Untamed Magics Chapter 1
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 1
The Empress looked on dispassionately, as she nervously thought of the many, many ways this could go wrong. She was in a comfortably large room, with rouge drapes and gold leaf outlining panels, depicting beautiful murals of Heroes, and Dragons. In front of her, Izacrat and his apprentices were busy adding the final touches to the circle.
As she waited for them to be ready she thought back to when she asked Izacrat, why something similar hadn't been attempted in the past.
"Well," he had said. "The researcher had quite some bad blood with another mage, who despised him with a fierce passion.
"When he discovered other interesting things that he was going to publish, and hence gain great favour in the eyes of the council. The poor man was killed by the rival mage, who also made sure that the only copy, which included the summoning circle and the overlapping-worlds theory, was put into storage, where it wouldn't likely be found for quite some time.
"The murderer was discovered and hanged, but the book was missing for ages since, until two, three centuries ago. Since then, no one has really been interested in one obscure theory to 'waste' the effort to prove it.
"We can only hope that the theory and the circle will work. As it hasn't ever been applied in practice, no one knows what will happen, myself least of all!" after that he had continued on his work on the circle.
The Empress relaxed a little and sighed. Whatever happened, she hoped that her people would not be harmed.
Izacrat came up to her on her throne, and coughed lightly to gain her attention. "We are ready, Your Highness! The knights and Mages have already been summoned by one of my assistants."
The Empress nodded, acknowledging the necessity of both Mages, and knights to fend off any dark or dangerous force that the summoning could accidentally bring, instead of the WereDragon child.
"Tell me, Izacrat. What will happen if we succeed?" she asked the old man, with more than a touch of nervousness.
The aged mage sighed and slouched slightly like the world was on his shoulders. "The pendant given to the baby who was sent into that parallel world, both disguises and suppresses the WereDragon powers. The pendant, will work on an entire bloodline if worn by someone of that lineage, two weeks if not worn, the limitation is two-fold. Someone who is aware and constantly uses their WereDragon powers, are immune to its effects, and it can only effect the lineage in the world where it is present.
"Therefore, if the child is still under the effect of the pendants magic, as soon as it comes here, it..."
"He."
"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?" asked a confused Izacrat.
"The legends said it would be a young man," the Empress pointed out.
"Oh. Oh, yes." Izacrat continued. "As soon, as he, comes here, his inheritance will surge and awaken. He will gain all of the prophesised powers and the WereDragon powers, that is if he is the prophesised Draconian negotiator!"
"Will it hurt him?" she asked gently.
"No, well, perhaps. I can't be certain!" stated the old man.
At that moment, the knights, protectors of the people, and the Mages, scholars and healers, filed into the room. The stood in a circle around the large summoning circle, with swords, daggers, staffs, wands, magiced gloves and an assortment of magical and warrior armaments.
"Are you all ready?" she asked of the warriors and wizards.
Most nodded, replied yes, while some didn't speak, their determination obvious in their faces.
The Empress looked to Izacrat. "You may begin!"
The old sorcerer took a vile of purple fluid from within his robes and threw it into the bare centre of the circle, where it smashed, the fluid running along the ground.
Soon, the purple fluid became white gas, like fog, that hovered above the entire pattern. The gas condensed into a large circlet with various symbols made of the gas both within and without the circle. The circlet condensed its pattern, shrinking above the centre of the pattern.
The gaseous circlet became a globe the size of a boy's hand. After a few seconds a single small light appeared within. Then, without warning, the globe expanded back into the circlet and it's patterns, and exploded outwards in a soundless wave of dissipating gas that rolled around the room's floor before dissipating entirely.
All those present focused their attention to the centre of the summoning circle. There a small, olive-skinned boy lay in foetal position. They could easily see his small, nude body had some nasty wounds for a young child.
The knights, Mages and the Empress relaxed and became more curious, than their previous state of nervousness.
Then the child began to glow blue. A hazy light that surrounded his small form and rose up like a blue bonfire.
Three Mages stepped forward to help, along with five knights.
"Stop, fools," roared Izacrat. "Do not cross the circle. His power is awakening. The circle will protect us from his unfocused power. He will be unharmed, but you would be killed if you go near him!"
