Summoning The Beast: Chapter 2

The infernal being known as Xiombarg lounged indolently on and against a 
semi-mountainous pile of charred bones, only some of which were human. A 
swirling ring of violent fire served to mute the sooty red glow that his form 
naturally exuded, and within the ring he observed the first steps of what he 
hoped would be a very profittable venture. The sword, for it had no other name, 
had taken to its mission with a certain sadistic glee that had the equivalent to 
a demonic god chuckling evilly. The dreams of his hobby had been fun to watch, 
and carefully manipulate when the opportunity arose, but watching the sword in 
action gave a deeper pleasure. Xiombarg's 'gift' to Ranma wasn't capable of 
acting on its own, but when partnered with a sentient being, it became an 
extension of that being's subconscious, an outlet for repressed emotions and 
desires that otherwise only came to light during episodes of extreme stress or 
general psychotic breakdown. 

In other words, it had been Ranma's own mind and innate dislike of his fiance 
that had thoroughly disrobed and mortally embarrassed her before the eyes of her 
friends and classmates. One last evil chuckle and Xiombarg snapped his fingers, 
erasing the ring of fire from the air and summoning to his side one of the 
creatures capable of travelling to the mortal plane.

The imp was small, maybe topping two and one half feet in height and its overall 
weight couldn't have been more than thirty pounds, yet in its own way, it 
embodied an evil as great as any greater demon spawn. Xiombarg was particularly 
proud of this creation, and one day hoped it would help to corrupt children the 
world over.

"Master," it squeaked, ecstatic to be in its creator's presence. Red fur 
bristled excitedly and the imp's enormous eyes bulfed with fanatic glee.

"I have yet another task for thee, my pet," Xiombarg declared, momentarily 
destracted by a particularly lovely succubus flying high over head.

It hopped up and down uncontrollably, unable to master its emotions with its 
limited will and intellect."More children, Master?" it queried hopefully.

"Nay, Elmo, that task is long completed." And Xiombarg began to elaborate to his 
miniscule minion what he had in mind.

****

"How am I supposed to find a magic sword?" Ranma asked in exasperation. As if 
getting chewed out for not defending Akane wasn't bad enough, nevermind that 
he'd been unconscous due to her actions, now everyone wanted him to hunt down a 
flying sword that didn't seem all that fond of tomboys. That alone made it 
alright in his book, and it hadn't really hurt Akane, so why should he bother 
with it?

Genma's crossed arms and look of stern dissaproval may have been more effective 
if everyone he'd ever met didn't know that he was a low down, lying, dirty 
scoundrel who looked out for himself and only himself. "Because, boy, it is your 
duty as a martial artist to protect the weak and innocent, as well as your duty 
as Akane's future husband to uphold her honor."

Ranma frowned sourly. There was that damned annoying word again: 'duty'. Would 
it never leave him be?

Before Ranma could say something stupid and get yelled at, Akane stamped her 
foot impatiently, tired of being ignored. All signs that she intended to main 
Ranma for the breast incident earlier in the day had left her, overrided by the 
deep seated need in her to release her anger on the sword."You all are talking 
like I'm a helpless little girl. I'm a martial artist too, you know. That stupid 
sword just took me by suprise. Next time I see it, I'll beat it for sure!" she 
exclaimed finally.

The two older men and Ranma shared a single glance. Words were not necessary for 
the communication that passed between the trio. Akane wasn't exactly a martial 
arts virtuoso, and they all knew it. Her chances against something that had 
easily toyed with her despite all her efforts to stop it weren't very high.

"Now now, Akane, let's don't be hasty," Soun Tendo quickly asserted. "Ranma is, 
afterall, your fiance, and honor compells him to defend your virtue, even should 
that be against an enchanted sword." The man was quite proud of himself. He 
hadn't been that eloquent in years, at least not since he'd talked himself into 
his dear departed wive's pants for the first time.

"I agree. Ranma is a much better martial artist than you, anyway, and he'd have 
a better chance at defeating the sword. Your style is far to simple and sluggish 
to ever combat something as manuverable as you've described." Genma continued on 
for a minute or two without realizing how much danger he was in. He blinked a 
couple times as Akane's battle aura flared into intense existance and didn't 
even attempt to dodge the incoming mallet.

A few moments later, as he was helpfully kicking his father out of his new hole, 
Ranma wondered if the inability to dodge hammers was an inherited trait from his 
father. It made a sort of perverse sense. He'd seen his mother try to weild her 
sword, and he was ashamed to admit that she was horribly clumsy with it, so why 
could she always manage to nick Genma or pound him with the flat of the blade 
when he was a much better fighter. Not that the old man didn't deserve the 
beatings, not after his mother had caught him in the porn shop that Hiroshi and 
Daisuke so often frequented. He didn't have to worry about accidental 
decapitations at least, but mallets aren't all that pleasant, either.

