Ranma falls into spring of drowned filly, Ryoga into spring of drowned bunny, and Moose gets Pinkie Pied, with help from the nanban mirror the three travel back in time to prevent what once went wrong...and find themselves locked up in Equestria.
Ranma falls into spring of drowned filly, Ryoga into spring of drowned bunny, and Moose gets Pinkie Pied, with help from the nanban mirror the three travel back in time to prevent what once went wrong...and find themselves locked up in Equestria.
Long term summary in a nutshell: Ranma falls into spring of drowned filly, Ryoga into spring of drowned bunny, and Moose gets Pinkie Pied, with help from the nanban mirror the three travel back in time to prevent what once went wrong...and find themselves locked up in Equestria.
Chapter 0
Oh the horror. It was a dark and cloudy night, and Akane Tendo was being held hostage. Bound and gagged tightly in a large fish tank, located center ring in a carnival tent, by a masked villain. The tank was void of anything except a few rocks, a thick layer of sand, and a lonely girl with blue shoulder length hair. An oyster shell had been strategically clipped in place to keep the hair out of her eyes as she eyed her captor like a hawk. Her arms bound behind her back, her wrists bound tightly together. The audience unaware of Akane's plight, simply assumed she was just a normal magician's assistant. The worst indignity was the mermaid costume she was dressed in. While the ornate pooka shells did little cover her modestly sized bust, they also cut into her skin like shards of glass. The the tank itself was cold and hard on her back as she twisted to get a better look at her jailer. Goosebumps crawled across her exposed midriff and arms as she felt the effects of an approaching thunderstorm. Akane had good reason to fear the water, not because she had almost drowned, but because she could not swim.
The tank was narrow, the width of a coffin, it was a little over five feet long and four caskets high. Above her a spigot attached to a large wine barrel loomed ominously. The Barrel was settled atop a crudely constructed water tower of bamboo and twine. Her screams were muffled as the sound of thunder loomed in time with the ladder as it struck the terrarium with a tonk. Her gag was made of cotton, it was yellow with black polka dots. Not that all this mattered much.
I took a moment to pluck a loose thread on the silk of my robes, and brush the dust from my drawstring pants, my balance off by the weight of a hare, quite literally as I had failed to prepare. The last minute preparations for my enemy's demise had cost me a magician's familiar and something else that I equally prized.
As I finish lighting the secret fuse that will unlock the veil of my concealment "Ladies and Gentlemen. Boys and gouls of all shapes and sizes, the Cirque du Lampwick is proud to present the clown prince of Sarawareta." The Ringmaster Cried "The amazing Muremu and his lovely assistant Ramona." With a puff of red smoke, who should appear, but myself of course in full performance regalia. After spreading my arms and using the hidden weapons technique to make wings of metal appear from my robed sleeves of white. Balanced atop a unicycle I collapse all the swords, and throwing knives, together with a 'schnickt' of delight. Until only two ornate dao swords remain. After a few acrobatic tricks I juggle the swords. Balanced atop the saddle of my wheel with one foot, while rolling backwards as I circle the tank. I perform a backflip as the unicycle rolls out of the spotlight. I continue to juggle the swords as I toss them over my shoulder with full expectation that they would land in the terrarium with my victim. Although she would find herself for the most part physically unharmed, I could care less about my reluctant assistant. This is about revenge for the life of my beloved, when blood cries out for blood and close only counts in horseshoes.
Then, all of a sudden, who should appear, but a crimson maned filly with a chipped tooth and a braid, being ridden by a rabbit wearing a pink ribbon or bow with a sick smile and blade being ready to throw. The two sure looked pissed and were ruining the show. The evidence was clear, the show must go on, the assistant must go into the great void beyond. Unfortunately, except for the trick of the eyes the mastermind of this debacle was practically blind. Encumbered by more weapons than a spider has silk he ran up the ladder, and boy was he quick. It's almost a shame he was humbled by physics, the laws themselves just barely knew of their limits. The weight on the ladder caused it to slide on the mulch, and the wheels of the cart supporting the terrarium he'd propped the ladder up against were obviously not locked.
The aim of the dao weren't that much better, its true, one just managed to miss the terrarium as it moved to the side, the other barely managed to graze the flat of the blade against the lip of the tank, before it found itself bungling, in a fumbling roll, before cutting the twine as it slid against the bamboo pole. The terrarium and cart bumped into the hastily built water tower which was collapsing. A pole splintered under the weight of the cask, the other unlashed with the aid of a sword, the wine barrel pitched forward, past the tipping point of no return, the back of the spigot hitting the other side of the terrarium as it descended pushing it further into what remained of the structure that once supported the behemoth, before the wine barrel collapsed like a water balloon as it splintered with the crush of an onomatopoeia.
