(Re-Posted January 11 2007)
Disclaimer; This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.


Sheila of the Edge Guard was having a frustrating day.

First of all, as normal, Tirga had spent most of the morning trying to convince her that jumping in the sack with him at the soonest convenient time was the best solution to everything. That man really needed to think with the head on his shoulders and not the lower one.

Second of all, a caravan entered town with a beaten and bound group of bandits that had been notorious through out Seer's Desert for the past year. They had always managed to locate the next caravan carrying anything of value and avoided the decoys or traps, meaning they had an insider within the Trading Guild, which was the union of Merchants in Seer's Hamlet. If this was true, then trade with the outside world was in serious jeopardy, and they would have to hire more guards to escort the caravans headed for or from Seer's Hamlet, and this was something that would elevate prices to avoid losing money instead of gaining them.

Thirdly, none of the Merchants on the caravan had anything to do with the capture apart from being witnesses. Apparently, a werecat had appeared and taken care of the bandits.

Fourthly, this mystery werecat didn't follow the caravan, so they had no hero to publicly thank for this capture or question about his affiliation with the bandits. For all they knew, this werecat worked alongside the bandits and was trying to lure the people in by posing as a hero.

This was why each of the Merchants and passengers had been separated for questioning.

This was where Sheila currently was, and she was not happy for that exact reason … and she had female issues that she was unable to do anything about because of her duty to the town and lack of supplies because her idiot brother forgot to get them when he was out yesterday.

She repressed an annoyed yowl.

"OK, let me get this straight," sighed Sheila tiredly, already having gone over this a dozen times already with other female traders or passengers of the traders. Sheila was handed the responsibility for the women because Tirga could not be trusted to keep his hands off them, Gar had already chosen to examine the caravan for clues, Thropan had been told to take care of the bandits, Onoli had taken the paperwork and Tirga was told to interrogate the men. "You were attacked by the Bandits of the Sand, who had jumped out of the sand and surrounded your caravan when you least expected it, right?"

"Right," agreed the female elf enthusiastically … almost like a child hearing a favourite bedtime story and realising that an exciting part was fast approaching.

"And all your able-bodied men tried to defend the caravan, women and children, right? But they were disposed of either lethally or otherwise very quickly, right?"

"Right!" by now, the elf was close to bouncing in her seat from contained excitement.

"The bandits were looting the carriages, standing guard for the errant patrol and slowly approaching the women of your group for another spoil of battle, right?"

"Right!"

"There seemed to be no way around it but allowing it to happen and just get it over with, right?"

The elf woman nodded vigorously.

"But then-"

"The one advancing on me fell over with a loud yell, while clutching his family jewels!" interrupted the elf woman enthusiastically, apparently eager to tell this part herself. "Everyone stopped what they were doing to see what was wrong, and they found a short male werepanther, or something, standing there with his leg extended to where the bandit was hit!

"I'm not really sure if he was a werepanther, though … I mean, his fur was black, and he almost looked like he could be the little brother of that handsome Edge Guard you have here, but his canines were too long! I mean, it was like he had vampire blood in him, but he was out in broad daylight in the middle of a desert with no chance of shade unless he made it himself! And he was wearing very baggy pants, and a red shirt of very fine material around his waist, though it looked burnt, like he had put out a fire with it. On his feet were slippers! Slippers! In the middle of a desert! Even trolls wear footwear thicker than that in the wild!

"That poor thing! He must be very poor to not afford better footwear! We need to go out and help him!"

"Could we please return to the subject," interrupted Sheila tiredly, having had this reaction from many other of the females of childbearing age from this caravan. What was wrong with them?

"Oh, sorry," apologised the elf, blushing from having gone off the track. "Anyway, the hunk- er –werecat had barely lowered his leg before three others rushed at him to get revenge for their fallen friend. It was like he wasn't even there!"

"An illusion?" asked Sheila. "Was he a mage?"

"He must have been, but he wasn't wearing a mage suit, maybe a War Mage, but that wasn't what I meant!" commented the elf in embarrassed frustration. "He was so fast, it looked like he wasn't there, but the three were falling over each other so fast that he must have been doing something! One of the bandits was even sent flying and crashed into the ground on the other end of the caravan which was a good three hundred feet away!"

"Well, if he is a War Mage, then we can only assume he has some power behind him," commented Sheila.

