***Hello again!***

Before I go any further, I just want to clarify.  This is *not* Chapter 
Two of It's a Kind of Magic: Dark Powers Saga.

Rather, this is a short piece I threw together to help explain how magic 
from Magic: The Gathering works in the "real" (or at least Ranma) 
universe.  So consider this a.... Chapter 1.5, if you will.  A prequel to 
Chapter 2, okay?  A kind of Easter/Passover/whatever-religious-festival-
you-choose present.

Now, first off, I would like to thank two people, who helped me write this 
'fic (and probably contributed more to its completion than myself), my 
two pre-readers:


Jed Hagen (who I swear is secretly my old English teacher)

and

The Apprentice (who actually puts up with me sending him this stuff)


Both deserve the lion's share of the credit here.


This posting has three parts.

The first is the *actual* Chapter 1.5 of It's A Kind of Magic: Dark 
Powers Saga.  It reveals several clues and a few secrets that people 
have been asking me.

The second part is a document on magic, for those who want a more 
scholarly view on the subject of magic.  Please read the note from the 
author before you continue.

And the third part is a little omake theater.  Please understand that my 
sense of humor can be seen as... odd.  This was originally only for pre-
readers, but I decided to toss it in for the FFML post.


I would also like to thank Andrew Huang, author of Evanjellydonut, for 
letting me use an element of his story in my 'fic.

I would also like to shamefully admit that the ^_- faces I have been 
using are an idea I got from Ill Met by Starlight.  They say imitation is 
the sincerest form of flattery, so please don't be mad, okay?  Susan?  
Mike?


For those curious, I am *still* working on Chapter Two.  It is, 
unfortunately, probably going to be quite long.  I also am (on and off), 
working on Part 7d of Night Sabers.  Plus, I am sketching down other 
ideas, or rewriting old stories.


This story is also rated with a [Lime] tag.  That means some racy, but 
not blatantly hentai, material.


At any rate, here we go:


It's A Kind of Magic
Dark Powers Saga
Written by Me (aka Curtiss Nelson)


Chapter 1.5

"More Fuel for the Fire"



	Mousse sat, looking somewhat puzzled at the object on the 
ground, in the center of the small patch of charred terrain.  It remained 
there, innocent seeming among the wisps of smoke slowly arising from 
blackened cement, like a flower pushing up through blasted earth.  
There were still a few sparks and motes of fire dancing about like 
windblown poppy seeds, their feeble illumination being swallowed by 
the darkness of encroaching evening and crushed by the harsh, arctic 
light brought forth by the arcane explanation of technology.  By 
Mousse's vision, afforded by Urza's glasses, mana faded to the usual 
background amount, the last remnants of the spell he had tried to cast 
unraveling as flimsy yarn does in the hands of children and the claws of 
cats.  Soon enough, all that remained was the small object.
	Mousse was quite confused, not expecting this result in the 
slightest.  He had merely been attempting to cast a summoning spell and 
a sorcery at the same time, at the same location, curious to see if the 
spell would destroy the artifact, or somehow affect it in another manner.  
Not cause what had happened.  Just summon the artifact, and cast the 
spell.
	Instead, the convergence of the two magical spells had 
resulted in a brief vortex of shimmering force, before the vortex had 
shifted and twisted into a faint tendril of fog, which lashed out in 
sorcerous fury before *changing* into the object which rested on the 
ground.
	An object that bore little resemblance to the one he been 
attempting to summon with the spell he had just castcast.  And Life 
Drain, from what he remembered when Ranma cast the spell, had no 
visible component.  So that could not explain the small object.
	Hesitantly, ignoring the faint sounds of the people outside, 
beyond the mouth of the alleyway, that realm of noise, and people, and 
life, Mousse approached the object.  On closer examination, it seemed 
nothing more than a scroll, though of ornate design.  Both spools of the 
paper were engraved and decorated, a fine varnish covering the dull 
orange wood, leaving a mirror shine.  The paper itself seemed to be 
made from some bright yellow tree pulp, like rich urine in the snow, the 
shocking color unexpected.  A single blue and black ribbon of thick 
leather held the scroll closed and sealed.
	Knowing no one would bother him in the dank and smelly 
alley, Mousse took his time, circling the scroll, adjusting his glasses so 
that he could examine it with senses beyond his normal five.  It did not 
glow, nor shimmer with mana, remaining there, almost _too_ inviting.
	Mousse *had* been trying to someone one of his unknown 
artifacts, a disk shaped object the size of the head of a hand mirror.  
Then this had happened.  Not exactly what he had been expecting.  But 
he was far tougher than anything mortal now.  He should be safe if the 
scroll was harmful.  There was no sense of magic, so it was unlikely it 
was a trap.
	Curious now, Mousse bent to one knee as he held back the 
sleeve of his robe, extending one long fingered hand so as to touch the 
scroll.  It was cool to the touch, not hot as he had almost been 
expecting.  The wood of the spool was hard, almost like organic steel, 
while the leather ribbon sealing the scroll was smooth, like silk.  Careful, 
yet more relaxed, Mousse brought the scroll closer.
	It was of fine work, whatever it was, though the bright yellow 
color of the paper was jarring to the eye.  Looking more carefully, 
Mousse could see some kind of stitching and leatherworking on the 
ribbon.
	"CR: 343: M, I"  the scroll read, the magic of Urza's glasses 
immediately translating the foreign and alien squiggles into sensible 
Mandarin.
	That wasn't much help.  Mousse had no idea what "CR: 343: 
M, I" meant.  Perhaps some code, or system of filing.  Nothing he had 
seen before.
	Shrugging, Mousse adjusted his glasses as he untied the 
ribbon, only the slightest of quivers in his hands.  He remembered once, 
when he had been trying to learn martial arts techniques to impress 
Shampoo, the crone had discovered him going through her collection, 
and with that staff of hers, beat him within an inch of his life.
	(But that would change!) Mousse reminded himself.  As soon 
as Shampoo was his, properly pliant, he would repay the mummy one 
hundred fold for the evil she had done to him.  She would be the one 
bruised and bleeding, and he would be vindicating.
	With a snarl that soon faded, Mousse undid the seal and 
unraveled the scroll to find only ordinary Mandarin.  No curse, no 
pictures, no spells, no magic.  Just simple characters, done in some odd 
greenish ink by a master at calligraphy.  Mousse began to read.



	A Brief Analysis of Magic: Mages and Mana

	Prepared by Royal Scribe Mar to Her Majesty, Ruhisha the 
	Scholar


		Magic.  Mages.  Mana.

		Three words that invariably sum up for all enlightened 
	beings the dynamics of power in the universe.  Three words 
	that connotate myriad and infinite meanings.  It is a subject 
	and existence that not even the vast library of Muldur, in our 
	great city of Skulli, could hope to even tenatively document.  It 
	is the legends of mages like Urza, of mana like the Grotto, or 
	spells like Armageddon, that send shivers of fear and 
	excitement up and down the dorsal ridges of sentient beings.  
	For who among us, as hatchlings, has not dreamed of 
	becoming a mage?  Who has not known the desire and fear?  
	To hold power, yet ultimately be slave to it?  I know that I, 
	myself, once entertained notions of becoming a mage.  But 
	most of what uninformed people and many mages themselves 
	know as truth is in fact myth, and actually false.  The purpose 
	of this document is to clarify such errors, and provide greater 
	understanding.  In this, I must thank the court mage Skn'rr for 
	his assistance, and the infrequent aid of his teacher, the 
	Shadowy Mage Cig'rr'ett Sm'kkn Mann.  Both have been 
	invaluable.
		By the grace of her Majesty, I have divided this 
	document into three sections, the first a brief overview of 
	magic itself, then I will discuss the manifestation of magic, the 
	phenomena of mana.  Finally, I will detail the wielders of this 
	mana, mages.



	(Hmmm....), Mousse's eyes widened as he looked at the scroll 
which good providence had delivered unto him.  A good thing, too, 
because it was about time his joss was turned for the better.
	Mousse scanned down the page, his attention and interest 
growing stronger and stronger as he read the glyphs therein.
	(Interesting.  Most interesting.....)



^_-



	Ukyo sighed as she scrubbed the grill, the water hissing as it 
evaporated, the rough cloth she used turning black not from the heat of 
the metal, but rather from the char and residue left on the grill.  
Okonomiyaki was delicious to eat, but the batter did have the annoying 
tendency to stick to the grill if left their to long.  No less than a dozen of 
her attempts had been failures, and one of her customers had even 
commented on her poor service and cooking.  She had been so 
distracted, she had even failed to hear him the first time.
	No matter how she looked at it, this day had not been one of 
her best.  Of course, she had known far worse, being on the road, with 
revenge her food, rage her drink, and hateful memories her shelter from 
the truth.   This day merely ranked among the moderately bad.
	(But), Ukyo thought to herself, finishing with the grill, tossing 
the rag aside, ladling on some more oil, carefully spreading the viscous 
liquid evenly across the metal surface (this is certainly one of the most 
extraordinary days of my life!)  Those were rare events, such as when 
she had decided to hide her true sex, when Ran-chan told her she cute, 
when she had realized what a gorgeous fiancee she had... And now, she 
could add this day, when she learned magic.
	Across the counter, cleaning tables, the Benalish Hero looked 
nothing like what most people would conjure up as an image when 
asked to imagine a warrior from another dimension.  Her provided 
kimono was skewed, her legs set farther apart than she should be able, 
as her hands were a blur, cleaning up the table she was currently at.  
She hadn't quite realized that a kimono was meant to _be_ tight, 
wrapping a woman in a tight embrace, like a cocoon of security, making 
even the most untraditional of women proper, as the tight binding of the 
fabric across the thighs made unladylike large steps impossible, and the 
cut of the sleeves forced the arms to be swung in an appropriately 
dainty manner.  Feeri would have none of that, the handsome woman 
repeatedly loosening the garment for freedom of movement.  Ukyo had 
tried to order Feeri not to, but the gaijin woman's frustration at not being 
able to have a sword had stayed Ukyo's command.
	Yes, magic.  Ukyo could feel it, filling her body with a 
shimmering radiance, her very being thrumming with the power.  The 
cool and flowing essence of being alive.  It bombarded her senses, 
making her feel as though she were divine.  Ukyo almost wished she 
could just stand there, allowing the diffuse power to flow through her 
frame, luxuriating in the sensation.  But she could not.  She had plans to 
make, things to learn.  Perhaps most importantly, what magic actually 
_was_, as a power.
	"Feeri?" Ukyo called out, realizing there were no other people 
in the restaurant.  It was actually fairly quiet this evening, even with all 
the things that had gone on.  It seemed the only thing that the 
customers could talk and gossip about was the destroyed park.  Ukyo 
wished they would talk about something else.  Every time they 
commented on how horrible the people must have been to do such a 
thing, Ukyo wanted to shrink back into herself.  It had been a relief 
when people had left, going to witness the miraculous healing going on 
at Dr. Tofu's clinic.  (Kasumi's work), Ukyo identified.  "Do you mind 
taking a break?"
	Ukyo could feel the amusement from Feeri as the woman 
tossed her cleaning rag over one shoulder, and balanced her tray on her 
hip. "Of course I would like 'ta!  And if you ya would let me buy ya an 
ale or three, we could relax even a bit more," Feeri offered, grinning, as 
she remembered the indignant expression on Ukyo's face when she had 
suggested Ukyo serve alcohol as a way to loosen the strings on the 
coin purses of the customers.
	Ukyo laughed, knowing Feeri was joking with her, but also 
aware of the hopeful expression she had on her face.  Ukyo realized this 
woman was used to alcohol being the common drink much in the same 
way Ukyo was familiar with water and tea as a beverage.  "I was hoping 
to ask you a few more questions."
	Feeri's cheerful expression darkened as she sighed, taking a 
seat at the grill, perching on the stool.  "I told 'ya, I am not one ta be 
asking these things."
	Ukyo sighed, nervously twisting her hands, "I know!"  She 
sighed, "I just don't know much about magic, and I don't want the 
others to get better than me at using magic.  Shampoo has her great-
grandmother, and Akane has Kasumi to help her.  I don't want Ran-chan 
to think I'm stupid."
	Feeri nodded, "Aye, I ken see that look in yer eye.  You got a 
man you be wanting."  She sounded understanding.
	For some reason she couldn't place, Ukyo felt like she could 
tell Feeri almost anything.  Maybe it was the link she had with the 
woman, maybe it was her open sense of humor.  It was like the girls she 
saw in school, giggling and talking with their other girl friends.  That is 
what she felt now.
	Ukyo pulled a spare stool out, and propped her elbows on the 
counter, scooting away from the grill.  She rested her chin on her palms 
as she sighed.  "Yeah.  Ran-chan is quite the cutey," Ukyo breathed.  
His sparkling eyes.  That way he made her heart thump when she saw 
him enjoying one of her okonomiyaki.
	But it still didn't change her confusion about the magic.  She 
could feel it, almost taste it, but she didn't *know* it, and that bothered 
her.  "I know you don't know much, but I need to know, Feeri.  
Anything you know would really help me," Ukyo said, as she grabbed 
one of Feeri's hands.
	"Aye," said Feeri, releasing her hand from Ukyo's grasp.  "I've 
seen that look in yer eyes.  The look of desire, and wanting.  All mages 
have it.  It's the magic.  They want it, want it bad.  Like a woman wants a 
man, holding ya, touching yer body, pumping yerself with life, filling 
you-", Feeri broke off, noticing the blush on Ukyo's cheeks.  Feeri 
coughed, a little red herself, "Well, you know-" Feeri coughed again, "I 
mean, you understand the general idea."
	Flushing bright red at the images and feelings that Feeri had 
conjured up, Ukyo turned away, striving to keep a straight face.  She 
constantly forgot how forward Feeri was.  But she desperately needed 
to know, no matter how embarrassing (or interesting, depending on how 
one looked at it) the conversation might turn.  "Feeri, I really need to 
know."
	Sighing, Feeri gestured widely with her arms, "What ken I tell 
ya?  Magic is magic.  Magic simply is."
	That was no help.  "What? Magic is what?"
	Feeri shrugged, "How ken I explain it?  Magic is there.  It is the 
lifestuff of the universe," Feeri gestured around, "the primal force that 
drives all o' creation.  The nectar of the gods."
	"Feeri!" Ukyo almost pleaded.
	"What do ya want me ta sae?  Even children know what magic 
is," Feeri said, almost accusing.
	Ukyo caught Feeri's eyes with her own.  "Listen to me 
carefully.  Magic does not exist here.  Or at least, not until recently.  I do 
not know what magic is.  Nobody does.  So anything, no matter how 
minor, or how silly it seems to you, would really help me."
	Feeri rolled her eyes to the ceiling, sighing as she stretched, 
her eyes going anywhere except Ukyo.  Finally, she looked at Ukyo, 
before gathering her thought.
	In a simple and forward speech, Feeri began to speak.
	"You understand, I am no scholar.  I am a woman who makes 
her livin' by the sword.  But I done a little studying, and I can tell you 
what I know.  But I cannae tell you what magic *is*."
	Feeri held up her hand, halting any protest or question from 
Ukyo, waiting until she quieted.  Then she continued.
	"But I can tell you what I *do* know.  Magic is somethin' that 
cannae be quantified or qualified.  You can't say magic is so or so 
powerful, any more than some could say magic was bad.   I seen people, 
heard people,  mortals and immortals, tryin' ta do just that,  but in the 
end, they were jus' creatin' labels and terms that only satisfied 
themselves."
	Feeri caught Ukyo's eyes.  "Mana, mage, power, sorcerer, spell, 
sorcery;  these are just words, ya understand?  They are just words of 
people trying to define magic.  But you can't.  In the end, no one, not 
even the greatest mage, can grasp the immensity of magic.  You just 
*can not do so*."
	Looking at the defeated expression on Ukyo's face, Feeri tried 
to cheer her up a little.  "If it helps any, that is all anyone has ever 
known.  Perhaps the sage Lonne Gn'men said it best."
	Ukyo looked up.
	Feeri gave a wolfish grin.
	"Magic simply *is*."