Mu'Tsu was soaked. A clown prince to be sure, who had tripped over the ladder, and was currently up split creek with no paddle... his mask was lost, not that it much mattered. His appearance was dramatically altered beyond recognition, because the waters of Jusenkeyo rarely faltered beyond the veil. And, the curse needed negative karma to work its true magic.
His hair was now a shade of purple, close to pink, in in its hue. The nest of wet hair was probably mixed with a shade of navy or cobalt blue, but almost felt like cotton candy for consistency. Clearing the web of cotton candy from his eyes, with a wet cough, Mu'tsu snorted fire, as he expelled the water he swallowed. His lungs burned with the desire to inhale as if he had drowned. And, much to his surprise, he felt a kick to the head as he opened his eyes once released from their veil. Mu'tsu could hear the raindrops as they started to fall against the canvas of the bigtop, which shouldn't have been audible over the cheers of the audience. They say if you've seen one circus you've seen them all, but this one ain't over yet and it's troubles began with a simple prat fall.
Chapter 1
This is about revenge... (The Saotome's arrive in Japan completing the final leg of their journey. After a brief layover in a haunted mansion, a brothel, and two hot springs Genma looks forward to reuniting with his old friend Soun Tendo. Meanwhile, Ranma picks up yet another magical curse [mirror spirit], a new enemy[Konatsu], and an unwanted fiance [Sentaro Daimonji]. Leaving the total number of character disadvantages somewhere between 34 and 63 depending on whether or not you consider things like shapeshifting, cold blooded, or dragon hair a disadvantage. And, this one is a doozy...)
Oh c'mon, Twincest can't really be that bad Ah-"The yellow filly with bright red hair and bright green eyes was cut off mid sentence by a nearly Identical filly with blue eyes.
"I don't care! It's icky. DAAAAA-ha-haD! Make her stop." The blue eyed filly whined. "If I have to listen to her drone on about the magic of friendship _just one more time_ I'm going to snap."
"Ranma, she's your clone, that makes her your problem." This statement was followed by the sound of ruffled paper as Genma was currently in his un-cursed form, wearing a training gi and bandanna, while leaning against a pay phone looking over a map of the Nermian district of Tokyo. "Besides, I thought you wanted a friend. You seemed like you were enjoying it for the first five hours or so." The two canine sized fillies were packed high with camping gear, settled near a park, and from a distance you could see one was sitting on it's haunches while the other was kind of bubbly with charisma and was sorta' bouncing around like a tigger escaped from the zoo.
"But she's a disgusting, self absorbed, troll faced, cotton headed ninny-mugger who's obsessed with friendship; And, I didn't even want to go to the creepy haunted mansion in the first place." Ranma complained as she attempted to adjust the weight of the ridiculously oversized rucksack she had been saddled with while it started sliding out of balance.
Truth be told the friendship between Ranma and the object of his narcissistic affection would have probably lasted little longer if she hadn't seen him naked. It was then that the illusion of sameness had been broken. Not only was she unaffected by the same curse he had received at Jusenkyo but, when she insisted that he become her boyfriend and that she wanted to have his babies, the fine line between creepy and weird had been crossed...
"Y-You don't think I'm apple licking adorable?" The clone stopped bouncing around as if someone had pulled the wind out of its sails. That she had enough energy to bounce at all was quite a feat considering she was carrying a heaver rucksack than Ranma's. Whereas Ranma's rucksack was seemingly only three times bigger and a hundred pounds heavier than Genma's bear form, the clone's burden had to weigh five times as much.
"NO!" Ranma and Genma Shouted unanimously. At this declaration of her ugliness the perverted green eyed filly bit her lower lip and sulked. Ranma shivered with disgust at his own dirty thoughts. He would have remained completely oblivious if his father hadn't spent a half hour explaining what his clone meant by certain double-entanderes like 'apple polishing.'
"Y-you don't love me anymore?" The green eyed filly asked before sniffling and crying like a fire hydrant. Considering her idea of friendship was bunny boiler levels of crazy the following statement was not an altogether unexpected reaction. "No-Nobody loves me because I'm gay. WAAAAAAAh!"
Naturally, since the mirror spirit was from a time when gay meant happy, theoretically, this statement slipping from the lips of a bipolar manic-depressive made even less sense than if she had actually been a lesbian.
Ranma, being the latest victim of the sadistic curse of the mirror mansion, didn't buy the story of the poor little, boy crazy, orphan princess who died friendless and alone... even if it was during a meteor shower, on the night of a blue moon, and she majorly screwed up a familiar summoning spell. Ranma didn't buy this story for one cotton picking minute, as far as he was concerned the mirror clone was the familiar, and the only way to get away from it at this point was suicide. There were just to many coincidences and inconsistencies in her story for it to make any reasonable sense. Not to mention she was probably the best liar he had ever met. And, Ignoring the fact she wanted to milk him for all of gods tears, (whatever the hell that meant,) She was definitely a reflection of all his complexities and insecurities.
