Part I
There are More Thing in Heaven
And on Earth Than are Dreamed
Of in Your Philosophy
Chapter 1
A Strange Day
"Wake up, boy," a voice demanded. It was his father's voice and on this particular morning, it was more annoying than usual.
"Alright, Pop," he replied groggily. It had been a bad night. His dreams had been plagued by a strange looking man, an American man, Ranma was sure. The man had chased Ranma through myriad dreamscapes, and he couldn't get away from him, no matter how hard he pushed himself. In the end, the stranger had caught up and embraced Ranma. That was when he woke up.
"Get off your lazy butt, boy," Genma's voice demanded a second before he kicked his son and sent him sprawling.
"I'm up, I'm up already," Ranma said, standing. His head had started hurting and his thought processes (what little there was of that) were weird. "Can't you see I'm up?" At least the old man hadn't poured water on him. He truly hated being woken up that way.
He shuffled past his father and made his way to the bathroom. Seeing that it was, for once, unoccupied, he hurriedly locked the door. He looked at himself in the mirror and seemed to see the visage of the stranger from his dream superimposed over his own face. He shook his head and filled the sink with hot water. He splashed his face liberally with the nearly scalding liquid and again looked at himself in the mirror. Again, he seemed to see something, only this time, it was his eyes that seemed to change. They went from their normal color to a deep brown and then back again. This was going to be a strange day.
*****
Somewhere, underground, a dark man was casting a dark spell for a dark purpose. Energies of the deepest black swirled around the area surrounding his lair, disturbing small children and animals. The tattered ends of the energy could be felt two blocks away and if someone would have followed them, it would have led to the door of an English pastry shop.
The energies led through the door, past the display cases of éclairs, and doughnuts and other such sundries, and into the back room. Here the energies would seem to have nowhere to go, but this was not their origin, no. Down a secret stairway, down deep into the bowels of the earth the energies led. At the foot of the stairs, the energies took the only rout open to them, a long, dark and rough hewn corridor. At the end of that corridor stood an old, iron bound oaken door. Beyond this door was the origin of the energies.
The chamber was circular and adequately lit with torches. In the center of the chamber, a circle was inscribed in blood, and runes of arcane and eldritch origin were drawn therein as well. A man stood outside the circle, chanting and waving his arms in ways that the human arm shouldn't be able to move.
At the crescendo of the chant, a small rip in the fabric of reality opened and small creature jumped through. It was small, somewhere around a foot in height, with gray scaly skin and black bat-like wings. It had a long prehensile tail, and it's head was elongated with nasty looking horns, large pointed ears, and viciously pointed teeth. It looked around the summoning chamber, paying particular attention to the circle inscribed on the ground. It saw no flaw in it and it was not happy. It glared up at it's temporary master.
"What is thy wish, master?" it demanded. The imp was not the brightest of the denizens of the netherworld, but it knew the old bargains and it knew the old laws. It was bound to serve this human until it was either slain or it accomplished it's task, whichever came first.
"You know that which I seek, Ickzil, that is why I summoned you specifically." The man had a deep voice that reverberated through the chamber. He was cloaked from head to foot in a voluminous robe, who's hood covered his face completely.
The imp, Ickzil by name, bared it's teeth at the human. "I knew it was not a coincidence that it was I who was summoned, master. If I hadst but known what it was thou sought, I wouldst not have come."
The man spoke two sharp words and the imp screamed in agony. "Do not take that tone with me again, demonling. I've the power to utterly erase you from existence and I want you to remember that." He kept the spell going for several more minutes and all the while Ickzil writhed on the ground screaming. After an indeterminate amount of time, the summoner ceased the spell and the imp spat a wad of bloody phlegm onto the ground.
"I shall not forget, master. Thy display has been duly noted. Have I thine leave, master, to begin thy quest?"
"Go and do not return without it, or information leading to it." With that, the imp jumped into the air and disappeared in a flash of sulfurous smoke. The summoner looked at the spot the imp vanished into and laughed a deep, rich and utterly evil laugh.
*****
Breakfast was well underway when he finally came downstairs. Everyone was there, eating the meal that Kasumi had prepared. It looked appetizing, but Ranma wasn't hungry. He sat at the table and looked at his food, his mind a million miles away. He felt as though he should be expecting something, something important, but he didn't know what that was. In his vague state, he was not sure he cared.
