“We have arrived,” Bahamut announced as her platinum dragon shape stepped through a portal out of the endless silver of the astral sea.
Little Ranma blinked as the world materialised around him. “Yh huh. So… where are we?” Ranma looked around the dismal remains of a once nice city. The stone walls had been shattered, the buildings burned to the ground, and it had been abandoned so long ago that a forest of trees were growing among the shells and moss and lichen adorned the tumbled down stone walls.
Overall, it looked, well, cold; what with the snow and swirling foggy wind. The shadowy illumination of the approaching dusk did not help put things in a good light either.
He looked back over the dragon’s back at the portal. He was not sure the dismal gray and chilling white was much of an improvement over the endless silver deep, but at least the rocky earth looked solid for which his stomach was grateful. “What are we doing here?”
“Many things end in ruins,” the dragon beneath the boy replied, “but this tale of heroism shall begin here. After all, every tale of heroism has ruins, and the world of Debbie is in great need of a hero.”
“Did you say, ‘Karen’?” Ranma interjected.
Bahamut twisted her head to look over her shoulder and pointedly remarked, “You come from a world called ‘Earth’, do you not?”
After a slight pause to consider this, Ranma agreed, “Fair enough.”
“Anyway,” Bahamut continued, “Debbie was once a shining jewel of civilisation and refinement, but its once great empire has long ago fallen.”
“What happened.”
“History,” Bahamut explained simply. “Pride, arrogance, corruption, treason, rebellion, war, and so forth. The usual. Now darkness has spread across the lands of Debbie, and only a few points of light hold onto the torch of civilisation. Barely. The world is in peril and some of us gods can no longer stand apart.”
“Some of you?”
“There are eleven of us,” Bahamut observed. “Avandra, Corellon, Erathis, Ioun, Kord, Melora, Moradin, Sehanine, Pelor, even the one known as the Raven Queen, and Myself. We wish to restore this world, more or less. There is some slight disagreement among us as to how. However, the remaining eight; the… dark gods I suppose you might call them: Asmodeus, Bane, Gruumsh, Lolth, Tiamat, Torog, Vecna, and Zehir find the status quo much to their liking. They will oppose us. Count on it! They disagree vehemently; but then they are a most disagreeable lot.”
“Ah… how do I fight kami?” At ten years of age, Ranma was not that arrogant. Yet.
“You don’t,” Bahamut smirked. Then, more gently, added, “You shan’t need to. There are rules to these things, you see. Not even the gods of destruction wish themselves to be destroyed. Were we to contend directly, the conflict would destroy this world, if not us, and they wish to rule it. So we must take the oblique approach to contest. You are to become my champion, and others will champion their gods.”
“So… it’s just a game?”
“It is war! But if you are just a piece in our game of war, at least you are to be the king.”
“Is that a good thing?” Ranma wondered, remembering the role of a ‘king’ in shogi.
“Ah… Indeed it is not easy to bear a crown, but I’m told it has its compensations.”
“So… how do I become a king?”
“Good question! As I said, it begins in ruins. My aid on Debbie cannot be direct, but the power you possess now is sufficient to begin a heroic career. You will need treasure and training; and both can be obtained through high adventure! Meanwhile, I have made arrangements to provide you with training and equipment fitting for a king, and suitable companions will seek you out. And as I said, it begins in ruins. And it begins now, for look!”
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(Posted Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:32)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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