Untamed Magics Prologue
Dungeons and Dragons crossover with Ranma 1/2
by Naquiel
Disclaimer - Ranma and 'Dungeons and Dragons: the Movie' don't belong to me so please don't sue.
Author's Note: Any details that are mentioned may not be in following with the true Dungeons and Dragons RPG, but is based on what happened during the movie, and what was mentioned in it. I shall be making a lot of it up (particularly about Dragons,) as I go along. For those avid fans of the RPG, I am sorry if this disconcerts you in any way, or, in any way, offends those who prefer the RPG or an unpolluted storyline from the movie: without added parts from the author!
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Chapter 0
Ranma is so small, thought Nodaka, sitting in her garden, with her year old baby wrapped in a sheet of white linen, in her arms. What sort of man will he become? She pondered. Will he be kind or gentle, or a rough yet cuddly personality? She could never see him as a monster, but she feared. She feared for the safety of her son. Three years ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, she didn't survive her first year. The fear of losing him before he could become 'him' still flowed like ice down her spine, whenever she thought of it.
She drew the bundle in closer and kissed the small forehead before holding him tightly, weeping tears of fear and remembered pain.
"Oh, Kami. Whoever will answer, protect my son. Please," her whispered prayer flew through the still air. Unnoticed to her, her child's closed eyes shone pure white for a few moments, the light shining from the slight gap between eyelids and making the flesh glow rosy pink.
Three years later, found Nodaka crying, wept her heart out. She was on the floor, with her head in her hands, a piece of paper floating down to the glazed floorboards. On the paper was a promise made in innocence by a four year old and used in a cruel and manipulative way by his 'father.'
Nodaka wept: for the loss of both her Son and a memory of a beautiful man, who gave her such a beautiful child.
It was five years since she saw him, walking cockily down the street, in faded jeans and a denim vest over a white dress-shirt. His shoulder-length pitch-black hair flaring out behind him. He spotted her almost immediately, the shy, demure and awkward daughter of Kistoro Nakamuki, Patriarch of the Nakamuki clan. He wasn't put-off in the slightest by the fact she was married. He was charming and kind, if, oh-so mysterious; and eventually she fell in love with him. Then he left, leaving her unknowingly pregnant.
She didn't blame him as such, she still cherished his memory and relived that love every time she saw her darling little boy, but now, he was gone. Both of them were gone and she felt so very, very alone.
Two years later, in a place so far away, yet surprisingly close, in an empire called Izmer, in the capital city, Sumdall, the Empress was in counsel with fifteen Mages, sixteen knights and representatives from the Elves.
The Empress stroked her royal sceptre nervously. Something important was going discussed, that was obvious due to the number of High Mages and Knights.
"Please, do tell as to why this counsel was summoned, Izacrat!" asked the Empress of the eldest and wisest mage in the recreated Council of Mages.
"Yes, your Majesty. There has an increasing amount of Dragon attacks, throughout our kingdom, and stories of similar occurrences from our neighbours have also been received.
"We believe that these unprovoked Dragon attacks are due to an imbalance created during the battle with Prophion, with the, loses on both the Gold and Red dragons, being the direct cause of the imbalance, along with a time-delayed effect from the Great War, five hundred years ago. We have researched the topic and believe there maybe a few spells, which could be used to calm this balance, however it will only work for a few days at best. Although we can do little to assist the balance ourselves, our Elven friends' believe there is an answer in their legends and histories!"
The aged Mage sat down and an elf that appeared middle-aged, but was probably well into his hundreds, stood up. "Your Majesty, my name is Ovand" he started in a typically eleven melodic and calm tone. "We Elves as you know are a lot older than most races and have retained knowledge from ages long forgotten by many other species, bar Dragons, of course.
"We remember a race of most powerful and wise beings, called WereDragons. How they came to be, perhaps only Dragons themselves know, but these people were as ancient as we were, and truly immortal, just as Dragons. Age and disease could not kill them, only accidents or murder.
"Each WereDragon was born to a particular 'clan,' to a type of dragon, Gold, Red, Blue, so forth. They could talk to any dragon of the same clan, but only that kind and they had the power to transform into Dragons, or various steps between their 'human' form and their draconian form, but always retained great physical power in whatever form.
