Part 1: From the frying pan...
Disclaimer: The characters of Koja, Blackbite, Quarion, Nodrog and Estefan are the only things that I own in this story, as well as the plot. All other things are the property of their respective copyright holders. A slave learns to love the whip.
Picture, if you will, a vast desert.
This desert stretches out in every direction. You can see before you the endless dunes, not a mountain or a raincloud in sight.
In the hot air, two suns blaze, their light and heat making the place pretty much unbearanly hot, scorching the dunes with their light. Now turn around.
Witness the most evil-looking tower you have ever seen. Details are hard to make out, due to the heat radiating off the black structure as well as the fact that it seems to shift before your eyes, like some sort of insect. This is just as well, for it is a domain of evil, and who knows what it could do to your mind if you actually could see it?
Shudder, and turn around. The shuddering part shouldn't be too difficult, you'll manage. Now, see the strange little spots travelling towards the tower? It looks as if a band of adventurers have decided to come by and do their thing, namely prodding some evil buttock and generally be good guys. Why they would travel to a Plane long dominated by an undead terror known as a lich is beyond me, so don't look to me for answers. Maybe we'll see if we listen in on what they're saying, what do you say?
--I----------*- -(supposed to be a gleaming sword. Does it look okay?)
"Koja?"
"Yes."
"What are we doing in this blasted desert again?"
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."
"Ah."
"Don't mention it, Badbreath."
"Shut up, Koja."
Now would be a good time to describe these adventurers. The two forming the rear are the two who have been talking, and quite a description it will be, too.
The one in the back appears to be some form of elf, excepting his ebony skin and his short white hair. A member of the dark elven race, it seems. Strange to see one of them in a desert, since the race hates sunlight, sweating profusely and complaining about it. He seems unusually tall for an elf, and is dressed in an array of finery, with a silk shirt embroidered with an elaborate pattern around a single emerald by the neck, as well as loose silken pants. Where the skin is visible on his body, you can see black scales glistening in the bright light and from his back two immense draconic wings protrude, large enough to meet about a foot above his head when folded together. From the long canines in his mouth, one can understand why he is called Blackbite.
His companion, walking in front of him, looks like a half-elven fellow. His pointed ears that hold back his long, black hair, are not quite as apparent as those of the drow elf behind him, and his green eyes appear to be a little less slanted. He looks like an experienced adventurer, if those scars on his face are any indication. He would be called a rather comely fellow if it weren't for the fact that a large scar goes down the right side of his face, and scar goes along his left jawline, crossed by a smaller one about halfway. Another scar goes down from the right side of his forehead, and travels diagonally down to the left over the nose until it stops under his left eye. His clothes are not much to look at: A common traveller's wear, along with impromptu headgear to ward off the heat. The only unusual feature is, in fact, the ribbons around his arms. Twenty ribbons, in all kinds of colours, adorn his arms, ten on each. What they are supposed to signify is not clear at the moment. This is Koja Ikari, a man of more mystery then you can shake a stick at.
"Aw, c'mon, guys, cheer up! We get to slay more evil, and there'll be a party afterwards! What's there not to like? Come on Blackbite, don't tell me you don't like this!"
This person, travelling in front of Koja, seemed comletely oblivious to the hostile stares he was getting from his friends, Who knew exactly how the fight AND the party afterwards would turn out to be like. Quarion, the person that spoke, had always been suicidally cheerful when sober and homicidally insane when drunk.
He wears a small grin on his face, and stares out with his brown eyes at some imagined hoard of treasure. Nevertheless, he looks alert and he strains his pointed half-elven ears to hear any unwelcome sound. Considering the large amount of ornate armour this person wears, all inlaid with gold that seems to glow with power, it seems strange that he is not sweating at all, which may be causing some of the hostility of his companions. He carries a magical ring designed to keep the temperature around him at a cool summer breeze at all times, and therefore rarely complains about the weather. Strapped to his back is a large shield with the face of a lion on it, and by at side lies a bastard sword. He looks like the typical adventurer, blond hair, rippling muscles and a glowing smile, all rolled into one along with a lot of skill and luck mixed in. He is Quarion G'Kar, adventurer extrordinaire.
