The vehicle was old, and covered in dirt. Probably about thirty years kind of old, and never been washed kind of dirty.
It was a motor tricycle, a clapped-out conglomeration of spare parts, scrounged bits and rubbish held together with duct tape, cable ties and luck.
Perched on it's single seat was a man. He was just as travelstained and filthy as his vehicle, but the eyes that were peering through his Second World War vintage binoculars down nto Jusenkyo valley didn't match his clothes or manner. They were young and bright, set in a face that - between the dirty ski goggles pushed up on his forehead and manky black neckwarmer pushed down beneath his chin - looked like that of a man in his mid to late twenties.
He was watching a trail of dust coming up the buckled line of blacktop that formed the sole road into the valley. Or rather, he was watching what was at the head of that line of dust.
At the head of that line of dust was a trio of motorcycles. A festering matte-black Suzuki GSXR1100 with the fairing ripped off, an equally festering Yamaha V-Max and a horrifying conglomeration of parts around a Rover V8 that vaguely formed a motorbike.
"Dana's love, man." he grumbled. "Clan Saotome, looks like. At least there's only three of them."
His companion - a short, scruffy woman in her early twenties, dressed in rags and perched amidst the cargo on the back of the trike - looked curiously at him. "Why not just fireball them off their bikes, Master?"
"Normally a good idea, but I recognise the fat bastard on the lead bike. His name's Yoshikaze Saotome, he's some sort of martial arts instructor for their Clan. He's about as much a magus as I am a brain sergeon, but he's got reflexes faster than a polecat on speed even though he's a fat fuck. And his danger sense is so well developed it's frightening. Look, they're reducing speed already - he must have sensed us watching."
"He's heading straight for the springs." she pointed out. "Are you sure his danger sense is that acute? With the Joketsuzoku and the Musk in this valley, and how close Mount Phoenix is, a Saotome would have to be out of his mind stark staring batshit crazy to come here. Either that or suicidal."
The man snorted. "Julianna, Yoshikaze Saotome is about as sane as your average wolf-born. In other words, about as sane as an axe murderer. And I'm just one werewolf mage. I'd guess that's his latest prodigies down there with him. Akira - " This name he spat like a curse - "Probably decided to send those kids here with Yoshikaze to see if a quick dip in the springs would set them off early."
Julianna winced. "You think they're trying to instill First Change early in those other two? Didn't the Great Conclave ban that millenia ago?"
"Yeah, before my first centuary was out actually. But the Conclave can't do shit here. Juusenkyo fits nicely in the loophole. First Change caused by exposure to the enviroment, however unnatural said enviroment is, happens to be perfectly legal. That was added into the law when our own Lord accidentally reversed his car over one of his hunting dogs and it promptly Firsted from the shock. Werealsatian. All the Clans had to let a few people back in after that, it was quite a deal."
What the unidentified observer didn't know was thar he had completely misidentified the three people who were riding into the valley.
At the head of the trio was one Genma Saotome, feeling very pleased with the bike he'd bought off his old master a few days prior after his old ride terminally self-destructed from AK47 bullets. On the Suzuki was his second son, one Ranma Saotome, feeling mildly annoyed with how smug his father was about said new bike. And on the V-Max was an old riding buddy of Genma's, a short, permanantly angry Canadian man who answered only to Logan.
"Okay, son." Genma bellowed across over the roar of engines. "We'll stay over here a few nights, there's some stuff ya really need to get a load a'."
Ranma grunted. "What's th' deal this time Dad? More Clan shite?" he yelled back.
"Yup. It's an old Clan tradition to stop off at Juusenkyo on th' last leg o' a trainin trip, ya can get yerself another form here. Groovy, huh?"
"Sounds fuckin' awesome Dad, so what's th' catch?" Ranma asked as they parked their bikes beside the guide's hut.
"Takes a few days to learn to control it." Genma explained in the sudden silence off the engiens switching off. "An' it makes ya a water magnet fer a few decades, twelve or thirteen usually. Ever wonder why I'm always gettin' splashed an' shit?"
Ranma shrugged after hooking his skidlid on the bars. "Pha. What's a bit a' water? Long as it ain't on me Gixer's electrics I can handle that. Gissalight."
Logan tossed Ranma a lighter and glared at the springs. "I'm steerin' clear of them, bub." he grunted, sitting down beside his bike. "You two go train, I'll get the fire going an' break out the grub."
Genma chuckled. Although everyone was sure Logan was supernatural - his claws, supernatural sense of smell and regeneration underlined that - nobody had the faintest clue what sort of supernat he was, and how Juusenkyo would react to him was anyone's guess.
"Good idea. Oh, an' don't do any huntin'. Ya never know when some animal round here's actually a curse victim."
"This dump gotta bunch of pissy magi or something?" Logan asked, looking up from his saddlebag.
"Nah. Th' springs are cursed. Yer gonna see what I mean shortly."
------------------------------------------------
AMERAI (Assortedus Shapeshiftus)
The far-ranging species known as the Amerai are one of the multiverse's most widespread forms of shapeshifter. Although seemingly resembling the so-called Loup-Garou or Gaian shapeshifter, the Amerai should not be mistaken for either those holy warriors of Gaia or the Iceronian shapeshifters that can be encountered in almost all universes in which the planar layer known as Jade can be found.
This differentiation has several factors. Firstly, Amerai have regeneration capabilities far suprerior to that found in either of the other two common forms of werecreature-type shapeshifter; so much so that even aging damage is regenerated by the Amerai's hyperimmune system, rendering them effectively immortal. The only certain ways to kill an Amerai are to behead or incinerate it.
Secondly, they do not suffer from any form of allergy to silver.
Thirdly, their genetics are quite peculiar. Any pairing involving at least one Amerai will, in all but one out of every million cases, produce Amerai offspring, and said offspring will not necesarrily have the same animal form as the parent Amerai. The reasons behind this are unknown, but there are frequent reports of, for example, a werewolf-werewolf pairing giving rise to a werepython child.
Fourthly, Amerai react strangly to aconite (wolfsbane) juice. Even tiny amounts of aconite juice entering an Amerai's circulatory system will disable the victim's ability to shapeshift for several hours.
Whull, decided to throw the Ams open to Addventurization. I haven't got newsgroup access right now so Biker 1/2's on hold, and there's stuff in book 1 I want to rewrite anyway, so what I'm doing here is creating an 'alternate' Biker 1/2 universe. (shrugs)
I intend to post every day or so, long as my connection works. Yes I've got a plan where this thing is headed.
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(Posted Mon, 26 Apr 2004 05:38)
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