The small child floated gently upwards. He posture changed, from foetal to spread-eagled. All present could see his malnutrition and other wounds, scars, bruises yet to fade, fist shaped bruises that looked very fresh, and they could see that his body was very dirty and soiled, his hair tangled and his nails bitten.
Most there were shocked at the condition of the child, some actually felt a little queasy, the remaining individual were imagining immensely painful, decade-long, punishments to who-ever did that to the child!
The sapphire-blue 'fire' that surrounded him was next to noiseless, making only a slight rustle, that made sure the could hear every bone in the boys body grinding, crunching, realigning, in a series of very horrendous noises. The fire burnt away the dirt and healed his open, weeping wounds. His bruises disappeared, fading into nothing, and his body grew into a taller, leaner, more refined form. His hair flew all over the place due to the energy, it created a halo of midnight black around his head, if he was being seen from above, and at the same time the hair took on silver highlights.
The 'fire' grew, and changed into something else, a sort of latent emerald glow that surrounded the child, flashing with white lightening and streamers of blue polarised energy.
Then, his body changed. The poor boy was conscious now and feeling the changes in his body; struggled vainly against the power. His body switched from horizontal to vertical, still spread-eagled, his body outlined in light, and energy.
He let out a soundless scream, as his body changed, slowly at first than more rapidly. He grew claws on his hands, which, became sheathed in silver and white scales. He grew taller, his feet changing dramatically, the ankles being way further up that natural, with a clawed toe sticking out backwards from it, his feet only possessing four toes, each with claws on the ends instead of normal nails. His feet were scaled, also. His bare chest grew broader, scales growing on it as well, his torso extended, a long whip-like tail grew from the base of his spine, his legs grew longer and stronger, as did his arms. On his head grew two silver horns that came from the centre, growing around either side of his head, and straight on, in swept-back fashion, as did the two pairs of horns behind and above his ears. His eyes became cat-like, and large draconian wings grew from his back. Gradually the changes; sped up until they had a full-grown white and silver Dragon in front of them, held aloft by the energy field, it's wide wingspan, passing through the circle, unaffected.
The Dragon was large and beautiful, with soft pastel sky-blue, edging the scales of white and silver marble. Four horns protruded from the back of his skull; and a ridge of small horns ran from between his eyes, along his scaly snout, to end at the nose, with a final larger horn to end. His pointed ears were swept back and tipped with a tiny horn, below his nostrils, and to the side, were a pair of horns the pointed forwards, as did a similar pair protrude from his Dragon-form's high cheekbones. At the crest each of his large leathery wings, a small claw rested, ready to grab and slice. His shoulders were protected from sword slashes or such-like by a series of small horns, similar protection existed on his knees. His long thick tail; was ridged on either side with a line of small horns, and ended with a larger hard piece of tail that was to Dragons what maces were to man.
Slowly the energy surrounding the large Dragon faded to a pale turquoise, and his large form dropped silently to the ground, a dumbfounded and frightened expression on his face.
All present were frozen in indecision and awe, or fear. The Dragon turned around, slowly, and looked at those around him. Then he saw the Empress, on her throne, and the old mage, Izacrat beside her.
The Empress; rose regally from her throne and marched down, her Royal Sceptre of golden Dragon control, in her delicate hands. She approached the Dragon without any fear. She stood before him and reached out and placed her hand on his muzzle, then she spoke.
"Child, you are most possibly the salvation of our world. I must as for you to assist us. Will you help us?" to her credit, her voice did not shake in the slightest, despite the emotion that she felt: despair, hope, and, aye, fear.
Ranma could only nod his massive head in an affirmative, still uncertain and unsure, but understanding the duty of a martial artist to protect those weaker than oneself.
Once the Mages and knights had been dismissed to go around their duties, given thanks for their help, Izacrat began to explain to Ranma, still in his Draconian form, what he was.