Kasumi eyed him with concern as he pushed his food around with a chopstick. He didn't look well to her, and she worried about him. She had heard him thrashing around last night while he slept, and it had scared her a little. Nabiki looked at him in the same apathetic manner in which she looked at everyone, her thoughts veiled behind that impenetrable mask. Soun and Genma ignored the boy as they continued to shovel food into their mouths.
Akane looked at him with suspicion, but that was nothing new. She, as well, had heard him during the night, but her mind conjured up much different images than Kasumi's did. Her mind told her he was having those dreams that one shouldn't talk about because of their content. Not nightmares, no, but the other kind. Those thoughts fueled her always simmering temper.
Ranma saw the concern and ignored it. He saw Nabiki's impassive mask, and ignored that, too. He saw Akane's mistrust filled look and from out of nowhere an anger unlike any he's ever felt boiled up inside of him. He wanted to strike her, he wanted to destroy the table, he wanted to lash out at anything, everything. Most of all, he wanted to see these peoples bodies piled at his feet in a pool of spreading blood.
Some of what he suddenly felt must have shown on his face because Akane blanched and scooted back, Kasumi looked ready to faint and even Nabiki showed frank shock. Soun and Genma continued to eat, ignoring all else. His surprise shocked the anger away, and he jumped up.
"I gotta go," he muttered and hurriedly left the room. They all looked after him as he almost ran towards the dojo, most with utter shock on their faces and Soun and Genma with greedy looks as they realized that Ranma hadn't eaten and there'd be more for them.
*****
Inside the dojo, Ranma stood very still and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't know what had happened back there. All he knew was that one moment was fine, vague but fine, and the next he was in the midst of a murderous rage. For a moment there, he knew the utter beauty of that rage and he was afraid.
He didn't know where the anger had come from. He knew it had come from inside of him, but it hadn't come from him. It was as if someone else had poured their hate into him for a moment, before his surprise had shut off the flow. From the torrent that he felt for that moment, he felt as if there was no end to the rage and hatred of the other. That scared him all the more.
He felt that the anger had left some of itself behind, a residue that would not be easy to rid himself of. With that thought, he did the only thing he could think of. He practiced his martial arts. He went from one form to another, one routine to the next in the hopes that his sweat and labor would wash the residue away. When it was almost time to go to school, he stopped and stood in the center of the dojo with his hands on his knees, panting. He felt better, more himself and he was confident that he had gotten rid of that residue.
He was wrong.
There are More Thing in Heaven
And on Earth Than are Dreamed
Of in Your Philosophy
Chapter 1
A Strange Day
"Wake up, boy," a voice demanded. It was his father's voice and on this particular morning, it was more annoying than usual.
"Alright, Pop," he replied groggily. It had been a bad night. His dreams had been plagued by a strange looking man, an American man, Ranma was sure. The man had chased Ranma through myriad dreamscapes, and he couldn't get away from him, no matter how hard he pushed himself. In the end, the stranger had caught up and embraced Ranma. That was when he woke up.
"Get off your lazy butt, boy," Genma's voice demanded a second before he kicked his son and sent him sprawling.
"I'm up, I'm up already," Ranma said, standing. His head had started hurting and his thought processes (what little there was of that) were weird. "Can't you see I'm up?" At least the old man hadn't poured water on him. He truly hated being woken up that way.
He shuffled past his father and made his way to the bathroom. Seeing that it was, for once, unoccupied, he hurriedly locked the door. He looked at himself in the mirror and seemed to see the visage of the stranger from his dream superimposed over his own face. He shook his head and filled the sink with hot water. He splashed his face liberally with the nearly scalding liquid and again looked at himself in the mirror. Again, he seemed to see something, only this time, it was his eyes that seemed to change. They went from their normal color to a deep brown and then back again. This was going to be a strange day.
*****
Somewhere, underground, a dark man was casting a dark spell for a dark purpose. Energies of the deepest black swirled around the area surrounding his lair, disturbing small children and animals. The tattered ends of the energy could be felt two blocks away and if someone would have followed them, it would have led to the door of an English pastry shop.
The energies led through the door, past the display cases of éclairs, and doughnuts and other such sundries, and into the back room. Here the energies would seem to have nowhere to go, but this was not their origin, no. Down a secret stairway, down deep into the bowels of the earth the energies led. At the foot of the stairs, the energies took the only rout open to them, a long, dark and rough hewn corridor. At the end of that corridor stood an old, iron bound oaken door. Beyond this door was the origin of the energies.
The chamber was circular and adequately lit with torches. In the center of the chamber, a circle was inscribed in blood, and runes of arcane and eldritch origin were drawn therein as well. A man stood outside the circle, chanting and waving his arms in ways that the human arm shouldn't be able to move.