"The ability that they had, that was particularly notorious, however, was the power to 'bond' with a Dragon. The process gave them the power to communicate over long distance and share emotions, memories, sensations, and thoughts.
"Using their gift of Dragon-speech, they acted as mediators between humanity, elves, Dragons and so forth, even as mediators for the Dragons' own internal conflicts.
"They didn't always bear children that had their gifts: the reason they were in such short number and only had one actual colony.
"The non-WereDragons were essentially human-elf hybrids, as the first WereDragons were originally humans and Elves. They lived long and well, even by elven standards, despite the lack of immortality. They became farmers and protectors of the Clan's lands, just as the WereDragons guarded the Dragons and helped shape the first political structures.
"Five hundred years ago, one of the hybrids; became jealous of his brother's and sisters, those with the gift. He went from their lands and managed to initiate an empire-wide fear of the WereDragons. One fearful duke managed to collect a large army. They wiped the WereDragons from our world.
"The Dragons, both bonded and un-bonded, wiped the Duke from the face of the Empire, along with his army and the jealous hybrid.
"Since then, the natural balance of nature has been, how do you humans say, ah, 'touch and go,' with Dragons attacking each other, due to unsolved personal vendettas and inter-clan frictions, and those deaths are now, not being balanced with an equal amount of births.
"We are only now seeing the effects of this cultural disturbance. The reaction of the Great War, and the Battle of the Dragons only two years ago, is what we are now seeing."
"Yes, yes," said one of the Mages impatiently. "How does all this help us if the WereDragons are all dead!"
The Elf frowned at the man, causing him to sweat, despite the coolness of the room. "It helps us, because they foretold their own destruction, they knew what was coming. They gave, one of our own, a scroll explaining this, explaining their regret at what had happened, and their knowledge that we would require the scrolls' prophesises.
The first prophesy; is that of the Great War; and that of the Battle of the Dragons..."
"Wait," commanded the Empress. "You knew the Great War and the Battle of the Dragons, were going to happen three hundred years in advance of the Great War and five hundred years in advance, for the Battle of Dragons. Why didn't you tell us!"
"Well," said the Elf reassuringly at the enraged woman. "The scroll was explicit in saying, unless the two wars happened, there would be an even worse future for everyone."
The Empress still seethed, but to a lesser degree. "Well, kindly tell us how this scroll helps us!"
The elf was glad for the change in topic. "The scroll has a second prophesy; about a new breed of WereDragon, starting with a young man. The young man is prophesied to wield the power to communicate to all dragons, to dance through space, and the power to free and forcefully control an ancient and most deadly breed of Dragons, called Hydras."
"Hydras?" asked the Empress.
"Yes. They were explained in the last part of the scroll." explained the Ovand. "Apparently, originally, there were no set species of Dragons, there were thousands of different species. Many dying and being born in moments, when the world began, until the world, and therefore, Dragons, began to solidify into something better adapted to what the world was making itself into.
"A number of races of Dragons came into being and survived this time of upheaval, evolution and chaos: Golds, Reds, Blues, Greens, Greys, Blacks, and finally, Hydras.
"The Hydras were objects of fear to the demons and darker forces that had been born in our world at that time. Hydra-flame was the personification of purifying fire, destroying and killing all that got in it's way, even other Dragons and especially Demons!
"Hydras were ridiculously loyal to their Dragon brethren, willing to die for their people. Even more so to destroy those which would dream of taking advantage of any Dragon, they were also ridiculous protective of Dragon Eggs. Protecting them like a treasure greater than we can dream.
"Physically, Hydras were nine headed Dragons, larger than any other kind, with large wings and the ability to talk to people through their minds without a bonding process, but lacking the range of the bonded version of the thought communication.
"The aforementioned Demons and dark forces managed to conspire to trap all the Hydras in a bubble of reality. They used illusion and prayed upon their protective instincts for their Dragon-kin. They were all trapped.
"The other Dragons managed to destroy the dark item that the Demons used to open the portal. The item itself was useless to them, as they couldn't use it to free their kin, but could stop the Demons from using it to trap other Dragons."