"Hey, I'm all for a party! Why not just go back for a little pick-me-up to prepare? We have to keep our spirits high!"
The current speaker appears to ignore the comment of "If you want to keep your spirits high, then why do you down them so quickly?" coming from Koja, as he also begins to fantasize about riches, though his appear to be seen through the bottom of a glass.
This one appears to be human, and on the older side at that, judging by his silvery white hair. It, and the accompanying beard, are both long and add to a strange air of wisdom that appears to emenate from him. His dark eyes, now glazed over, peer out at the bright world they inhabit. He wears a suit of plate mail, with a symbol of a coin on the front, partially covered by his beard. He is holding an unadorned shield in his left hand, and by his right hand in his belt hangs a mace. World, meet the alcoholic cleric of Tymora, Nodrog Nameerf.
"Is that all you barbarians can think of? Nodrog, you're a priest, you should be setting an example for the rest of us!"
This voice can only be described as haughty. The person in question huffs and turns away, his nose in the air, and appears to be fuming with indignation. He is an elf, pointy ears and all, with immaculately cut blonde hair and green eyes, set in a face of perfect skin. He is obviously magically inclined, if the long red robes he wears are any indication, and carries a staff of power in his left hand. He also doesn't sweat, much like Quarion, but this is because of the shade provided by a parasol floating in mid-air next to him, providing some shade. This is Estefan Galadrien, and he will take offense if a common human such as yourself dares to utter his name if he has not given you permission to do so.
He seems completely unresponsive to the sighs of his companions as they continue to walk to the tower in sullen silence. Suddenly the dark elf- Blackbite- breaks it once more.
"Koja?"
"Yes."
"What are we doing in this gods-be-damned desert anyway?"
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."
"Right."
"Will that be all, Badbreath?"
"Koja, shut up."
--I----------*-
See, I told you they were here to do a little good. The storyteller sees all, knows all. And, as is often the case, the bad guy has an uncanny knack for knowledge as well, and this one is prepared for the intrusion. Let's see what happens when the intrepid adventurers enter the black tower, shall we?
--I----------*-
After Estefan had somehow managed to magically gain entry to the tower, the party had filed in only to discover that the exit had suddenly disappeared when noone was looking. This was not a good thing, and they knew it.
"Estefan," came the voice of Quarion, "A little light please."
"Bah. Very well!"
The elf muttered a word of power and the top of his staff began to glow with a ghostly white light, illuminating the chamber. It was wast, far greater then could have been expected from the outside of the tower, with columns of great stone pillars stretching out in front of them.
"Great. This place is bigger on the inside! Now where should we go?"
Blackbite was not really afraid, he looked more annoyed than anything.
As he spoke those words, however, it became apparent that he should be afraid.
Hundreds of skeletons sprang up from behind columns or from hitherto unseen trenches dug into the floor. Bats swarmed everywhere above them, and they could distinctly hear the ghostly voices of wraiths an wights coming towards them.
Koja, amidst the mayhem, spoke up.
"Somewhere else would be preferable right now. Not that I'm complaining, though."
Quarion looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"What do you mean?"
Koja looked at the warrior with a gleam in his eye which could only be described as manic.
"After that trek through the desert, we needed to stretch a little."
The only answer from the warrior was an equally manic grin.
--I----------*-
Oh, my. This fight is certainly interesting to watch! See the grace which Koja uses to avoid his opponents, and at the same time striking them in critical locations with incredible finesse, making the skeletons crumble before him. He never just stands there, he's always on the move. Ah! That incredible jump over his companions' heads! Oh! The perfect landing, in which two of the skeletons lose their arms! You can barely see his sword move!
