Ranma ½ Ranma/Dresden Files

[Amaretto]

Isn't there supposed to be some connection between the blades? Like Luccio made it for that person? If any sword will work, then there probably would be a bunch of old ones that Dresden could use.

They are supposedly owner specific but I'm usually a firm believer in just about anything can be corrupted, hacked or subverted given enough time and skill. Anastasia is human so it was human magic that created it. It isn't perfect. Even the swords of the cross can be unmade. To say that a much lesser item couldn't be stolen seems like a disconnect to me.

So, Ranma stole the sword and after a few months of tinkering he got it to work, mostly. He definitely gets more use out of it in his female form. In his male form, it's just a really sharp blade.


They didn't address what happens to sword's when their owner dies or can no longer use one. Canonically speaking, it wasn't addressed any further than Luccio telling Harry that her body could no longer preform that form of magic.

 

[jwang]

Pretty sure that the blade is specific to the person, as in on a spiritual level where if anyone else tries to hijack it would result in a very nasty shock. I expect that at the least if someone stole a blade all it would end up being is a ever-sharp blade of extraordinary durability, but without the nifty spell cutting capabilities it would have in the hands of its intended wielder.

 

[Amaretto]

ôGuess what happens now?ö Ranma asked with a growl, flicking the Holy Sword into the crowd à and directly into MichaelÆs waiting handàand his own eyes glowing beyond red.

Harry Dresden smirked. Sometimes à his apprentice was so worth the trouble he causedà

You know, that whole part at the end made me think of this.

(<a href='http://loyalkng.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/legend-of-zelda-links-biological-father.jpg[/img]


I know it's Link but that is so Michael after he and Ranma get done with that party.

 

[Innortal]

As I fly through a wall, I like to think about things.

Odd, I know. Most people sit in a park, or somewhere that relaxes them, allows them to forget society, forget whatever ails them, and just consider things to that point.

Not for me! My life is too chaotic for that. My moments have to come between hits, between moments of fighting for my life, training, and eating.

So, they come when some opponent sends me through something, and thinks, æHey, thatÆll end him!Æ

Idiotsà

Part of me hopes Lara wonÆt try and parlay this into me owing her some sort of debt. The æhiddenÆ leader of the White Court has made no secret she wants to keep me. IÆm sort of unique: they canÆt control me, but I can feed them as easy as a normal person waves a hand. If they had legends, IÆd probably be some sacred chalice or what-not.

Then again, where else are they going to find a magical human from another parallel Earth with my training and ability to utilize life force, chi, qi, whatever you call ità

Well, not unless Bacon-Breath somehow gets lost to the point of crossing reality.

He might, especially if while I am away, Akane finds out who P-chan really is.

Anyway, enough thinking. Despite what Harry jokes about, it isnÆt hurting. ItÆs just that my momentum finally ended, no longer flying through shit.

The fight resumes, and I owe a certain semi-divine immortal creature an epic bitch-slap.

Pushing off the cracked support I had landed against, I launch myself back into the fightùprobably also collapsing the room behind me.

Luckily, Skinny didnÆt expect me to bounce back. I learned from Harry how his first encounter with it went.

It killed someone I considered a friend.

Lucky for me, those Magical Laws donÆt count unless I fry him with magic.

Harry said the thing could use it.

As my extended fist sends it to æthink about thingsÆ, I can add that it really isnÆt expecting or capable of dealing with a physical fight.

The wall I sent it through explodes as it charges through, glaring at me. ôWhatever you are,ö it hissedùreally, can a demon not just speak? Do they always have to hiss? ôI will feast on you.ö

Anger is an emotion, one Harry has used at a time or two to power his magic, to generate the steam when the water is all gone from the pond.

I feel plenty of it now. It killed a friend; I donÆt have to look for to see what it did to the Raith guards and family members who took it on. It doesnÆt care what it does, who it hurts, and what it has to cut through for whatever it needs.