^_-



	Somewhere on the outskirts of Nerima, two individuals lay as 
they were in nature, open and exposed beneath the falling light of the 
sky.  One was exhausted, yet happy and content.  The other, like the 
spring, was still sure and frisky, yet willing to remain.
	Ryoga gave a contented sigh as he felt the silky softness of 
Wyllow's fine hair on his bare chest, the warmth of her body next to him, 
and the fiery touch of her mouth as it gently tracked along his throat.  
Her weight, for one so much a woman, seemed light as a feather, even 
though it pinned his right arm.  Ryoga felt as if he were boneless, all 
structure having melted from him.  Nothing was that good.  Nothing.  He 
had heard the stories, the whispers from boys, and from some girls, but 
he had never believed it.  He had thought Akane the pinnacle of all he 
could ever want, but now he knew better.  His right hand made slow 
circles as he caressed the small of Wyllow's back, the skin young and 
soft.
	Ryoga kissed the top of her head, whispering, "That was 
incredible." And it truly had been.
	Wyllow's face shot up as she craned her neck to look at him, 
her teeth shining like pearls in the dim light, her impish smile providing 
more radiance than noon in the Sahara, as she said playfully, "You're 
not so bad yourself."
	Grinning back at her, Ryoga's hand reached around as his 
fingers went to work, kneading and touching her flat stomach, tickling 
her mercilessly.  Her smile grew even wider as she giggled and 
convulsed.
	It was amazing, Ryoga knew.  Just one day; no, one encounter 
ago, and seeing even a brassiere, much less a pair of panties, would 
cause the immediate evacuation of hemoglobin through his olfactory 
orifice.  Now, though, he could hold a squirming, giggling, very naked 
woman in his arms, and all he did was enjoy the closeness to someone 
so special.
	(Cancel that), thought Ryoga, as he noticed the thin trickle of 
blood, tasting it more than seeing it.  The coppery tang of the red fluid.  
Speaking of red; not that he minded, but he was a little curious.  Wyllow 
was certainly not inexperienced, yet she had been- damn, maybe he 
wasn't as 
	Wyllow noticed that Ryoga's efforts had slackened, and 
looking up, saw his other hand pinching his nostrils shut, though a little 
red still escaped.  Grinning, she propped herself up on one elbow, and 
leaned forward, eyes closed.  Her tongue darted out, licking away the 
wetness from his eyes.
	Ryoga watched as Wyllow's dexterous tongue made short 
work of the mess on his face.  He looked at her eyebrows, with the 
multitude of colors in the hair, as her sparkling eyes opened.  She was 
everything he could ask for, not a girl, but a woman, willing and able to 
be patient and understanding with him.  Ryoga noticed his blood on her 
lips.  Still...
	Noticing his gaze, seeing the blood, Wyllow gave a crooked 
smile.  "Oh," she said, "that."  She stretched, enjoying the feeling of his 
eyes tracking her sleek flanks, before she flopped down on the grass.
	Wyllow looked over at the handsome boy-mage.  Technically, 
he was a man now.  He had definitely been a boy until she had initiated 
him.  Hadn't even known the first thing to do.  She had guided him.
	She noticed his look, slightly ashamed, and she laughed.  He 
knew he was thinking she was mocking him, but she was not, and her 
hand on his cheek stopped his withdrawal.
	"Don't worry, you just don't know," Wyllow said, as she held 
him in place.  "I am a creature of nature, born of magic and the land.  
And like nature, even if touched by the hand of man, I am forever fresh 
and renewed.  Thus..." her hand went around his neck, drawing him into 
an embrace, "...I am always a virgin."
	Relieved, still a little flushed from the embarrassment and the 
woman pressing against him, Ryoga started to stammer out an apology, 
"I-I'm sor-ry...," only to be silenced by a kiss that grew longer, until they 
were both beyond words.
	Humming merrily, Wyllow broke off, and lay back, a little 
regretfully.  "You're not the only one who is curious," Wyllow chided, 
as she slapped his washboard stomach playfully.
	"Eh?" Ryoga asked, confused, as he lay his hand on her 
shoulder.   Had he done something wrong?  She had seemed... happy 
and content.
	Looking at his clueless expression, Wyllow frowned as she 
made a fist and slugged Ryoga in the gut, Ryoga barely noticing the 
blow. "Thirty-three!" she explained.
	Ryoga looked at her, still not understanding why she was so 
angry.  "Thirty-three?"  Hmmm... that number meant _something_.
	Wyllow's face screwed up in anger, furious that he could 
forget.  "Thirty-three times!" she hissed, "Most mortal men would be 
dead before they brought me over ten times!"
	The light started to dawn in Ryoga's mind, as he made the 
connection.  Wyllow saw it, and her anger faded.  She had forgotten he 
had been a virgin.
	She gave a content sigh as snuggled closer.  "Where did you 
get such stamina?" Wyllow asked in a husky voice, her eyes smoky and 
hungry with desire as she felt the play of his muscles as his arms went 
around.  Her desire only increased as she felt his other muscle starting 
to move again.  But truth be told, *she* was more exhausted than he 
seemed to be.
	"Martial arts training.  A side effect of the Breaking Point 
training," Ryoga answered, understanding.  Maybe there was another 
reason the Amazon's taught the Breaking Point.  Come to think of it, it 
was one of the few techniques both men and women learned.  Ryoga 
was beginning to suspect and understand why.
	"You certainly broke my point often enough," Wyllow purred, 
giggling as she saw him flush.  She snuggled closer, if that was 
possible.  "I thought it might be your green.  Or maybe your red."
	"Huh?" Ryoga asked.  "My green or my red?" he inquired, 
confused.
	"Your mana, silly," Wyllow said, feeling a little sleepy.  Yes, 
she could go to sleep like this.  Nice and warm and safe.
	"My mana?" Ryoga asked, a little sharply, as a coldness 
entered him, urging him to probe her for more information.
	Realizing the change, Wyllow disengaged from his Embrace, 
looking up at him.  (Damn it, why did he have to have black?) she 
wondered, before an answering voice said, (Because without it, he 
never could have called you, let alone kept you here.)  She hated that 
part of being sentient.
	"Yes, your mana," Wyllow said, "you're a mage.  Mana affects 
the wielder.  Mana has different flavors."
	"Go on," Ryoga narrowed his eyes, as he propped himself up 
on his right arm, his hand supporting his head.  This was interesting.
	Wyllow cursed inwardly.  She had almost forgotten that this 
one was a mage.  It was a mistake she seldom made.  Mages were, as 
always, creatures to be avoided.  But this one had been so innocent, so 
naive, so lov- Wyllow cut off that thought.  She wouldn't let herself 
make that mistake again.  Use them, even as they used her.  For mages 
were all the same.  Their love, first and foremost, was power.  Wyllow 
reminded herself of that bitter fact.  They just used others.  And minions 
like her just tried to ride the wave as best as able.  (Though there are 
other ways to ride...) Wyllow thought, her libido rising.
	Then she noticed his eyes, and started to explain.  "Yes, your 
mana.  Black mana is entropy and death.  But I was referring to your 
green and red mana."
	"Oh?" Ryoga said, as he lowered himself to look at her.  She 
was beautiful.
	"Yes.  Green mana is the power of possibilities and-" her hands 
dropped to her stomach, "-life.  It is health, and vitality.  You certainly 
seem to possess both of those."  Her fingers traced patterns on his 
chest.
	"So do you," Ryoga said, as he kissed her deeply.
	"And red mana is the mana of force.  It is change.  It is chaos 
and passion," Wyllow's voice became husky.  "And you have plenty of 
that."
	"Umm," Ryoga agreed, as he nibbled on her ear.  "What of the 
other mana?"
	It was sweet torture, Wyllow acknowledged, as his hands went 
to work.  "There is also blue mana, the mana OF-" Wyllow yelped, as 
she took a shuddering breath, starting to breathe heavier, "-denial and 
decision.  It is the mana of sorcery."  Well, two could play that game!
	"And what of the whITE!" Ryoga gasped, his speech choked 
off, just as he was *also* being choked off.  "MANA!" he started gasp.
	Lessening her hold, Wyllow grinned as she kissed him all over 
between answers.  "White" -kiss- "mana" -kiss- "is the" -kiss- "mana 
of" -kiss- "creation."  -Long kiss- "It is the" -kiss- "force of" -kiss- 
"purity" -kiss- "and" -kiss- "good." -kiss- "Healing" -kiss- "TOO!"
	Ryoga was rapidly losing control, much less caring about 
magic. "Both blue and white mana sound pointless."
	"Agreed," Wyllow gasped, breathless.
	"Yea-ummff," Ryoga broke off as his speech was cut off by 
another pair of lips and a gag of tongue.
	Like a cat at a scratching post, Wyllow dug her nails in the 
unyielding back, as higher thought began to leave her, passions 
sweeping her into the realm where only sensation existed.
	(Time to break my record, and go for thirty-four!) was Wyllow's 
last thought.
	Ryoga, long past that point, like a boar setting for a charge, 
was counting on about thirty-eight.



^_-



	In the alley, Mousse found himself engrossed by the scroll.
	It was incredible.  Though the author of the work was a tad 
bombastic, and more than a little pedantic, there was a wealth of 
information contained within the scroll.  Already, Mousse had 
discovered things the others probably knew little about.  He continued 
to read the document.



		Mana is the force by which magic is made known.  Yet 
	this mana has to come from somewhere, less the mage quickly 
	find themselves exhausted of mana.  Mana is an awesome 
	power, and using magical spells requires prodigious amounts 
	of the creation force.
		A common misconception is that mana comes from 
	lands.  It does not.  Mana is nothing more than the force of 
	creation that mages call upon.  It comes from the universe, not 
	something as silly as a physical location.  Contrary to popular 
	belief, mana is not a product of land.  The entire whole of 
	creation produces mana.  It is just that the mana all of creation 
	holds is too diffuse.  It is nearly impossible to draw mana from 
	the average portion of creation in front of you.  Calling 
	colorless mana is hard, colored mana nearly impossible.
		Yet in certain types of terrain, enough of certain types 
	of creation "pools," for lack of a better term.  A place where 
	mana gathers, becoming "heavier" in one color of mana.  These 
	places are usually geographical locations, frequently known as 
	"lands."  Each of these lands has a connection with the type of 
	mana that pools there.  A mage merely exploits this heavy 
	concentration of mana, siphoning it away.  This excess mana in 
	that particular patch of creation is channeled to the mage, who 
	uses it to work magic.  The land becomes drained of its excess 
	mana, tapped, becoming like most of reality.  Over a period of 
	time, which has never been quite defined and is very variable, 
	the sympathetic mana harmonics draw that surplus of mana 
	back, causing a saturation, which a mage can then tap again for 
	mana.  This is the process by which mages can gain power.
		There are several basic mana sources, detailed below.  
	There are rare occasions when two particular genre of mana 
	coincide, and the mana of two types swells there.  This does 
	not mean twice the mana, it merely means one of two types of 
	mana can be drawn from the site.  Such locations are called 
	"dual lands."



	(Hmmm....) Mousse thought.  That didn't seem quite right.  
(Probably because the author was not a mage.)
	The author of the piece called them places where colored mana 
gathered.  That wasn't true.  Mana was everywhere.  It existed in 
everything, whether dormant or active.  It was only that in certain 
places, i.e. lands, that mana gathered in sufficient quantities.  It was 
only in "lands" that it could become "heavy" enough.  Yet by that same 
mechanism, the colorless mana of that was pure mana became "tainted" 
with the type of land there, so that it could be more easily manipulated.  
Thus, a dual land might have the same _amount_ of mana as another 
land, yet it had the same _characteristics_ of two different land types.
	Yes, colorless mana was a more "pure" form of mana.  Mousse 
could feel that, and *see* that through Urza's sunglasses.  Yet colorless 
mana would actually be more difficult to use.  After all, colorless mana 
actually had all aspects of reality.  Why should it want to serve as black 
mana, when it was also aligned with the other colors?  Not even the 
most powerful of mages could change that.
	(But that is why colored mana is so easily usable!)  Mousse 
realized.  Colored mana is more attuned to one part of creation, and thus 
is more inclined to be used in such a manner.
	(That also explained why artifacts don't need colored mana), 
Mousse understood.  As they are already part of reality, they do not 
need to be _generated_, only fueled.
	It seemed the author of the piece was a little ignorant.  Or just 
plain *wrong*.  Mousse would have to keep a careful eye on the 
various claims of the writer.  But most of the information seemed to be 
valid.



			The basic types of land are:

	Forests:  Forests, places teaming with life, are the areas in 
	which green mana congeals.  Forests are the testing ground of 
	evolution, places where possibilities emerge and are explored.  
	Small surprise that green mana thickens at these areas.  An 
	interesting aside, regarding information provided by a 
	planeswalking mage I had the distinct pleasure of speaking 
	with.  He claimed that on some worlds, other areas were strong 
	in green mana, not merely forests.  These places of possibility 
	were research laboratories, schools, and other areas.  I know 
	not precisely what this means, but thought best to include this 
	information, for the sake of completeness.

	Islands:  Islands, places surrounded by the constantly shifting 
	water, resolute in their soliditary against the vastness around 
	themselves, deceptive when seen from a distance, are the 
	places where blue mana swells.  Islands are where anything 
	can happen, where a single wave can gather strength, 
	becoming an unstoppable wave of liquid destruction.  Again, 
	the planeswalking mage I met detailed another series of sites 
	that occasionally drew blue mana.  Places of deceptions and 
	decision, like business markets, political courts, and other 
	areas, tend to draw blue mana.  Again, I cannot confirm this.

	Mountains:  Mountains, standing tall and firm as razor winds 
	cut them, scarring their faces.  Mountains, where rains and ice 
	dig trenches down their sides.  Mountains, formed by the 
	cracks in the earth, as the ground was violated.  Small surprise 
	that in these locations red mana is found, the mana of force 
	and change.  My planeswalker associate claimed that on some 
	worlds, red mana came into being in sports arenas, or sites of 
	fierce emotions, among others.  This only seems logical, 
	though I cannot confirm this.

	Plains:   Plains are that from which all other lands form.  
	Mountains push up from their smooth surface, swamps dig 
	decaying mass into their pristine flatness, forests find life and 	
	growth in their inviting ground, and islands are nothing more 
	than plains formed around deceptive water.  Small surprise, 
	then, that white mana is the patron of such sights.  White 
	mana, the force on which all creation is written, is located in 	
	plains.  My planeswalker scholar has observed white mana 
	forming in places like churches or other holy places, hospitals 
	and other centers of well being, and so on.  This seems to make 
	sense, as both hospitals and churches seek to fill the hole of 
	loss in people.

	Swamps:  Swamps are stagnant places, where life and material 
	come to slowly deteriorate and be crushed into dust.  Small 
	surprise that black mana, the sign of entropy, should stagnate 
	in these places.  The planeswalker has also seen black mana in 
	morgues, places of great tragedy such as battlefields, and thus 
	on.  I cannot confirm this.


		It should be noted that there is no common, natural 
	source for colorless mana.  There are rare or uncommon areas 
	where it forms, but most locations are too mixed with the 
	various colors for a mage to draw out such bland mana.  
	Typically, odd sites and artifacts provide colorless mana.
		It should also be noted that the size of a location has 
	little bearing on the amount of mana.  A massive mountain 
	might produce only one red mana, while a smaller peak could 
	produce almost twenty.  This can be both good and bad.  On 
	worlds where mana is rare, the ability of mages to do harm or 
	good is much less.  Given the scarcity of mana, and the 
	limitations that imposes, most mages horde their lands, and 
	seldom are foolish enough waste their precious mana.  On the 
	down side, mana tends to be controlled by only a handful of 
	individuals, offering little protection from mages by normal 
	people.  On worlds where mana is plentiful, mages can create 
	incredible miracles or cause devastation destruction.  Also, 
	given the plenitude of mana, mages are far more likely to war 
	upon each other.  On the plus side, more mana means more 
	wizards, preventing any one party from getting too much 
	power.  Indeed, the world of Rann is massive, nearly four times 
	the size of Domania, yet produces a pitiful total of perhaps 80 
	mana.  A trio of mage-kings rule with despotic force.  On the 
	reverse, the world of Tellus is only two-thirds the size of 
	Domania, yet produces an incredible 38,000 mana!  Some of the 
	greatest feats of magic have been accomplished there, both 
	good and bad.  By the same token, the once magical and 
	beautiful world of Tellus has been reduced to a war-torn 
	nightmare by feuding mages.  Thus, size is seldom a very good 
	determiner for mana levels.
		It is also important to note that seldom are lands 
	"destroyed," though that is what mages frequently claim to 
	have done to their opponents.  While it is true that several rare 
	incidents have occurred where a mage destroys a land, such as 
	through a Zuran Orb, more often than not, the spell that 
	"destroys" a land simply causes enough psychic shock that 
	the manalink of the mage snaps and cannot be reformed for 
	some time.  In most mage duels, time is something that is very 
	precious, and by the time a mage is able to relink with a land, 
	they are dead.  This also saves the land, and prevents the 
	waste of valuable magic resources.



	Mousse looked at that convoluted last statement.  Boy did the 
author like to talk.  And talk a considerable time about nothing.  What 
did the author mean by destroyed land?
	Maybe it was a mage thing.  Somehow, Mousse instinctively 
knew that a Zuran Orb destroyed the "mana well" of the land, while a 
spell like Armageddon merely destroyed the physical characteristics of 
the land, not the potential for mana to be drawn from it.
	But still, this was interesting.  _Very_ interesting.  And next 
time Mousse met with the others, he would have yet a few more 
weapons up his already voluminous sleeves.
	Mousse read on.



^_-



	Akane paced the floor of the Tendo Dojo, trying to fight off 
the raging headache that threatened to consume rational thought, her 
anger, and an unpleasant throbbing.  The entire day had been a 
disaster.  And the night hadn't been much better.
	First, when she came home, she had found that Kasumi had 
made a few "changes".  Akane had liked everything just fine the way 
they had been.  She had even told Kasumi that.  True, her manner had 
been less than polite, but she had had a bad day.
	Kasumi had been less than understanding, which was a shock 
in and of itself.  But then Kasumi's "friends," including those two huge 
white dragons, had "casually" surrounded her, and lent considerable 
weight to Kasumi's argument for changes.
	Akane was many things, occasionally oblivious being one of 
them, but not even she could ignore the threat that Kasumi was 
presenting.  Kasumi threatening *her*?  Her older sister was 
intimidating her own flesh and blood, let alone *anyone*?  Kasumi, who 
had been almost a mother to her for years?  Now a strict disciplinarian?
	Akane couldn't believe that, and her refusal to believe was the 
reason she chose not to sit down.  She had raised her voice to 
argumentively cut down Kasumi when Kasumi had grabbed her.  
Actually, her two minions had, but the result was the same.  Akane had 
nearly gone into shock when Kasumi had reminded her that yelling was 
against the rules of the house.  Akane knew that, as it had been one of 
the original rules of the house, but it was also a rule that they had 
abandoned years ago.
	And then Kasumi had told her she would have to be punished.
	And then Akane had remembered what the traditional 
punishment for yelling had been.
	And then Kasumi had carried out her sentence.
	Akane clenched her fists and growled, slapping her arms 
against her sides before whimpering, her buttocks still sore.  Kasumi 
had gone and done the unthinkable.  She had treated Akane like a child.
	Kasumi had *spanked* her!
	And in front of the men, too!  To be sure, the knights and men 
had all turned their faces, but they had still been there.  Pervert boys!  
She hated boys!  Hated them, hated them!  Probably grinning at each 
other as she was spanked like a little girl.  Perverts!
	And it _had_ hurt.  Somehow, Kasumi had found a way to get 
past the unusual toughness she had as a mage, and make it hurt.  Her 
bare cheeks had become flaming red, and tears in her eyes, before 
Kasumi had sent her away without supper.  She had only been vaguely 
aware of her father and Mr. Saotome cowering in the corner.
	But she would get Kasumi.  Akane seethed as she stormed 
about.  She already had learned a lot about being a mage.  The others 
weren't going to beat her at this, neither Kasumi nor any of the other 
bitches.  She was going to win this time.
	Spinning, Akane looked at the two women who knelt before 
her, her minions.  They were a study in contrasts.  Both were tall by 
Japanese standards, but there the similarities ended.  One, Rushi, had 
chocolate brown skin, with black eyes.  The other, Gwen, was pale as a 
ghost, with a shocking head of red hair.  But both of the Sisters of Flame 
were loyal, and, it turned out, knowledgeable.
	"It isn't your fault," Rushi said, bowing deeply.
	"Yes.  Your sister doesn't understand," Gwen counseled, 
bowing as well.
	"To Hell with her!" Akane snarled, whirling on the two, who 
genuflected, lowering their eyes.  Akane's gaze and tone softened.  "So, 
tell me more about your ability to channel mana."
	The two looked at one another before looking up and Akane.  
"Yes, we have the ability to manalink," Rushi stated.
	"I know that! You already said that," Akane snapped, anger 
flaring up in her, before she found calm.  She had to stay calm, dammit!  
Too much anger, too much by far.  Sometimes, she couldn't even think 
straight.
	"Forgive us," the two Sisters of Flame said, as they bowed.
	"No, I mean-," Akane sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, 
"I mean, what is manalink?  How do you do it?"
	Again, the two women looked at one another.  Their 
expressions indicated that they thought this was some kind of joke.  
"What do you mean, milady?  You can manalink as well."
	"I know that- arrghh!" Akane growled, as she paced, stomping 
about.
	The two woman tracked her motion with their eyes.
	Akane let her breath whistle through her teeth as she sighed.  
"Listen, can you just tell me what you know about manalink?" Akane 
asked.
	"Well, manalink is the ability to channel mana," Gwen 
explained.
	(I already know that!) Akane screamed in her mind.  She 
wanted to tear out her hair in frustration.  Instead, she just nodded, and 
said, "Go on."
	Seeing that Akane wanted more, Gwen urged Rushi, the more 
scholarly of the two, to explain.
	"I assume you wish to know the actual process?" Rushi 
started, hesitant.
	Akane nodded.
 	"Well, um, manalink is fairly simple.  It is the ability to link to 
mana, drawing upon the power of magic,"  Rushi stated.  
	Seeing Akane's demanding gaze, Rushi swallowed and 
continued.
	"This ability to channel mana is used by mages to cast their 
spells.  All use of magic and mana is dependent on this ability," Rushi 
offered.
	"That's all?" Akane asked.
	"All mages can manalink, yes," said Gwen, moving to speak as 
the more timid Rushi floundered.  "All mages have to be able to.  It is a 
pre-requisite to being a mage."
	"But you two can manalink, and you aren't mages, are you?" 
Akane challenged.  This was confusing, but good to know.  She had 
already learned quite a bit.
	Gwen shook her head.  "No, we are not mages.  Manalink is 
clearly the first and foremost ability of a mage, though one does not 
necessarily have to be a mage to have it.  No one but the greatest of 
mages seems to know what is necessary to become a mage."
	"So how do you manalink, if you are not a mage, using the 
power of lands?" Akane asked, very curious.
	"We are like many creatures in existence who have been 
touched by mana.  Some, such as elves, can draw on the power of life, 
of green mana, being constantly surrounded by nature," Rushi said 
softly.
	"What about you?" Akane questioned, turning her eyes to 
Gwen.
	"I was a wild child.  Fire and chaos have always known me" 
Gwen grinned fiercely.
	"And you?" Akane indicated Rushi.
	Gwen's expression changed, her grin altering to be one of 
anger and righteous fury.
	Rushi looked up at Akane, and Akane was startled to see 
motes of fire dancing in the eyes of the meek woman.  "Once, a man 
dared... touch me, uninvited.  The fire came to me.  I knew the cleansing 
power of hate and chaos," Rushi stated, her voice quiet as always, but 
her gaze an inferno.
	Akane immediately understood what Rushi was saying, and 
her own eyes darkened in anger.  "Pervert boys," Akane hissed.
	Both women nodded, grinning a little in vindictive humor.  
"Indeed.  That is why we joined the Order of the Sisters of the Flames.  
Men think they know power, know emotion, know chaos.  We know 
better," Gwen proudly stated.
	Feeling a strange bond of kinship with her two minions, Akane 
leaned forward on her hands and knees, as a red aura of crackling 
energy formed around her.  Gwen leaned back a little, as Rushi seemed 
to have a small smile on her face.
	"Tell me more," Akane whispered, her eyes ablaze, as strands 
of smoke began to emerge from the gaps between her fingers, as her 
hands dug into the wooden floor of the Tendo Dojo.
	The two Sisters of the Flame did.