Whatever. The idiot had deserved the beating and now Ranma guessed it was time 
for another healthy dose of duty. Regardless of his opinion, he couldn't let 
Akane get herself carved up like a ham because she was too stubborn to know to 
mind her own business.

"I'll do it," he grumbled. One last kick dislodged Genma and sent him crashing 
into the wall. Without any further conversation, Ranma walked from the parlor 
and out of the Tendo home. Inevitably, whenever something strange happened, he 
always ended up going to Cologne for help. She probably planned to kidnap him 
and carry him off to China, some day, but for now, all that knowledge and wisdom 
she'd aquired from being older than dirt would come in handy.

****

Mousse didn't really put up much of a fight, and Ranma suspected that it was 
mroe out of habit than any desire to murder him. He entered the Nekohaten, 
Mousse slung negligently over one shoulder. He fingered a slight tear in his 
shirt made by one of several hundred shuriken the blind fighter had launched at 
him. Ranma reminded himself to tell Kasumi about it so she could fix it before 
it got any larger and ruined the garment.

The robed teenager 'thumped' loudly enough on the wooden floor to rouse 
Cologne's curiousity. She walked out from the kitchen, a bowl of ramen in one 
hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. Finishing the noodles already in the 
grasp of the chop sticks, she sat the bowl down and scurried over to Mousse. A 
few pokes and he groaned painfully, never quite regaining consciousness, though.

"Thorough," she said approvingly."I fail to see why you bother working him over 
so hardily, but I suppose a certain amount of stress relief is nice for someone 
in your position, son-in-law."

"Not really. I just figured if he couldn't walk or use his arms or do pretty 
much anything at all for a few weeks, he wouldn't be able to attack me for a 
while." Sound reasoning when dealing with most people, but Mousse could be 
tricky and Ranma wouldn't put it past the boy not to have an assault tank stowed 
away somewhere within his volumous robes.

"Indeed," Cologne agreed."So, what brings you here today, son-in-law? I'm sure 
it wasn't expressly to assault Mousse."

"Today at school, Akane got attacked by a flying sword. I was just wondering if 
you knew of any flying swords that could have done it." Couldn't get much planer 
than that.

The old, withered woman appeared unperturbed by the unusual question, her 
already hideously wrinkled brow creasing further in thought."It's been quite 
some time since I myself encountered such a weapon, but there are a few loose in 
the world. They belong to wealthy collectors or ancient warriors such as myself. 
Could you describe the sword?"

Ranma shrugged."I wasn't there, but Nabiki said it was long and straight, about 
five feet all together, bluish in color, with a white hilt. It moved too fast to 
see any finer details, I guess. Does that help?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. I don't recall any such sword. That's not very important 
in itself. The weapon could have recently been unearthed from any number of 
tombs spread throughout the old world. I wouldn't even rule out recent creation. 
There are a few thaumaturgists of sufficient skill roaming about capable of such 
an act." 

"Okay, so you don't know about this one. Can you tell me how to fight a sword 
that doesn't have a weilder?" Ranma asked dubiously. A man with a sword could 
always be disarmed or incapacitated, but a sword that fought on its own 
presented a whole world of problems.

"Very carefully, son-in-law, very carefully," she cautioned.

"That's not very helpful, Old Ghoul," Ranma snapped.

"Don't be rude," Cologne said, bashing Ranma on the head with her staff, despite 
the fact that she had not had it only a moment before. "You might as well have a 
seat, I'll be back in a moment."

****

Walking back to the dojo, Ranma idly shuffled through the stack of books and 
magazines Cologne had piled into his arms. The 'National Geographic: Enchanted 
Weapons' edition was full of pictures and simple to understand instructions, 
like 'this spoon eats your soul' or 'beware of the jewelled butterknife of Frank 
the Barber, for it induces permanent baldness'. None of those particular 
descriptions were very helpful, but he was sure there would be some that would 
be useful. The books, on the other hand, promised to be boring and time 
consuming. Maybe he could pay Nabiki to read them and tell him what he needed to 
know.

Nah, that probably wouldn't be very safe. Nabiki wasn't the most trustworthy of 
people, and considering what he now knew of the girl, placing his fate in her 
hands didn't seem like the most prudent of decisions.

****

While Ranma was gone, the sword had made another appearance, this time at the 
Tendo dojo. Ranma found his father and the Tendo patriarch cowering in a corner. 
Both men were pale and trembling, not even able to use full sentences to explain 
to him what had happened. Apparently, it had been well on its way to gutting the 
two men until Kasumi had actually 'ASKED' it to leave, telling it that it was 
making a dreadful mess. Who knew Kasumi had it in her?

