part two is in the process of being finished (ha,
ha, where have we heard _that_ one before?). C&C greatly appreciated if
you manage to get this far. By the way, all unfamiliar names/terms are
in a glossary. Sigh, I told myself that I wouldn't do this. I did,
reaally. Oh, well, c'est la vie.
______________________________________________________
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