"Oh for pete's sake... we're doing this AGAIN?" Ranma groaned, to him the clone was his exact opposite. Annoyingly dependent and in need of constant validation. Ranma looked at her father "you do realize this is all your fault."
"It was the only bed and breakfast in town that allowed bears, and nobody said anything about the talking horse. Besides, we couldn't very well show up at the Tendo's looking like- " Genma was cut off before he could get a word in edgewise.
"That's because it wasn't a bed and breakfast,it was a *)bucking(* asylum, you jackass." Ranma spat "And, it was kind of obvious the guy working there already lost his marbles. And, thanks to Starlight Sparklebum over here, I know why! " Ranma argued. Had Ranma not known better he might have suspected his father only went to the mansion for access to it's extensive library of arcane magics, Heaven knows there was no other reason for the two fillies to be carrying an entire bookshelf worth of books between the two of them... Not that Genma actually read books, so who knows what the game plan was there.
"I thought you were my friends..." the green eyed filly turned pack mule sobbed her head hung low, her energy deflated.
"It isn't my fault you're uncoordinated. If you spent more time in your cursed form you wouldn't have slipped on that banana peel, And, the mirror wouldn't have been a problem." Genma Scolded
"And who's fault was it that we were cursed in the first place!?" Ranma yelled as he got up off his haunches and squared himself back onto his feet.
"Hey! Listen! Quit ignoring me. That's no way to treat a friend." The green eyed filly snapped.
"Oh Shut y'er yap, I'm sure there's a land filled with magical unicorns and rainbows out there for you somewhere." Ranma snarked as he turned his attention back to the facsimile of his current form.
"I don't think I like you anymore." the other filly huffed.
"And, I don't like you at all. So, I guess that makes us even." Ranma glared.
"I hate you! I Hate You! I HATE YOU!" The other filly raged as she clopped him in the face with her left hoof and simultaneously chipping one of his teeth while pushing Ranma into the mud. overbalanced by the weight of his pack Ranma sort of toppled over into a roll until he was laying upside down on his makeshift saddle bag. Meanwhile, the clone from mirror mansion ran off to parts unknown weighed down by a broken heart along with Genma's rucksack and camping gear. Ranma's father dropped the map and tried to stabilize the teeter tottering of the upside down rocking horse to his left.
"Oh yeah! Well... come back here you flipping tooth fairy!" Ranma yelled uselessly as he struggled to break free of the weight of the rucksack, camping gear, and books. " And I'll show you what real friendship feels like."
"Awe Dammit! She's got all our sake... money." Genma realized as he finally steadied the motion of the miniature rocking horse "After her boy! Run like the wind."
"Oh Yeah, I'll get right on top of that pops. Just as soon as my feet hit the ground and you unsaddle this rucksack." Ranma just sort of wiggled his legs uselessly in the air for a moment as he tried to generate some false sense of correct balance and break loose from the bungie cords. This was, of course, a futile effort that which was virtually pointless given the amount of gear leashed to his back and his lack of thumbs at the moment.
Elsewhere, a certain lost martial artist was searching in vain for food. Technically, he was searching for Ranma Saotome, his rival, for having the audacity to walk out on a man to man duel four years ago. This probably had absolutely nothing to do with constantly being teased, bullied, and harassed for being Ranma's secret Yowie crush. And, when Ranma didn't show up for their date... that is to say "battle of manly pride," Ryoga decided to do the persistent, totally non stalker, boyfriend thing of chasing him down to the edge of the earth for his betrayal. Because, friendship totally works like that when it involves Ranma Saotome, apparently there are reasons. Heaven forbid concepts like emotional distance and social boundaries exist, that sort of thinking is crazy talk. Especially, if somebody has a latent reactive attachment disorder and suddenly imprints upon another somebody like a baby duck. Of course, along with the imprinting comes the intaglio of displaced anger towards the mother hen, couple this with connotative ideas of loyalty being a brother to honesty, gratitude being supplanted with worship, and respect being confused with fear, and you have a monster as vicious as a bellicose bunny.
Speaking of which, a funny thing happened to the wandering martial artist on the way to Jusenkeyo. There Ryoga was, hot on the trail of his mortal frienemy, after climbing a hill and reaching a summit overlooking what was literally the most breathtaking view for the springs of sorrow in all of Jusendo. When, all of a sudden, Ryoga was pushed out of the way by what he would later learn was an Ursa Minor fleeing in abject terror from a what he assumed was a yellow cat based on the walluring meow and skimbleshanks he heard as he slipped and fell into the cursed waters below. As Ryoga crashed helplessly into the spring of drowned vorpal bunny (or something to that effect), in an autistic moment of post hoc ergo propter hoc thinking, he knew exactly who to blame for this situation, and it definitely wasn't his mother. Ranma Saotome was going to pay for this humiliation one way or another.
