Tabitha, after getting through her unbreakable cheerful demeanor and absolute desire to make sure her customers are satisfied no matter the cost, she was down right the best girl he had ever talked too that hadn't tried in some way to date, marry, kill, or have sex with him (well she tried, but he was too damn oblivious to pick up on her not so subtle hints). Her dreams of one day moving to a big city and becoming the absolute best waitress reminded him of his own dream, to become the best martial artist in the world. It was perhaps this one common interest, to be the best that made her such a good friend.
Grendel was the owner and operator of this Tavern Inn. A rather rough guy on the outside, always quick to doll out punishment to any would be irate customer who threatened to start a fight in his establishment, or even touch his employees against their will. That was a trait Ranma found similar to himself. He was a Forest Troll as well, a race of trolls who commonly razed through the country side robbing weary travelers of their hard earned money and goods. Mostly a barbarian type of tribe who lived primarily in the Dorgan woods to the east of Trill; Grendel was perhaps the only exception to the race. He had risen above people’s expectations on how trolls always acted, and proved many times that race, color, so on and so forth, didn't matter one bit. It was the person inside who truly mattered. Of course, when he brought the conversation of the were-smilodon to the troll, Grendel had been quick to prove he was nothing more then a hypocrite.
Bastard.
Minni was the chef of the establishment. She was a halfling, a distant cousin to the dwarven miners. Were dwarfs usually stood anyone from four feet to five feet in height with bulky muscular frames and a whole lot of hair, halflings tended to come to a height of three to four feet with slender nimble frames and a whole lot less hair, except for their feet. Minni herself was a rather shy introverted creature despite her cute looks. Come to a height of about three foot eight inches, she had a slender figure with pert breasts and long hair often times bundled up under the hair net she always wore whether she was cooking or not. Her dark brown eyes were traps however, this Ranma could attest too. Just looking in that endless void of dark swirls had captivated more than one mans heart, despite her rather small height. Ranma secretly believed Grendel and her are an item, but the sheer mechanics of it gave him a headache.
She too, seemed to be a hypocrite however. While she didn't have any problems agreeing with Grendel on his stand point about the inner spirit of a person, she was quick to trash Ranma's respect for her when she out right stated if she ever caught the were-smilodon she was going to cook him up and serve him to the personage of the Bar.
Bitch.
These three were the figurative land marks for the small hamlet of Trill, the rest of its residents not being nearly as interesting as these three, and despite their hypocrisy Ranma almost believed he could fit in here indefinitely. He didn't though; he had a mission to complete. The weapon masters had to fall before that bitch Armsmaster joined them. Once they were dealt with, Ranma firmly believed he would finally be on the road to acceptance in this strange place.
Ranma had though about going after the Armsmaster in exclusion to all else, but whenever he asked where she lived no one he talked to knew or were willing to divulge the information.
Fine.
He had gathered enough information about a near by Weapon Master that he was confident he could find him. Apparently, a Ninja by the name of Tsunami was reported to be in the area, training secretly. If the rumors were to be believed, then the man was training to do battle with the Were-smilodon. Well... if that was true, Ranma had every intention of showing the man why he was considered the best of his damn generation. Besides, Trisha and Sylvia had to have delivered his message by now!
***
He was lost within his mind. Focused, one with the stream and his sword. Nothing mattered to the aging Ninja at this moment, nothing existed but him and his weapon. All sense of self had been bled away as he focused more and more on the sword. At this moment he had no name, he had no body, he simple was one with the sword.
He was at peace.
Flowing with practiced ease, Tsunami brought his sword to bare. Thrusting, slicing, evading, and countering unseen attacks as he moved with a fluid grace few in the world could possible attain in their entire lives. He was one with the Art, and the Art was one with him. Nothing could possibly break his moment of Zen.
Something did.
"So. You are one of the Weapon Masters." a voice broke through the haze of tranquility he had brought himself in. "Not what I expected." the gruff male voice seemed at both respectful and demeaning at the same time.
Startled, Tsunami brought his sword forward as he turned to face the unknown presence. "How the hell did he sneak up on me?" he thought in slight panic, before he once again brought his iron will to the fore. "The man must be extremely skilled to perform such a feat."
Before he stood a man in a black as night cloak that seemed to shroud his entire body. he stood at a height of about five feet eight inches, but other than a few stray wisps of hair peeking out from under the hood Tsunami could make out no distinguishing features. The mans fists were held open at his side in a non-threatening gesture.
~"Greetings traveler.."~ Tsunami began cautiously, lowering his sword ever so slightly when the man made no movement to attack. ~"What can I do for you?"~
The man made no move as he answered Tsunami's question, "Nothing. Nothing yet, anyway. Tell me stranger, are you perhaps the one known as Tsunami? Weapon Master of the noble Ninja Clan?" the mans tone spoke of respect.
~"I am. I'm impressed you were able to find me, much less sneak up on me the way you did."~ Tsunami replied with a respectful nod. He didn't lower his weapon however, something just seemed.. wrong. ~"You seem to have me at a disadvantage Mr..?"~
Tsunami could swear the man was smiling at him now, even though he couldn't see it. "Twinkle twinkle, eleven in all. One by one, you all shall fall. Fight or flee, it matters not to me. I fight to be free, you fight to defeat me." the man then clenched his hands tightly, and in a slightly strained voice the man finished, "The test is now! Will you fail?"
~"What..?"~ Tsunami began. He hadn't been warned about the Were-smilodon coming after the Weapon Masters, so he slightly curios about what the man was blabbering about. He had been about to ask for an explanation in more detail, until his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.
The man's form seemed to nearly double, stretching and growing to a height of just over nine feet tall, the cloak hiding the majority of his figure was pushed away as the transformation went underway. The sickening sound of bones breaking and reforming reached his senses, before a distinct ripping sound rent the air. The man's eyes were glowing bright blue; it's light reflecting on the angry painful snarl on his lips and the long growing canines emerging from his mouth.
It came to him suddenly. He was facing the Were-smilodon. He was facing the soul eater; he was facing some one skilled enough to sneak up on him with out letting a single hint that he had been there. Now that he wasn't hiding his presence, Tsunami trembled inwardly at the sheer amount of power and presence the creature exuded. And as he watched his fists uncurl, its claws beginning to glow dangerously, Tsunami realized one thing.
~"I'm in deep shit."~
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(Posted Mon, 26 Jan 2004 22:32)
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