^_-



	Kuno stayed in his position, despite the sweat pouring down 
his bare torso, despite the painful cramp in his calf muscles, the legs far 
too tense.  He ignored the ache of his shoulders, not used to holding 
this position for so long.  His hands rested in his lap, his thumb and 
forefinger on each hand clutching the digits of the other hand.  His 
shoulders were squared, his back ramrod straight, legs tucked under 
one another before him.  Kuno looked like nothing more than a younger 
Buddha.
	For six hours now, he had held this position, and no relief had 
come to him.  No enlightenment.  Only the memory of those screams of 
people, as his lightning bolt had shattered the glass window, the silicon 
shards eviscerating them, propelled as though javelins by the cruel 
medium of gravity.  He saw the blood, over and over again.
	And when the blood cleared, he saw the park.  The way it was, 
pristine and perfect.  The jungle gym and grass, waiting and eager for 
children to frolic and play.  The sun seemed to be honey made 
effervescent, a sweetness conveyed by illumination and air.  It was 
perfect, an idyllic time, the green of the grass waiting for the small feet 
of children to scamper across the soft blades of vegetation.
	A ruined place.  A desolate place.  The tears and sorrow in 
those small eyes as he ran by, looking-
	NO!  Grunting, Kuno tried to find some measure of center.  It 
was not easy.  'Certes, 'twas akin to bearing the burden of Atlas to hold 
such memories.  It should not be so, not for one such as he.  To hold so 
much concern for peasants.  He was of noble lineage, a breed and class 
above those common folk.  Yet something told him-
	NO!  Concentration was as mighty a task as trying to discern 
which of his two beauties held a greater portion of his heart, but his 
heart was far too large to be held by only one delicate flower.  Nay, 
'twas only just that two beauties know the depths of his love.  Yet why 
did the pitying face of that knave, Saotome, appear whenever he 
thought of the pigtailed girl?  Why did it seem, whenever the vibrant 
Akane was imagined, that she had her back to him?  It was almost as if-
	NO!  Think of something else.  Like what had brought him to 
such unpleasant a junction.  Truly, there was much that a warrior would 
know in the trials of life, but such a journey as his own was seldom 
experienced, of that he was certain!
	It had begun, he knew, as he began to wander town, after their 
benefactor, Citrus, had left the restaurant.  Like Odysseus, he had 
traveled, seeking yonder destination on horizon far, yet fair.  On the 
greatest of lands, Nippon, he had traveled, his fair Grail most Holy 
beyond reach.  But he had lost his cards, his lands, and with each 
disappearance, the slight illness had started, and gotten worse.
	At first, he had most certain it was a foul villain, one of those 
virii the doctors constantly spoke of, a cowardly serpent seeking to 
challenge the constitution of his noble Kuno lineage.  But unlike all 
such base cretins, this one had not passed, even after he had lowered 
himself to the unnecessary assistance of Happy Tummy pills, especially 
those of the grape flavor, which he had always so enjoyed when his 
mother had given him-
	NO!  Focus on the changes.  Like a curse of foul Hectate, he 
had noticed himself changing.  Changing inside, not as perceived in one 
of those silly anime that were used to entertain the weak-minded and 
dullard peasants.  Nay, it had been the delicious power, coming from 
those lands he had marked, that mana flowing into his samurai frame, 
making him something else.  It was as though the poetry of his existence 
had been rewritten.  At first, he had fancied himself the avatar of some 
deity, that Susano had answered his prayers and granted him the 
strength to smite Saotome.
	Alas, it had not been so.  Instead, he had felt as though some 
foul Kumo was spinning a web of power in his soul, something 
changing him, sustaining his body.  It caught the emanations coming 
from the lands he controlled, lands he gradually became more and more 
aware of.  And that liquid power, the *mana*, had gathered, becoming a 
tight ball of pure energy, a new heart beating in his manly chest.
	It now waited there, growing stronger, begging him to call on 
it.  Zounds!  He felt as a noble stallion, waiting to know the wind as he 
chased the setting sun across the land.
 	Yet somehow, Kuno knew there was an even bigger change 
awaiting him.  The web inside was tightening, the strands merging with 
every muscle, touching every nerve.
	Something terrible and great was growing in Kuno, and soon it 
would take him, changing him.
	Soon.



^_-



	Shampoo paced the Nekohatten, her long legs sure and steady 
in her step, though anger seemed to radiate from her.  Her great 
grandmother was gone, and the restaurant closed.  Shampoo did not 
know where she could be, and that was vexing in an extreme.  Shampoo 
had so many plans that demanded her Great-Grandmother's help.
	No, not her help.  Her *approval*.  Shampoo was the one who 
held the power, not Cologne.  She knew the secrets of magic, and 
Shampoo grinned as she realized what she could learn from the 
Matriarch, now that she could withstand the abuse she could.
	Shampoo had learned an important lesson when she was 
younger, a lesson that would allow her to become one of the greatest 
warriors of her generation, and win the village championship at her 
incredibly young age.  It was a lesson that would serve her well again, 
now that she could wield magic.
	Shampoo had always been taught that one of the reasons the 
Amazons of China, unlike their Western counterparts, had not been 
defeated, was that they never forgotten the basics.  They never forgot 
how to do the simple things, such as basketweaving, or smithing, or 
agriculture, work that was normally the province of men.  The basics 
were what mattered.  And acknowledging that is what made the 
Amazons great.
	Before any martial art, or sport, or any other physical activity 
could truly be learned, one had to know oneself.  Know your own body 
like it always a part of you, even in sleep or pain.  Know every area of 
motion, every amount of energy one could draw from it, so that when 
you needed it, the body would serve as it was needed.
	Which was the simple reason women were better than men.  
Every girl and woman knew their body more intimately than a boy or 
man of equivalent age.  They knew it, because they had to.  And that 
allowed an unparalleled advantage every female warrior enjoyed over a 
male counterpart.
	Shampoo had taken that lesson to heart.
	Which was how she was aware of how much more tough she 
had become.  It felt as though the diffuse glow of power embracing her 
body, filling every fiber of her being, was strengthening Shampoo.  It 
was like her body had become "heavier"; stronger, more dense.  With 
more to take punishment, even though her muscles and skin seemed the 
same.  It was as though nature was connected to every cell of her 
Amazon heritage, as though her ancestors were filling her with their 
own knowledge and power.
	Shampoo spun and slammed her fist into the thick concrete 
pillar at the back of the restaurant, striking with unfocused intent, not 
trying to destroy the construct, merely expend energy.  The gray 
surface of the pillar cracked, but remained stable.
	Shampoo's hand ached, lancing pain dancing across her 
nerves, little demons of agony stabbing cruelly with their pitchforks of 
pain at the myelin sheaths of her neurons.  But as she drew back, the 
pain lessened, vanishing to a dull throbbing.
	By all rights, her hand should be broken.  She knew that, as 
she had deliberately struck the concrete improperly.  Yet her hand was 
fine.  All that remained as evidence of her blow was a slight redness on 
the knuckles, a light bruise at most.  Shampoo knew from previous 
experience that the bruise would heal.  She also knew that the drain on 
her supernatural health would not.  Only magic would help that.
	But it remained that a blow that should kill her would merely 
scratch her.  If Tissue were to try to behead her now, a slight cut would 
be all the damage she would suffer.  And this gave Shampoo a powerful 
advantage.
	Because like all good Amazons, Shampoo knew herself and her 
body _very_ well.
	And this supernatural toughness was just one of many new 
abilities she had.
	Once and for all, Shampoo would prove she was the strongest 
woman.  And only the strongest woman would suit Ranma, the 
strongest man.  That ideal mate would be Shampoo.
	Shampoo gave a predatory grin as she posed briefly in the 
clothes she had picked up.
	Yes, she knew herself well.



^_-



	It was unusually loud in the room, as the muffled voices and 
thumping from beyond the thin walls continually shattered the quiet.  
The neighbors in the apartment next door seemed to be determined to 
climax as many times as possible, but Nabiki ignored their antics and the 
slight blush on her cheeks.  They were just animals obeying base 
instincts.  Nabiki, on the other hand, was focusing on her higher 
faculties, as she would need all of her wits, should the demon in front of 
her attempt deception.  The problem was, after all her questioning, she 
was getting tired, her nerves frayed.
	The Demonic Tutor, on the other hand, was as patient as a 
glacial sheet of ice inching down through the centuries.  It was fairly 
young for a demon, no more than three thousand years of age, but it 
had also had plenty of practice in this kind of situation.  It knew it would 
take the young sorceress quite some time before she lowered her 
defenses.  It didn't mind.  The Demonic Tutor couldn't interact 
physically or magically with the physical plane.  Words and advice were 
its only means of corruption.  And it knew, from centuries of attempts, 
that once the mortal knew they were being lied to, or deceived, he would 
be banished.
	So, it simply told the truth.  Always and forever.  Mortal greed 
and arrogance did the corrupting more than it ever did.
	Nabiki looked at the imp sitting in the glowing pentagram, 
trying to think of a question to both test it, and learn more.
	She had already learned a great deal about magic.  How it 
worked, and how mana existed.  The relationship of mana and lands.  
Even more tidbits.  And she already knew-
	Excellent!  That would serve just fine as a test.  She had 
already felt, deep inside herself, that she was no longer aging.  It was 
her fondest wish made real.  Thus, she had known the moment she 
stopped aging.  But that was the extent of Nabiki's knowledge on that 
subject.
	"So, outside the supernatural toughness, there is no other 
effect on a mage from mana use?" Nabiki asked, trying to avoid being 
too obvious or eager.
	If it could have done so without hampering its efforts, the 
Demonic Tutor would have sighed.  (Human girl, you deceive and lie 
very poorly), it commented to itself.  Two points it would have to help 
her with.  Still, there seemed to be quite a bit of raw potential.  With the 
proper instruction and molding, it could shape her into a deceiver that 
could argue genocide as a merciful gift to the most good of people.  
Maybe even an equal of some of its lesser brethren.  But best to answer 
her questions.
	"No," it replied verbally, as it had soon found this was much 
more comfortable for the female.  "There are many other changes.  
Perhaps the most profitable for mortals is the immortality they gain."
	Nabiki resisted leaning forward, trying to appear detached.  
She already knew that, but it seemed that this creature knew more.
	The Demonic Tutor read her like an open book.  Something 
else they would have to work on.
	"MIZ!!!" came the impassioned male cry from the next 
apartment.
	"This is conditional immortality, though.  If a mage chooses to, 
they may stop aging.  On the same token, the mage may choose to 
continue aging.  A word of caution on this.  Mages can *choose* to 
age, but they cannot make themselves younger.  Likewise, though a 
human mage will not immediately suffer the effects of asphyxiation, they 
will eventually die from it.  This is a cessation of aging, of deterioration.  
Not the immortality of deities."  Let her digest that for a bit.
	Nabiki thought about that new knowledge.  She hadn't known 
she could choose to age, but that wasn't surprising.  She wouldn't take 
that option; she intended to stay young forever.  But still, the 
information was handy.  And the fact that she could die was something 
she had already guessed at.  The specifics were nice, though.
	(And now for some more), the Demonic Tutor decided.
	"Lack of aging is not the only advantage that mages enjoy," it 
said, causing Nabiki to snap her head up.
	Oh, there was more?  She had expected and suspected as 
much, but she was not sure if the demon was going to tell her right off, 
or if she was going to have to draw the information out, piece by piece.  
Thus far, the Demonic Tutor seemed trustworthy.
	"Mages, like many supernatural beings so profoundly tied to 
the universe, find that they also possess a superior understanding of 
how creation functions."
	Nabiki motioned for it to continue.
	"Mages have, as I mentioned earlier,  the ability to understand 
creation more intensely.  In simpler terms, a mage can sense and 
understand the empirical value of all of creation.  Such as how much a 
creature is 'worth', both in combat and the mana cost to summon.  
Mages also have the ability to perceive the use of mana around them, 
despite the distances involved."
	"A sort of magic radar," Nabiki mused aloud, thinking on what 
the creature had just said.
	The Demonic Tutor just shrugged, though it knew full well 
what a radar was.  It probably knew more about technology than the girl 
in front of it, and more than most of its kind.  Unlike many demons, the 
Demonic Tutor was not ignorant of the power of technology.  It could 
do little against demons or angels, one of the reasons both races of 
supernaturals tended to discount the mortal invention.  Technology, 
like magic, also had myriad applications.  The Demonic Tutor was aware 
of many of them.  It used magic, however.  Not because it disliked 
technology.  Rather, magic was quicker.  Easier.  More seductive.
	"FUJISAWA-SAMA!!!" came the deliriously happy cry of the 
woman next door.
	Perhaps a demonstration to help the girl develop her magical 
senses.  Something that would serve to reinforce her perception of it 
being harmless, yet shocking enough to encourage growth in magical 
skill.  Of course!
	"If you will observe?" the Demonic Tutor addressed Nabiki.
	Nabiki looked over at the Demonic Tutor, who waited until she 
nodded, curious what it was doing.
	Only to leap back with a shriek as the pentagram holding the 
Demonic Tutor captive vanished, and the imp-like demon casually 
walked over to stand in front of her.
	"If you will observe?" it repeated.
	It took a few minutes for words to penetrate the blind panic 
Nabiki was feeling, as she frantically tried to summon the air elemental 
to her aid, flashing through spells floating in her mind.  Then, suddenly, 
she realized what it had said.
	"Observe what?" Nabiki said, panic in her voice, and she didn't 
care.  This was a *demon*, and the pentagram had vanished, leaving it 
free to move about.  What had happened to the pentagram-
	Right there.  Still surrounding the Demonic Tutor, even though 
the creature had moved.  It wasn't *quite* in the visible spectrum of 
Nabiki's sight.  Rather, it seemed just "below" her sight, not really there- 
of course!  It was visible to her senses as a *mage*, not as a mortal.
	"You see?  This is the senses of a mage," the Demonic Tutor 
calmly stated.
	"How-how can you move?" asked Nabiki still startled.
	"You do not understand.  I am not truly here.  This is merely a 
projection.  The pentagram you perceive is a gateway to my native 
realm.  Without it, I would cease to exist here.  And I can move because 
I am not truly here.  Thus, my apparent location is irrelevant.  I can not 
interact physically or magically with this dimension.  All I can do is 
advise.  For example, look at my aura,"  the Demonic Tutor patiently 
explained.
	Still shaken, Nabiki tried to understand what the demon was 
talking about.  Aura?  The imp looked the same, no matter how she 
squinted her eyes.  All that was different, when she saw the pentagram, 
was the shimmering black outline-
	"You aura is black!" Nabiki exclaimed.
	The Demonic Tutor nodded, smiling a little.  "Correct.  I am a 
creature formed of black mana.  Without it, I will die.  You will find you 
can immediately judge the mana type of a creature and mage with a 
glance, as well as the level of their lifeforce, with time and practice."
	This was great!  With this knowledge and advantage, none of 
the others would be able to match her.  Provided she moved carefully, 
and knew more.
	"Tell me more," Nabiki commanded, sitting down eagerly.  She 
no longer had to pretend disinterest.  After all, she knew now that the 
Demonic Tutor couldn't physically interact with the physical world.  So 
what harm could it do?  After all, she was too smart and clever to be 
caught by any manipulations or deceptions it might have.  And her 
mental link to it made it impossible to lie to her.
	Nodding and obeying, the Demonic Tutor began to give the 
young sorceress its careful horde of knowledge piece by piece,  so that 
she could digest it easier.  Outwardly, it presented a calm and 
disinterested facade, while inside it grinned and gave itself a high five.
	(Mortals), it snorted mentally.
	It was always almost _too_ easy.



^_-



	Within her chamber of horrors, Kodachi sat somewhat 
discontent on her Throne of Bone, her mouth set in a petulant little 
pout.
	Which, the creatures around her had swiftly learned, was 
inevitably a *bad* thing for them.  The veracity of this fact was 
evidenced by the faint odor of burnt flesh, and the liberal amount of 
gore still steaming in the Pit.
	"So you tell me that I should rely on my creatures, and not 
engage directly?  I suppose that makes sense, given my foes, with the 
exception of my brother, are all peasants," commented to her advisor.
	"Yes, Dread Lady," the assassin said with a whisper.
	The Royal Assassin, swathed in pieces of cloth that would 
easily blend in with both day and shadow, remained hidden to the side.  
Kodachi, due to her link, could feel the presence of the Assassin, and 
knew the location in the mortuary, but found it none-the-less eerie that 
someone could so effectively conceal themselves.
	The Royal Assassin continued, "Mages seldom directly 
engage in struggles, instead relying on summoned and controlled 
minions to do their bidding."
	"Why?" Kodachi languidly asked, already knowing the 
answer.
	The Royal Assassin did not hesitate, "Once summoned, a 
creature brought to this world by you is under your absolute and 
complete control.  They may not disobey you.  Yet others, such as the 
Erg Raiders, are draw more by promises of bloodshed than magic.  If 
you do not satisfy them, they will turn on you.  Much in the same way 
Lords of the Pit require sacrifice.  But in the end, all are your creatures.  
They are the ultimate extensions of your will, pawns in your game."
	"You are nothing more than my pawn, then," Kodachi 
commented.
	A dry chuckle that seemed to come from everywhere filled the 
room.  "I would prefer to seem myself as a knight; one who moves 
irregularly, and strikes through the ranks."
	"I'll use you as my own little horsie," Kodachi promised, "and 
you will help find me my Ranma-sama."  Kodachi frowned, "A 
question."
	"The answer," the Royal Assassin responded.  "Creatures 
summoned by mages experience a kind of disorientation known as 
'summoning sickness'.  This is because of the shock of planar shifting 
that a summoning spell invokes."
	"But this wears off soon enough, does it not?" Kodachi asked 
sharply.
	"Of course," the Assassin answered.
	Kodachi pursed her lips, thinking.  "Yet how will I gain more 
creatures?"
	The Assassin looked at her.  "There are any number of ways.  
You may find more summoning spells, and learn them.  Or you may find 
a creature, mark it, and then use your mana to summon the marked 
creature to you."
	Kodachi narrowed her eyes, "How does this 'summoning' 
work?"
	"A one way gate leading to a point near you."
	"And a mage can control any number of creatures?" Kodachi 
smirked.
	"Yes", the Assassin bowed, body seeming to be shifty smoke.
	"Excellent," Kodachi said, as she rose, her cape covering the 
black leotard she wore.
	Kodachi stood over the edge of the Pit, as the various 
creatures she had summoned howled and clawed at the edge of the 
sheer surface.  She smiled down at them.
	(Excellent indeed!)