"... Now, as the forces of magic have been severely unbalanced, any more pressure on that balance may be our undoing. A single Dragon killed will be a great blow to the balance, and now it cannot sustain any more blows without any healing. New Dragons to counter-balance the dead Dragon and heal the balance. Originally, your kind helped create and maintain a balance within the Dragons. Your kind also prophesised your existence, stating in their legends that you would possess certain powers that no other WereDragon could hope to possess: the power to 'dance through space', to communicate to all Dragons, instead of being limited to one clan, or kind of Dragon. Your final prophesised power, if you are the prophesised boy, is the ability to free and control an ancient, previously unknown kind of Dragon. They are called Hydras..." He went on to explain in careful detail, everything that was written on the scrolls, the lock of hair and the clue, the method in which they summoned him. He also told him the impossibility of repeating the spell, due to the fact that it overtaxed the overlaps between their two worlds. However he also said that he believed the power to 'dance through space' may have the power to traverse through the dimensional barrier.
For many hours Izacrat talked to Ranma, about the nature of magic, Dragons, Mages, knights, and so forth. Basic general information, about this new world he had found himself in. Ranma managed to get the point across that he wanted to become human again, however Izacrat knew little or nothing about the actual means that WereDragons used to transform.
"...I do however have some scrolls about regular lycanthropy, perhaps they are similar enough to give some clues!" Ranma sighed as the old man went out of the room, eager as a schoolboy. He was so confused about this whole business, despite the old man's one-sided discussion. He felt trapped, and lonely, and... really hungry.
Anna was a kitchen brat. Her mother was a cook. Her father was an unknown. Her mother cared for her, but rarely had the time to show her affection. She helped her mother, she fetched things and helped clean up afterwards. She wasn't sure how old she was, but she didn't think it mattered, but if she was been asked, she answered 'six'. Did the fact she didn't have a father mean that she couldn't have kids when she was older, pondered the immature mind of the small, average girl.
"Anna. Get us some flour, wud ya luv?" asked Anna's mother, Mary, as she used her strong arms to pound and fold a sheet of dough.
Anna jumped of her seat in the corner, with two other kitchen brats, her twin brother, and the daughter of one of the maids, asleep in the same corner. "Aye, mam."
Anna ran the whole fifty yards towards a pinewood door, that she hastily opened. After that was a small hallway, with two doors, one to the upper reaches of the palace, where the royalty lived. The other was the pantry, a large 'L' shaped room filled with food: jam, flour, milk, cheese, meats, and fruit.
Anna went to the pantry door with childish enthusiasm empowering her. She was about to open the door, when she noticed it was ajar. She fearlessly peaked in, to see who was inside.
Whoever it was making quite a bit of noise, around the corner of the room.
Anna's temper flared. She bet it was Quinn, a posh snob who was of the very lowest nobility someone can be without not-being a noble at all. He was always in her when he thought he couldn't get caught. She had caught him more than once doing this, and she had soundly belted him, and saw him out of the pantry. However, the boy was as stubborn as she was, and returned to raid the pantry again.
Maybe her mother could deal with him!
Anna promptly turned face and went from the pantry to the hall, and then to the kitchen.
"Mam," squealed Anna, at her plump, matronly mother, "A boy's in the pantry. He's makin' all sorts o' noise!"
Her mother's face hardened. To her the kitchen, and by relation, the pantry, were more sacred than any temple. She put down her worked dough, and picked up a rolling pin. The other two kids were awake and had heard Anna. They decided to follow the enraged cook, and Anna, for the mere entertainment. They both assumed that it was Quinn as they had caught him in the act as many times as Anna.
The foursome of kitchen servents went through to the hall, and collectivly went into the Pantry. The matronly cook never missing a step.
The all turned the corner in the room and stood frozen at the sight.
Onto one side was a pile of animal bones from the carcasses that once lined the walls of the cool room, bottles of liquor and cider were broken, shattered on the ground, or empty with broken seals, obviously drunk. But all this wasn't what gained their attention. No, what gained their attention was the gigantic mostly-silver Dragon in front of them, that had hastily turned upon their entrance, with a cow's carcass half-way into its' mouth.
The lizard let out a few ground-shaking roars.
If they understood the verbal form of draconian communication, they would have heard him say, "I'm Ranma Saotome. Sorry about this!" As it was, they didn't.
