Just a little something that's been puttering around in my mind for a while. Lemme know what you think. C&C requested, particularly criticism.
--Talon Karrde
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A chill wind blew across the Valley of Waters, and the lone figure atop the mountain drew its cloak tighter about itself, a thin defense against the biting winter. Long ago, he had ceased to care about such trivial things, confident in his abilities to withstand all that nature could throw at him. The young man gazed to the east, the direction of his homeland. He knew not why he felt compelled to watch the rising sun, but it felt comfortable. He was here for a reason, one that had yet to present itself to him.
He did not know, could not know, that he was not the first of his line to stand atop that mountain, awaiting enlightenment. He was his father's firstborn son, the son of yet another firstborn son. So the line went, long before memory would recall. He had always sensed that he had a purpose, but it's nature was unknown to him.
The lone traveler unshouldered his pack, and began to set camp. There was little need to search for dry wood, much lay about him. It seemed almost as if his coming had been prepared for. A thin smile touched his lips. "That wouldn't be impossible, would it? If something called me here, then surely it would have planned for my arrival." With that thought, he settled into meditation, and awaited the coming of enlightenment.
Some hours later, he stirred from his thoughts. He peered about, wondering what disturbance was great enough to rouse him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the flames. Bright, blue flames tore out of the earth all around him, surrounding him in a pale, ghastly aura of color. His heart pounding fast, he stared for a moment, contemplating escape. The flames waved menacingly towards him in the wind, as if in answer to his fear.
Without thinking, the traveler found himself falling to his knees before the flames. He cast his head towards the heavens, as if seeking a sign to instruct him. He saw, instead, a vision of pure, unceasing beauty. Descending from the stars was a figure, enveloped in a pure white aura. As it drew nearer, the traveler could make out the fine, perfect lines of the being's face, the gentle curves of its figure. The entity tensed, and suddenly there sprung forth a magnificent pair of wings, a brilliant white at first glance, but shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.
The man felt the tears rise in his eyes, and he wept without shame as the angel reached out its hand and stroked his cheek. He heard, or rather felt, it speak, and the words would echo in his mind for a long time to come. It whispered to him, "You carry within you the blood of ancient heroes. Many centuries ago, your ancestors made a pact with the heavens, pledging their service should it ever be required. They were given in exchange, a skill and stamina nearly unrivaled throughout the world. The time has come for you, the last surviving descendent of the Guardians, to take up Heaven's Mantle and go forth into the world."
He wiped the tears from his face, a face which immediately reshaped itself into one of pure, hardened determination. He threw up his head, looking directly into the seraph's eyes. "On the honor of my family line, I pledge my life to the quest. What must I do?"
The angel smiled, lighting up the mountaintop brighter still than the ki flames that burned about them. "One shall soon come to guide you in your quest. Follow where fate takes you, and gather allies, for it is only with help that you shall overcome the coming evil." As these words were spoken, the angel began to ascend again.
"How will I know this guide?" he cried, desperate for answers.
"You will be bound to follow. You needn't know more." With that, the angel vanished.
The traveler cast off his cloak, and strode to the western edge of the plateau. As he gazed at the golden twilight, his heart grew heavy. He had always sensed the power sleeping within him. He had, on occasion, been able to tap it, use its strength to aid him in battle.
The warrior stood proudly, his body glowing as the last rays of the sun glinted off his tear- and sweat-soaked clothing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of power seeping into him.
A noise startled him from his reverie, and he spun. He caught a glimmer of red hair, a single pigtail, and a rather ragged pair of shoes as they collided with him. He was knocked forcefully over the cliff and soared down towards the distant valley. He did not scream; instead he exclaimed loudly, "Damn you Ranma!". With that, he vanished through the fog.