^_-



	"Why, thank you, Roland!" Kasumi exclaimed, as Roland, 
dressed in apron and chef's hat over his chain mail and tunic, gingerly 
carried out the hot pot of soup, his gauntlets covered by puffy mittens.  
He gingerly placed it on the appropriate pad as though it was the most 
important task of his life.
	Roland flushed and stammered, "Thank you, my lady."  He sat 
down at his position at the table.
	Kasumi smiled as she looked around at all of her new friends.  
The Serra Angels and the various members of the Order of Leibur all sat 
about the table, in a nice, perfect little unity.  They were all so nice.  
Little, happy friends, all in one big family.  Mr. and Mrs. Pale were also 
there, outside the open panel wall.  Which was very sweet, though her 
father and Mr. Saotome were being dreadfully poor hosts, and rude as 
well.  Look at them, just cowering in the corner and clutching each 
other.  If she didn't already know better, she would have words with 
both of them.
	Oh, no!  It looked like the young men were fighting over who 
got to serve her.  Three times in the last four hours, she had been forced 
to stringently stop their duels to the death for her favor and honor.  
Kasumi had eventually discovered that giving them tokens, like her 
gloves or scarves, made them very happy.  Still, each one seemed to 
want to be her "champion," and they constantly squabbled.  She was 
very flattered, of course, but it was a little annoying.
	Heading off an future trouble,  Serra scooped up some rice into 
a bowl, handed it to Serra, who handed it to Kasumi with a smile.  
Kasumi smiled in return, ceasing the disharmony.
	"So, Mr. Garrick, you were telling me about magical abilities," 
Kasumi asked the Samite Healer, who was savoring one of her dishes.  
True, she had not been to any formal academy, but Kasumi though her 
sushi skills were more than adequate.  Though kappa-maki was hardly a 
challenge, she still was an accomplished artiste de sushi.  Mr. Garrick 
apparently agreed, which made her feel good.
	"What?  Oh, ahem, yes," Mr. Garrick reluctantly set aside the 
rest of his meal.  His girth would have to do with a little slimming today.
	Clearing his throat with a cup of tea, Garrick, harrumphed, and 
said, "I believe we were discussing translocation, also known as 
teleportation?"
	The Serra Angels, knights, Ivory Gargoyle, and two Alabaster 
Dragons all nodded their heads.
	"Very well, translocation.  Mages can, through an expenditure 
of mana, translocate.  Using this technique, a mage may move anywhere 
they desire on a world.  There are two ways this can be done.  The first 
is the mage translocating themselves."
	"My, how wonderful!" Kasumi exclaimed, clapping her hands 
together.
	Everyone looked at Kasumi.
	"Think of all the time I will save shopping!" Kasumi smiled.
	Everyone facefaulted.
	A little uncertain, Garrick continued.
	"The second method of translocation is a gate."
	"A gate is a portal by which a mage may transmit himself and 
other beings through.  Gates can remain open for a period of time, 
serving as two-way means of transportation."
	Kasumi nodded, as she sipped her tea.  This was all so 
wonderful!  And very proper, if she used these abilities right.  Her new 
friends were happy, and orderly.  She smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Pale, 
rubbing their heads together.  How very cute.  As long as they were not 
improper!  Kasumi's face hardened, the empathetic surge startling all of 
her minions.
	Mr. and Mrs. Pale immediately began to be more discrete in 
their affections.  Kasumi's face cleared.
	Ah, that was nice.  Much better.  Cleaner.  She was going to 
make everything all nice and clean.  And her new friends would help 
her.
	"You mentioned another power," Kasumi asked.
	The delicious pickle just millimeters from his mouth, Garrick 
eyed the vegetable before he put it back on his plate.  "Uh-hm, yes, my 
lady, but I hardly think that you should concern yourself with-"
	Kasumi knew it was a little rude, but she wanted to know, and 
so cut off the kindly old man, "I'm sorry, but I really would like to know.  
Please?" Kasumi smiled, and like a flower under a heat lamp, Garrick 
wilted.  Several of the gathered body glared at Garrick for his good 
fortune.
	"Well, um, yes, there *is* another ability, yet it is incredibly 
dangerous.  Far beyond the power of mere translocation, Planar Shift 
allows a mage to penetrate the fabric of reality, tearing the warp and 
woof to transverse planets and dimensions."
	"Oh my, that sounds very messy," Kasumi exclaimed.
	"Yeah, sure.  The greatest danger is that a mage using that 
power is effectively walking across dimensions, which is very 
dangerous.  And unless you know your location, you are effectively 
jumping in blind."
	Kasumi thought on that, her mouth making a little 'O' of 
surprise.  Finally, her mouth closed as she looked in concentrated, deep 
thought.
	"Oh, you mean like this?" Kasumi asked, holding up her hand.
	Immediately, above the table, a screaming vortex of power 
formed, howling as the dimensional barriers.  The table started to 
buckle, the ground shaking as the rippling waves of mana exploded 
outward from the planar gate.  The Serra Angels immediately jumped 
back, wings fanning out to fight off the pull of the vortex.  The knights 
leaped for Kasumi, placing themselves in front of her, swords whipped 
out with lightning swiftness.  Garrick merely clutched his chest, backing 
away.  Genma and Soun cowered in fear, holding each other in a terrified 
huddle.
	And just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, as Kasumi 
lowered her hand to her face, shocked.
	Everyone looked at Kasumi, absolutely stunned she already 
knew a powerful mage ability.
	"Oh my!" Kasumi proclaimed.
	Everyone leaned forward, eager for whatever insights their 
mistress now possessed, having touched the universe and breached the 
fabric of reality.
	"What a messy, messy power!" Kasumi looked disappointed.
	The resulting facefaults dug the minions five feet under.



^_-



	Ranma sat on his throne, not used to waiting, when he noticed 
something, and said so aloud.
	"Hey, is it just me, or is this cave getting bigger?" Ranma 
wondered, curious.  He had been sitting in the cave, learning how to use 
his artifacts when they were outside his immediate line of sight.  He had 
even managed to use the mana batteries, but he had discovered 
distance control of his artifacts only functioned within certain 
parameters.  For example, only if he was there, touching the artifact, 
could Ranma command fine manipulation from his Mana Batteries.  
Otherwise, it seemed to be an all or nothing proposition.  By a similar 
token, sometimes delicate control, such as with the Ivory Cup or Bone 
Throne, little special self-control was necessary.  Just channel mana, 
and the power functioned.  That had taken up some of his time.  Yet...
	"The cave *is* getting larger," Ranma decided, abandoning 
using the Iron Star artifact as a backscratcher.  He stood from his 
throne, his melange of life-giving artifacts.
	Yes.  When he had first entered, the cave was much smaller.  
The stalactites and stalagmites were closer in, the dais small but for his 
pentagram.  But now....
	The hot springs and the waterfall seemed to be larger, a little 
louder.  The dais of smoothened stone was larger as well, with a clear 
ring of untouched stone where once the pentagram had butted against.  
The ceiling seemed to be higher, and the cavern larger.  More 
importantly, the cavern seemed more... comfortable?
	(You sound surprised, Mage), came the contemptuous mental 
voice, the biting sarcasm hot and sharp.
	Ranma barely fought off the urge to drop to his knees and 
clutch his head, instead only wavering as he glared at the creature he 
had summoned.  The first, and thus far, only of his minions.
	Minion his ass!  The thing was more argumentative than that 
tomboy!  What the hell had he been thinking, summoning a Legend?  
The very presence of the creature was hard enough to ignore, and its 
mental communication was staggeringly powerful.
	Beyond the stalactites and stalagmites, it moved, the long and 
sinuous body shifting, the skin armored.  The head appeared, reared up 
high, eyeslits glaring downwards.
	"Well, yes, I am," Ranma replied, trying not to appear shaken.
	Hissing, the creature exhaled, (This is your Stronghold, 
Sorcerer.)  It's mental tone was alien, yet Ranma had learned enough of 
the creature to tell it was unbearably smug and cocky.
	"More information would be helpful," Ranma glared.
	The creature glared right back, before giving one of its 
coughing chuckles.  (A Stronghold is an area that the mage marks off as 
their own.)
	"Marks?  How?" Ranma asked.
	The creature mentally sneered, (Like an animal urinates on a 
plant to mark its territory, so does a mage bleed their power into a place, 
making it their own.)
	"I don't recall doing any such thing," Ranma stated.
	(I do not know your mind, weakling MAGE!  Do not bother me 
with what *you* have done!) the creature raged, and Ranma could feel 
it fighting his control briefly, trying to sever the link, before it settled 
down.
	"What does this mean?" Ranma asked, levely.  He had sworn 
this was to be a partnership, and he would not force the creature to 
answer.  And though the creature was stubborn and arrogant, it did 
tend to answer him, given enough prodding.
	(It is your Stronghold!) the creature sounded exasperated, as 
though explaining a simple concept to a slow child.  (It is your place.  
Just as you, as a mage, are more than time and space, so to is this place.  
It is larger than reality would normally allow.  And it will grow, as you 
grow more in your ability.  It is your place, in which you are master.  
And it is), the last comment sounded grudging, (an excellent choice.)
	That last compliment meant a lot to Ranma, for such praising 
comments were rare, and to be treasured when he earned them.  This 
being was centuries older than he was, smarter than Cologne, and ten 
times as irritable as Happosai.
	"I just wish I knew more about magic.  What the others are 
doing.  Why they were acting so strangely," Ranma said as he sat down 
on the hard stone, his emotional defenses crumbling a little.  The 
coldness of the strata was comforting, in a way.
	The creature pulled back, then moved closer, head coming into 
the light.  It looked down at Ranma with an odd gaze, before it 
commented, in a neutral mental voice, (If they are as young a Mage as 
you, it is most likely the Mana Attunement they face.)
	Lost in thought, a little surprised, Ranma looked up.  "Mana 
Attunement?"
	The great head bobbed once.  (Yes.  All mages suffer and 
benefit from this, though those older and more experienced can deal 
with it better.)  Seeing the answer was unsatisfying, judging from the 
look of confusion on Ranma's face, the old one bit back a instinctive 
comment, and continued.
	(Yes.  All mages are effected by the mana they channel.  The 
more colored mana they wield, mana tainted a common factor, the more 
the mage's thoughts and emotions are altered.  There is the constant 
and permanent effect of being linked to lands.  It forever changes your 
worldview.  And second, when a mage uses mana, the power surges in 
them, then leaves them drained of the associate emotion.)
	Ranma digested this piece of information.  "How does it effect 
them?"
	(I do not know humanoids!) the creature snapped, rage 
flashing before it calmed, (though I do understand that black mana 
typically induces "darker" emotions and ruthlessness, blue mana 
deceptive shiftiness, green mana the primal instincts and joy of life, red 
mana passion and chaos, and white mana logic and calm.)  The creature 
gave another coughing chuckle.  (Colorless mana merely fuels a mage's 
lust for power, not that this is much of a stretch.)
	"But I haven't noticed any of these things!" Ranma protested, 
"other than I am a little more emotional when I use mana, and my 
emotions are stronger than normal."
	(That is because you are a Rainbow Mage, a Chimerical Mage, 
a Chromatic Mage, whatever you choose to name it!  Do not be 
ignorant!  Only a mage able to use all five colors of mana can summon 
me!)  The mental roar of the creature slammed Ranma, and Ranma could 
feel the angered pride of the creature.
	"Are there not other creatures summoned by all five colors of 
mana?" Ranma asked.
	(No.  Only I, for I am touched by all colors.  And because you 
wield all five colors, in perfect balance, you seem not much changed.  
But a mage who wields but two colors will be seriously imbalanced, until 
they grow accustomed to their power.  Only the most fanatical, or 
foolish, of mages would wield only a single color.)
	"You know, this being a mage thing is really starting to sound 
like it sucks," Ranma complained.
	The creature drew back.  (Ah, perhaps there is some small hope 
for you), it pronounced.
	"What do you mean?"  Ranma asked.
	(You are starting to show more wisdom), was the enigmatic 
reply, as the creature retreated to the shadows of the cave, indicating 
the conversation was over.
	"You mean there is worse?" Ranma called out to it.
	This time, for the first time ever, there was pity and sadness in 
the mental voice, and all of it directed at Ranma.
	(Far worse, Sorcerer.)
	"What do you mean, far worse?!?" Ranma yelled at the 
darkness.
	Silence was his only answer.



^_-



	Mousse swallowed heavily, trying to avoid the sudden 
uneasiness he felt as he reread what he had just read in the scroll.  Thus 
far, the information had been good, enlightening Mousse as to many of 
his new abilities.  But the last, the last had been...
	Mousse read the passage again.



	Mana Dependency:  The darkest of dark flaws of the mage is 
	their dependency on mana, and is utter and complete.  It is 
	mana which spurs their transformation into mages, and once 
	that event is complete, the mage is dependent on mana.  This is 
	not to say that a mage cannot have all their lands tapped, or 
	need mana to be used in maintaining life; no, the mage simply 
	must have mana.
		Despite their Enhanced Constitution and other 
	powers, the mage is vulnerable in one critical sense, and that is 
	the fact that all their power is dependent on mana.  More than 
	their power, their very *existence* is dependent on mana, once 
	they transmutate into mages.
		Mana denial can occur a number of ways, but the 
	most common methods are rival mages destroying all the lands 
	the mage is manalinked to, or the Dead Times phenomena.  
	Dead Times are events that occur randomly in the universe, 
	but most often when mana is used too often on a world.  When 
	a Dead Times happens, *ALL* magic ceases, as all lands stop 
	producing mana.  Magic still exists, of course, it merely cannot 
	be used by anyone.
		Whatever the cause, when a mage suffers a variable 
	period of time without being manalinked to a land, 
	degeneration begins.  Accounts vary on the process, with 
	some mages rotting alive, others burning inside out slowly, 
	while still others age at an accelerated rate.  Whatever the 
	method, the mage begins to die, in an incredibly agonizing 
	way.  Only in the rarest of cases does a mage retain the ability 
	to manalink; most mages can do nothing but die.  The body 
	and essence of the mage seeks to support itself, and without 
	any mana source to do so, instead starts to consume the very 
	existence of the mage.  This begins a vicious cycle which 
	ultimately results in the annihilation of the mage.
	Obviously, this is a terrifying fate, and one which a mage will 
	do almost anything to avoid.  Most mages are unaware of this 
	fact of being a mage, but all of power soon learn of it.  There is 
	even an unspoken "mage's code" on the matter, one even the 
	most sadistic and evil of mages acknowledge, and that is to 
	never inflict such a fate on a fellow mage.  Those who do so 
	become pariahs beyond pariahs.
		I myself was chance enough to witness such a 
	degeneration, and I cannot, to this day, describe what I saw 
	those nine weeks.  Whenever I question my choice not to use 
	my ability of manalink and become a mage, I remember what I 
	saw.
		There is a heavy price for power.



	Somehow, even though in an alien language, written by some 
overly verbose academic, the pity and other emotion conveyed through 
that simple, small last paragraph struck him harder than one of 
Shampoo's rejections.
	For a time, Mousse just sat there, in the dirty alleyway, as wind 
and snippets of conversation flowed around him, and wondered if 
perhaps Citrus' gift had, in truth, been such a great gift after all.



^_-



	"At last, I find you," came the voice from behind him.
	Happosai froze dead in his tracks, knowing that fleeing from 
this one was useless.  Especially given his pack, with all his worldly 
possessions, weighing him down.  The encumbrance was not as great 
as it could have been, as in his rush to leave; he had left much of his 
precious collection behind.  But he had to leave, because he knew what 
was coming.
	"I thought you might know something about this," the voice 
continued.
	With a sigh, Happosai turned around to face his tormentor.
	"I guess I was right," said the intruder, perched atop her staff.
	"Hello Cologne.  What do you want?" Happosai asked, 
knowing escape was impossible.  And resisting would only delay his 
departure.  Best to answer her questions quickly.
	"What you think I want," Cologne answered, hopping forward, 
"Information."
	Happosai threw down his sack, and sat in the dusty road, the 
fading sunset providing red illumination.  "Fine, fine, ask your 
questions and let me go," Happosai irritably snapped.  Actually, this 
might be a good thing.  Maybe Cologne could reign those youngsters 
in.  Because if not... Happosai shuttered.  Yes, it was best to get out of 
Nerima.  Out of Tokyo.
	"First, what do you think I am going to ask?" Cologne 
narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  She was hoping for hints, or some 
general lore, but Happosai seemed to know quite a bit about what was 
going on.  Maybe he had something to do with it.
	"You're going to ask about the youngsters becoming mages," 
Happosai snorted, "Well, I don't know much, but if it will get you off my 
back, then I will tell you what I *do* know."
	(Mages?  They had become sorcerers?  How?  Usually it took 
years and years to master even cantrips!)  "What do you mean, 
mages?" Cologne asked.
	Happosai made a gesture, "You know, mages.  People who can 
use magi.  And I mean *real* magic.  Like summoning dragons, or 
incinerating buildings with fireballs.  The kind of thing that tells me to 
get out of Nerima."
	Cologne questioned that, "How did that come to be?"
	Happosai shot up, "That's just it!  There aren't supposed to be 
any mages here!  This world is neutral!"  Which, Happosai did not add, 
meant there was nothing to draw a mage to it.  But Ranma, and the 
others, using mana, would draw other mages like honey drew insects.  
And that would be very bad.
	Cologne digested that piece of information, but was curious, 
"Where did you find all this out?"
	"A contact of the underworld persuasion," Happosai admitted.
	"A demon?  They do lie, you know," Cologne threw at 
Happosai.
	"First, they are not demons," Happosai stated, rattling off as in 
a lecture, as Cologne looked at him, "They prefer to be called celestially-
challenge beings."
	Cologne fell off her staff, doing a face-fault.
	As she pulled herself up, Cologne glared at Happosai, "A 
politically correct demon!?"
	Happosai shrugged, "Hey, where do you think politically 
correct came from, anyway?"
	Cologne thought about that.  "Hmmm... good point."  She 
shook her head, "Anyway, how do you know a demon so well, Happy?  
I thought would have more sense than *that*."
	"Of course I do!"  Happosai huffed.  "We are merely both 
connoisseurs of the finer, lacy things of life."
	"A panty demon?" Cologne raised an eyebrow.  Now she 
*had* heard everything.
	"Hey, show some heart!  It's tough being a creature whose 
perversion is something others mock, not understanding the caress of 
the satin and lace, the smell of cotton mixed with that delicious scent..." 
Happosai sniffled, a tear appearing in his eyes, before he grabbed a 
brassiere and blew his nose.
	Cologne just glared at him.  "So, this demon and you have a 
contract?"
	Happosai stamped his foot, "Of course not!  We are 
dimensional pen-pals of a sort.  He told me a little about mages.  Like 
how lucky we were that there are none here.  At least, there *were*."
	Cologne sighed.   Happosai could be like this.
	"Fine, Happy.  Just tell me what you know."
	Happosai sighed, echoing Cologne.  "Not much, unfortunately.  
It was only mentioned briefly, in passing.  I do know that mages are 
normal people who somehow gain the ability to use magic.  They link to 
patches of land, drawing a magical force called mana from them, and 
then cast spells.  Mana has five colors, red, green, blue, black silk, and 
cotton white.  Ahh, cotton white..... and blue silk.  Uummm, the red 
satin! The black leather! And the green latex!  Ohhhhhh!!"
	Cologne bapped the master of his own school, who dodged, 
but still shook him from his fantasy.  Damn pervert.
	Happosai shook himself.  "Anyway, other than the fact they 
become nearly indestructible, omniscient, and powerful, there isn't much 
else I know about mages, other than to get *very* far away.  I know I 
am going to.  You should as well."
	"Nothing more?  Know you anything more?"  Cologne 
pressed.
	Happosai scratched his head, "Well, I remember a little about 
famous mages, but not much else."
	"Tell me," Cologne commanded.
	"Well, he did mention two famous mage brothers.  I believe 
they were Urza and Mishra?  Anyway, they had a big war.  And then 
there was this famous conclave of mages who vanished mysteriously a 
while ago.  There was this old guy, far older than ourselves, and worse 
looking to boot, named Mater?  Maht-ra?  Materia?"  Happosai checked 
his pockets.  "Nope, got mine right there.  Mall-rat?  I don't remember, 
but my demon associate used to work for him from time to time.  He was 
a blood mage, whatever that means.  Then there was this child-mage, 
Uunn, some kind of healer.  And he had also once been sent on a 
fruitless search for Vihhula, this ancient and powerful blue mage."  
Happosai narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember."
	"Anything else?," Cologne asked.  It seemed that Happy didn't 
know much, but anything was better than nothing.  And why was he 
being so free with his information?  She had expected it to be like usual, 
like dragging a tick out of it's burrow of flesh; painful, time-consuming, 
and annoying.
	"Yes," Happosai said, his eyes becoming clear in the fading 
rays of sunlight.  "He warned me."
	"Warned you," Cologne didn't like the sound of this.
	"Yes, apparently there is this new mage, a mage who can wield 
all five colors, who was assembled a vast host of mages and creatures.  
This mage is a new mage to mage politics, no more than ten thousand 
years old, but he is very, very, very dangerous.  My associate, who 
does not exaggerate, called this one the most dangerous mage in 
history."
	"Who is this mage?" Cologne asked.
	"He is a planeswalker, warlord, and mage.  He has conquered 
over three hundred worlds.  He is the Lord of the Iron Throne, a mighty 
artifact, and Emperor of the Iron Empire, his vast territory of conquered 
places.  He has no name, answering only to Nameless."
	Cologne felt a sudden chill, perhaps premonition, perhaps 
women's intuition.  "Are we in danger?"
	Happosai laughed.  "From that one?  Don't worry.  He would 
have to find this place, a virtually impossible task, as it is a neutral 
world.  And in order to attack with his full power and forces, he would 
have to have someone here summon him.  Who would be foolish 
enough to do that?"
	Cologne still couldn't shake the feeling of someone walking 
over her grave.  "You sure we are in no danger?"
	"From the youngsters?  Probably.  As for the Nameless," 
Happosai smiled, strained, "in order to even have anyone summon and 
call him, he would have had to have been here."
	"Thank the Christian God that hasn't happened yet!" Cologne 
breathed.
	"Amen to that, and praise the kami," Happosai said.
	"After all, if that one came here, we would face a real disaster," 
Happosai said, form fading from sight, as the sun began to vanish over 
the horizon, "wouldn't we?"
	The answer, whatever it was, was swallowed by the cold wind 
that came from the north, sweeping the last of the light from day, 
leaving only the darkness of night.