I have something like that too.

Harry calls him Injun Joe, but Joseph Listens-to-Wind taught me a lot, even how to ædealÆ with the Nekoken.

Even after that, I know sometimes, it is better to let that Inner Beast out to play, especially if I can give it a target I couldnÆt care less gets killed. Usually, I reserve that for demons or even the Fae who really deserves it.

Skinny made the list.

As such, I can feel reason slowly slipping away, the vestiges of my humanity submerging as a more primal force emerges.

The bastard can become a mockery of any animal it wants, use magic, and create havocà

Sorry; thatÆs my bag, baby.

<hr>

One sad fact of life: no matter what you eat or drink, it never tastes better coming up as it did going down.

ôEasy there,ö my somewhat poor teacher murmurs, as I empty another load from my stomach.

Odd à I donÆt remember eating corn.

ôWh-what,ö I start, before my stomach demands an emergency purge again, ôhappened?ö I coughed out.

Harry sighedùnever a good sign in my opinion, as it usually means IÆm about to have to face crap IÆd rather sleep through. ôIt has Thomas,ö he stated.

Thomas Raith, HarryÆs half-brotherà He never said, I never asked, but any master of life force can tell relations.

But right now, anger is welling inside of me. ôAnd?ö I asked, before adding more to Lara RaithÆs cleaning staffÆs duties.

ôWell, good news, you kicked itÆs ass.ö

I force a smile, even as I purge more from my system. Really, I have nothing left! CanÆt I stop throwing up now!

ôYou also took its arm, spent thirty minutes feasting on it after it fled, and I think à you may have consumed some of its poweràö

à Ohà ôFuck,ö I spit, before I follow that small release of fluid with a much larger one.

ôMy feelings exactly, my apprentice,ö Harry sighed, as the Raith busily worked around us.

You know, IÆd like at least one month of normality à for normal people! Seriously, even Superman didnÆt go through this much shit on a daily basis!

 

[Amaretto]

So this was bugging the hell out of me so I'm posting it. Not really sure where it falls in the great scheme of things, but probably some times after Changes and before Ghost Story.



Murphy took a deep breath as she prepared to open the saddle bag on her bike. The last two months had been hellish. Dresden was dead by all accounts; Molly had gone off the deep end after their last case, and Ranma had been dealing with council business. He had recruits coming in and out of the dojo at all hours these days. Somehow, after Mexico he had been promoted to de facto field commander among the younger wizards. He had been putting in long hours training anyone he could get his hands on. What had been a simmering war with the red court had shattered into a thousand tiny gang wars all across the globe. Power struggles on the local scale alone had caused a surge in magical violence that was spilling over into the human world. Between Chicago, New York and Miami the Asian man had his hands full protecting what he could. He hadnÆt been friendly about it either. They talked often but it was more about Dresden Inc. than anything social.

Those problems paled insignificance to her current one. Her P-90 was shot; two months of hard use had pushed the gun to its limit. While normally a sturdy gun that would expect to see years of service, it just wasnÆt cut out for slugging it out with the creatures from Nevernever, crazed fay and wizards that just pissed her off. She used it to take a hit from a Minotaur or something during their last adventure and the receiver was bent to hell. While the dojo had plenty of tools nobody knew exactly how to fix the damage to the receiver or where to get the parts. Her eyes lingered on the mustang sitting in the parking lot beside her bike. Murphy took a deep breath as she wondered just what kind of gun running scumbag she was about to deal with. Hell, just walking into this place would probably get the ATF after her ass.

The door opened with a loud chime. The sturdy door pushed back. Anybody wanting to make a quick entry into this place would be hard pressed. She put her weight into the heavy spring and walked in. Her eyes swept the room looking for the muscle bound skin head she expected to be running this place. Instead she found, a short dusky skinned woman working with an apron on working behind one of the counters. Her occupied voice called out, ôOne second, got a jammed spring here.ö

With a firm yank the woman pulled the mangled spring out of the Glock 19. ôDidnÆt realize you were a miracle worker.ö

The shop keeper nodded. ôIf it can be fixed I fix it. IÆve been getting some of the strangest things in here lately.ö

ôTree sap?ö Murphy asked sheepishly.