"But that's just it! We didn't hear anything from him! Not a word!"

"There are a few spells that can be cast without incantation," Sheila informed the woman.

"But not for this! He must have thrown the bandit that length himself, without any magic boost!" the woman started acting frantic, as she tried to make herself understood. "And our own aura mage said that he didn't feel the werecat draw on the Ethereal stream!"

"Artefacts, then," reasoned Sheila.

"He only had on him slippers and pants! Where would he hide any artefacts?"

"Tattoos of power would not be visible if his fur was black," Sheila was grasping for straws and she knew it, but it was the only logical solution for a skinny, small werecat to do the things every woman so far had described to her. To cover for herself and prevent any argument, she moved on. "Please continue with the events."

"Right," agreed the woman. "After he had thrown that bandit, he grabbed the arm of the one that tried punching him while his back was turned, and used him as a bat to hit the third with! And he didn't show any strain! I mean, that bandit was huge! He must have had some troll or giant blood in him, and that werecat swung him around like he was nothing!"

"Ahem!"

"Sorry," apologised the woman in another blush. "By now, the rest of the bandits had heard and seen the results of this fight, and started crowding in. There were a few mages among them, and they kept their distance while the more physical bandits rushed in one by one to wear the werecat down. That poor bandit really got a beating against his own gang, being used as a shield and bat like that …

"When it looked like all the bandits were ending their assault, their mages powered up at once and started sending spell after spell at the werecat, but none of them hit! He jumped and weaved, ducked and rolled, and avoided every spell the four mages threw at him! Even when they did it at the same time! Several times the spells crashed into each other and blew up, but the werecat was unharmed! Sand was fusing together from the heat and he walked away without a scratch!"

"Maybe he is an element user?" pondered Sheila, jotting down the occasional words. It had been a long day. "Please continue."

"OK, where did I leave off … ah, yes, by now the leader of the bandits had had about enough, and drew his sword just before he charged in, waving the huge thing around like a madman, and archers were notching their arrows, waiting for when their leader was clear."

"And then the werecat was shot, right?"

"YES! But he still managed to avoid every other arrow in the volley, and the following, and was still able to dodge the sword when the bandit leader came in between volleys!"

"And he managed to single-handedly beat up the boss, and disable the archers by breaking their fingers, while simultaneously knocking their mages unconscious …" recited Sheila, rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that was slowly welling up just above her eyes. This was what the other women had said, nearly word for word. It seemed impossible for a werecat to do all of that at once, so there must have either been more people present than accounted for helping out or the werecat was as fast as a werecheetah in a Lunar Rave. It would have been nice to be able to ask the bandits to talk, but they were either in too much pain, had fainted or remained unconscious. "Is there anything we haven't been told already?"

"Not that I … WAIT! One of our weretigresses had changed from human form to hybrid form in front of him in an attempt to seduce him!" the elf woman yelled. "And he hardly batted an eye! He watched the change and demanded to know how she had done that! I mean, that woman was stacked, built and hardly dressed … and he only wanted to know how she changed!"

"Why would he ask that?" wondered Sheila, feeling this would have to be the last woman she interrogated before calling it a day … this headache was going to be very distracting from her duty. "Had he tried to set up some barrier to prevent werecreature transformation?"

"It seemed more like he didn't know how to change," it seemed that Sheila's pain was getting visible. The elf woman had been sympathetic. "But the way he took charge and won was so MANLY!"

"Is there any female on that caravan that hasn't fallen for him?" Sheila asked the heavens. And what was this consistent use of the word "Manly" that every one of the women had used?

"Only those girls that were as young as eight winters … but even they thought he was handsome."

"Well, thank you for your help," responded Sheila and opened the door. "Be sure to have a good day."

"I will, thank you!" chirped the bouncy woman and left the room with a dazed look in her eyes and a slight wiggle in her walk that couldn't help but draw stares from anything vaguely attracted to females.

Sheila sighed and exited the spare room she had managed to borrow from Nali. They really needed to get better Headquarters … one with rooms made for this kind of thing. Maybe Nali could spare something for her headache … and something to help her feel less bloated …


"So, Tirga, what did you get for appearances?" asked Onoli. The werelion was understandably worn out after having regular duties piled on top of the arrest of the Bandits of the Sand and the paperwork for the interrogations, arrests and search.