^_-



	The one stood on the hillside, looking down at the barren 
ground before him, as masses of the new subjects huddled in a large 
semi-circle, shivering under the chill wind.
	Suddenly, the mage atop the hill exploded with the glowing 
power of his mana, the pre-dawn turned multi-colored light.  The 
glowing strands flashed, before gathering in the outstretched hand of 
the mage.
	"My gift to you, my contract," called out the mage in a voice 
that boomed forth, roaring in every ear.  "I destroy those who 
oppressed you, and in reward for your loyalty, I grant THIS!!!!"
	And with that, the orb of shimmering rainbow light shot 
forward, screaming into the barren land.
	And before the subject's astonished eyes, the ground ceased 
being fallow.  Small blades of grass began to grow, then large 
vegetation.
	And then the buildings appeared, vast constructs of shining 
glass and smooth stone.  The dwellings towered over the cowering 
peasants, who clutched one another.
	The magical light faded, leaving nothing but the glow of dawn 
to reveal what had been wrought in the desolate plain.
	Astonished, disbelieving, the populace looked about 
themselves.
	Where once had been blasted rock, now grew grass and trees.  
Where once only the scavengers who fed on carrion roamed, now 
waved sheets of wheat and barley.  Cows and other livestock, such as 
giant iguanas, wandered aimlessly.
	Yet even more incredible was the awe-inspiring city that had 
appeared, made of a magical substance, the very ground paved with the 
grey stone that seemed to have no breaks.  This magical substance 
covered everything, from raised walkways on either side of the stone 
path for wagons, to the very top of the tall buildings that seemed to 
claw, to scrape the sky.
	First one, then another, and then more, until all eyes turned to 
the mage, new ruler of this world, who stood on the stone outcropping.
	A sound began to float up, slowly at first, and indistinct, but 
growing loud.
	The mage looked down at his handiwork, and smiled.  To be 
sure, it wasn't exactly what he had seen, but sufficient to wow over 
these people.  And he had not recreated that tower of metal he had 
seen.
	"nameless.  nameless"
	But then again, he hadn't had much time.  Though that would 
change.  He doubted the children realized how time dilated when 
traveling between dimensions.  What had been no more than a day or 
so to them had already been four months here.
	"Nameless.  Nameless."
	And soon this world would be ready.  It was a familiar pattern.  
Invade, placate the population.  Rebuild and gain their support (or fear 
and respect, which was warranted).  Establish infrastructure, appoint a 
loyal minion to governorship.  Then move on.
	"Nameless!  Nameless!"
	Moving on.  Yes, moving on, to the true city he had seen, not 
this replica before him.  It would be quite a stretch, but he was fairly 
certain he could take it intact.  The city that was.  Not the population of 
that world.  And speaking of moving on... The mage reached inside his 
inner robe pocket, and pulled an object free.
	"NAMELESS!  NAMELESS!"
	(And I have a ticket to that world),  Nameless thought, as he 
read the small paper card, elegantly embossed with the name Tendo 
Nabiki, and the caption "Entrepreneur".
	Well, he had a proposition she couldn't refuse.  He didn't just 
need loyal minions as governors.
	He needed ambitious, talented, intelligent servants to rule his 
worlds effectively.
	"*NAMELESS!!!*"  "*NAMELESS!!!*"
	"Nabiki Tendo," Nameless, also known by a select few as 
Citrus, "I have an offer you can't refuse."
	"The world you call Earth."
	Grinning, Nameless raised his arms, as the thundering applause 
crashed over him, just as on hundreds of worlds, others praised him.
	Soon, the inhabitants of Earth would do the same.
	Or their remains would be fertilizer for loyal minions who did.



^_-



As an added bonus, here is the actual document that Mousse was 
reading.

(Author's Note:  This was actually first, initial, rough draft for the 
section you just read.  Pretty cool, huh?)

(Author's Note 2:  This piece is rife with spelling and grammar errors.  
Ummm.... consider it "translation error" (I was too lazy, in truth).)

(Author's Note 3:  I must apologize to my pre-readers:

I AM VERY SORRY!!!!

I had them pre-read this, which they did quite well, then wrote an 
entirely different draft -Me.)



A Brief Analysis of Magic: Mages and Mana

Prepared by Royal Scribe Mar to Her Majesty, Ruhisha the Scholar


	Magic.  Mages.  Mana.

	Three words that invariably sum up for all enlightened beings 
the dynamics of power in the universe.  Three words that connotate 
myriad and infinite meanings.  It is a subject and existence that not even 
the vast library of Muldur, in our great city of Skulli, could hope to even 
tenatively document.  It is the legends of mages like Urza, of mana like 
the Grotto, or spells like Armageddon, that send shivers of fear and 
excitement up and down the dorsal ridges of sentient beings.  For who 
among us, as hatchlings, has not dreamed of becoming a mage?  Who 
has not known the desire and fear?  To hold power, yet ultimately be 
slave to it?  I know that I, myself, once entertained notions of becoming 
a mage.  But most of what uninformed people and many mages 
themselves know as truth is in fact myth, and actually false.  The 
purpose of this document is to clarify such errors, and provide greater 
understanding.  In this, I must thank the court mage Skn'rr for his 
assistance, and the infrequent aid of his teacher, the Shadowy Mage 
Cig'rr'ett Sm'kkn Mann.  Both have been invaluable.
	By the grace of her Majesty, I have divided this document into 
three sections, the first a brief overview of magic itself, then I will 
discuss the manifestation of magic, the phenomena of mana.  Finally, I 
will detail the wielders of this mana, mages.



I.  Magic


	Magic is accurately described as the lifestuff of the universe.  
It is the primal force that drives all of creation.  The nectar of the gods.
	But this is something even children know, and his hardly 
conducive to an intelligent discource.  None-the-less, it establishes a 
basis for what magic truly *is*.
	Magic is something that cannot be quantified or qualified.  
Mortals and immortals might attempt to, but in the end, they are just 
creating labels and terms that only satisfy themselves.  Mana, mage, 
power, sorceror, spell, sorcery;  these are all created terms trying to 
define even aspects of magic.  In the end, they all fail to grasp the 
immensity of magic.  Perhaps the sage Lonne Gn'men said it best: 
"Magic simply *is*."
	Almost all can tell you that magic is divided into five seperate 
types of mana: black, blue, green, red, and white.  Each are seen as part 
of the greater whole of magic, but this is merely a symbolistic aspect.  
Magic has no true color; blue mana is merely pure magic refined to a 
point where mortal and immortal minds can use and channel it.  True 
magic has no color.  This is not to be confused with colorless mana, 
which is lower than even "colored" mana.  Colorless mana is mana 
reduced to the most basic of components, not even retaining a single 
characteristic of magic.
	If this seems too short for an adequate description, be aware 
that of all those I spoke to, none truly know what magic is.  Again, I 
refer the reader to the best description I have come across.
	Magic simply is.



II.  Mana


	Mana is a confusing topic, one which, like magic itself, is 
frequently misunderstood.  Many people infrequently identify the most 
common source of mana, lands, as being mana.  This is, of course, 
incorrect.  Others think of mana as the force that gives lands their 
magical potential.  This is closer to the truth, yet still false.  A few truly 
foolish believe mana to be the extraordinary lifeforce mages possess.  
This is also incorrect.  The truth is far simpler, and much more complex, 
depending on how one looks at the subject.
	Mana is the force of magic, taken into effect.  Unlike magic 
itself, mana is a definite, quantifiable force.  It is so much so that despite 
coming from diverse backgrounds, even though they wield mana of 
colors such black, blue, green, red, and white mana, or the colorless 
variety, mages have devised a relatively universal system of measuring 
mana.  It is not known whether this is instinctual, an effect of the 
transmutation in becoming a mage, or something that is simply picked 
up as the mage learns to use their abilities.  Different mages and schools 
call these measurements of mana by different names, but the units of 
measurement are the same.  When a Kyrossian Death Sorceror talks of 
two ijju, and a Samite Healer talks of one blessed radiance, the two 
mages know that they mean two black mana and one white mana.  It has 
even been observed that mages can use this universal mathematical 
system of quantifying mana as a means of communication.
	For simplicities sake, mana is subdivided into six categories: 
black, blue, green, red, white, and colorless mana.  All of these types of 
mana have the same relative power.  Black mana is of the same "worth" 
as red mana.  Indeed, even the color distinctions of mana are ultimately 
only conjecture.  Mana is true magic, tapped and drawn on such a way 
as to allow the mage to use a part of the might of creation to engineer 
effects.  Each of the five colors of mana have a certain "flavor" of 
creation, drawing on certain aspects of creation.  It is important to note 
the idea of mana having "color" is completely arbitary, and merely 
following the widespread human convention.
	The types of mana are:

Black:  This type of mana embodies the entropy of the universe, the 
transition from motion to stillness. It is also the mana that allows the 
most radical shifts in creation.  A mage using this power can steal 
lifeforce, kill, or bring the dead to unlife.  Obviously, this type of mana 
tends to have negative connotations, but this is an error.  Black mana is 
as much a part of creation as white mana is.

Blue:  This type of mana is the critical junction of denial and decision.  
A mage using blue mana can deny other types of mana, create illusions 
and effects by denying certain aspects of perception and reality, and 
decide on implaccable courses of action, allowing massive creatures and 
effects to exist.  Unlike black mana, which is the entropy and destruction 
of elements of creation, blue mana redirects or alters creation into 
alternative avenues.  Blue mana is the decider.

Green:  This type of mana is the magic of possibilties.  From green mana 
comes the limitless possibilities of the miracle of life.  A mage using this 
mana can restablish existence by regenerating creatures, bringing life to 
fullness by allowing growth, or turning life to other avenues.  It is not 
the decider, such as blue mana is, but rather is the gateway by which 
creation can allow changes.

Red:  This type of mana is the mana of force.  By red mana is change 
brought about.  A mage using this power can call lightning, shatter 
lands, and make massive devastation possible.  Red mana is the key to 
the universe introducing new concepts.

White:  This type of man is the mana of creation.  White mana is the 
substance of which the universe is made.  With it, a mage can deny 
other types of mana by filling that portion of creation with white mana, 
heal someone by replenishing their lost essence, and effectively destroy 
lands by suffussing them with white mana, returning them to their 
"tabula rasa" state.  White mana is the element of which creation is 
written upon.

Colorless:  Colorless is mana by which all the aspects of creation have 
been stripped from it.  It can not create entropy as black mana, nor 
decide as blue mana, or allow possibilities as green mana, let alone the 
changes of red mana, to say nothing of the existence of creation that 
white mana is.  But colorless mana suffers none of the associated 
effects of colored mana.  Thus, though lacking the primal energy by 
which effects and sorceries can be brought to bear on creation, it can 
still be used to amplify magical spells of all sort.  As a result, colorless 
mana frequently serves as a universal basis of mana.


	Mana is the force by which magic is made known.  Yet this 
mana has to come from somewhere, less the mage quickly find 
themselves exhausted of mana.  Mana is an awesome power, and using 
magical spells requires prodigious amounts of the creation force.
	A common misconception is that mana comes from lands.  It 
does not.  Mana is nothing more than the force of creation that mages 
call upon.  It comes from the universe, not something as silly as a 
physical location.  Contrary to popular belief, mana is not a product of 
land.  The entire whole of creation produces mana.  It is just that the 
mana all of creation holds is too diffuse.  It is nearly impossible to draw 
mana from the average portion of creation in front of you.  Calling 
colorless mana is hard, colored mana nearly impossible.
	Yet in certain types of terrain, enough of certain types of 
creation "pools," for lack of a better term.  A place where mana gathers, 
becoming "heavier" in one color of mana.  These places are usually 
geographical locations, frequently known as "lands."  Each of these 
lands has a connection with the type of mana that pools there.  A mage 
merely exploits this heavy concentration of mana, siphoning it away.  
This excess mana in that particular patch of creation is channeled to the 
mage, who uses it to work magic.  The land becomes drained of its 
excess mana, tapped, becoming like most of reality.  Over a period of 
time, which has never been quite defined and is very variable, the 
sympathetic mana harmonics draw that surplus of mana back, causing a 
saturation, which a mage can then tap again for mana.  This is the 
process by which mages can gain power.
	There are several basic mana sources, detailed below.  There 
are rare occasions when two particular genre of mana coincide, and the 
mana of two types swells there.  This does not mean twice the mana, it 
merely means one of two types of mana can be drawn from the site.  
Such locations are called "dual lands."
	The basic types of land are:

Forests:  Forests, places teaming with life, are the areas in which green 
mana congeals.  Forests are the testing ground of evolution, places 
where possibilties emerge and are explored.  Small surprise that green 
mana thickens at these areas.  An interesting aside, regarding 
information provided by a planeswalking mage I had the distinct 
pleasure of speaking with.  He claimed that on some worlds, other areas 
were strong in green mana, not merely forests.  These places of 
possibility were research laboratories, schools, and other areas.  I know 
not precisely what this means, but thought best to include this 
information, for the sake of completeness.

Islands:  Islands, places surrounded by the constantly shifting water, 
resolute in their soliditary against the vastness around themselves, 
deceptive when seen from a distance, are the places where blue mana 
swells.  Islands are where anything can happen, where a single wave 
can gather strength, becoming an unstoppable wave of liquid 
destruction.  Again, the planeswalking mage I met detailed another 
series of sites that occasionally drew blue mana.  Places of deceptions 
and decision, like business markets, political courts, and other areas, 
tend to draw blue mana.  Again, I cannot confirm this.

Mountains:  Mountains, standing tall and firm as razor winds cut them, 
scarring their faces.  Mountains, where rains and ice dig trenches down 
their sides.  Mountains, formed by the cracks in the earth, as the ground 
was violated.  Small surprise that in these locations red mana is found, 
the mana of force and change.  My planeswalker associate claimed that 
on some worlds, red mana came into being in sports arenas, or sites of 
fierce emotions, among others.  This only seems logical, though I 
cannot confirm this.

Plains:   Plains are that from which all other lands form.  Mountains push 
up from their smooth surface, swamps dig decaying mass into their 
pristine flatness, forests find life and growth in their inviting ground, 
and islands are nothing more than plains formed around deceptive 
water.  Small surprise, then, that white mana is the patron of such sights.  
White mana, the force on which all creation is written, is located in 
plains.  My plainswalker scholar has observed white mana forming in 
places like churches or other holy places, hospitals and other centers of 
well being, and so on.  This seems to make sense, as both hospitals and 
churches seek to fill the hole of loss in people.

Swamps:  Swamps are stagnant places, where life and material come to 
slowly deteriorate and be crushed into dust.  Small surprise that black 
mana, the sign of entropy, should stagnate in these places.  The 
planeswalker has also seen black mana in morgues, places of great 
tragedy such as battlefields, and thus on.  I cannot confirm this.


	It should be noted that there is no common, natural source for 
colorless mana.  There are rare or uncommon areas where it forms, but 
most locations are too mixed with the various colors for a mage to draw 
out such bland mana.  Typically, odd sites and artifacts provide 
colorless mana.
	It should also be noted that the size of a location has little 
bearing on the amount of mana.  A massive mountain might produce 
only one red mana, while a smaller peak could produce almost twenty.  
This can be both good and bad.  On worlds where mana is rare, the 
ability of mages to do harm or good is much less.  Given the scarcity of 
mana, and the limitations that imposes, most mages horde their lands, 
and seldom are foolish enough waste their precious mana.  On the down 
side, mana tends to be controlled by only a handful of individuals, 
offering little protection from mages by normal people.  On worlds where 
mana is plentiful, mages can create incredible miracles or cause 
devastation destruction.  Also, given the plentitude of mana, mages are 
far more likely to war upon each other.  On the plus side, more mana 
means more wizards, preventing any one party from getting too much 
power.  Indeed, the world of Rann is massive, nearly four times the size 
of Domania, yet produces a pitiful total of perhaps 80 mana.  A trio of 
mage-kings rule with despotic force.  On the reverse, the world of Tellus 
is only two-thirds the size of Domania, yet produces an incredible 38,000 
mana!  Some of the greatest feats of magic have been accomplished 
there, both good and bad.  By the same token, the once magical and 
beautiful world of Tellus has been reduced to a war-torn nightmare by 
feuding mages.  Thus, size is seldom a very good determiner for mana 
levels.
	It is also important to note that seldom are lands "destroyed," 
though that is what mages frequently claim to have done to their 
opponents.  While it is true that several rare incidents have occurred 
where a mage destroys a land, such as through a Zuran Orb, more often 
than not, the spell that "destroys" a land simply causes enough psychic 
shock that the manalink of the mage snaps and cannot be reformed for 
some time.  In most mage duels, time is something that is very precious, 
and by the time a mage is able to relink with a land, they are dead.  This 
also saves the land, and prevents the waste of valuable magic 
resources.