ôTree sap, glue, saw a barrel damn near melted.ö The woman shook her head. She extracted herself form her work. She offered her customer a polite greeting, ôRally Vincent, welcome to Gunsmith Cats.ö

ôKarin Murphy, I was told you were discreet.ö Murphy nervously stated. Her fist tightened around the caseÆs handle.

Rally looked the woman over for a moment and arched an eyebrow. ôDepends on whoÆs asking.ö

She was hesitant to use her title. She didnÆt know how Ranma did it but she received a detectiveÆs promotion and a desk. Granted working the gang task force wasnÆt the most pleasant of positions it did however, keep the bills paid and the lights on. Karrin pulled out a business card with the words Paranet embossed across the top.

The gunsmith fingered the card and pulled out a UV light. Two invisible signatures across the back and a tiny seal glowed an unnatural purple color. ôSoàö

Karrin wasnÆt really surprised when Rally checked the card. ôWho gave this to you?ö

ôThe mad hatter.ö Karrin answered the code and waited for the woman.

Rally shrugged as she put away the light. She could always back out latter or call the ATF if this was a problem. ôAlright, whatÆs the deal?ö

ôI got a bent receiver.ö Karrin placed the case on the table and opened up the gun case.

 

[Innortal]

You know what pisses me off? What gets me?

It isnÆt fiancÚes. I get enough of them to slowly build a callus over my soul, thanks to my father.

IsnÆt danger. Really; it kills the boredom.

It isnÆt the female attention. I am a manly man, after all.

It isnÆt the male attention. In this world, they are all better than Tatewaki Kuno.

It is that my adoptive father/brother figure is right.

He once said that I couldnÆt walk through a church, without the devil causing me trouble.

So, stupid me, while my boss/father figure is on breakùI mean, on his private island, probably being cared for by the Winter QueenùI decided to enter the woods near Chicago, and try and practiceùnee, remakeùsome martial arts moves.

What happens? I am dragged into a plan by the Winter Lady to try and make me her new pick for the Winter Knight, using a hostage, and it all goes wrong. Hells bells, I donÆt even know if the position is open!

ôYouÆre not Harry,ö my stowaway replies. Her name is Faith Aston. Many years ago, Harry rescued her, and unknowingly uncovered a Potential. She can use magic.

Guess who the random human hostage was.

ôAnd once again, I know that,ö I replied. ôHe trained me.ö

ôWhere is he?ö Faith asked. ôI was told heÆd save me.ö

ôHeÆs recovering from a run-in with a bad guy,ö I offer. Truthfully, none but me and the Chicago Defendersùmy choice, which got vetoedùknow Harry is alive. I only know because he swore on his magic that should he die, his island in Lake Michigan, Demonreach, would be mine. In fact, I carry a vial of the dirt from said uncharted island in my subspace pocket.

When I saw his blood near the Water Beetle, I pulled it out and saw if I could claim it.

It violently rejected me.

I knew what was going on. Mab would not let the Knight she wanted, go so easily.

Also known to me, was that revealing such would send every magical nut there to finish the job.

So, I gathered those who should know, closed us in a circle, had Molly veil us, and told them.

What did I get? Thanks? Congrats for proving Harry lived?

Nope; constant requests to head out thereùI was the only one with a chance to step foot on that soil and not be killed, becoming the unofficial head of the Defend Chicago Resistance, and spending a lot of my time keeping Molly from succumbing to HarryÆs godmother. As if I didnÆt have enough shit to deal with from the White Council and Wardensà

And now, I am rescuing a girl who he once saved during his last days with Ragged Angel Investigations.