And see Blackbite, his strength ripping the undead horrors asunder as we speak, his claws biting deep into magical wraiths and crushing the mundane skeletons! His wings batter a few arrows away even as he unleashes missiles of magic upon the enemy, his hands throwing darts of eldricht fire at a group of wights!
See the sheer power of Quarion, his sword revealed as a magical firebrand! The magical tongues of flame lick and scorch the bones they touch, melts through armor, dispels the shadow of death! He simply stands there, unmoving, yet without fear as he strikes the enemy down in vast numbers with immaculate skill!
Look upon Estefan, having cast a skin of stone upon himself with his magic, as he stands there unconcerned, occasionally casting some small incantation and whipping his short sword from it's sheath!
And see the awesome power of Nodrog's faith as he lifts his holy symbol above his head! With the power of good, he dispels the undead even as they approach him, dozens falling wherever he looks, Turning the skeletons and allowing them to resume their rest!
And all the time, the adventurers of the party known, for a reason best explained later, the "Fowlblades," slowly work their way towards a great spiralling staircase that looms in front of them. What will they find up there?
--I----------*-
After some deliberation, the adventurers had decided to form a box around Estefan as they walked briskly up the great spiralling staircase, which was far too big to be held up by anything other than magic. They hadn't destryoed all of the skeletons of course- that would have taken too long- but a wall of force from Estefan had stopped any undead in the great hall from following them.
Suddenly, a shout of pain was heard from Quarion.
Nodrog was immediately at his side, ready to heal him with his spells if necessary.
"What's wrong?"
Quarion grimaced as he held out his hand to Nodrog, who couldn't see any wound at all.
"Where's the wound, you big oaf? Tell me already!"
Quarion whimpered slightly as he pointed at his finger.
"It's right there! Heal me already! Oh, please don't tell me it'll scar!"
On Quarion's finger, a miniscule cut- about half an inch long- was visible.
Nodrog took one look at the "Wound," blinked once and beat the warrior over the head.
"You IDIOT! How many times must we tell you, YOU-ARE-NOT-VULNERABLE! I can't believe I have to put up with this nonsense!"
Estefan sneered at the pair, pulled a scented handkerchief from his sleeve and held it to his nose.
"He's one to talk. I'm the one who has to put up with both! As well as the horrid smell of this place!"
His sword, still in his hand, suddenly spoke with a slightly metallic voice.
"He calls that a cut? I've seen bigger wounds on cockroaches! Let me at him, boss, let me show him the meaning of pain..."
Koja simply shook his head.
"And I have to put up with all of you. Badbreath's the lucky one, he only has to put up with me."
"Hey! Shut up, Koja!"
Thus, the two in front – Blackbite and Koja- walked on in front, still arguing, with Quarion in the rear of the party, whimpering occasionally.
--I----------*-
Some time later, they had reached the top of the staircase, and stood in a laboratory high above the ground. Strange alchemical equipment, which looked as if a glassblower had gotten the hiccups while making it, bubbled with mysterious liquids, the skeletons and corpses of strange animals where propped up in various places and everywhere lay notes in some long forgotten language of this world.
"Well, now what?"
It didn't really matter who asked the question as a wave of fear and cold dread washed over them from somewhere behind them.
The party looked at each other, dread in their eyes, even as Estefan slowly took position by Quarion without looking around.
Slowly, the adventurers turned around, and saw a most horrifying sight.
In front of them was a humanoid form, which looked as if it had belonged to a human, slightly hunched over, skin taut and stretched over the skeletal frame of this undead mage. He wore robes of black, which seemed to be made from darkness itself, and in it's empty eyesockets shone a terrible red light.
Sure, the party may have been rather powerful, but the combined experience of the members in it totalled at most a bit above five hundred years, with age and everything taken into account, while a lich by its very nature has thousands of years to perfect it's magic. Thus, the outcome of this encounter was rather predictable. The lich spoke, and the party knew it was doomed.
"Now, you die."
With those words and a mere gesture, the lich opened a great gate in front front of them, and they were all sucked in by some strange and terrible force.