In yet another time and place to be determined... (but, more than likely a few hours before the arrival of some important dignitary from Canterlot to check up on the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration.)
The fillies and colts in Cherrilee's classroom were in awe of their visitor. Probably because most Kirin were about as rare and elusive as thestrals. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that Apple Bloom was presently in class and hadn't developed her cutie mark, essentially rendering her immune to poison joke for the time being, Cherrilee might have suspected the visiting marshal (or new sheriff if the mayor had her way) was Apple Bloom herself.
She wore a black tyrolean hat with a matching high collared vest, leg warmers and/or bracers. Her red mane was almost as long as princess Celestia's and was roughly braided. In contrast, her tail was cropped short, tied with green ribbon, and her creamy sand colored fur was about as unkempt as Apple Bloom's if she'd had a run in with a manticore. Harnessed to her left flank was a leather holster sporting a sixshooter with a carved ivory handle and hair trigger. Under the vest she was wearing a cornflower blue dickey, with a mandarin collar and wooden ties, like a cravat. However, the most interesting thing was the decorative crescent shaped boomerang [Gekkaja] made of silver and white gold holstered to her right hip opposite the gun.
Of course, given what Cherrilee knew of cutie marks, the 'big dipper' was probably the laziest forgery of a cutie mark ever. (And, ironically enough, a symbol of destruction and bad luck in certain eastern religions...) It looked like it was drawn in haste with permanent marker, and given rumors of a changeling in Canterlot calling herself 'Starlight Sparklebum' ticking off Princess Celestia, it probably wasn't the safest of options for a blank flank. Of course, given the fact that 'Sparklebum' was rumored to be seven to twelve years old and 'Starscream appeared to be at least ten years older (if not closer to adulthood), the chances of her being the same pony were about the same as her being Apple Bloom's clone or twin sister. Still, it was unusual for any pony as old as her classroom visitor to be without a cutie mark. And, she didn't appear to be what one would consider altogether untalented. After all, she was able to take down Pinkie Pie... twice. She wasn't sure what Pinkie Pie did wrong, there were rumors of ponies going missing for breaking their promises of course, but, Pinkie seemed mostly harmless otherwise. Granted, while the vicious rumors started by a griffon named Gilda implying Pinkie vivisected ponies in the basement of Sugarcube Corner in order to make a technicolor dream-coat were interesting, there wasn't any reason to suspect she was any more evil than Daimond Tiara or Trixie Lulamoon. Putting aside that mystery for later, there was always the possibility Starscream's talent was related to drinking or gambling and those talents were always a double edged sword.
Starscream wasn't exactly a marshal in any official capacity. She just said that she was a marshal so she could convince the local mayor of the shire to allow her unfettered access to the local hoosegow. Technically, she hadn't even intended to say she was a marshal, but the mayor cut her off before she could finish explaining she was a martial artist making a citizen's arrest. Naturally, since 'marshal' and 'martial' sound about the same, there was little she could do about the slip up. Especially since the mayor, along with everyone else in town, were preparing for the Summer Sun Celebration. An act of necessary evil, undertaken in order that she might keep what she believed to be a dangerous monster behind the heavy iron bars of a portcullis and unsupervised for any length of time, seemed more reasonable than explaining the major buck up.
Starscream wasn't even her real name, she just borrowed the name off a transformer action figure Nabiki had insisted "he" replace after a claim she caught Sparklebum using it as a dildo... which was really awkward considering the mirror clone didn't have genitalia to the best of Ranma's knowledge. Based on her initial assessment of the locals, it wasn't like anyone in this town actually went anywhere beyond the borders of the everfree forest. So, it was more than likely, her cover story would hold together unless someone familiar with the real Starscream (or the transformers toy line in general) actually bothered to check up on her. Of course, there was the other general problem of the wanted posters all over Equestria for a dragon eyed pony named 'Starlight Sparklebum.' Which, Ranma was particularly proud of. In much the same way a two year old is proud of their uncanny ability to poop in a potty, because the guard wound up arresting Celestia's apprentice, before they got a more accurate description of her personal spore and familiar spirit.