III.  Mages


	Many people think of mages as ordinary people able to 
manipulate mana.  Some think of mages as an entirely different race of 
beings.
	Both assumptions are correct, and both are wrong.
	Mages *are* ordinary people, before they start to wield magic.  
Unlike the legends sometimes hold, there is no predeterminincy for 
magic.  Anyone can become a mage.  Yet once such a person does 
embrace magic, they are no longer ordinary people.  They have become 
a different species.
	Confused yet?
	Good.  Because mages _are_ confusing.  They tend to come 
from diverse backgrounds.  There have been royalty who have become 
apprentice mages, just as there have been farmers who have touched 
the rank of ArchMage.  There is no guaranteed formulae for a mage, no 
generic mold.  Mages are, one and all, individuals.  There seems to be 
no requirements for being a mage, outside basic sentience.  There are 
artifacts who have become mages, weak-minded goblins who have 
become sorcerors, noble angels twisted into mage tyrants, and even a 
Thrull Arch-Mage!  Mages need not be living; there are plenty of 
undead mages, and even a few dead mages.  There seems to be little 
discretion in who creation chooses to manipulate its energies.  So what 
makes a mage a mage?
	All mages have one thing in common, and that is that 
_somehow_, they became touched by mana.  The process by which a 
normal being becomes a mage is not known, or confirmed.  Some are 
born to it, apparantly by genetic inheritance.  Others, through 
meditation or focus, become mages.  Some study, training under a mage, 
until they manage to somehow grasp the secret of becoming a mage.  
Others just accidentally find themselves mages.  A number of mages 
have reported that magical objects or artifacts gave them their apptitude 
for magic.  A few rare mages claim to have developed processes by 
which one can become a mage, yet even they claim that the process is 
imperfect.  The only beings that seem to know for sure are 
planeswalkers, mages of awesome power who stride worlds and 
dimensions like you or I might step over a puddle on the street.  These 
enigmatic and powerful creatures are the only beings who have been 
confirmed to know the secret of creating mages, yet it seems to be an 
unwritten rule that they never divulge the secret of the act.  Finding, let 
alone speaking to one these beings is beyond me, and the wise do not 
mettle in the affairs of demi-gods, and thus neither will I.
	Still, there are some things that can be told about the process 
of becoming a mage.  Mages have a number of abilities and restrictions 
that make them different that normal people.  The first, and most 
fundamental, existing before the mage becomes a mage, is the power of 
manalink.


Manalink:  Mages have the ability to link themselves to sources of 
refined mana, these sites known commonly as lands.  This ability, in 
essence, allows a mage to drawn upon these lands, so as to channel 
mana into themselves, before using the mana to evoke any number of 
effects.  All use of magic and mana is dependent on this ability.  The 
process of manalink itself is remarkably simple.  A mage simply finds an 
appropriate land from which to draw mana, and spends the time to link 
themselves to it.  Some symbolic mages find mixing their blood or other 
bodily fluids with the land conducive to this process, while others use 
meditation, or complete tranversing of the land to acquire affinity to the 
site.  More experienced mages just mystically link themselves, without 
show or fanfare, though other mages find this to be a callous and 
soulless act.  The time necessary to link with a land varies, but is 
generally fairly short.
	Once linked with a site, a mage is intuitively aware of changes 
that occur within or around it.  Thus, a creature living on the land, or a 
hostile mage attempting translocation to the site is immediately 
detected.  This empathy is not omniscience of the land, but nor is it a 
dull awareness.  Mages know their lands, no matter where they are 
located.  Even the most powerful mages can instantly tell someone the 
state of any one of their hundreds of lands.  This mental awareness 
seems not to tax the mind or concentration of the mage, rather being an 
instinctive and completely natural power.
	Lands can be divided into two seperate categories, whatever 
type (swamp, forest, etc.) they might be.  Essentially, two categories of 
lands exist: those that have been "primed" for use as sources of mana, 
able to be tapped after being link, and those that are natural and 
completely dormant, also called "virgin" lands.  Primed lands require 
little effort to be linked, provided there is no mage currently linked to the 
land.  Primed lands are lands that a mage was once linked to, before 
being killed or loosing their link to the land.  These are the lands most 
sought by mages, as they are, as mentioned above, easy to acquire as 
mana sources.  Lands that are primed remain so for a variable period of 
time after their manalink has been severed.  Some primed lands revert to 
being virgin lands within moments following the loss of the link, while 
other primed lands take untold centuries to become virgin lands.
	Virgin lands are important, as they are essential for the 
transformation into a mage.  A person with manalink *must* link with a 
virgin land before they can use magic, or become a mage.  These first 
manalinked lands become essential to the identity of a mage as a mage.  
As one might expect, linking to a virgin land is nowhere near as easy as 
linking to a primed land.  A virgin land has wild, untamed mana swirling 
about, in no way structured to be used as mana for spells.  A person 
with manalink must extend their efforts to touch the land, drawing it into 
a usable land, "priming" it, as the process is known.  This type of 
linking is extremely devastating and draining on a mage.  Mages have 
described the side effects of this process as giving them extreme 
headaches, intestinal disorders, and wasting weariness.  While those 
using this first manalinking experience to promote the trasmutation into 
magehood suffer only the basic effects, normal mages are much more 
effected.  Their spellcasting abilities become hampered, drawing on 
mana becomes difficult, and the mage loses focus.  Obviously, for more 
experienced mages, this can be devastating.  A less than honorable 
tactic for many mages is to "gift" people with the ability to become a 
mages, have them suffer the pain of priming virgin lands, then killing 
them and seizing the primed lands.
	Mages can also suffer backlash.  This occurs in one of two 
ways.  First, the lands they are linked to suffer damage or some other 
magical attack, and the trauma of the event "snaps" the manalink to the 
land, causing it to enter a state known as a neutral land.  Neutral lands 
are lands that are effectively "destroyed" as mana sites, their mana 
reserves scrambled, and their ability to pool mana hampered.  Spells like 
Stone Rain typically cause enough damage to render a land neutral.  
This neutral effect usually wears of, in time, but this takes quite a while.  
After this period of time, the land is usually once more a primed land, 
waiting to be linked, though there are cases of lands reverting back to 
being virgin lands.  Backlash can also occur when a mage channels 
mana into their body, and then does not direct it, either into a spell or 
other effect.  The magical force, lacking any other avenue of escape, 
ravages the body of the mage, as the power scrambles the lifeforce of 
the mage.  This damage is called "manaburn," and only foolish, 
outwitted, or desperate mages suffer from it.  There is no known way to 
avoid manaburn, as mana taken from a land cannot be forced back into a 
tapped land.


	Manalink is clearly the first and foremost ability of a mage, 
though one does not necessarily have to be a mage to have it.  Indeed, 
there are those who have manalink, notably some elves, who never 
become mages, chosing to remain as they are.  Yet with manalink, and 
the nebulous requirement for being a mage, one can become a mage.  On 
manalinking with even a single virgin land, the transmuatation process 
of becoming a mage begins.  Though it seems to vary from mage to 
mage, a rough concensus has been reached.


Transmutation to a Mage (also known as biothaumaturgical essence-
encoding transmutation, among other things):  The transmutation into 
becoming a mage requires, as mentioned above, that the would-be mage 
manalink to a virgin land.  This is a trying process, especially for a 
neonate mage who does not know what to expect.  Mages have 
described this process as being ill, mentioned above in more depth, and 
the new mage typically is beset by the force of the mana flowing into 
them.  It is not essential that a mage be linked to hundreds of lands; 
only a single mana source is necessary, though their usefulness as a 
mage is certainly limited.  Essentially, the mana is flowing into the mage, 
rewriting their critical essence, their spirit and "soul," for lack of a better 
word.  This process is actually both slow and sudden.  Slow in the 
sense that the actual acclimitization of magical force within the newly 
changed mage-to-be takes time.  It doesn't happen in a single instant.  
The mana from the virgin lands creates a matrix of magical essence, 
which forms an inifinte variety of links to the natural universe, to all of 
creation.  The mage becomes like a twig in a lake, whose movement 
sends out ripples.  The mage is becoming partially mana themselves, the 
lattice of energy sustaining them (see below for more details).  The 
description of this process varies from race to race, and among the 
various sexes.  It seems that among humanoid females, it feels like a 
diffuse warmth of energy spread across every inch and cell of the body.  
Humanoid males tend to regard this process as a tight ball of pure 
energy, typically located in the torso, waiting to be used.  Gross 
physical changes, such as pregnancy or death, can alter this feeling, but 
little else can.  The composition of this energy seems dependant on a 
number of factors (see mana dependency, below).
	On the other hand, becoming a true mage is sudden and 
abrupt.  For some, it is a painful transformation, while for others, it is an 
epiphany of understanding.  The mage truly becomes aware of the 
power within them, as well as the power flowing into them from their 
lands.  They realize how to direct and harness this power, even if they 
lack spells or creatures to do so.  At this point, the mage is truly a mage, 
and the transmutation is complete.


	Obviously, this entails a number of changes.  The mage still 
has a number of requirements native to the species they arose from.  
Thus, a vampire will still be burnt by sunlight, a human still needs to eat, 
a merfolk will die if left out of water for too long.  They still retain their 
racial characteristics.  Becoming a mage is a subtle chrysallis, not a 
gross physical alteration.  But a mage does have a number of 
advantages and limitations beyond what their native species possesses.


Enhanced Constitution:  All mages discover this advantage, usually 
very quickly.  As a mage forms the magical lattice within themselves, 
linking them to mana and the land, their bodies are also affected.  The 
mana fills every fiber of the mages existence, almost as though a great 
spider had woven a web of mana to every part of the mage.  This, in 
turn, endows the mage with enhanced physical endurance.  As the 
mage is now connected to the fabric of all creation, only more so, 
creation tends to become "heavier" in the body of the mage.  
Essentially, there is more connection to creation in every cell of the 
mage, and thus changing the body's inherent nature becomes more 
difficult.  Blows that should kill a human mage merely scratch them.  
This endurance, like mana, is a quantifiable force they call "Life".  Life, 
as one might expect, is the level of damage a creature can take before it 
is destroyed.  All mages, regardless of physical condition, begin with 20 
Life, a peculiarity that is universal.  More than one Arch-Mage has 
taken advantage of this, allowing minions to manalink to a single land to 
make them stronger than they normally would be.  This has 
consequences, though (see below).  This Life can be increased or 
decreased by spells.  All mages can automatically sense the relative 
level of Life in a creature, and thus plan accordingly.  Indeed, jaded and 
cynical mages become cold and calculating, eventually seeing people as 
nothing more than equations balanced on their Life and capabilities.  
Unlike injuries, Life cannot be replenished by rest.  Only mana, and 
magic, can do that.


	Along with the sudden increase comes an ability many mages 
are unaware of, seldom surviving long enough to enjoy the benefits of 
it.  On the other hand, many people seek to become mages based solely 
on this benefit.  This is, of course, the prolonged lifespan of mages.


Prologned Lifespan:  This is somewhat of misnomer, as a mage not only 
has an prolonged lifespan, they are effectively immortal.  That is to say, 
if they so desire, they may stop aging.  A mage is connected to the 
universe in a profound way, whether they realize it or not, and the 
universe is constant no matter how much it changes.  So too are mages.  
Mages can *choose* to age, but they cannot make themselves 
younger.  Thus, a child mage might chose to continue aging to 
adulthood, then stop aging, but an elderly mage could not revert back 
to their prime.  On the other hand, the prolonged lifespan does effect the 
mage by allievating some of the difficulties of age.  Memory does not 
deteriorate, the mage does not deteriorate, etc.  This is the power that 
allows dead mages to exist, as without it, trapped in single instant 
between death and life, they would continue on to death.  Most mages 
simply discover, much to their surprise, that they are no longer aging.


	Lack of aging is not the only advantage that mages enjoy.  
Being so profoundly tied to the universe, they also find that they 
possess a superior understanding of how creation functions.


Enhanced Perception:  Every mage soon finds themselves with an 
enhanced awareness of the world around them.  This is not to say that 
every mage can suddenly hear better than a squirrel, or see better than a 
hawk.  Rather, a mage now has the ability, as mentioned above briefly, 
to understand creation more intensely.  In more practical application, a 
mage can sense the Life in a creature, know how much damage it can 
cause, recognize magic use, identify spells, and so on.  This ability is at 
first failry rudimentary, but slowly becomes more and more precise.  
Mages who have lived long lifespans can instantly perceive any magic 
use, idenitify who used it, etc.  The greatest of mages have absolute 
knowledge of magic.  My planeswalking associate refers to this ability 
as a "magic radar," though my research has not revealed what a radar is.


	A variant of the Enhanced Perception that all mages possess is 
their control of creatures.  Contrary to popular belief, summoning spells 
do *not* create creatures out of thin air.  They must be bound to the 
mage, either by personal "marking" by mages, or by a generic "calling" 
spell, which summons the "nearest" creature of that sort.  This is the 
ability of creature command.


Creature Command:  Mages seldom directly engage in struggles, instead 
relying on summoned and controlled minions to do their bidding.  This 
can be accomplished in one of two ways.  The mage can come to an 
agreement with a creature, usually through guile, force, or other means, 
and "mark" it, making it so the mage can summon and command the 
creature.  Contrary to popular belief, many creatures willingly agree to 
such servitude, sometimes for money, protection, power, or other 
motivators.  The rarer sort of summoning are "calling" spells, which 
summon the "nearest" creature that conforms to the template of the 
spell.
	Once summoned, the creature is under the absolute and 
complete control of the mage who summoned it.  A creature may not 
disobey the mage, and is in fact under telepathic and empathic control.  
This control is not one-sided though.  A mage can feel the emotions of 
its minions, and hear the thoughts they send.  A mage may not "read 
minds," but may understand any communication the creature sends.  
The range of this control varies.  Only planewalkers can extend control 
across dimensions.  The creature maintains freedom of thought, though 
it cannot disobey the mage.
	Creatures summoned by mages experience a kind of 
disorientation known as "summoning sickness".  This is because of the 
shock of planar shifting that a summoning spell invokes.


	Through such powers can the mage summon and control 
creatures.  It goes without saying that mages are able to cast sorceries, 
instants, interupts, and enchantments, but mages have more abilities 
than that.  Mages frequently find themselves unable to acquire new 
spells or creatures to summon.  There is, however, an ability that 
partially compensates for this problem.


Translocation:  Mages can, through an expenditure of mana, translocate 
(or teleport, as it is frequently called).  Via this medium, a mage may 
move anywhere they desire on a world, to find new sources of mana, 
attack opponents, and discover creatures to bind to them.  This ability 
has a geometric progression in mana cost the further the mage travels.
	Another ability of the mage is to form a gate.  This gate is a 
portal by which a mage may transmit himself and other beings through.  
The gate is stable as long as the mage feeds mana to the construct.  
This gate requires far more mana than a simple translocation, as a mage 
may transport more people than himself.  Also, the gate may be kept 
open for a duration, though there is a corresponding cost in mana.
	Many mages never become aware they are capable of this 
ability.  The primary reason is the sometimes dangerous consequences 
of using this power.  Though the Enhanced Perception of the mage 
prevents them from warping into solid matter, they can find themselves 
at dangerous heights, near harmful natural occurances, and next to 
hostile lifeforms.  The mana cost of this power also is a hindrance in 
mana poor evironments.


	There is another power, similar to translocation.  This power is 
planar shift, a power that only a fraction of those mages who can 
translocate possess.  It is important to note that this power is very 
different from the abilities possessed by planeswalkers, though planar 
shift is clearly the antecedent to such powers.


Planar Shift:  Far beyond the power of mere translocation, Planar Shift 
allows a mage to penetrate the fabric of reality, tearing the warp and 
woof to transverse planets and dimensions.  Far more demanding, 
Planar Shift requires vast amounts of mana to create the shift, and even 
more mana to maintain the link back to the mage's native reality.
	Unfortunately, unlike planeswalkers, a mage using Planar Shift 
cannot access mana native to the foreign dimension.  The creatures may 
not be summoned, or brought through, though creatures in the foreign 
reality may be bonded.  Sorceries and such remain generally unaffected.  
However, artifacts, unless physically carried to the new dimension, are 
unaffected.  Likewise, due to temporal mechanics, once a land is tapped 
back in the native dimension and world, it will not untap until the mage 
returns to their native dimension.  On top of which, mana must be 
funneled into maintaining the link to the mage's native dimension.
	Obviously, the risks of Planar Shift are incredible.  Still, it 
allows the mage to acquire new information and spells.  It is rumored 
that with prolonged use of Planar Shift, revelation into how to become a 
planeswalker eventually has a chance of occurring.  Those users of 
Planar Shift still use the power very infrequently, as unlike 
Translocation, the Enhanced Perception of the mage does not serve 
until they have undergone and stepped through the Planar Shift.  
Mages using planar shift also suffer an effect similar to summoning 
sickness when they travel, leaving them briefly disoriented.


	Much like Planar Shift, there is another ability mages 
frequently do not realize that they possess.  Some use it instinctively, 
never quite touching the truth of how they have marked their home or 
laboratory as their own.  This ability to mark a location as being their 
own, attuning the area to themselves, is an ability mages call 
Stronghold.


Stronghold:  Stronghold, despite the connotations of being an elaborate 
fort or castle, is frequently nowhere near such an elaborate structure.  
Strongholds tend to be laboratories or homes, places the mage is most 
likely to stay and work at.
	A Stronghold is an area that the mage marks off as their own.  
Some mages undergo an elaborate ritual or symbolic gesture, while 
other mages simply chose a spot, and make it their Stronghold.  A few 
mages accidently create Strongholds, not quite aware of what they are 
doing.  The process is simple enough.  A mage merely choices a 
location and allows their connection to magic to "bleed" into the area, 
warping the area, much as they themselves are changed.
	The effect is subtle, but immediately apparant.  Much like the 
manalink that mages have with lands, only more so,  Strongholds are 
areas that the mage is aware of.  Unlike lands though, a mage has direct 
and automatic awareness of the area of the Stronghold.  For example, a 
mage choosing a garden as a Stronghold would be able to count all the 
insects in the grass, and the blades of grass on the ground.
	Much like the mage, the area of the Stronghold is affected.  
Space and time warp in that area.  Simply put, the area of a Stronghold is 
larger than the area itself.  Thus, a cottage would be a palace inside, or a 
small grove of trees a forest.  It appears that this tendency for spatial 
expansion happens slowly, and as the mage becomes more powerful, 
until a certain point is reached, usually when the mage is an Arch-Mage.  
Like the mage, the Stronghold also becomes supernaturally tough.  A 
wall in a Stronghold made of wood would have the strength of steel, 
and so on.
	Mages are also linked to their Strongholds.  Within a 
Stronghold, the mage holds incredible control of the environment.  
Other mages find their ability to cast spells extremely limited when 
within the boundaries of the Stronghold, and their creatures uneasy at 
the thought of entering the Stronghold.  The mage who created the 
Stronghold also finds that magic use is easier, within some difficulties 
that are sometimes present.
	There is a large disadvantage in a Stronghold, however.  First, 
it is immediately apparant to another mage where a Stronghold is.  They 
stand out like beacons once a mage approaches within several leagues.  
Second, the mage is tied to a Stronghold.  If a rival mage should seize 
another mage's Stronghold, they can gain awareness of another mage, 
and even harm or kill that mage.  Many mages never create Stronghold, 
while some find them invaluable.


	Obviously, these abilities are quite impressive, but there is a 
downside to being a mage.  One such ability and restriction, falling in 
between the realm of good or bad, is mana attunement.