Hence, they screamed!
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 1
The Empress looked on dispassionately, as she nervously thought of the many, many ways this could go wrong. She was in a comfortably large room, with rouge drapes and gold leaf outlining panels, depicting beautiful murals of Heroes, and Dragons. In front of her, Izacrat and his apprentices were busy adding the final touches to the circle.
As she waited for them to be ready she thought back to when she asked Izacrat, why something similar hadn't been attempted in the past.
"Well," he had said. "The researcher had quite some bad blood with another mage, who despised him with a fierce passion.
"When he discovered other interesting things that he was going to publish, and hence gain great favour in the eyes of the council. The poor man was killed by the rival mage, who also made sure that the only copy, which included the summoning circle and the overlapping-worlds theory, was put into storage, where it wouldn't likely be found for quite some time.
"The murderer was discovered and hanged, but the book was missing for ages since, until two, three centuries ago. Since then, no one has really been interested in one obscure theory to 'waste' the effort to prove it.
"We can only hope that the theory and the circle will work. As it hasn't ever been applied in practice, no one knows what will happen, myself least of all!" after that he had continued on his work on the circle.
The Empress relaxed a little and sighed. Whatever happened, she hoped that her people would not be harmed.
Izacrat came up to her on her throne, and coughed lightly to gain her attention. "We are ready, Your Highness! The knights and Mages have already been summoned by one of my assistants."
The Empress nodded, acknowledging the necessity of both Mages, and knights to fend off any dark or dangerous force that the summoning could accidentally bring, instead of the WereDragon child.
"Tell me, Izacrat. What will happen if we succeed?" she asked the old man, with more than a touch of nervousness.
The aged mage sighed and slouched slightly like the world was on his shoulders. "The pendant given to the baby who was sent into that parallel world, both disguises and suppresses the WereDragon powers. The pendant, will work on an entire bloodline if worn by someone of that lineage, two weeks if not worn, the limitation is two-fold. Someone who is aware and constantly uses their WereDragon powers, are immune to its effects, and it can only effect the lineage in the world where it is present.
"Therefore, if the child is still under the effect of the pendants magic, as soon as it comes here, it..."
"He."
"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?" asked a confused Izacrat.
"The legends said it would be a young man," the Empress pointed out.
"Oh. Oh, yes." Izacrat continued. "As soon, as he, comes here, his inheritance will surge and awaken. He will gain all of the prophesised powers and the WereDragon powers, that is if he is the prophesised Draconian negotiator!"
"Will it hurt him?" she asked gently.
"No, well, perhaps. I can't be certain!" stated the old man.
At that moment, the knights, protectors of the people, and the Mages, scholars and healers, filed into the room. The stood in a circle around the large summoning circle, with swords, daggers, staffs, wands, magiced gloves and an assortment of magical and warrior armaments.
"Are you all ready?" she asked of the warriors and wizards.
Most nodded, replied yes, while some didn't speak, their determination obvious in their faces.
The Empress looked to Izacrat. "You may begin!"
The old sorcerer took a vile of purple fluid from within his robes and threw it into the bare centre of the circle, where it smashed, the fluid running along the ground.
Soon, the purple fluid became white gas, like fog, that hovered above the entire pattern. The gas condensed into a large circlet with various symbols made of the gas both within and without the circle. The circlet condensed its pattern, shrinking above the centre of the pattern.
The gaseous circlet became a globe the size of a boy's hand. After a few seconds a single small light appeared within. Then, without warning, the globe expanded back into the circlet and it's patterns, and exploded outwards in a soundless wave of dissipating gas that rolled around the room's floor before dissipating entirely.
All those present focused their attention to the centre of the summoning circle. There a small, olive-skinned boy lay in foetal position. They could easily see his small, nude body had some nasty wounds for a young child.
The knights, Mages and the Empress relaxed and became more curious, than their previous state of nervousness.
Then the child began to glow blue. A hazy light that surrounded his small form and rose up like a blue bonfire.
Three Mages stepped forward to help, along with five knights.
"Stop, fools," roared Izacrat. "Do not cross the circle. His power is awakening. The circle will protect us from his unfocused power. He will be unharmed, but you would be killed if you go near him!"