"Blood is so very difficult to remove once it seeps into the woodgrain," the 
girl explained to him.

Still a bit stunned, Ranma nodded absently and carried his armload up to the 
room he shared with his father. He decided to tease his father about soilling 
his gi another time, probably the next time the idiot threw him into the pond.

He tossed the minute library to the floor and picked up a slim volume entitled: 
'Mordenkainen's Encyclopedia of the Arcane, Volume 435, Swords And Other 
Sword-like Objects'. Of course since it was written in English, Ranma didn't 
have any clue what those words meant. Strange how he could read the inside but 
not the outside, even thought they were both in the same language.

****

"That doesn't make any sense, Nabiki," Ranma responded.

"It's simple really. Since you have so far failed to capture, destroy, or scare 
off that sword, it falls to you to pay for the damages caused by the weapon. I'm 
sure there's a legal precedent for this type of situation, I just don't feel 
like looking for it." Nabiki sounded quite smug, absolutely certain that she had 
managed to once again take Ranma for all he was worth, even if that wasn't 
really very much in the first place.

"What's a 'legal precedent'? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. If you want someone 
to pay for this mess, call up your demon friends and get them to take care of 
it." Oh boy, that may have a bit to much.

Nabiki's eyes went flat and her face livid with suppressed anger."Don't ever, I 
mean ever, so much as think about what you know about my friends, Ranma," she 
demanded through tightly clenched teeth. Then, spinning on her heel, she stalked 
away, muttering obscenities and threats only half under her breath.

Reminding himself to tread lightly around Nabiki for the next few days, Ranma 
reluctantly went back to his studies.

"Cologne sure has a bunch of useless junk," he commented to himself as he set 
the latest book aside. Why in the world would anyone person need so many books 
about magic swords?

****

With slow, meticulous care, Elmo worked his way through the warehouse, gathering 
a bit of infernal shadow to his furred hand and instilling it with single-minded 
loving care into each of the false likenesses of himself. The 'Tickle Me Elmos' 
had been sitting forgotten, no longer the hot item of Christmas past. Well, if 
Elmo had his say, people would soon remember just how horrid and cuddly he could 
be.

****

Engrossed as he was within on of Cologne's books, Ranma had to be called down to 
dinner an amazing two times. Even throughout the meal, he never stopped reading 
the book. His father, largely recovered from his brush with death, made a 
hundred or so attempts to steal his son's meal, but the book Ranma was reading 
also served as a suitable blunt object, and by the time everyone finished 
eating, Genma was a large bruise. Well, what Akane and the sword hadn't already 
gotten to, anyway.

Not looking up from the book, Ranma missed the amazed and confused stares 
directed at him by the Tendos and his mother. Ranma, reading a book, willingly? 
Surely Hell had frozen over. No one mentioned anything to Ranma, either 
frightened that he may be possessed or just general courtesy(Kasumi only). 
Nodoka, upon seeing that the subject of the book dealt largely with swords, 
smiled hugely and literally beamed maternal pride and happiness.

****

Okay, magic swords could be useful, Ranma admitted, but he wasn't a weapon user 
and he didn't see many of the things lying around, so he didn't dwell on the 
issue. Problem was, he didn't think he could effectively combat the blade that 
had attacked Akane. From his research, little of it that there was, Ranma had 
discovered that just to get up to the level of controlled flight and 
self-control, a sword had to have all kinds of other options added to its 
substance. Dweomer didn't sound all that dignified, in Ranma's opinion, and he 
could have probably come up with something better on his own, but he understood 
the basics of the principle, so that was enough.

Without powerful magic, something he didn't have and didn't want, Ranma would 
probably need another enchanted weapon of at least equal power to Akane's 
attacker. The Kinjakan and Gekkaja were both on the high power scale, but they 
were also in China and not all that accessible. He doubted the Phoenix People 
would let him borrow them, even if he could get there.

Then, before he could grumble about how unfair his life was, he heard his father 
scream. It was loud and high pitched, much closer to that of a woman than 
Genma's normal bellow, but Ranma attributed it to the pain of being beaten by a 
sword. With a sigh, he went to do his 'duty'.

****

Author's Notes: Damn, been a while since I wrote anything, mostly because of the 
keyboard(my mom wouldn't let me switch it with the one at home, even though no 
one else uses that one except for me). This part of Summoning The Beast seems 
even more choppy and disjointed to me than the last part, but I've figured out 
why. I've got some plans on how I want Ranma to turn out and I'm looking forward 
to when I can actually get him to use the sword(s). All these two or three 
paragraph sections just let me jump through time a little faster. Maybe next 
chapter there'll be an invasion of giggling demon dolls or something, but it'll 
be another few chapters before Ranma actually gets the sword. C&C welcome at 
dark_phoneix@hotmail.com