Unfortunately, being a mirror clone of the original, Sparklebum's cutie mark would always a reflection of her own. This was an odd quirk in Ranma's opinion since the mirror clone didn't reflect physical changes caused by his assorted magical curses, while in part of fact remaining a reflection of his cursed form. Fortunately, because she successfully mastered Hinako's happogojuensatsu technique; And, since every pony would sooner look at her flank than her face, his true appearance was easily masked and his doppelganger temporarily exorcised. Ranma's recently acquired skill at henna body art also came in real handy despite his inability to magically manipulate objects with his hooves with the same precision as his hands. In fact, except for a trick of the eyes (and what one could argue was unruly rats nest of a hastily braided mane and floofy tail), he was just a regular looking earth pony, or more specifically a regular looking apple. She definitely had the apple coloring despite several protests to the contrary. And, there was the unfortunate disadvantage of being unable to 'flirt' an apple pie away from the cart vender Macintosh, much less any of the Apples in town for the summer sun celebration. For some odd reason it seemed they were colder with their own second order family members than complete strangers. Maybe they were just upset because her cutie mark didn't have an apple motif. Or, maybe, on some subconscious level they knew she probably represented the death of one of their own at the hands of Jusenkeyo.
Ranma, thankfully, no longer looked like a filly. At least not a young one like Apple Bloom so long as she absorbed chi, or the very life energy from the world around her at regular intervals. AppleBloom, whom he… that is to say she, had noticed bore an eerily similar appearance to his cursed form when he was invited by Cherry Lee or Cheerilee to be a guest speaker at the local finishing school. Because, after all, what does a miniature horse need to learn about? Besides "no work, no eat." and "sleep, drink, and be merry" there was nothing she could really offer them as far as advice.
It was the oddest thing too. Unless you were another apple, all you had to do in this town was tell them who you were, and what you did for a living, and they believed it hook line and sinker. As she had when originally cursed by the waters of Jusenkeyo, Ranma had to adapt to the changes in both her perspective and paradigm and accept the fact that she could openly discard sentiment with reckless abandon.
Other than the obvious quirk with the apples, the other ponies in this town were CRAZY. As far as Ranma was concerned the whole village was almost like a steel trap or roach motel designed by a tyrannical evil genius. The place seemed like it was staged to capture, house, and maintain all the lunatics in the asylum. In Ranma's opinion, if she didn't get out of Ponyville soon, it was only a matter of time before she was nominated the local king of hearts or became the next wicker-man. So far, the only person that didn't seem to believe he…she was a marshal transporting a prisoner was Sweetie Drops, who was either just as crazy as everyone else he encountered in Ponyville, or was actually a secret agent for a foreign government known as Saddle Arabia assigned to Ponyville for the Summer Sun festival thingy.
Sweetie Drops seemed completely on the level when she threatened to expose Ranma as a fraud, and it was entirely possible she genuinely believed him when he told her the truth... that he was a hairless ape like creature who was only cursed to look like a pony until he could get his hands on a dragon's whisker. Of course, once Ranma got the drop on her 'Bon Bon' wound up behind bars just as easily as Pinkie Pie. Ranma didn't have time or resources to figure out which pink pony was her pink pony for now, so at the moment she had three prisoners in lockup instead of just the one he started with in the monster of the month club's clubhouse.
Ranma wasn't sure what the Summer Sun Celebration was actually about, but from what she gathered the whole concept was practically lifted out of an episode of power rangers or a penny dreadful... Not that he actually had a broad base for a comparison level of alternatives. Apparently, Rita Repulsa, or more accurately Nightmare Moon, supposedly wanted to plunge Equestria into eternal night over a cask of amontillado. And, Celestia, being arbitrarily less evil but tall, cute, and a proper penny princess, sentenced her sister to a thousand years of social isolation while she transformed her empire into what she believed was a perfect, if not idealized, equine utopia. Of course, seeing as Celestia spent the last thousand years performing Zimbardo and Milgram experiments on her subjects from the safety of her castle in Canterlot. It was entirely possible that Nightmare Moon was just an innocent victim in this situation and this town really was just an elaborately constructed asylum for all of Celestia's failed social experiments.
Ranma knew something was very broken or odd about the local culture, even in comparison to her own. While the comparison level for alternatives Ranma had availed herself of wasn't based on economics, literature, case studies, social proof, stereotypes, or nihilism. Mostly because Ranma lived on the road and human nature was the same no matter where you dwelled and, if his father was to be believed, remained unchanged for the last three thousand years. On a purely instinctive ethnic level she knew less than two or three generations ago it was probably culturally understood that you would be lucky if you met three people you could trust to be close friends in your entire lifetime. Relationships had a lifespan, alliances were made to be broken. And, if you wanted loyalty you should get a dog, because otherwise you had to earn another person's personal favor or unconditional high regard. It wasn't a matter of elitism, high standards, or bigotry, friendship was really just unnecessary, it just made life more complicated. Naturally, with the sort of friends Ranma seemed to attract, it goes without saying he'd be better off befriending Satan or even his mortal enemy. Starlight Sparklebum would eventually become both. Here, in this strange other world he currently found himself in, friendship was like a religion. Granted, he understood the law of cause and effect, the purpose of networking, and had no trouble identifying who could provide a goods and services should he have the time or resources to obtain them. What bothered him was the cronyism and preferential treatment based on nothing more than charm and charisma supplanting actual ability and merit.