The small child floated gently upwards. He posture changed, from foetal to spread-eagled. All present could see his malnutrition and other wounds, scars, bruises yet to fade, fist shaped bruises that looked very fresh, and they could see that his body was very dirty and soiled, his hair tangled and his nails bitten.
Most there were shocked at the condition of the child, some actually felt a little queasy, the remaining individual were imagining immensely painful, decade-long, punishments to who-ever did that to the child!
The sapphire-blue 'fire' that surrounded him was next to noiseless, making only a slight rustle, that made sure the could hear every bone in the boys body grinding, crunching, realigning, in a series of very horrendous noises. The fire burnt away the dirt and healed his open, weeping wounds. His bruises disappeared, fading into nothing, and his body grew into a taller, leaner, more refined form. His hair flew all over the place due to the energy, it created a halo of midnight black around his head, if he was being seen from above, and at the same time the hair took on silver highlights.
The 'fire' grew, and changed into something else, a sort of latent emerald glow that surrounded the child, flashing with white lightening and streamers of blue polarised energy.
Then, his body changed. The poor boy was conscious now and feeling the changes in his body; struggled vainly against the power. His body switched from horizontal to vertical, still spread-eagled, his body outlined in light, and energy.
He let out a soundless scream, as his body changed, slowly at first than more rapidly. He grew claws on his hands, which, became sheathed in silver and white scales. He grew taller, his feet changing dramatically, the ankles being way further up that natural, with a clawed toe sticking out backwards from it, his feet only possessing four toes, each with claws on the ends instead of normal nails. His feet were scaled, also. His bare chest grew broader, scales growing on it as well, his torso extended, a long whip-like tail grew from the base of his spine, his legs grew longer and stronger, as did his arms. On his head grew two silver horns that came from the centre, growing around either side of his head, and straight on, in swept-back fashion, as did the two pairs of horns behind and above his ears. His eyes became cat-like, and large draconian wings grew from his back. Gradually the changes; sped up until they had a full-grown white and silver Dragon in front of them, held aloft by the energy field, it's wide wingspan, passing through the circle, unaffected.
The Dragon was large and beautiful, with soft pastel sky-blue, edging the scales of white and silver marble. Four horns protruded from the back of his skull; and a ridge of small horns ran from between his eyes, along his scaly snout, to end at the nose, with a final larger horn to end. His pointed ears were swept back and tipped with a tiny horn, below his nostrils, and to the side, were a pair of horns the pointed forwards, as did a similar pair protrude from his Dragon-form's high cheekbones. At the crest each of his large leathery wings, a small claw rested, ready to grab and slice. His shoulders were protected from sword slashes or such-like by a series of small horns, similar protection existed on his knees. His long thick tail; was ridged on either side with a line of small horns, and ended with a larger hard piece of tail that was to Dragons what maces were to man.
Slowly the energy surrounding the large Dragon faded to a pale turquoise, and his large form dropped silently to the ground, a dumbfounded and frightened expression on his face.
All present were frozen in indecision and awe, or fear. The Dragon turned around, slowly, and looked at those around him. Then he saw the Empress, on her throne, and the old mage, Izacrat beside her.
The Empress; rose regally from her throne and marched down, her Royal Sceptre of golden Dragon control, in her delicate hands. She approached the Dragon without any fear. She stood before him and reached out and placed her hand on his muzzle, then she spoke.
"Child, you are most possibly the salvation of our world. I must as for you to assist us. Will you help us?" to her credit, her voice did not shake in the slightest, despite the emotion that she felt: despair, hope, and, aye, fear.
Ranma could only nod his massive head in an affirmative, still uncertain and unsure, but understanding the duty of a martial artist to protect those weaker than oneself.
Once the Mages and knights had been dismissed to go around their duties, given thanks for their help, Izacrat began to explain to Ranma, still in his Draconian form, what he was.