Mana Attunement:  Perhaps the most significant factor in the life and 
existence of a mage is mana attunement.  This is a broad category, 
dealing with many different factors of mana, and how they relate to the 
mage.  At the most basic, mana attunement is how mana relates to a 
mage.
	Being touched by magic and its force, mana, is not something 
to be taken lightly.  Even the most naive of mages recognizes this simple 
fact.  Mana flows are known by "colors" or sometimes flavors for one 
very simple reason: mana has its own characteristics.  A mage serves as 
a conduit to these forces, and cannot help but be affected by this 
dangerous consequence of mana use.  The colored mana begins to 
"color" (pardon the pun) the views of the mage.
	The more mana of one color a mage has, the more intensely the 
mage begins to feel the effects of that color  (see below).  This alteration 
of the mage's thoughts and emotions takes place in two different ways.  
First, there is the permanent effect: the more mana of a certain color the 
mage possesses, the more the emotional spectrum will be shifted.  
Newly transmutated mages find this the most shocking, and are often 
helpless to control the sweeping emotions they feel, especially mages 
devoted to one or two colors.  Friends and associates of a newly 
changed mage find an almost total stranger, as the magic forever alters 
their personality.  In this manner can creatures find views diametrically 
opposed to their own inherent and natural outlook changed, such as 
white mage demons becoming benign, and black mage angels embracing 
evil incarnate.   This does pass with time, as a mage may begin to 
accustomize themselves to the effects of mana.  This is affect is more of 
an _inclination_ and _tendency_ to the emotional and mental 
orientation of the mana type.  The mage simply has a greater capacity 
for the extremes of the mana they are attuned to.
	On the other hand, there is the temporary affects of mana on 
mages, in many ways the more serious of the two side-effects of mana 
use.  A mage'ss currently available mana resources affect their state, as 
a mage feels the effects of wielding colored mana.  Normally, after time, a 
mage becomes used to this fact, as mentioned above.  But when a spell 
is evoked, the sudden flare of the mana of the spell causes an intense 
feel of the associated mana consquence.  Thus, a mage casting a red 
spell would feel an intense and overwhelming feeling of forceful 
emotion, as the mana altered their thoughts and emotions.  But just as 
soon as the spell is cast, and the lands from which the mana came from 
are tapped of their power, the mage feels a *deficit* of the associated 
mana consequence.  In the above example, if a mage had used all the red 
mana available from their mountains, they would find it extremely 
difficult to summon strong emotion or forceful thoughts.  My 
planeswalker associate calls this the mages "mana-driven mental and 
emotional rollercoaster," though I do not know what a rollercoaster is.
	The basic mana conquences are detailed below, though it is 
important to note that these are only generalizations, as the effect of 
mana on a mage is an intensely personal thing:


Black Mana:  This mana typically induces emotions of "dark passions".  
By dark passions, the most common definitions given are of such states 
as sadism, masochism, domineering instincts, and such.  On the mental 
level, black mana seems to cause an absolutely ruthless outlook many 
mages find highly useful.

Blue Mana:  This mana is known to cause a shift to the emotional state 
of curiosity, a playfulness that often causes the mage to become 
contrary.   Mentally, blue mana causes a mental state of deceptive 
shiftiness, which serves well in politics and the maneuverings of mages.

Green Mana:  Green mana is frequently described by mages as being 
one of the most pleasurable of mana consequences.  Mages attuned to 
green mana are full of life, experiencing constant emotion.  On the 
downside, green mana tends to excite the primal instincts and animal 
mindset.

Red Mana:  Red mana is the mana of forceful and powerful emotion.  
Sudden bursts of anger, passion, love, and hate are signiture of this 
mana color.  The mana consequence is that the mage who is attuned to 
red mana frequently makes snap decisions and has a short temper.

White Mana:  White mana is the mana of constant and peaceful 
meditation.  Many mages find this to be benefitial, while other mages 
scorn the indecisive and calm outlook it brings.  Mentally, white mana 
tends to enforce calm, logical, and rational thought.

Colorless Mana:  Colorless mana only seems to give a rush of power, 
driving the mage to acquire more mana and power.  Not that this is much 
of a change for the vast majority of mages.


	These effects of mana attunement are the most common for a 
mage to know.  However, there is another side-effect of mana 
attunement, noticeable only at the extremely high levels of mana 
attunement.  Powerful mages, with access to large amounts of mana, or 
mages who focus on a single color of magic, notice that they begin to 
understand the colored mana.  A mage who uses large amounts of a 
color of mana soon begins to understand how it affects them, and how 
they can use this effect.  This rare condition is called Mana Mastery, 
possessed by only powerful mages.  The powers it grants are based on 
the color of mana the mage wields.


Black Mana Mastery:  Somewhat more common than any other type 
mana mastery, the black mana master can wield their powers of entropy 
far beyond normal levels of magic.  It becomes an ability of black mana 
masters to draw mana from slain creature with ease.  At higher levels of 
power, planeswalker and beyond, black mana masters can raise the dead 
with ease, draw lifeforce from creatures without use of spell, and even 
darker acts.  These latter abilities are for the most part, myth and 
conjecture.

Blue Mana Mastery:  Blue mana masters, oddly enough, are not as 
common as one might expect.  This is because most mages seem not to 
advance to the highest levels of power in blue magic.  Blue mana 
masters can create illusions at will, though these can be seen through 
by mages with ease.  Truly advanced masters of blue mana can counter 
spells without use of mana, and, it is rumored, remove themselves from 
the perceptions of even mages.

Green Mana Mastery:  Green mastery allows incredible feats of health.  
Such blessed individuals find themselves immune to disease, lacking a 
need to sleep, and perfect coordination and senses.  Green mana 
masters at the most advanced levels of power can summon creatures 
from the wilds without use of mana, and, it is said, change entire 
ecosystems.

Red Mana Mastery:  Red mana masters are the third most common of a 
very rare breed of mages, beings who have reached the highest levels of 
power.  Red mastery allows the mage to transfer the raging force of their 
mana into physical blows that can do far more damage than a mage's 
normal attacks.  The highest levels of red mana mastery allow natural 
disasters to occur on command, and even more powerful feats.

White Mana Mastery:  Mastery of white mana might be seen as a good 
thing, but it takes a lot out of a mage.  White mana masters find that 
they can heal and soothe other creatures with but a touch, and prevent 
damage to other beings.  Truly powerful white mana masters can create 
auras of tranquility that stop all violence, and heal themselves without 
need for spells.


	Though it may sound from my description that there are 
hundreds of mages possessing mana mastery, there are not.  I have, in 
all my research, come across three mages I have confirmed as having 
possessed any degree of mana mastery, and fourteen unconfirmed.  I 
dare not mention any names, as even death has a way of being ignored 
by mages.  Most Arch-Mages and many planeswalkers do not possess 
mana mastery.  Those who do are either the truest masters of magic, or 
unbelievably unbalanced in mana.  The latter do not last long, and 
almost all of the former are reclusive and absent from dimensional 
affairs.
	There is also a dark side to magic.  Mana is addictive, more 
than even refined poppies or lotus petals.  And that is the absolute and 
total dependency on mana, the Mana Dependency of all mages.


Mana Dependency:  The darkest of dark flaws of the mage is their 
dependency on mana, and is utter and complete.  It is mana which spurs 
their transformation into mages, and once that events is complete, the 
mage is dependent on mana.  This is not to say that a mage cannot have 
all their lands tapped, or need mana to be used in maintaining life; no, 
the mage simply must have mana.
	Despite their Enhanced Constitution and other powers, the 
mage is vulnerable in one critical sense, and that is the fact that all their 
power is dependent on mana.  More than their power, their very 
*existence* is dependent on mana, once they transmutate into mages.
	Mana denial can occur a number of ways, but the most 
common methods are rival mages destroying all the lands the mage is 
manalinked to, or the Dead Times phenomena.  Dead Times are events 
that occur randomly in the universe, but most often when mana is used 
too often on a world.  When a Dead Times happens, *ALL* magic 
ceases, as all lands stop producing mana.  Magic still exists, of course, it 
merely cannot be used by anyone.
	Whatever the cause, when a mage suffers a variable period of 
time without being manalinked to a land, the degeneration begins.  
Accounts vary on the process, with some mages rotting alive, others 
burning inside out slowly, while still others age at an accelerated rate.  
Whatever the method, the mage begins to die, in an incredibly 
agonizing way.  Only in the rarest of cases does a mage retain the ability 
to manalink; most mages can do nothing but die.  The body and 
essence of the mage seeks to support itself, and without any mana 
source to do so, instead starts to consume the very existence of the 
mage.  This begins a vicious cycle which ultimately results in the 
annihilation of the mage.
	Obviously, this is a terrifying fate, and one which a mage will 
do almost anything to avoid.  Most mages are unaware of this fact of 
being a mage, but all of power soon learn of it.  There is even an 
unspoken "mage's code" on the matter, one even the most sadistic and 
evil of mages acknowledge, and that is to never inflict such a fate on a 
fellow mage.  Those who do so become pariahs beyond pariahs.
	I myself was chance enough to witness such a degeneration, 
and I cannot, to this day, describe what I saw those nine weeks.  
Whenever I question my choice not to use my ability of manalink and 
become a mage, I remember what I saw.
	There is a heavy price for power.


	I thought it also prudent to briefly mention the society mages 
have constructed, and the various types of mages.  Note that this is not 
definitive, as my contact with the upper echelons of mage society has 
been limited at best.  Again, my planeswalker friend has been helpful in 
this regard.
	Mages tend to classify each other by the colors of mana they 
use.  After this, they are ranked by the power they command.  Finally, 
there are a few other factors.
	The first type of mage is those who have but one color of 
mana, known as prime mages.


Black Mana Mages:  Though most assume that black mages are 
inevitably evil, this is not true.  But the vast majority are evil, using 
spells that spread fear, plague, and suffering.  Such mages are noted for 
cruel appetites and cold minds.  There are some rare black mages that 
use their powers to bring order and justice, using entropy as their 
measure and judgement.  Such mages tend to be the dark heroes of the 
common people.

Blue Mana Mages:  Blue mages tend to have a poor reputation.  They 
usually rise from the ranks of tricksters, merchants, politicians, and 
lawyers.  With the effect of blue mana, making the mage even more 
devious and crafty, their reputation only gets worse.  Many have 
compared blue mages to cats; curious, cruel, and bizarre.  There are 
some rare few blue mages who are equalizers and jesters, using their 
talent for anti-magic and illusion to aid the downtrodden and humble the 
arrogant.

Green Mana Mages:  Green mages are seldom encountered by civilized 
folk.  Indeed, most green mages fit the stereotypical image of a druid or 
child of nature.  Of course, not all green mages are thus, but the majority 
are..  Their green mana attunement makes them full of life, and at times 
more suited to running with beasts than rational folk.  There are some 
green mages who are simply individualists and wanderers, using their 
magic to live.

Red Mana Mages:  War and red mages are almost always uttered in the 
same breath.  Beyond the fact their color is the color of blood, the red 
mages inclination for violence and direct force tend to channel them 
directly into being mages.  Red mages typically become conquerors, or 
serve as generals in armies.  There are some red mages who use their 
magic as artisans and such, but they are not common.

White Mana Mages:  White mana mages tend to be regarded as 
pacifistic, penitent priests or other holy persons, and this is true to a 
certain extent.  But there are just as many avenging crusaders trying to 
rid the world of evil at swordpoint.  A few white mages are so consumed 
by their mana attunement that they become coldly logical creatures 
more inhuman than the darkest of black mages.


	Another common type of mage are those who wield more than 
one color of mana.  As a matter of fact, they are by and far the largest 
group of mages.  Indeed, as a mage grows in one mana color, it becomes 
almost mandatory to branch out, so as to avoid being consumed by 
mana attunement.


Colored Mages:  Colored mages are mages who use two colors of mana.  
Typically the mix of these two colors identify the mage, so a red and 
blue mage is called a purple mage, and a black and green mage is known 
as a moss mage.  Colored mages tend to embody the worst of the two 
mana attunements they have, but also tend to be less severe in their 
imbalance.  Colored mages are one of the largest type of mages in 
existence.

Mixed Mages:  Mixed mages are mages who use three different types of 
mana.  At this level of magic, the greatest effects of mana attunement 
are avoided, as the multiple colors circumvent the unilateral shift that 
mana forces.  Mixed mages sometimes use elements of the three colors 
of mana they wield in dress or title, but most don't care.  Calling a mage 
a mixed mage is warning and comment enough; expect anything.


	There is one last type of mage, and they deserve special 
mention.  Surprisingly enough, mages using four colors of mana are the 
rarest type of mana, almost non-existent.  Rather, mages wielding all the 
colors of mana exist, and they are an odd case.


Chimerical Mages (or Rainbow Mages):  It may seem logical that a mage 
become a chimerical mage, also known as a chromatic or rainbow mage, 
but they one of the least common of all types of mages.  Chimerical 
mages manage to avoid the most significant problem of mana 
attunement, the emotional and mental extremes.  The only problem they 
have is that their heightened emotional states, right?
	Wrong.
	If there is any mage that other mages have a bias against, it is 
the chimerical mages.  Indeed, it seems that all other mages have an 
ingrained hatred for five color mages.  On top of which, the use of five 
colors of mana means that there is a limit on the magical power one can 
wield, slow advancement in mana mastery, and a possibility, should too 
much mana be tapped, to swing to *any* mana color extreme of emotion 
and thought.
	The other reason, the prejudice all chimerical mages face, is a 
little harder to explain.  Chimerical mages tend to be hated because it 
seems like they manage to avoid all the problems with being a mage.  
Chimerical mages also tend to, once they rise in power, ascend to the 
heights of magical might.  Almost all the greatest mages in creation have 
been chimerical mages.  Perhaps other mages simply want to eliminate 
competition.  Perhaps it is fear for their own lands, as a chimerical mage 
will be willing to attack and claim power from anyone, while a colored 
mage will only attack mages with two different types of land.
	On top of which, being a chimerical mage is very hard.  While 
mana balance may sound great in theory, sitting on that five edged 
fence is difficult and unpleasant.  Using mana for almost any spell 
upsets the mage, sending them into mana imbalance.
	There are advantages to being a chimerical mage as well.  
Chimerical mages have no limit on the levels of power they can rise to.  
Chimerical mages also tend to learn planeswalking swiftly, and the 
majority of the most powerful mages are chimerical mages.  Like most 
things, it is a tradeoff.


	There are also, beyond the colors of the mana of mages, a 
rough social distinction in mages.  This is based on the amount and 
power of skills the mages possesses, as well as the amount of land a 
mage has, rather than social terms.  These ranks are:


Apprentice:  The simplist of mages, with no more than five lands and 
perhaps a score of spells.  Mostly newly transmutated mages.  
Apprentices are at the swim or sink level in the magic business.  Most 
experienced mages, even with the spell and mana levels of an 
Apprentice, are considered neonates.

Neonates:  The most common of mages, along with the usual, these are 
mages with a little experience under their belts.  Typically ten lands, and 
thirty spells.  Even those with the capability of Mage, yet lacking 
experience, are considered Neonates.

Mage:  The standard for mages, a Mage usually has twenty to thirty 
mana sources, and at least fifty to sixty spells.  These are the upward 
movers, usually ready to take risks and climb there way to the top.

Arch-Mage:  The next step, which is a considerable one, an Arch-Mage 
typically has 100 mana sources, and a library of over three hundred 
spells available.  These are the peak of the standard mages.

Planeswalker:  Planeswalkers are the next step on most worlds, and are 
quite rare.  Planeswalkers are like any other mages, (there is even 
rumored to have been a neonate planeswalker), except for the fact that 
they can execute a far more powerful ability than Planar Shift, an ability 
called Planeswalking.  Unlike Planar Shift, a planeswalker _can_ 
manalink to lands in other worlds or dimensions.  On top of which, a 
planeswalker can create gates for other creatures, much like a normal 
mage can perform with translocation.  Thus, a planeswalker could send 
entire legions through to other worlds, and can call on mana from other 
dimensions or worlds.  This are the true explorers and conquerors.

Master Mage:  Most Master Mages tend to be planeswalkers, though 
this rule is broken when there is large amounts of mana producing lands 
on a planet or dimension.  Master Mages are mages who have reached 
the point where they have mana mastery in one or more colors of mana.  
Master Mages have reached a point where they, typically, have well 
over a thousand lands, and hundreds or hundreds of spells.  Master 
Mages can also channel awesome levels of mana.  When Master Mages 
fight, a Life Drain spell will have over a hundred mana, and wipe out all 
life in a half-imle radius.  Fireballs tend to annihilate cities, as the mana 
of 100+ lands are forced through them.  And so on.  Master Mages are 
extremely deadly, and rare.

Avatar:  These mythical mages are the step above Master Mage.  No 
further information available, unfortunately.


	Beyond those types of mages, there are the mages themselves.  
Here is a small list of mages, important or famous.


Urza and Mishra:  No discussion of magic would be complete without 
the two famed Arch-Mage brothers.  They are creditted with the 
creation of magic, something that is patently false, but they are rightly 
creditted with contributing to a universal system of measuring magic.  
Many of their spells would become the standard for mages everywhere.  
Of the two, Urza became a planeswalker after he defeated his brother, 
leaving to explore.

R'Chrd Garrfeld, The Skaff, Chrispage, Jilin, and the other mages of 
See'atll:  This order of mages, famous for their rare spirit of unity and 
ability to work towards a common goal, mysteriously vanished nearly 
twenty years ago.  This secretive group was famed for a system of 
creating mages by proxy items.  Several mages of See'atll were 
planeswalkers, all were at least Arch-Mages, and a few were Master 
mages.  It was rumored that there was even an Avatar mage among 
them.

Nameless, Emperor of the Iron Empire, Lord of the Iron Throne:  This 
chimerical Master Mage is a relatively new mage, no more than ten 
thousand years old, of no known origin or teacher.  Effectively employs 
a virtual army of mages, and has been aggresively conquering worlds.  
Extremely dangerous; a brilliant warlord and mage.  Planeswalker and 
believed mana master of all five colors.

Maat-ar, the Ancient Shadow:  This old, decrepit looking mage is one of 
the most powerful mages in history.  A blood mage (red and black), 
Maat-ar has interests in hundreds of worlds.  He has been involved in 
his research for the last three hundred years, dwelling in his Stronghold 
of Grimm, the Citadel of Pain.  Planeswalker and very skilled, red and 
black mana mastery.

Uunn, the Patient:  The child-protector of Unn, this white mage is the 
guardian of peace and order, defending his people against all foes.  
Planeswalker.  Most powerful white mana master known to exist.

Vihhula, the Mist:  This elusive woman is the only known blue mana 
master.  Believed to be a planeswalker, nothing definite is known about 
her.  An old mystery among the mage community.

The First Mage:  A mythical figure, most mages claiming hundreds of 
different beings as this person.  Believed by most to be only 
superstition.




And for those who have stuck with me, here is a little Omake Theater:

Author's Note:  This was originally only for pre-readers, but their 
positive comments got me to thinking it wasn't _too_ bad.  Even so, 
please be gentle.

Author's Note 2:  Due to my odd schedule and bizarre habits, I find it 
difficult to get writing.  As a consequence, I usually find myself 
plugging away at my PC late at night, wired on caffeine and sugar; not 
that this has any effect on me-

(Don't listen to him!  He's crazy!  The author is crazy!  Eeep!)

As I was saying, the coffee tends to make me a little lightheaded.  As a 
result, my mind tended to wander, and I found myself writing things... 
other than what I intended to write.  Some of these I saved-

(I am serious!  Get away from him!  He gets so out of it when on 
caffeine, his *eyes* can't walk a straight line, much less him)

SHUT UP!  Anyway, I thought some of these were funny-

(You think of Faces of Death as comedy flicks, you crazy %&#- EEP!)

ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT!

*BIFF*  *POW*  *ZORK*

And stay like that, Inner Child.  Or do you want another beat down?

(Wimper.  Cower.)

Good.  Anyway, hopefully you will get a kick out of them, like this little 
snippet.  I am not, in truth, insane, but-

(Don't believe him!  Compared to him, US law is sane! I swear- oh $&%!)

I warned you, didn't I?

*ZIP* *KA-BLOOM*


^_-

(And yes, I did steal the ^_- faces from Ill Met By Starlight, because 
they are just too cool!)



Demented Logic Presents:

Caffeine Induced Omake Theater!

(Note: These sections are all pieces from the story, before I went off on 
a tangent.  They are in roughly chronological order.)

(Note 2:  Some of these are in very bad taste.)