"Ah," stated the Empress, understanding the painful that that choice must have felt for those free Dragons. "So, this boy, where is he? Is he born yet? How are we supposed to take what you have told us forward?"
Ovand frowned thoughtfully and looked at his copy of the ancient scrolls. "Apparently, the WereDragons, sent a single child through some sort of dimensional barrier, with a pendant which suppressed the child's powers. The young man in the prophesy is a descendant of this WereDragon. The scroll does come with a lock of the child's hair and a suggestion: 'look not for wisdom, but innocence.' It isn't any clearer than that."
Throughout the elf's entire explanation of the scroll and it's relevance the old mage, Izacrat, had listened intently. When Ovand came to the last part, the hair and the suggestion, a little memory tugged at the back of Izacrat's mind. A spell, no, a scroll, no, it was something theoretical, what was it, aha!
"Your Majesty," exclaimed the old, wise man. "I believe that I know what it is that the WereDragons are trying to tell us through the scroll, in relation to finding the young boy in question!"
The Empress smiled at the old man's youthful enthusiasm. The body may age, but his heart was that of a boy! "Please, go ahead."
"It is in relation to a theory that I read once when I was a mere boy of thirty." There was a small chuckle all around, except from Ovand. "The theory was that there were a number of worlds, super-imposed upon our own, separated by an impassable dimensional barrier. One of these other worlds was believed to have a very thin barrier between this world and it, one that could be passed through at certain points, and places in the worlds! It is possible that it is this reality that the child was sent to!"
"Yes, but how does that help us when we don't know how to get to it?" asked the same mage that interrupted Ovand.
"Well, normally it wouldn't help us at all!" said Izacrat nonchalantly, and then chuckled like a schoolboy. "Except for the fact that the theory came with map of believed points in the world where a portal could be achieved! It would take a few days but I believe that if we work around the clock we could create a summoning circle that will relay it's magic through all of these apparent weaknesses in the barrier. It is a good bet that at least one of these points will work, if the theory holds water of course!"
"But what has that got to do with the actual search, we don't know what we are looking for!" said the same annoying Mage.
"Actually, we do. I would be willing to bet that the lock of hair has enough spiritual residue for us to use it to narrow the search down to a family tree. The phrase 'look not for wisdom, but innocence,' may mean, for us to look for the youngest, not the oldest of the family tree for the prophesied individual. It could work, Your Majesty, and I would have to recommend that we make every attempt to summon this individual, during the small window the balancing spells can give us! If we succeed, his ability to communicate to the dragons may be enough to establish a period of indefinite peace. Perhaps long enough to allow the Dragons to heal, and for us to become better prepared to fight a similar threat in the future!"
The Empress took her time to think it over. By committing resources to one action, it could prove disastrous, if it didn't work. But was there any other thing that she could do? She thought, with no doubt, that there was nothing else that had the chance to work in the time they had.
"Do what you have too!"
Three days later: found a young child curled up in foetal position in his torn sleeping bag. His bruised and beaten body, leaking blood from a handful of cuts, was giving only a slight freedom with his pain due to the softness of the battered piece of camping equipment.
The little Ranma cried silently into the unheeding night, to busy with it's own mourning to notice his. He had to be careful; to bottle his tears until night came, else his father would become very angry with him for crying, and would hurt him!
To Ranma, crying at night was easy, the sadness shining from the star's beauty, the mourning black of the heavens, the cool touch of the passing breezes, like deaths comfort and most of all, at night he could remember 'her' better. His memories of his mother were clearest at night, and cherished dearly. The clearest memory of them all was a memory was, her smiling, kind, youthful face above him as he was in his crib, with her humming a little song, that made him feel so sleepy and warm.
He closed his eyes and whispered a small prayer to see his mother again some day, and feel into the soft cushion of oblivion, his eyes glowing pure white, turning his eyelids rosy pink as the light shone through.
Around him, a soft circle of mist was forming. When the mist solidified into a circlet of white energy, other symbols appeared, both within and without it. In a brief flash of light the child disappeared, leaving only his clothes and sleeping bag. The circle, and the symbols, shrunk inward until they disappeared in a rain of sparks.
Nearby, an astonished, and rather fat, man; stood in shock, staring at the sight, long after it had ended.