"... Now, as the forces of magic have been severely unbalanced, any more pressure on that balance may be our undoing. A single Dragon killed will be a great blow to the balance, and now it cannot sustain any more blows without any healing. New Dragons to counter-balance the dead Dragon and heal the balance. Originally, your kind helped create and maintain a balance within the Dragons. Your kind also prophesised your existence, stating in their legends that you would possess certain powers that no other WereDragon could hope to possess: the power to 'dance through space', to communicate to all Dragons, instead of being limited to one clan, or kind of Dragon. Your final prophesised power, if you are the prophesised boy, is the ability to free and control an ancient, previously unknown kind of Dragon. They are called Hydras..." He went on to explain in careful detail, everything that was written on the scrolls, the lock of hair and the clue, the method in which they summoned him. He also told him the impossibility of repeating the spell, due to the fact that it overtaxed the overlaps between their two worlds. However he also said that he believed the power to 'dance through space' may have the power to traverse through the dimensional barrier.
For many hours Izacrat talked to Ranma, about the nature of magic, Dragons, Mages, knights, and so forth. Basic general information, about this new world he had found himself in. Ranma managed to get the point across that he wanted to become human again, however Izacrat knew little or nothing about the actual means that WereDragons used to transform.
"...I do however have some scrolls about regular lycanthropy, perhaps they are similar enough to give some clues!" Ranma sighed as the old man went out of the room, eager as a schoolboy. He was so confused about this whole business, despite the old man's one-sided discussion. He felt trapped, and lonely, and... really hungry.
Anna was a kitchen brat. Her mother was a cook. Her father was an unknown. Her mother cared for her, but rarely had the time to show her affection. She helped her mother, she fetched things and helped clean up afterwards. She wasn't sure how old she was, but she didn't think it mattered, but if she was been asked, she answered 'six'. Did the fact she didn't have a father mean that she couldn't have kids when she was older, pondered the immature mind of the small, average girl.
"Anna. Get us some flour, wud ya luv?" asked Anna's mother, Mary, as she used her strong arms to pound and fold a sheet of dough.
Anna jumped of her seat in the corner, with two other kitchen brats, her twin brother, and the daughter of one of the maids, asleep in the same corner. "Aye, mam."
Anna ran the whole fifty yards towards a pinewood door, that she hastily opened. After that was a small hallway, with two doors, one to the upper reaches of the palace, where the royalty lived. The other was the pantry, a large 'L' shaped room filled with food: jam, flour, milk, cheese, meats, and fruit.
Anna went to the pantry door with childish enthusiasm empowering her. She was about to open the door, when she noticed it was ajar. She fearlessly peaked in, to see who was inside.
Whoever it was making quite a bit of noise, around the corner of the room.
Anna's temper flared. She bet it was Quinn, a posh snob who was of the very lowest nobility someone can be without not-being a noble at all. He was always in her when he thought he couldn't get caught. She had caught him more than once doing this, and she had soundly belted him, and saw him out of the pantry. However, the boy was as stubborn as she was, and returned to raid the pantry again.
Maybe her mother could deal with him!
Anna promptly turned face and went from the pantry to the hall, and then to the kitchen.
"Mam," squealed Anna, at her plump, matronly mother, "A boy's in the pantry. He's makin' all sorts o' noise!"
Her mother's face hardened. To her the kitchen, and by relation, the pantry, were more sacred than any temple. She put down her worked dough, and picked up a rolling pin. The other two kids were awake and had heard Anna. They decided to follow the enraged cook, and Anna, for the mere entertainment. They both assumed that it was Quinn as they had caught him in the act as many times as Anna.
The foursome of kitchen servents went through to the hall, and collectivly went into the Pantry. The matronly cook never missing a step.
The all turned the corner in the room and stood frozen at the sight.
Onto one side was a pile of animal bones from the carcasses that once lined the walls of the cool room, bottles of liquor and cider were broken, shattered on the ground, or empty with broken seals, obviously drunk. But all this wasn't what gained their attention. No, what gained their attention was the gigantic mostly-silver Dragon in front of them, that had hastily turned upon their entrance, with a cow's carcass half-way into its' mouth.
The lizard let out a few ground-shaking roars.
If they understood the verbal form of draconian communication, they would have heard him say, "I'm Ranma Saotome. Sorry about this!" As it was, they didn't.
Hence, they screamed!