	Ukyo laughed, knowing Feeri was joking with her, but also 
aware of the hopeful expression she had on her face.  Ukyo realized this 
woman was used to alcohol being the common drink much in the same 
way Ukyo was familiar with water and tea as a beverage.  "I was hoping 
to ask you a few more questions."
	Feeri's cheerful expression darkened as she sighed, taking a 
seat at the grill, perching on the stool.  "I told 'ya, I am not one ta be 
asking these things."
	Ukyo sighed, nervously twisting her hands, "I know!"  She 
sighed, "I just don't know much about magic, and I don't the others to 
get better than me at that.  Shampoo has her great-grandmother, and 
Akane has Kasumi to help her.  I don't want Ran-chan to think I am 
stupid."
	Feeri nodded, "Aye, I ken see that look in yer eye.  You got a 
question you be wanting to ask."  She sounded understanding.
	For some reason she couldn't place, Ukyo felt like she could 
tell Feeri almost anything.  Maybe it was the link she had with the 
woman, maybe it was her open sense of humor.  It was like the girls she 
saw in school, giggling and talking with their other girl friends.  That is 
what she felt now.
	But, still..... Ukyo flushed.  "I don't really know how to explain.  
It started when I went to an all-boys school.  When I was out on the 
road for hours at a time."  She wrung her hands.
	Feeri gave an encouraging smile, and laid a hand on one of 
Ukyo's, giving it a squeeze, urging her on.
	Ukyo swallowed, and went on, "At first I thought it was just 
me, but then I started to realize it was because I was a girl."  Ukyo 
flushed, and shook her head.  "No; it was because I was becoming a 
woman.  I noticed changes."
	"Yes," Feeri said, nodding.
	Ukyo bit her lip, hard enough to draw small gems of tears in the 
corner of her eyes.   She looked up at Feeri.
	"Do you-..... Do you-?"
	"Yes?  Do I?" Feeri asked, pressing Ukyo.
	"Do you ever-... do you ever?"  Ukyo was bright red.
	"Yes?  Do I ever?" Feeri asked.
	"Do you ever feel... not quite fresh?" Ukyo asked.
	"Of course I do!  That is why I dou#&*($#


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because the author is delving into a topic guys shouldn't talk about.)



	Feeri caught Ukyo's eyes.  "Mana, mage, power, sorcerer, spell, 
sorcery;  these are just words, ya understand?  They are just words of 
people trying to define magic.  But you can't.  In the end, no one, not 
even the greatest mage, can grasp the immensity of magic.  You just 
*can not do so*."
	Looking at the defeated expression on Ukyo's face, Feeri tried 
to cheer her up a little.  "If it helps any, that is all anyone has ever 
known.  Perhaps the sage Lonne Gn'men said it best."
	Ukyo looked up.
	Feeri gave a wolfish grin.
	"Magic simply *is*-" Feeri paused, before continuing.
	"Little, yellow, different."


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because of stupidity.)



	Somewhere on the outskirts of Nerima, two individuals lay as 
they were in nature, open beneath the falling light of the sky.  One was 
exhausted, yet happy and content.  The other, like the spring, was still 
sure and frisky, yet willing to remain.
	Ryoga gave a contented sigh as he felt the silky softness of 
Wyllow's fine hair on his bare chest, the warmth of her body next to him, 
and the fiery touch of her mouth as it gently tracked along his throat.  
Her weight, for one so much a woman, seemed light as a feather, even 
though it pinned his right arm.  Ryoga felt as if he were boneless, all 
structure having melted from him.  Nothing was that good.  Nothing.  He 
had heard the stories, the whispers from boys, and from some girls, but 
he had never believed it.  He had thought Akane the pinnacle of all he 
could ever want, but now he knew better.  His right hand made slow 
circles as he caressed the small of Wyllow's back, the skin young and 
soft.
	Ryoga kissed the top of her head, whispering, "That was 
incredible." And it truly had been.
	Wyllow's face shot up as she craned her neck to look at him, 
her teeth shining like pearls in the dim light, her impish smile providing 
more radiance than noon in the Sahara, as she said playfully, "You're 
not so bad yourself."

	When that special times comes, with your special someone, 
never forget, show you truly care, and use protection.
	The kind of protection only NERV (tm) can offer!

SCREENCATCH:


EVA Brand (TM) Condoms:

When you need protection as strong as an AT Field!


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because it is getting crass.)



	Humming merrily, Wyllow broke off, and lay back, a little 
regretfully.  "You're not the only one who is curious," Wyllow chided, 
as she slapped his washboard stomach playfully.
	"Eh?" Ryoga asked, confused, as he lay his hand on her 
shoulder.   Had he done something wrong?  She had seemed... happy 
and content.
	Looking at his clueless expression, Wyllow frowned as she 
made a fist and slugged Ryoga in the gut, Ryoga barely noticing the 
blow. "Thirty-three!" she explained.
	Ryoga looked at her, still not understanding why she was so 
angry.  "Thirty-three?"  Hmmm... that number meant _something_.
	"Whoops!" Wyllow said.
	"Forty-two!  The answer is forty-two!"
	Ryoga thought about it.  Hmmm.... that number meant 
_something_.   Probably had something to do with why Ryoga always 
kept a towel, folded many times, wrapped around his head.


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because this is too lame.)



	Kuno stayed in his position, despite the sweat pouring down 
his bare torso, despite the painful cramp in his calf muscles, the legs far 
too tense.  He ignored the ache of his shoulders, not used to holding 
this position for so long.  His hands rested in his lap, his thumb and 
forefinger on each hand clutching the digits of the other hand.  His 
shoulders were squared, his back ramrod straight, legs tucked under 
one another before him.  Kuno looked like nothing more than a younger 
Buddha.
	For six hours now, he had held this position, and no relief had 
come to him.  No enlightenment.  Only the memory of those screams of 
people, as his lightning bolt had shattered the glass window, the silicon 
shards eviscerating them, propelled as though javelins by the cruel 
medium of gravity.  He saw the blood, over and over again.
	And when the blood cleared, he saw the park.  The way it was, 
pristine and perfect.  The jungle gym and grass, waiting and eager for 
children to frolic and play.  The sun seemed to be honey made 
effervescent, a sweetness conveyed by illumination and air.  It was 
perfect, an idyllic time, the green of the grass waiting for the small feet 
of children to scamper across the soft blades of vegetation.
	A ruined place.  A desolate place.  The tears and sorrow in 
those small eyes as he ran by, looking-
	NO!  Grunting, Kuno tried to find some measure of center.  It 
was not easy.  'Certes, 'twas akin to bearing the burden of Atlas to hold 
such memories.  It should not be so, not for one such as he.  To hold so 
much concern for peasants.  He was of noble lineage, a breed and class 
above those common folk.  Yet something told him-
	NO!  Concentration was as mighty a task as trying to discern 
which of his two beauties held a greater portion of his heart, but his 
heart was far too large to be held by only one delicate flower.  Nay, 
'twas only just that two beauties know the depths of his love.  Yet why 
did the pitying face of that knave, Saotome, appear whenever he 
thought of the pigtailed girl?  Why did it seem, whenever the vibrant 
Akane was imagined, that she had her back to him?  It was almost as if-
	NO!  Think of something else.  Like what had brought him to 
such unpleasant a junction.  Truly, there was much that a warrior would 
know in the trials of life, but such a journey as his own was seldom 
experience, of that he was certain!
	It had begun, he knew, as he began to wander town, after their 
benefactor, Citrus, had left the restaurant.  Like Odysseus, he had 
traveled, seeking yonder destination on horizon far, yet fair.  On the 
greatest of the land Nippon he had traveled, his fair Grail most Holy 
beyond reach.  But he had lost his cards, his lands, and which each 
disappearance, the slight illness had begun.
	At first, he had most certain it was a foul villain, one of those 
virii the doctors constantly spoke of, a cowardly serpent seeking to 
challenge the constitution of his noble Kuno lineage.  But unlike all 
such base cretins, this one had not passed, even after he had lowered 
himself to the unnecessary assistance of Happy Tummy pills, especially 
those of the grape flavor, which he had always so enjoyed when his 
mother had given him-
	NO!  Focus on the changes.  Like a curse of foul Hectate, he 
had noticed himself changing.  Changing inside, not as perceived in one 
of those silly anime that were used to entertain the weak-minded and 
dullard peasants.  Nay, it had been the delicious power, coming from 
those lands he had marked, that mana flowing into his samurai frame, 
making him something else.  It was as though the poetry of his existence 
had been rewritten.  At first, he had fancied himself the avatar of some 
deity, that Susano had answered his prayers and granted him the 
strength to smite Saotome.
	Alas, it had not been so.  Instead, he had felt as though some 
foul Kumo was spinning a web of power in his soul, something 
changing him, sustaining his body.  It caught the emanations coming 
from the lands he controlled, lands he gradually became more and more 
aware of.  And that liquid power, the *mana*, had gathered, becoming a 
tight ball of pure energy, a new heart beating in his manly chest.
	It now waited there, growing stronger, begging him to call on 
it.  Zounds!  He felt as a noble stallion, waiting to know the wind as he 
chased the setting sun across the land.
 	He could not resist!  It was too strong!  That siren call!  That 
urge!  That thing, awaiting him, just beyond reach!  He had to have it!  
He couldn't resist!
	Kuno abandoned his meditation, baser instincts driving him, as 
his hands reached out, and he found pure bliss.
	Kuno grabbed the pastry.
	"Ahhhh" Kuno drooled, "a pink donut, with purple sprinkles."  
Kuno drooled some more, as his head leaned back.
	"Aaauggggg."


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because the author should have a better sense of humor.)



	Alas, it had not been so.  Instead, he had felt as though some 
foul Kumo was spinning a web of power in his soul, something 
changing him, sustaining his body.  It caught the emanations coming 
from the lands he controlled, lands he gradually became more and more 
aware of.  And that liquid power, the *mana*, had gathered, becoming a 
tight ball of pure energy, a new heart beating in his manly chest.
	It now waited there, growing stronger, begging him to call on 
it.  Zounds!  He felt as a noble stallion, waiting to know the wind as he 
chased the setting sun across the land.
 	Yet somehow, Kuno knew there was an even bigger change 
awaiting him.  The web inside was tightening, the strands merging with 
every muscle, touching every nerve.
	Something terrible and great was growing in Kuno, and soon it 
would take him, changing him.
	Soon.
	And then it happened, as Kuno leaped to his feet.
	"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
	The wind came, whipping around him, as his battle aura began 
to form.
	"-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
	Rage dominated him, filling every fiber of his being, until the 
glow began.
	"-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"
	He had tried to fight it, tried to resist.
	"-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
	His aura exploded, wreathing his body in gold light, as his hair 
became spiky and blond.
	Then it was gone.
	"Wow!" Kuno commented, as he looked down at the three 
tubs of ice cream he had eaten.
	"Brainfreeze."


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because the author should simply *have* a sense of humor.)



	The Demonic Tutor just shrugged, though it knew full well 
what a radar was.  It probably knew more about technology than the girl 
in front of it, and more than most of its kind.  Unlike many demons, the 
Demonic Tutor was not ignorant of the power of technology.  It could 
do little against demons or angels, one of the reasons both races of 
supernaturals tended to discount the mortal invention.  Technology, 
like magic, also had myriad applications.  The Demonic Tutor was aware 
of many of them.  It used magic, however.  That was, if it could.
	Instead, it had been stripped of its magic.  Then it had been 
shrunken, transformed, and affected by a binding spell.
	If only he had his magical powers!
	Perhaps a demonstration to help the girl develop her magical 
senses.  Something that might actually make her use enough magic to 
effect his cursed state.
	Well, there was one thing he *could* do.
	"If you will observe?" the Demonic Tutor addressed Nabiki.
	Nabiki looked over at the Demonic Tutor, who waited until she 
nodded, curious what it was doing.
	Only to leap back with a shriek as the pentagram holding the 
Demonic Tutor captive vanished, and the imp-like demon casually 
walked over to stand in front of her.
	"If you will observe?" it repeated.
	It took a few minutes for words to penetrate the blind panic 
Nabiki was feeling, as she slammed two spells into the demon, before 
she realized it was doing nothng.
	"Observe what?" Nabiki said, panic in her voice, and she didn't 
care.  This was a *demon*, and the pentagram had vanished, leaving it 
free to move about.  What had happened to the pentagram-
	It wasn't there.  And as she saw the magic pulse across the 
Demon Tutor, it shifted, becoming taller, nearly six feet of green scales 
and muscles, with a shark grin of pointed yellow teeth.
	"What-what are you?"
	The demon looked down at Nabiki, laying flat on her butt.
	"Don't worry kid; I may have been transformed, and I may still 
be rendered temporarily impotent, but I can still teach you."
	"What?"
	"Hey, are you doubting me?" the demon glowered at Nabiki.
	Nabiki quickly shook her head.
	"Good.  Hey, I made Skeeve great, I can do the same for you."  
The scaly green demon jerked a clawed thumb at itself.  "Stick by me 
kid; I'll take places."
	"Hell?" Nabiki wimpered.
	"If you really want to.  I was thinking more of Deva, and the 
Great Bazaar."
	"Huh?" was Nabiki's comment.
	The demon grinned.  "Name's Aahz.  And you are my new 
apprentice.  Nice to meet you." He held out his hand to help her up.
	Nabiki looked at the offered hand.  "Where are you from?"
	"Perv," was the reply.
	Nabiki giggled.  "So, are you a Pervert?"
	Aahz snarled, "That's Per-vect!"  He shook his head.
	Looks like this was going to be another myth-adventure!


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because the author is insulting Robert Aspirin.)



	"Excellent," Kodachi said, as she rose, her cape covering the 
black leotard she wore.
	Kodachi stood over the edge of the Pit, as the various 
creatures she had summoned howled and clawed at the edge of the 
sheer surface.  She smiled down at them.
	Suddenly, she couldn't resist the urge, and jumped into the Pit.
	"Dance!" cried out the music, as Kodachi rubbed against the 
others, "Shake that booty!"
	Kodachi, like everyone else in the Pit, struck a pose.
	"Disco fever!"


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee on 
general principle.)



	Ranma sat on his throne, not used to waiting, when he noticed 
something, and said so aloud.
	"Hey, is it just me, or is this cave getting bigger?" Ranma 
wondered, curious.  He had been sitting in the cave, learning how to use 
his artifacts when they were outside his immediate line of sight.  He had 
even managed to use the mana batteries, but he had discovered 
distance control of his artifacts only functioned within certain 
parameters.  For example, only if he was there, touching the artifact, 
could Ranma command fine manipulation from his Mana Batteries.  
Otherwise, it seemed to be an all or nothing proposition.  By a similar 
token, sometimes delicate control, such as with the Ivory Cup or Bone 
Throne, little special self-control was necessary.  Just channel mana, 
and the power functioned.  That had taken up some of his time.  Yet...
	"HEY!" Ranma called out.  "Yeah you, the author!"

	[Me?]

	"Yeah, you!"  Ranma ranted, "This series is supposed to be a 
Ranma 1/2 and Magic: The Gathering crossover, right?"

	[That is what my pre-readers tell me, though I have my 
suspicions.]

	"So, why.....," Ranma drew it out, "DON'T YOU EVER USE THE 
WORDS *Magic: The Gathering* IN THE STORY!?!?!?!"

	Suddenly, Ranma's minion was there, covering his mouth.  
There was an edge of desperation in its voice, (Quiet, you want to get 
sued?)
	"I ain't afraid of no lawyers!" Ranma proclaimed.

	[Idiot]

	The creature hissed at Ranma, (Do you not fear hell?)
	Ranma looked at the towering mass of fear and apprehension.  
"Well, yeah, of course I fear Hell.  But what does hell have to do with 
lawyers?"
	The creature settled down, and began to lecture.  (Listen, for at 
the gates to Hell stands a sign that reads: Abandon all hope, ye who 
enter.  And once you are beyond the IRS front doors, you must 
descend the layers of hell, down, until you find, at the center, the 
lawyers, and their dark master.)
	"Who, Satan?"
	(Don't be ridiculous.  Who is the only person who has ever 
risen to wealth and power through ruthless use of lawyers?)
	Ranma shuddered, understanding, "Ah!"
	"Bill Gates."


(THWACK!)

(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee 
because it makes even *less* sense than the author usually does.)



	"At last, I find you," came the voice from behind him.
	Happosai froze dead in his tracks, knowing that fleeing from 
this one was useless.  Especially given his pack, with all his worldly 
possessions, weighing him down.  The encumbrance was not as great 
as it could have been, as in his rush to leave, he had left much of his 
precious collection behind.  But he had to leave, because he knew what 
was coming.
	"I thought you might know something about this," the voice 
continued.
	With a sigh, Happosai turned around to face his tormentor.
	"I guess I was right," Cologne said, perched atop her staff.
	"Hello Cologne.  What do you want?" Happosai asked, 
knowing escape was impossible.  And resisting would only delay his 
departure.  Best to answer her questions quickly.
	"What you think I want," Cologne answered, hopping forward, 
"Information."
	"As do we!" Broke in a voice in heavily accented Japanese.
	Two gai-jin, both dressed in black suits, approached the pair.  
One was a man with brown hair, the other a woman with red hair.
	The man reached in his coat, pulling out a wallet, before 
flashing a badge.  "I'm Agent Fox Mulder, with the Federal Bureau of 
Investigations in the United States of America, and this is my partner, 
Dana Scully."
	Both Fox and Dana bowed.
	Both Cologne and Happosai nodded.
	Mulder continued,  "We are assigned to the X-files, a series of 
investigations looking into strange and unexplanable subjects.  And we 
have come to Japan to find the answer to a question."
	Both Cologne and Happosai started to sweat.
	"We have been searching for someone," Fox stated, as they 
looked at both elderly humans.
	Both Cologne and Happosai started to perspire even more 
heavily.
	"Are you Cologne, Matriarch and wise elder of the ancient 
tribe known as the Chinese Amazons?"
	Cologne felt a flash of pride at the recognition of her superior 
wisdom and experience of age.  She serenely regarded the two young 
people.
	Happosai, puffing on his pipe contentedly, looked nothing 
more than the placid Japanese elder.  "So you seek knowledge of 
esoteric and impossible-seeming techniques in the martial arts?"
	Cologne smirked slightly, knowing what they sought, more 
than Happosai, "Or perhaps you wish to know the tragic story of 
Jusenkyo, which curses all those who know it powers, so that they 
assume different forms when touched by water?"
	Happosai looked a little scared, "This isn't about the 
inexplicable panty shortage of New York back in 1957, is it?"
	"Perhaps you seek to know how feminism could survive 
through centuries of misogyny and patriarchal domination?"
	"This isn't about that tiny, tinsy transmitter I borrowed from 
Area 51, is it?"
	Scully and Mulder looked from one to the other, before Scully 
stepped up.
	"Actually, me and my partner are on vacation," Scully 
admitted.
	"Yeah," Mulder added, "you see, we had a bet going that 
nobody in the world would have a name as _stupid_ as Cologne, let 
alone a whole village named after *bathroom products*!"
	Both Happosai and Cologne start to glow blue with chi.
	Mulder snickered a little.
	Scully noticed this chi emanation, and said "Uhh, Mulder?"
	Mulder leaned forward to examine Happosai.  "Though, both 
of these might be an X-file.  The only question I have for these freaks is 
a hard one."
	Cologne and Happosai continued to glow brighter.
	"Mulder!" Scully barked.
	Mulder pursed his lips, thinking.  "Undead?  Or animated 
mackerel jerky?"
	*POW* *SLAM*
	After Happosai and Cologne moved away, leaving a smoking 
Mulder faceplanted in the ground, Scully knelt down and picked up a 
stick, which she used to poke Mulder.
	"Oy.  Oy."
	Eventually, Mulder started to stir.
	"You never learn," Scully commented.
	"Incredible," Mulder breathed, looking at the giant blast radius 
he was in the center of.
	"Yes?" Scully said.
	"I can't believe I lost five bucks on that bet!" Mulder said.
	Scully did a facefault of her own.
	As she helped her partner up and along, Scully said "The 
universe is full of infinite coincidences."
	Scully remembered something.
	"Oh, that reminds me; a park was ravaged in an apparant 
terrorist attack," Scully told Mulder, "Skinner wants us to look at it."
	Mulder groaned,  "I hardly think the FBI is concerned with 
mere *terrorism*."


(The rest of this omake has been censored by the Anvil Committee for 
no reason.)


The other Omake Theaters have been removed for the continued sanity 
of the readers.


Thats all folks!


Chapter Two of It's A Kind of Magic: Dark Powers Saga, will be out 
whenever I finish.  Sorry about that.


Please direct all comments and criticism to Curtiss Nelson, or 
curtiss@seattleu.edu.