--I----------*-
All was darkness. All was pain. The companions plunged deeper, deeper through some crack in space and time, a place that was not a place and yet all places. Shimmering lights could be seen all around them, in constant motion everywhere, and a silent screm came from their throats as they realized that they were heading for one of the lights. They fell towards it (or perhaps it came closer) and they were immersed in its terrible heat.
--I----------*-
It is an irrefutable law of the universe that when fragile and heavy things are together, the heavy one will go on top of the fragile one sooner or later. One needs only look at people that place eggs in a shopping bag and then put the new food mixer on top to know this.
Thus, it was perfectly natural for Estefan to be on the bottom.
He fell from thin air, and almost immediately Quarion and Blackbite fell on top of him, with Nodrog following soon after. Koja, being the incredibly graceful fighter he was, rolled away from the pile and nimbly landed on his feet as if he had jumped off a rock instead of going between planes. He was thus the first to get his bearings.
And the first thing he saw on earth was a young boy with a pigtail, staring with wide eyes straight at him.
--I----------*-
Author's notes: I have no idea when in the Ranma timeline this is- haven't quite decided yet... any suggestions?
Don't complain about me not writing The Masters Of The Art recently- I have been writing, I'm just putting a few final touches on it. But the real reason for my slight absence was that I took on a grand quest.
Ah, what quest is that, you ask? Well, I took it upon myself to find the Ultimate Fanfic. I know, you're laughing at my foolishness already. Well, what if I told you that I got pretty close to actually finding it?
Yes indeedy, I found a masterpiece which seems to have been tragically overlooked by a lot of people. It is known, originally enough, as Ranma And Akane: A Love Story, and it's the best fanfic I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Yes, I lie not to thee, my faithful ones. This fanfic is by Shadow Lurker, and can be found on ff.net and here: http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/index-slp.html. I recommend downloading the requisite Mp3 files and listening to them at the appropriate points in the story. Do review this fic here on ff.net, or drop this most brilliant author a line or two.
Disclaimer: The characters of Koja, Blackbite, Quarion, Nodrog and Estefan are the only things that I own in this story, as well as the plot. All other things are the property of their respective copyright holders. A slave learns to love the whip.
Picture, if you will, a vast desert.
This desert stretches out in every direction. You can see before you the endless dunes, not a mountain or a raincloud in sight.
In the hot air, two suns blaze, their light and heat making the place pretty much unbearanly hot, scorching the dunes with their light. Now turn around.
Witness the most evil-looking tower you have ever seen. Details are hard to make out, due to the heat radiating off the black structure as well as the fact that it seems to shift before your eyes, like some sort of insect. This is just as well, for it is a domain of evil, and who knows what it could do to your mind if you actually could see it?
Shudder, and turn around. The shuddering part shouldn't be too difficult, you'll manage. Now, see the strange little spots travelling towards the tower? It looks as if a band of adventurers have decided to come by and do their thing, namely prodding some evil buttock and generally be good guys. Why they would travel to a Plane long dominated by an undead terror known as a lich is beyond me, so don't look to me for answers. Maybe we'll see if we listen in on what they're saying, what do you say?
--I----------*- -(supposed to be a gleaming sword. Does it look okay?)
"Koja?"
"Yes."
"What are we doing in this blasted desert again?"
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."
"Ah."
"Don't mention it, Badbreath."
"Shut up, Koja."
Now would be a good time to describe these adventurers. The two forming the rear are the two who have been talking, and quite a description it will be, too.
The one in the back appears to be some form of elf, excepting his ebony skin and his short white hair. A member of the dark elven race, it seems. Strange to see one of them in a desert, since the race hates sunlight, sweating profusely and complaining about it. He seems unusually tall for an elf, and is dressed in an array of finery, with a silk shirt embroidered with an elaborate pattern around a single emerald by the neck, as well as loose silken pants. Where the skin is visible on his body, you can see black scales glistening in the bright light and from his back two immense draconic wings protrude, large enough to meet about a foot above his head when folded together. From the long canines in his mouth, one can understand why he is called Blackbite.