Dungeons and Dragons crossover with Ranma 1/2
by Naquiel
Disclaimer - Ranma and 'Dungeons and Dragons: the Movie' don't belong to me so please don't sue.
Author's Note: Any details that are mentioned may not be in following with the true Dungeons and Dragons RPG, but is based on what happened during the movie, and what was mentioned in it. I shall be making a lot of it up (particularly about Dragons,) as I go along. For those avid fans of the RPG, I am sorry if this disconcerts you in any way, or, in any way, offends those who prefer the RPG or an unpolluted storyline from the movie: without added parts from the author!
~~~~#~~~~
Chapter 0
Ranma is so small, thought Nodaka, sitting in her garden, with her year old baby wrapped in a sheet of white linen, in her arms. What sort of man will he become? She pondered. Will he be kind or gentle, or a rough yet cuddly personality? She could never see him as a monster, but she feared. She feared for the safety of her son. Three years ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, she didn't survive her first year. The fear of losing him before he could become 'him' still flowed like ice down her spine, whenever she thought of it.
She drew the bundle in closer and kissed the small forehead before holding him tightly, weeping tears of fear and remembered pain.
"Oh, Kami. Whoever will answer, protect my son. Please," her whispered prayer flew through the still air. Unnoticed to her, her child's closed eyes shone pure white for a few moments, the light shining from the slight gap between eyelids and making the flesh glow rosy pink.
Three years later, found Nodaka crying, wept her heart out. She was on the floor, with her head in her hands, a piece of paper floating down to the glazed floorboards. On the paper was a promise made in innocence by a four year old and used in a cruel and manipulative way by his 'father.'
Nodaka wept: for the loss of both her Son and a memory of a beautiful man, who gave her such a beautiful child.
It was five years since she saw him, walking cockily down the street, in faded jeans and a denim vest over a white dress-shirt. His shoulder-length pitch-black hair flaring out behind him. He spotted her almost immediately, the shy, demure and awkward daughter of Kistoro Nakamuki, Patriarch of the Nakamuki clan. He wasn't put-off in the slightest by the fact she was married. He was charming and kind, if, oh-so mysterious; and eventually she fell in love with him. Then he left, leaving her unknowingly pregnant.
She didn't blame him as such, she still cherished his memory and relived that love every time she saw her darling little boy, but now, he was gone. Both of them were gone and she felt so very, very alone.
Two years later, in a place so far away, yet surprisingly close, in an empire called Izmer, in the capital city, Sumdall, the Empress was in counsel with fifteen Mages, sixteen knights and representatives from the Elves.
The Empress stroked her royal sceptre nervously. Something important was going discussed, that was obvious due to the number of High Mages and Knights.
"Please, do tell as to why this counsel was summoned, Izacrat!" asked the Empress of the eldest and wisest mage in the recreated Council of Mages.
"Yes, your Majesty. There has an increasing amount of Dragon attacks, throughout our kingdom, and stories of similar occurrences from our neighbours have also been received.
"We believe that these unprovoked Dragon attacks are due to an imbalance created during the battle with Prophion, with the, loses on both the Gold and Red dragons, being the direct cause of the imbalance, along with a time-delayed effect from the Great War, five hundred years ago. We have researched the topic and believe there maybe a few spells, which could be used to calm this balance, however it will only work for a few days at best. Although we can do little to assist the balance ourselves, our Elven friends' believe there is an answer in their legends and histories!"
The aged Mage sat down and an elf that appeared middle-aged, but was probably well into his hundreds, stood up. "Your Majesty, my name is Ovand" he started in a typically eleven melodic and calm tone. "We Elves as you know are a lot older than most races and have retained knowledge from ages long forgotten by many other species, bar Dragons, of course.
"We remember a race of most powerful and wise beings, called WereDragons. How they came to be, perhaps only Dragons themselves know, but these people were as ancient as we were, and truly immortal, just as Dragons. Age and disease could not kill them, only accidents or murder.
"Each WereDragon was born to a particular 'clan,' to a type of dragon, Gold, Red, Blue, so forth. They could talk to any dragon of the same clan, but only that kind and they had the power to transform into Dragons, or various steps between their 'human' form and their draconian form, but always retained great physical power in whatever form.