At the crescendo of the chant, a small rip in the fabric of reality opened and small creature jumped through. It was small, somewhere around a foot in height, with gray scaly skin and black bat-like wings. It had a long prehensile tail, and it's head was elongated with nasty looking horns, large pointed ears, and viciously pointed teeth. It looked around the summoning chamber, paying particular attention to the circle inscribed on the ground. It saw no flaw in it and it was not happy. It glared up at it's temporary master.
"What is thy wish, master?" it demanded. The imp was not the brightest of the denizens of the netherworld, but it knew the old bargains and it knew the old laws. It was bound to serve this human until it was either slain or it accomplished it's task, whichever came first.
"You know that which I seek, Ickzil, that is why I summoned you specifically." The man had a deep voice that reverberated through the chamber. He was cloaked from head to foot in a voluminous robe, who's hood covered his face completely.
The imp, Ickzil by name, bared it's teeth at the human. "I knew it was not a coincidence that it was I who was summoned, master. If I hadst but known what it was thou sought, I wouldst not have come."
The man spoke two sharp words and the imp screamed in agony. "Do not take that tone with me again, demonling. I've the power to utterly erase you from existence and I want you to remember that." He kept the spell going for several more minutes and all the while Ickzil writhed on the ground screaming. After an indeterminate amount of time, the summoner ceased the spell and the imp spat a wad of bloody phlegm onto the ground.
"I shall not forget, master. Thy display has been duly noted. Have I thine leave, master, to begin thy quest?"
"Go and do not return without it, or information leading to it." With that, the imp jumped into the air and disappeared in a flash of sulfurous smoke. The summoner looked at the spot the imp vanished into and laughed a deep, rich and utterly evil laugh.
*****
Breakfast was well underway when he finally came downstairs. Everyone was there, eating the meal that Kasumi had prepared. It looked appetizing, but Ranma wasn't hungry. He sat at the table and looked at his food, his mind a million miles away. He felt as though he should be expecting something, something important, but he didn't know what that was. In his vague state, he was not sure he cared.
Kasumi eyed him with concern as he pushed his food around with a chopstick. He didn't look well to her, and she worried about him. She had heard him thrashing around last night while he slept, and it had scared her a little. Nabiki looked at him in the same apathetic manner in which she looked at everyone, her thoughts veiled behind that impenetrable mask. Soun and Genma ignored the boy as they continued to shovel food into their mouths.
Akane looked at him with suspicion, but that was nothing new. She, as well, had heard him during the night, but her mind conjured up much different images than Kasumi's did. Her mind told her he was having those dreams that one shouldn't talk about because of their content. Not nightmares, no, but the other kind. Those thoughts fueled her always simmering temper.
Ranma saw the concern and ignored it. He saw Nabiki's impassive mask, and ignored that, too. He saw Akane's mistrust filled look and from out of nowhere an anger unlike any he's ever felt boiled up inside of him. He wanted to strike her, he wanted to destroy the table, he wanted to lash out at anything, everything. Most of all, he wanted to see these peoples bodies piled at his feet in a pool of spreading blood.
Some of what he suddenly felt must have shown on his face because Akane blanched and scooted back, Kasumi looked ready to faint and even Nabiki showed frank shock. Soun and Genma continued to eat, ignoring all else. His surprise shocked the anger away, and he jumped up.
"I gotta go," he muttered and hurriedly left the room. They all looked after him as he almost ran towards the dojo, most with utter shock on their faces and Soun and Genma with greedy looks as they realized that Ranma hadn't eaten and there'd be more for them.
*****
Inside the dojo, Ranma stood very still and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't know what had happened back there. All he knew was that one moment was fine, vague but fine, and the next he was in the midst of a murderous rage. For a moment there, he knew the utter beauty of that rage and he was afraid.
He didn't know where the anger had come from. He knew it had come from inside of him, but it hadn't come from him. It was as if someone else had poured their hate into him for a moment, before his surprise had shut off the flow. From the torrent that he felt for that moment, he felt as if there was no end to the rage and hatred of the other. That scared him all the more.
He felt that the anger had left some of itself behind, a residue that would not be easy to rid himself of. With that thought, he did the only thing he could think of. He practiced his martial arts. He went from one form to another, one routine to the next in the hopes that his sweat and labor would wash the residue away. When it was almost time to go to school, he stopped and stood in the center of the dojo with his hands on his knees, panting. He felt better, more himself and he was confident that he had gotten rid of that residue.
He was wrong.