"Very flattering comments, thank you," answered the weretiger, who then went on to striking a pose, demonstrating what his answer meant. According to himself, this was what brought the chicks to his bed to add to the notches on his bedpost. In his own humble opinion, those notches were numbering so many that the bed was starting to be unsound in stability.

"I meant the description of the mysterious werecat," corrected Onoli in a sigh. That man was just difficult at times.

"Well," Tirga was of course slightly embarrassed. "One of the women had some artistic talent, and was kind enough to draw us a portrait … please excuse the lack of clothing, she said she couldn't really remember what he was wearing … though it begs to question why he has a second tail … and why she added a scantily clad self portrait clinging to his leg."

Tirga handed the charcoal rendering to his superior officer. Onoli refrained from asking why Tirga had had any contact with the women, but knew he wouldn't like the answer, so he ignored it.

"Looks like a runt to me," added Tirga as Onoli studied the drawing.

"It could be," agreed the werelion. "Or, if we are to judge from the statements the witnesses gave us it might be a birth defect, much like our fellow Edge Guard, Sheila …"

"Still looks like he couldn't bat away a feather, let alone a fully grown man," snorted Tirga. "Are you sure this was the guy that was supposed to have beaten all those bandits? Could the women just have made up this wimp because they couldn't really see what happened?"

"He looks almost like Thropan," commented Onoli offhand.

-SLAM!-

"I've had it!" Sheila was, as stated earlier, not having a good day, and it had not gotten better since the last interrogation. Nali was out of headache cures and there was nothing in the healer's clinic to make her feel less bloated or keep blood from staining her clothes. Combined with her irritation over having heard dozens of women drool over some stud for hours, she was a powder keg waiting for someone to light a match before blowing up.

"Hey, sweet cheeks!" greeted Tirga as the irate werejaguar with a birth defect stomped into the headquarters.

-KAPOWIE!-

And there sailed Tirga across the room for ticking off said irate jagwere, a blackening eye shining bright on his face. Only a bit of irritation was relieved, a lot still remained.

Onoli winced in sympathy, but also sighed in resignation. That man never learned.

"I've had enough of this case!" screamed Sheila, her face no more than half a foot from Onoli's, and the force was enough to blow the long and thick hair in the opposite direction of said irate female. "If I ever see that jerk werecat, I'll pull his manhood off and feed it to him! Then we'll see what those floosies want to do with him!"

-Rustle-

Sheila looked down to see that she was standing on a piece of paper with something other than writing on it.

Curious, she bent down and picked it up. After she smoothed out the paper, she studied the drawing.

"Did one of Thropan's admirers send him another drawing?" she asked, squinting and looking closer at it. "Why is he so small compared to her? And why is there a snake sticking out of his groin?"

"That is not Thropan," corrected Onoli, slowly edging his way for the door. "It is our mysterious werecat, and it is not a snake, it is an artist's rendering of his equipment … I assume she has exaggerated a great deal …"

With that said, Onoli, the brave and peaceful leader of the Seer's Hamlet Edge Guard ran as fast as he could, to get away from ground zero of the explosion that was about to occur.

Unknowing of the danger, Gar, the brother of the currently bug-eyed jagwere, entered the room.

"Hey sis," he greeted jovially. "Gotten a crush on that werecat, like all the other women, yet?"

Even Tirga, who by now had regained consciousness and had committed more atrocities towards women than Casanova, though not with as positive results, knew it was a bad idea to say this.

Light seemed to vanish and the world looked like a photo negative, and Sheila turned slowly to face her older brother.

Gar gulped as an aura of absolute anger surrounded his sister, and those scowling eyes fastened on him, the one who forgot to get the products that might have made her day somewhat more bearable.

"Mercy," whimpered Gar in a squeaky voice.

-ULTRA-MEGA-KAPOWIE!!!!-


Meanwhile, in the middle of Seer's Desert, a certain werecat was sitting in a shelter made of scrap from the caravan. It was unfortunate that not all the carriages escaped the explosions of magic, but it allowed Ranma a place to sleep and rest out of the way of the elements.