Only, sheÆs not ten anymore. SheÆs legal, able to do magic, was just used for a Winter Court plot against me, and clinging to my injured body.

Here I was, in the woods, dragging a wounded leg, an eighteen-year-old with delusions of Harry, towards her home, hoping for the best.

I am once again reminded of something Harry taught me: hope is like every other four-letter word.

<hr>

Growing, I look through my binoculars. Yep, my luck holds trueà

The economy hit the Astons as hard as everyone else.

Everyone else being the top one percent of Chicago. All that meant was they sold their townhouses in the city, and moved to the woods beyond suburbia and the æoutskirtsÆ.

And like before when Harry had been hired to find a runaway, they had apparently called the media and been trying to claim trouble.

If my lip-reading was accurate, using the same story as well.

ôGreat,ö I muttered.

ôSo, kidnapped again?ö Faith asked.

I nodded, wondering if her luck with parents was like mine. Though I had yet to hear her complain about seppuku.

Maybe her mother wants her to be womanly?

ôShit.ö

And here I thought I had the potty-mouth.

Potty-mouth? I have been spending way too much time with the Carpenters.

ôAny ideas?ö she asked, looking over my shoulder at the gathering that was her familyÆs front lawn.

ôOne,ö I replied, reaching into my pocket for a sealed package, and hoped it still worked.

<hr>

It did.

I was owed a favor by a reporter for the local Channel 7 News, a female who didnÆt like being scooped by the male lead for the network.

Good for me, said male had shown up with his own news van to cover the story of the ækidnapped heiressÆ.

So, one phone call, one gender changeùFaith loved it, one change of clothes to look like a female hikerùFaith gave tips on fashion, and a meeting at the nearby eatery, and my ass was saved.

As far as those who watched the live broadcast was concerned, Faith had gone for a walk, ran into a wild animal, and was saved by æRanko SaotomeÆ, martial artist, from it, before being brought to the local diner.

Magic bless æGentlemanÆ Johnny Marcone and his payments for making my girl-form have a legal identity. Dresden hated me getting such a payment from Marcone, or anything from Marcone. But IÆd rather be legal in this world, with the documentation to prove it, and Marcone was willing to do such for my help during the werewolf fiasco.

Amazingly, the White Council has yet to give me documentation saying I belong anywhere. What a shock.

In the end, what did it get me?

Still got a limp. Media believes it was a wild animal. I know it was a Winter Fae. Either way, IÆm spending a few days at my apartment healing, and figuring out how this would all come back and bite me tomorrow.

Got my own apprentice. Hopefully, this one has less æseductionÆ for me planned than Molly had from Harry. Actually, I just hope she doesnÆt try and seduce me at all. Yes, sheÆs legal. No; IÆm not looking.

Feh, like my opinion mattered to anything of the opposite gender that looked at me.

Ragged Angel Investigations and Harry are getting a long-overdue check, thanks to Faith. Nothing like a prodigal daughter before a camera to put the parents into hot water.

On my balcony, it doesnÆt matter. As I look over the lake and the city, I still miss him. I know he lives, because I havenÆt been attempted to be drafted for the Winter KnightùMab hinted it would be either me or Dresden. If heÆs dead, IÆm left.

Then again, Titania hinted at me I was her choice when Fix left.

Mom was wrong, too manly is a very bad thing here.

I got an apprentice coming tomorrow for trainingùhopefully only of the magical variety, as I owe the reported a night out.

No, I didnÆt miss the wink-wink she added after saying that. I prayed I had just imagined it, but the glare from Faith afterwards had me doubting my chances on any account.

Almost a decade here, and I can only think of how little things have changed. I know magic, but females of many species chase me. I am left standing on a path uncertain, following a faith ill-defined, and dealing with angry tomboys.

Only the tomboys know veil magic damned well, so I will definitely not call her such, for fear of lightning up my jock.