Some people just didn't have friends, Ranma was one of them. Ranma had many blessings, unfortunately aibogenesis just wasn't one of them. It wasn't that Ranma couldn't see any particular advantage to being able to make five friends with the magical thinking of make-believe in two days like a spoiled child or drug addict, nor that he lacked the ability to put together a ragtag team of misfit toys whose synergy relied entirely on preparation meeting opportunity and dumb luck. As a martial artist Ranma was trained not only to read body language, but to understand his personal presence, motivation, and simultaneously that of an opponent and audience. The audience was always watching, because if a martial artist was anything he was a traveling entertainer, court jester, and more often than not a fox. And, it went without saying only the sharpest eye, the keenest nose, the fastest deer, and the fleetest toes could ever outfox a fox. Here, on the other hoof, in this time and place, friendship was a pathology. If you didn't have friends or weren't an extrovert with a recognizable public profile, or if you lacked a personality or ability based on your tramp stamp there was something inherently wrong with you. Kind of like being labeled autistic if you were an introvert or would rather be left alone.
Ranma was, however, blessed with the Othello effect. Instead of benefiting from the halo effect like his father, he couldn't appeal to pity. And, by virtue of this blessing, would be three hairs from being both demon and demigod so long as he had no heritage, he had no paramours, and he continued to develop into a true artist who learned when to kill his ego. On the plus side, Ranma also had no real incentive to be dishonest, as it genuinely wouldn't matter what he could prove to others of his personal abilities or attributes, they would remember him to be (and believe him to be) as they wished they themselves were, unless they fed the other wolf of negative reinforcement, in which case he would be remembered for the things they hated about themselves.
While Ranma had extensive training in playing cards and other games of chance, most gambler's and card sharps didn't like Ranma much either. Mostly because the young martial artist appeared to be too dense to be a useful pawn, or lacked the emotional regulation to hold a decent poker face. Years of traveling with Genma had also made Ranma a difficult enabler, so addicts didn't particularly like him much. The fact that Genma insisted Ranma master the drunken fist hadn't helped matters as the only way to effectively get a child drunk was to force them to stay awake until they were beyond the point of fatigue and hypoxia before drilling them into compliance. Another problem with Ranma was not a mater of narcissism, but self preservation, Ranma somehow managed to figure out he was the most important person in his life and responsible for his own happiness and not the happiness of others. Thus making an unappealing friend or target to those who live for power, pleasure, or who would consciously give up their responsibility to take necessary and reasonable precaution to prevent social, spiritual, physical, and psychological harm. Naturally, it was also the unconscious part of Ranma, the one that had accepted life was pain and hoped the sooner people got used to it the better, who was a bit of a jerk. After all, as the saying goes, we can't all be perfect.
Ponyville, for whatever unexplained reason, had no law enforcement 'martial' or otherwise. Maybe it was the proximity to Canterlot, or maybe it was because the local weather team and farmers were part of the town militia. As such, they never really needed a sheriff before now. It just seemed odd to Ranma that there was this living asylum only a stone's throw away from the royal capital and no one was there to maintain some sense of order. It wasn't exactly like he was expecting some semi omnipotent mythical guardian, a certain someone, some pony, who knew everyone by name and could predict the future well enough to prevent bad things from happening or guide them. But, there had to be at least one pony in this crazy town that maintained some semblance of order, and it sure as heck wasn't the mayor. Then again, other than as buffer between the Queen and the general population of Canterlot, there really was no reason for the royal guard to be present either. He hadn't actually seen a Queen either, as it was fairly obvious pretty pony Princess Celestia appeared the highest authority in the land. And, Ranma being the random name generator that he was, had only met her one time, and once was enough.
The Brocade Butterfly Effect / You had your chance, Mister P is my boyfriend now.