He had pulled out the arrow from his shoulder, and it had healed very fast, leaving only a slightly tender spot where the gaping wound had been. He kept the arrow head, though. He might need the scrap metal some time, and it would be easy to smelt into some other form. He was still recovering from his escape, though. Those women were worse than a dozen of Shampoo chasing after him … why were women generally so enthusiastic about him? Why had that one woman stuck her hand down his pants? Why did she have to grab-? He didn't want to know and had ran off. When he came back an hour later, the caravan was gone and the broken parts were left behind. The kind of contact those women had given him always left him feeling strained and uncomfortable, so he avoided it if he could … at least he hadn't been female, or the contact would have had a different uncomfortable reaction that he had learned had to do with procreation. It must not be important, after all, his pops only did it once to get him, and hadn't seen his wife for over ten years, and neither parent seemed to wish to repeat this activity. Mr Tendo had been without a wife nearly as long as Genma had been away from his own, and he wasn't out looking for another one to do stuff like that with. How good or fun could it be if that was the case? The guys in school must have been exaggerating in their stories of how it must be like.

Ranma was currently doing what he does best. He was recalling something that happened and he wanted to learn, and tried to figure out how to do it. In this case, he was recalling the weretigress' transformation to hybrid form and then full form when she demonstrated how it was done. He wanted to become human again, and if that woman could change shapes, then why not him?

He concentrated on trying to rearrange his energy flows like he had seen the woman do, but he was having trouble doing it. The woman had mentioned something about the moon being partly responsible for the change, and each change only being possible once a day … maybe he had to wait until the next full moon … before he could start changing, after all, the werewolves of movies could only change on nights of a full moon so it made sense that a new werecreature would have to wait until then before being able to change.

"Oh well, I guess I have to wait …" sighed Ranma. "But in the meantime, I could try those techniques those bandit people were trying to get me with!"


In Nerima, Nabiki was having a little bit of a problem.

It had only been three days and she had already run out of photographs of Ranma and Ranko, and there was no chance of getting any more.

To make matters worse, the money generated by Ranma's fights and stupidities were trickling down to nothing. The fiancées that didn't live here before Ranma's arrival were packing up their things and getting ready to leave, taking with them the rivals for them and the money they would have used to buy information for. The Amazons had been the first to leave, and Ukyo didn't wait much longer before closing up her restaurant and left as well.

Even if the aptly named "Hentai Horde" had been reinstated by the ever insane Tatewaki Kuno, the income would not be enough to make up for the loss Ranma's absence created. Of course, Kuno was still in the hospital and in severe pain, though still recuperating. It was through his underlings in the Kendo Club that the order of reinstatement had been sent.

This meant that Nabiki had to return to her original solution of selling pictures of her baby sister and setting the betting pools up around her fights. But the problems with this were as follows; firstly, Akane was hardly as attractive as Ranko had been, and if she was it only appealed to a few who would not pay the inflated prices Nabiki had to put on them to break even with the loss of Ranko's pictures. Secondly, after witnessing Ranma's fights, the scuffles Akane went through on her own held very little appeal, so very few bothered to watch them, let alone bet on them. Thirdly, the parents of the members of the Hentai Horde were starting to demand the Tendo family pay the medical bills from the beatings Akane gave their boys every morning, which was becoming a very large sum. Akane had been asked to stop beating the boys badly enough to warrant a visit even to the school nurse, but the requests had been ignored and the next day the boys were injured even worse. Fourthly, Genma was not doing anything but eating, drinking and sleeping, which meant he ate enough to feed ten people at each serving, drank enough sake for twenty men, and did nothing to try and help the household. And lastly, Nodoka had refused to accept responsibility for her husband's sloth.

"If he's being a burden, you may kick him out, but I will not pay for my husband's sloth under your hospitality," she had declared regally before hanging up the telephone.

Mr Tendo was not about to kick his best friend out of his house, and he was a guest so he was not obligated to do anything to supplement the income. He told Nabiki she would have to find a way around it. Apparently, he was under the impression that his income from being a member of the City Council would cover everything, but the truth of the matter was that his entire income had been used to pay off the house and property, as well as life and health insurance for the family.

This meant that money was pouring out of the house without much of any came in. The money in the Tendo bank account was rapidly dwindling away. They were heading into the red, and with the state her father and Genma were in, they would not stop their drinking binges any time soon, nor be able to do any work. The Tendo family was now a sinking ship, and it was time for the crew to abandon it and leave the captain to go down with it.

