[FFML] [FanFic] [Ranma 1/2] [Teaser] Against the Bone Prologue (Rough)

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I hope this gets more of a response than Lemon Pie. I might as well have
thrown the damn thing down the well. Would have gotten a bigger reaction.

Anyhow, please forgive any errors or awkwardness in this teaser. I
just finished it a few minutes ago. I'll try to have a finished, somewhat
revised version up in a few days.

-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: Against the Bone Prologue Teaser.txt

Against the Bone

A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction

Jeremy Harper

Disclaimer - Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi and is used without permission.

Prologue

Three days after his defeat Herb's conquerors returned. They marched into the bleak cell beneath the Musk Citadel and seized him. Herb fought back, gasping and growling, but his efforts were feeble. Lead had replaced the marrow in his bones; his sinews were wet, rotting string. He flailed at his tormentors ineffectually, not bothering to attempt to use the powers that were his birthright, for he could not access them. He could still sense the energy ambient to the natural world, still see it flow and ebb in scintillating eddies that enmeshed the world in an infinitely intricate lattice of ki, but he could not tap it. It was as if he were sheathed in glass, capable of seeing all but not touching. It maddened him to have the means of his escape and vengeance all around him but unable to wield it. Herb howled in rage; around his neck the queer white rose grew heavy.

The conquerors ignored Herb's wrath with stoic single-mindedness. They gripped him by his arms, their hands cold and hard, and forced-marched him out of the Citadel and through the ruined, deserted town of his people. Herb quit his futile struggles. The weight around his neck bowed him over. He went slack, passively resisting, forcing his enemies to drag him. They did so with uncaring aplomb. Herb did not attempt to lift his head - he could not bear to see the devastation his home had suffered.

His captors jolted to a halt. Herb reluctantly lifted his head to see their destination. They were at the outskirts of the town, the packed dirt road leading out into grassy fields and the forest beyond; close at hand stood four more of his foes, tall and massive, gleaming white in the sun, clicking and rattling as they stirred. A small, deep hole had been dug in the earth. Before it laid a Roman cross.

"NO!" Herb screamed as his captors dragged him towards the cross. He redoubled his efforts to break free, all in vain. They forced him down on the cross and bound his arms to it. Sharp-tipped fingers tore the ragged battle raiment from his body, leaving him naked save for the loincloth girt about his hips. One stepped forth with long iron spike and drove them barehanded through Herb's wrists. The Musk Prince contorted in agony, sinews standing out like steel cords as he strained. The conquerors cut the bonds from him, so that the spikes alone supported his weight, and raised the cross, planting it upright in the ground. They looked up to consider their handiwork. Hollow eye sockets gazed on the Scion of Dragons, black and pitiless against emotionless, fleshless faces. They walked away, their naked bones rattling and clacking. Herb stared out at the fields and forests of his kingdom, thorns of fire raking across his body. Despair swallowed him utterly.