Once again on the trail of the elusive Saotomes shortly after finding himself cursed at Jusenkeyo, the hopping mad skip tracer [Ryoga Hibiki] managed to track them through a remote chinese village where he witnessed a barbarian of a girl, dressed modestly in chinese silks, with purple hair, and carrying a similarly colored mace, chasing a yellow filly with a red mane through the streets like she was a cat chasing the last mouse on the planet. After reaching a dead end, Ryoga returned to Japan only to find himself in search of his prey once more. He had a lead on a magical sword known as the manganmaru, guaranteed to grant the wielder several wishes provided he could complete the scavenger hunt, and pull the sword from a sorcerer's stone, before the blue blunder of Furinkan High. As far as he knew, Tatawaki Kuno was his only real competition for the sword at the moment. Given the nature of the contest required dumb luck, in addition to the physical and mental fortitude of a brick outhouse, it was only a matter of time before the two came to blows. Plus, how hard could it really be to get a cow as white as snow, a bow as red as blood, hair as blue as corn, a slipper as black as pitch and... it was at that moment Ryoga realized he should have written down the full list of items he had gone into the woods to find on a paper fan or something. Still, it should be an interesting couple of days all the same. Ryoga's stomach rumbled, he could really go for some carrots right about now. Oh well, if he didn't get the sword there was always the booby prize, and a pheonix egg was one hell of a booby.
Elsewhere in Nermia one could find Gosunkugi Hikaru working out the final stages of his plan to break Akane Tendo of her poor habits in tasteless fashion. In a world without fashion police, for indeed there were no true crimes against fashion, Gosunkugi was a ner-do-well and master of disguise who, on the internet, went by the spirit name of Voodoo Spike. A cosplayer with a hard sell fetish, and an amateur hairstylist obsessed with ponytails, and celebrity makeovers who had developed quite the reputation in three school districts as The Furinkan Stalker, Wondercolt Guildy, and the Fumoffu Pony of Jindai High. He had personally destroyed the reputations of Souske Sagara, Flash Sentry, and (if he'd played his cards right) Tatewaki Kuno as well. The only reason Gosunkugi hadn't been arrested for assault yet, in pursuit of his personal cause against fashion sense and sensibility, was because he had successfully convinced his parents that if he transferred school districts he would have more friends.
Surprisingly, his relationship with Nabiki Tendo had turned into quite the partnership. After all, you get what you pay for; and helping her lay odds on when, where, and who the villainous Furinkan Stalker would strike next was quite lucrative. Plus, because friendship has become an indicator of pathology, assuming it wasn't a pathology in and of itself, his parents more than willingly agreed to front him the money for his own personal bodyguard from China. Neglecting to research the fact that only girls, with exception to Ukyo Kuonji, were generally the ones targeted or at risk for the stalker's ire, and simply not given the fact he could only pass for Akane's twin if he were wearing a schoolgirls uniform. Neverminding the fact that he actually 'was' the evil stalker that stalks at midnight, and his new bodyguard was a master of the dark arts for which the young resurrectionist was in desperate need of instruction. Once [Voodoo] Spike had learned the ancient Chinese secrets behind the the hidden weapons technique's of prestidigitation, specifically the dance of the great fire dragon, the super phoenix fire dance, and the fist of the white swan, he would no longer have need his mentor. Then he could finally use his allowance for something useful, like that one punch armor he'd been drooling over in the nifty nickel back pages of his latest comic book. To be fair, he was also interested in the glazed McGuffins, the sea monkeys, the legendary Dr. Decker growth formula, and the Charles Atlas body kit. But, after purchasing the celluloid billiard balls passing themselves off as kryptonite rocks, snake eggs, and a swazzle that was part of a ventriloquist kit he had to question the sincerity of what they were offering.
Tatawaki Kuno, son to the principal of Furinkan high (who himself was obsessed with the science of cosmetology, hair, and hairstyling), was currently out of town pursuing something known as the manganmaru in order to prove his innocence and win the heart of his beloved Akane. Which, of course, made this the perfect opportunity to frame him for the assault of Akane Tendo. At the moment, however, Akane and her luscious locks of bright blue hair were on their way home. She was currently mewling, if not out right sulking, over social problems of her own. Yuka, Sayuri, and the girls of the school gymnastics club recently recruited her (that is to say drafted her) into accepting a martial arts gymnastics challenge against the reining queen of mean at St. Bacchus school for girls. Apparently, martial arts gymnastics was an actual thing and there was an ongoing three way battle between Canterlot, St. Bacchus, and Furinkan. Which, mostly, consisted of dirty underhanded tricks to eliminate the competition from the running before the finals against some unknown private school, known only as the seisyun academy of dance.
The ideal of a catholic school girl (attending a middle school named after the patron saint of winebibbers and hippies) being obsessed with winning at any cost against high schoolers, while simultaneously precocious and momentarily amusing for Akane to entertain, was actually kind of scary. Between the threat of the Furinkan Stalker and the mad ribbon dancer known as the black rose, she was already on the bleeding edge of anxiety. Akane knew it was only a matter of time before she was kidnapped and subjected to the tortures of hallucinogens and paralytics one often finds hidden in the local rose bushes, or worse yet, the unknown wiles and predilections of someone Akane was sure was definitely not Tatawaki Kuno. A person whom, she instinctually knew, was incapable of understanding human motivation even if he could inspire others to action and quote Shakespeare like it no one's business. The only way this situation could possibly be any worse would be if her father snapped out of his latest depressive episode over the loss Kasumi's innocence just long enough to inform her he had arranged a marriage between her and a tack horse.