"The ability that they had, that was particularly notorious, however, was the power to 'bond' with a Dragon. The process gave them the power to communicate over long distance and share emotions, memories, sensations, and thoughts.
"Using their gift of Dragon-speech, they acted as mediators between humanity, elves, Dragons and so forth, even as mediators for the Dragons' own internal conflicts.
"They didn't always bear children that had their gifts: the reason they were in such short number and only had one actual colony.
"The non-WereDragons were essentially human-elf hybrids, as the first WereDragons were originally humans and Elves. They lived long and well, even by elven standards, despite the lack of immortality. They became farmers and protectors of the Clan's lands, just as the WereDragons guarded the Dragons and helped shape the first political structures.
"Five hundred years ago, one of the hybrids; became jealous of his brother's and sisters, those with the gift. He went from their lands and managed to initiate an empire-wide fear of the WereDragons. One fearful duke managed to collect a large army. They wiped the WereDragons from our world.
"The Dragons, both bonded and un-bonded, wiped the Duke from the face of the Empire, along with his army and the jealous hybrid.
"Since then, the natural balance of nature has been, how do you humans say, ah, 'touch and go,' with Dragons attacking each other, due to unsolved personal vendettas and inter-clan frictions, and those deaths are now, not being balanced with an equal amount of births.
"We are only now seeing the effects of this cultural disturbance. The reaction of the Great War, and the Battle of the Dragons only two years ago, is what we are now seeing."
"Yes, yes," said one of the Mages impatiently. "How does all this help us if the WereDragons are all dead!"
The Elf frowned at the man, causing him to sweat, despite the coolness of the room. "It helps us, because they foretold their own destruction, they knew what was coming. They gave, one of our own, a scroll explaining this, explaining their regret at what had happened, and their knowledge that we would require the scrolls' prophesises.
The first prophesy; is that of the Great War; and that of the Battle of the Dragons..."
"Wait," commanded the Empress. "You knew the Great War and the Battle of the Dragons, were going to happen three hundred years in advance of the Great War and five hundred years in advance, for the Battle of Dragons. Why didn't you tell us!"
"Well," said the Elf reassuringly at the enraged woman. "The scroll was explicit in saying, unless the two wars happened, there would be an even worse future for everyone."
The Empress still seethed, but to a lesser degree. "Well, kindly tell us how this scroll helps us!"
The elf was glad for the change in topic. "The scroll has a second prophesy; about a new breed of WereDragon, starting with a young man. The young man is prophesied to wield the power to communicate to all dragons, to dance through space, and the power to free and forcefully control an ancient and most deadly breed of Dragons, called Hydras."
"Hydras?" asked the Empress.
"Yes. They were explained in the last part of the scroll." explained the Ovand. "Apparently, originally, there were no set species of Dragons, there were thousands of different species. Many dying and being born in moments, when the world began, until the world, and therefore, Dragons, began to solidify into something better adapted to what the world was making itself into.
"A number of races of Dragons came into being and survived this time of upheaval, evolution and chaos: Golds, Reds, Blues, Greens, Greys, Blacks, and finally, Hydras.
"The Hydras were objects of fear to the demons and darker forces that had been born in our world at that time. Hydra-flame was the personification of purifying fire, destroying and killing all that got in it's way, even other Dragons and especially Demons!
"Hydras were ridiculously loyal to their Dragon brethren, willing to die for their people. Even more so to destroy those which would dream of taking advantage of any Dragon, they were also ridiculous protective of Dragon Eggs. Protecting them like a treasure greater than we can dream.
"Physically, Hydras were nine headed Dragons, larger than any other kind, with large wings and the ability to talk to people through their minds without a bonding process, but lacking the range of the bonded version of the thought communication.
"The aforementioned Demons and dark forces managed to conspire to trap all the Hydras in a bubble of reality. They used illusion and prayed upon their protective instincts for their Dragon-kin. They were all trapped.
"The other Dragons managed to destroy the dark item that the Demons used to open the portal. The item itself was useless to them, as they couldn't use it to free their kin, but could stop the Demons from using it to trap other Dragons."