His companion, walking in front of him, looks like a half-elven fellow. His pointed ears that hold back his long, black hair, are not quite as apparent as those of the drow elf behind him, and his green eyes appear to be a little less slanted. He looks like an experienced adventurer, if those scars on his face are any indication. He would be called a rather comely fellow if it weren't for the fact that a large scar goes down the right side of his face, and scar goes along his left jawline, crossed by a smaller one about halfway. Another scar goes down from the right side of his forehead, and travels diagonally down to the left over the nose until it stops under his left eye. His clothes are not much to look at: A common traveller's wear, along with impromptu headgear to ward off the heat. The only unusual feature is, in fact, the ribbons around his arms. Twenty ribbons, in all kinds of colours, adorn his arms, ten on each. What they are supposed to signify is not clear at the moment. This is Koja Ikari, a man of more mystery then you can shake a stick at.
"Aw, c'mon, guys, cheer up! We get to slay more evil, and there'll be a party afterwards! What's there not to like? Come on Blackbite, don't tell me you don't like this!"
This person, travelling in front of Koja, seemed comletely oblivious to the hostile stares he was getting from his friends, Who knew exactly how the fight AND the party afterwards would turn out to be like. Quarion, the person that spoke, had always been suicidally cheerful when sober and homicidally insane when drunk.
He wears a small grin on his face, and stares out with his brown eyes at some imagined hoard of treasure. Nevertheless, he looks alert and he strains his pointed half-elven ears to hear any unwelcome sound. Considering the large amount of ornate armour this person wears, all inlaid with gold that seems to glow with power, it seems strange that he is not sweating at all, which may be causing some of the hostility of his companions. He carries a magical ring designed to keep the temperature around him at a cool summer breeze at all times, and therefore rarely complains about the weather. Strapped to his back is a large shield with the face of a lion on it, and by at side lies a bastard sword. He looks like the typical adventurer, blond hair, rippling muscles and a glowing smile, all rolled into one along with a lot of skill and luck mixed in. He is Quarion G'Kar, adventurer extrordinaire.
"Hey, I'm all for a party! Why not just go back for a little pick-me-up to prepare? We have to keep our spirits high!"
The current speaker appears to ignore the comment of "If you want to keep your spirits high, then why do you down them so quickly?" coming from Koja, as he also begins to fantasize about riches, though his appear to be seen through the bottom of a glass.
This one appears to be human, and on the older side at that, judging by his silvery white hair. It, and the accompanying beard, are both long and add to a strange air of wisdom that appears to emenate from him. His dark eyes, now glazed over, peer out at the bright world they inhabit. He wears a suit of plate mail, with a symbol of a coin on the front, partially covered by his beard. He is holding an unadorned shield in his left hand, and by his right hand in his belt hangs a mace. World, meet the alcoholic cleric of Tymora, Nodrog Nameerf.
"Is that all you barbarians can think of? Nodrog, you're a priest, you should be setting an example for the rest of us!"
This voice can only be described as haughty. The person in question huffs and turns away, his nose in the air, and appears to be fuming with indignation. He is an elf, pointy ears and all, with immaculately cut blonde hair and green eyes, set in a face of perfect skin. He is obviously magically inclined, if the long red robes he wears are any indication, and carries a staff of power in his left hand. He also doesn't sweat, much like Quarion, but this is because of the shade provided by a parasol floating in mid-air next to him, providing some shade. This is Estefan Galadrien, and he will take offense if a common human such as yourself dares to utter his name if he has not given you permission to do so.
He seems completely unresponsive to the sighs of his companions as they continue to walk to the tower in sullen silence. Suddenly the dark elf- Blackbite- breaks it once more.
"Koja?"
"Yes."
"What are we doing in this gods-be-damned desert anyway?"
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."
"Right."
"Will that be all, Badbreath?"