Nodoka accepted taking in Nabiki and Kasumi as boarders at the Saotome home, for a generously low monthly rent, and arranged for Nabiki to get a job interview with a public relations firm. She would not accept Akane because of the mess the collected fiancées made of the Saotome home the last time they were there. The second reason was that Akane's cooking experiments usually caused some serious damage, and Nodoka was not willing to pay for new pots, pans and other kitchen utensils every time the girl tried to cook. Kasumi was reluctant about leaving her father and Akane behind, but could not argue with Nodoka's reasons, nor could she argue with Nabiki when she said that it was because of them that the family would have to be declared bankrupt in less than two months, with their uncontrolled spending on alcohol, materials that were destroyed nearly as soon as it was inside the door, food that barely got prepared before it was consumed, and now hospital bills from irate parents.

Nabiki was packing the last of her things, as was Kasumi.

It was hard to part with the only home they had ever lived in, but it had to be done, or they would have to resort to something desperate, like selling their bodies on the street to make ends meet. They had heard horror stories about the lives of prostitutes, and were not about to let that happen to them. Nabiki had little doubt in her mind that their father would not hesitate in forcing his two eldest into that life to keep a roof over his head and food in front of his youngest daughter, the apple of his eye and the heir to his school. More likely, Genma would be able to persuade him into making his daughters do this so he didn't have to, and so he didn't have to move back in with his wife.

This was the reason Nabiki had convinced Kasumi that they needed to move away, before this scenario was a possibility. Nodoka had been very understanding, and had accepted them on the condition that they don't destroy the house, they clean up after themselves, and show up promptly at scheduled meals unless informed otherwise or notification of anything else at least one meal in advance.

Nabiki clicked shut the suitcase she had been packing, and signalled for the movers to start moving the packed articles to the small truck she had rented, and noticed that Kasumi had done so as well.

Well, it was time to say goodbye to her first home …


In a dark corner of the world, Lord Gothwrain was having a meeting with three of his subordinates.

Lydia, Moisha and Romeo, three somewhat bumbling wererat assassin initiates, who still required a great deal of training before they had mastered their appointed trade, were trembling before their master, kneeling and hoping they didn't have to be exposed to more silver blades or the Death Glare of a certain werecheetah.

"You are probably wondering why I have brought you here before me …" the ancient wererat mage started in a rasping voice.

A whimper from one of the three was the only reply. They seemed to be under the impression that this was a disciplinary visit … interesting, he would have to look into what they might have done wrong in the time since he last saw them off for training with Zero. Perhaps it would be reason to replace them … after all, these three were hard to replace, but not irreplaceable, and maybe their successors would be more obedient and subservient …

"There is a new threat to our Clan … a new werecat of some sort has appeared, and I want you to neutralise it," explained Gothwrain, holding each of the three under consideration. "Consider it a test of your skills as trackers and assassins. If you pass, it may be time to take your training to the next level, if you fail … you will have to be … retrained."

"Like, sir!" interrupted the one known as Moisha. "Like, where is this werecat, and, like, what kind of werecat is it?"

Gothwrain stared at her through his glasses until she squeaked and looked to the floor.

"His species is unknown," replied Gothwrain slowly. "But his location is on Jade, in the Seer's Desert."

"It's a male werecat?" confirmed Lydia.

"Yes, and he is the only one of his kind," answered Gothwrain testily. "We do not know what makes him so dangerous, but our Seer Cast has confirmed that he may be a real threat to our Clan, so he must be eliminated."

"When do we leave, sir?"

"You will leave now, and do not return until your task is complete."


-BOOOOM!-

Ranma may not be an expert, though talented he may be, but having an explosion in ones only shelter may not have been the best idea.

This was what happened when he tampered with different energies than he was used to. He needed to see those attacks a couple of more times before he would have memorised them properly.

Ranma was really angry with himself. Usually he only needed to see something once before he got it right, why was this any different?

What should he do now … he could explore, but what … maybe those bandits had a hideout? He could use a shelter after he had just blown his own to bits.

Taking a moment, he decided to do it and immediately started tracking, looking for clues as to which direction the bandits had come in from before they had attacked.

Following a slight ki trail, much like a heat trail but where a person leaves a very recognisable energy trail instead of warm foot prints, Ranma headed off.

-Rrrrroar!-

Ranma's stomach growled. This reminded him that he had not eaten in about a day.

Maybe they had food at the hideout?