"Ah," stated the Empress, understanding the painful that that choice must have felt for those free Dragons. "So, this boy, where is he? Is he born yet? How are we supposed to take what you have told us forward?"
Ovand frowned thoughtfully and looked at his copy of the ancient scrolls. "Apparently, the WereDragons, sent a single child through some sort of dimensional barrier, with a pendant which suppressed the child's powers. The young man in the prophesy is a descendant of this WereDragon. The scroll does come with a lock of the child's hair and a suggestion: 'look not for wisdom, but innocence.' It isn't any clearer than that."
Throughout the elf's entire explanation of the scroll and it's relevance the old mage, Izacrat, had listened intently. When Ovand came to the last part, the hair and the suggestion, a little memory tugged at the back of Izacrat's mind. A spell, no, a scroll, no, it was something theoretical, what was it, aha!
"Your Majesty," exclaimed the old, wise man. "I believe that I know what it is that the WereDragons are trying to tell us through the scroll, in relation to finding the young boy in question!"
The Empress smiled at the old man's youthful enthusiasm. The body may age, but his heart was that of a boy! "Please, go ahead."
"It is in relation to a theory that I read once when I was a mere boy of thirty." There was a small chuckle all around, except from Ovand. "The theory was that there were a number of worlds, super-imposed upon our own, separated by an impassable dimensional barrier. One of these other worlds was believed to have a very thin barrier between this world and it, one that could be passed through at certain points, and places in the worlds! It is possible that it is this reality that the child was sent to!"
"Yes, but how does that help us when we don't know how to get to it?" asked the same mage that interrupted Ovand.
"Well, normally it wouldn't help us at all!" said Izacrat nonchalantly, and then chuckled like a schoolboy. "Except for the fact that the theory came with map of believed points in the world where a portal could be achieved! It would take a few days but I believe that if we work around the clock we could create a summoning circle that will relay it's magic through all of these apparent weaknesses in the barrier. It is a good bet that at least one of these points will work, if the theory holds water of course!"
"But what has that got to do with the actual search, we don't know what we are looking for!" said the same annoying Mage.
"Actually, we do. I would be willing to bet that the lock of hair has enough spiritual residue for us to use it to narrow the search down to a family tree. The phrase 'look not for wisdom, but innocence,' may mean, for us to look for the youngest, not the oldest of the family tree for the prophesied individual. It could work, Your Majesty, and I would have to recommend that we make every attempt to summon this individual, during the small window the balancing spells can give us! If we succeed, his ability to communicate to the dragons may be enough to establish a period of indefinite peace. Perhaps long enough to allow the Dragons to heal, and for us to become better prepared to fight a similar threat in the future!"
The Empress took her time to think it over. By committing resources to one action, it could prove disastrous, if it didn't work. But was there any other thing that she could do? She thought, with no doubt, that there was nothing else that had the chance to work in the time they had.
"Do what you have too!"
Three days later: found a young child curled up in foetal position in his torn sleeping bag. His bruised and beaten body, leaking blood from a handful of cuts, was giving only a slight freedom with his pain due to the softness of the battered piece of camping equipment.
The little Ranma cried silently into the unheeding night, to busy with it's own mourning to notice his. He had to be careful; to bottle his tears until night came, else his father would become very angry with him for crying, and would hurt him!
To Ranma, crying at night was easy, the sadness shining from the star's beauty, the mourning black of the heavens, the cool touch of the passing breezes, like deaths comfort and most of all, at night he could remember 'her' better. His memories of his mother were clearest at night, and cherished dearly. The clearest memory of them all was a memory was, her smiling, kind, youthful face above him as he was in his crib, with her humming a little song, that made him feel so sleepy and warm.
He closed his eyes and whispered a small prayer to see his mother again some day, and feel into the soft cushion of oblivion, his eyes glowing pure white, turning his eyelids rosy pink as the light shone through.
Around him, a soft circle of mist was forming. When the mist solidified into a circlet of white energy, other symbols appeared, both within and without it. In a brief flash of light the child disappeared, leaving only his clothes and sleeping bag. The circle, and the symbols, shrunk inward until they disappeared in a rain of sparks.
Nearby, an astonished, and rather fat, man; stood in shock, staring at the sight, long after it had ended.