"Koja, shut up."
--I----------*-
See, I told you they were here to do a little good. The storyteller sees all, knows all. And, as is often the case, the bad guy has an uncanny knack for knowledge as well, and this one is prepared for the intrusion. Let's see what happens when the intrepid adventurers enter the black tower, shall we?
--I----------*-
After Estefan had somehow managed to magically gain entry to the tower, the party had filed in only to discover that the exit had suddenly disappeared when noone was looking. This was not a good thing, and they knew it.
"Estefan," came the voice of Quarion, "A little light please."
"Bah. Very well!"
The elf muttered a word of power and the top of his staff began to glow with a ghostly white light, illuminating the chamber. It was wast, far greater then could have been expected from the outside of the tower, with columns of great stone pillars stretching out in front of them.
"Great. This place is bigger on the inside! Now where should we go?"
Blackbite was not really afraid, he looked more annoyed than anything.
As he spoke those words, however, it became apparent that he should be afraid.
Hundreds of skeletons sprang up from behind columns or from hitherto unseen trenches dug into the floor. Bats swarmed everywhere above them, and they could distinctly hear the ghostly voices of wraiths an wights coming towards them.
Koja, amidst the mayhem, spoke up.
"Somewhere else would be preferable right now. Not that I'm complaining, though."
Quarion looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"What do you mean?"
Koja looked at the warrior with a gleam in his eye which could only be described as manic.
"After that trek through the desert, we needed to stretch a little."
The only answer from the warrior was an equally manic grin.
--I----------*-
Oh, my. This fight is certainly interesting to watch! See the grace which Koja uses to avoid his opponents, and at the same time striking them in critical locations with incredible finesse, making the skeletons crumble before him. He never just stands there, he's always on the move. Ah! That incredible jump over his companions' heads! Oh! The perfect landing, in which two of the skeletons lose their arms! You can barely see his sword move!
And see Blackbite, his strength ripping the undead horrors asunder as we speak, his claws biting deep into magical wraiths and crushing the mundane skeletons! His wings batter a few arrows away even as he unleashes missiles of magic upon the enemy, his hands throwing darts of eldricht fire at a group of wights!
See the sheer power of Quarion, his sword revealed as a magical firebrand! The magical tongues of flame lick and scorch the bones they touch, melts through armor, dispels the shadow of death! He simply stands there, unmoving, yet without fear as he strikes the enemy down in vast numbers with immaculate skill!
Look upon Estefan, having cast a skin of stone upon himself with his magic, as he stands there unconcerned, occasionally casting some small incantation and whipping his short sword from it's sheath!
And see the awesome power of Nodrog's faith as he lifts his holy symbol above his head! With the power of good, he dispels the undead even as they approach him, dozens falling wherever he looks, Turning the skeletons and allowing them to resume their rest!
And all the time, the adventurers of the party known, for a reason best explained later, the "Fowlblades," slowly work their way towards a great spiralling staircase that looms in front of them. What will they find up there?
--I----------*-
After some deliberation, the adventurers had decided to form a box around Estefan as they walked briskly up the great spiralling staircase, which was far too big to be held up by anything other than magic. They hadn't destryoed all of the skeletons of course- that would have taken too long- but a wall of force from Estefan had stopped any undead in the great hall from following them.
Suddenly, a shout of pain was heard from Quarion.
Nodrog was immediately at his side, ready to heal him with his spells if necessary.
"What's wrong?"
Quarion grimaced as he held out his hand to Nodrog, who couldn't see any wound at all.
"Where's the wound, you big oaf? Tell me already!"
Quarion whimpered slightly as he pointed at his finger.
"It's right there! Heal me already! Oh, please don't tell me it'll scar!"
On Quarion's finger, a miniscule cut- about half an inch long- was visible.
Nodrog took one look at the "Wound," blinked once and beat the warrior over the head.
"You IDIOT! How many times must we tell you, YOU-ARE-NOT-VULNERABLE! I can't believe I have to put up with this nonsense!"
Estefan sneered at the pair, pulled a scented handkerchief from his sleeve and held it to his nose.
"He's one to talk. I'm the one who has to put up with both! As well as the horrid smell of this place!"
His sword, still in his hand, suddenly spoke with a slightly metallic voice.
"He calls that a cut? I've seen bigger wounds on cockroaches! Let me at him, boss, let me show him the meaning of pain..."
Koja simply shook his head.
"And I have to put up with all of you. Badbreath's the lucky one, he only has to put up with me."
"Hey! Shut up, Koja!"
Thus, the two in front – Blackbite and Koja- walked on in front, still arguing, with Quarion in the rear of the party, whimpering occasionally.
--I----------*-
Some time later, they had reached the top of the staircase, and stood in a laboratory high above the ground. Strange alchemical equipment, which looked as if a glassblower had gotten the hiccups while making it, bubbled with mysterious liquids, the skeletons and corpses of strange animals where propped up in various places and everywhere lay notes in some long forgotten language of this world.
"Well, now what?"
It didn't really matter who asked the question as a wave of fear and cold dread washed over them from somewhere behind them.
The party looked at each other, dread in their eyes, even as Estefan slowly took position by Quarion without looking around.
Slowly, the adventurers turned around, and saw a most horrifying sight.
In front of them was a humanoid form, which looked as if it had belonged to a human, slightly hunched over, skin taut and stretched over the skeletal frame of this undead mage. He wore robes of black, which seemed to be made from darkness itself, and in it's empty eyesockets shone a terrible red light.
Sure, the party may have been rather powerful, but the combined experience of the members in it totalled at most a bit above five hundred years, with age and everything taken into account, while a lich by its very nature has thousands of years to perfect it's magic. Thus, the outcome of this encounter was rather predictable. The lich spoke, and the party knew it was doomed.
"Now, you die."
With those words and a mere gesture, the lich opened a great gate in front front of them, and they were all sucked in by some strange and terrible force.
--I----------*-
All was darkness. All was pain. The companions plunged deeper, deeper through some crack in space and time, a place that was not a place and yet all places. Shimmering lights could be seen all around them, in constant motion everywhere, and a silent screm came from their throats as they realized that they were heading for one of the lights. They fell towards it (or perhaps it came closer) and they were immersed in its terrible heat.
--I----------*-
It is an irrefutable law of the universe that when fragile and heavy things are together, the heavy one will go on top of the fragile one sooner or later. One needs only look at people that place eggs in a shopping bag and then put the new food mixer on top to know this.
Thus, it was perfectly natural for Estefan to be on the bottom.
He fell from thin air, and almost immediately Quarion and Blackbite fell on top of him, with Nodrog following soon after. Koja, being the incredibly graceful fighter he was, rolled away from the pile and nimbly landed on his feet as if he had jumped off a rock instead of going between planes. He was thus the first to get his bearings.
And the first thing he saw on earth was a young boy with a pigtail, staring with wide eyes straight at him.
--I----------*-
Author's notes: I have no idea when in the Ranma timeline this is- haven't quite decided yet... any suggestions?
Don't complain about me not writing The Masters Of The Art recently- I have been writing, I'm just putting a few final touches on it. But the real reason for my slight absence was that I took on a grand quest.
Ah, what quest is that, you ask? Well, I took it upon myself to find the Ultimate Fanfic. I know, you're laughing at my foolishness already. Well, what if I told you that I got pretty close to actually finding it?
Yes indeedy, I found a masterpiece which seems to have been tragically overlooked by a lot of people. It is known, originally enough, as Ranma And Akane: A Love Story, and it's the best fanfic I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Yes, I lie not to thee, my faithful ones. This fanfic is by Shadow Lurker, and can be found on ff.net and here: http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/index-slp.html. I recommend downloading the requisite Mp3 files and listening to them at the appropriate points in the story. Do review this fic here on ff.net, or drop this most brilliant author a line or two.