The only reason she knew Kuno wasn't behind the kidnaping and deranged hairstyling faux pas of the Furinkan Stalker was kind of obvious. To the shock of Akane, and most of the girls at Furinkan who didn't even know, it was discovered Ukyo Kuonji was actually a girl. And, Shockingly, no one noticed until after the fabulous makeover given to her by the Furinkan Stalker. Even a broken clock is right two times a day, and if Tatawaki actually _was_ the stalker, his declaration of love for the bodacious red bowed ponytailed girl, and insistence that he would free her from the mechanizations of the foul sorcerer Kuonji, when confronted with the truth that they were the same person in body and soul, just about cleared him of everything short of being psychotic and delusional. Not only that, worst of all, If it weren't for the fact that she personally hated boys, mostly because she was already beating down most of the athletics club with a stick every morning, the two of them (her and Ukyo that is) might have been considered an item... Obviously, she was interested in men, not love sick hound dogs chasing her like she was the last fox on the planet. And, realistically, it was only a matter of time before Dr. Tofu noticed her affections as more than a bout of puppy love. Still, if she had to date one of the boys at her school then Ukyo was definitely still on the short list even of she was a girl. Of course, with her immediate concern being the upcoming engagement with the ribbon dancer from hell, Akane really didn't think it prudent to worry whether or not she managed to get one bible thumper to question her stance on marriage or romance. Besides, with Kuno insisting that he was going to rescue Ukyo from roaming the streets, as if she were a common hooker using the vending cart as a front to sell services above and beyond mere catering, it was only a matter of time before the two of them would have to team up on morning brawls. In fact, Akane had already worked out the kinks for a combo attack known as the dual jet stream waterboard attack that would put the legendary iron lotus and couple cleaver to shame.
There was also the issue of _'how'_ the perverted assailant known as the Furinkan Stalker incapacitated his victims through using their phobias. Anything that could be used to make the girls squeal in abject terror, or bring their nightmares to life until they fainted into unconsciousness, was used against them. Which meant the Furinkan Stalker either had access to the student counselors office, which was unlikely, or he had to have been stalking his victims for several days or more completely unnoticed. Given the nature of the recent attack on Ukyo however, the most likely suspect was Tsubasa Kurenai, a lover of ponytails and known cross dresser. Of course, since everyone knew Akane had some measure of hydrophobia due to her inability to swim, many were wondering when he would strike and how. Akane's sister Nabiki had even started a betting pool and had been brainstorming with Gosunkugi Hikaru different ways the Furinkin Stalker could not only strike, but catch her unawares.
In much the same way one wouldn't want to be in the same room with a group of idiots playing with a spirit board if you knew demons were real, and the only way to stop them from making contact was to either drain all the spiritual energy in the room (like Ms. Hinako), or devour the demon yourself and risk becoming a greater evil than the thing that you initially feared. The latest proposal for her capture bordered on the absurd and simultaneously came with a plausible risk. Gosunkugi had even gone through the trouble of hiring a mercenary from China. Then insisted that the Tendo's would be much safer if this bodyguard stayed at their Dojo during his off hours. So far, all their visitor from China had done was tape a bunch spirit wards all over the place and reveal that Kasumi had been possessed by an evil Oni (as if there was any other kind). That, and polish his collection of shiny weapons, which he and Kasumi had taken to sparing with early in the mornings as well. By God, she didn't know someone could use that many weapons and still specialize in aerial combat. He must have had the strength of a horse. Between the impressive display of amazon wushu and the raking hawk techniques it was clear he had the stamina to match.
In an effort to avoid the two predatory sociopaths laying in wait for her blood; at least the ones who weren't living with her, and assuming a third or fourth didn't come crawling out of the woodwork like that frog mouthed Frenchman that had tried to abduct Kasumi to parts of Europe unknown (only to discover she was possessed by a vicious oni obviously) _not to mention the mad ventriloquist that challenged Nabiki to a duel this Sunday past_; Akane had taken to avoiding any roads along the river, being alone in the school locker room, or going home along the same route on a daily basis. Of course, today was the exception. There were only three routes from the nearest grocery store to her house and barring a small corridor along the river, which she traveled everyday on her way to school with her sister, there was really no where for someone to hide except in a small alleyway between Wacdonalds and the local Remedy's Tavern.
In the weeks since Kasumi had been possessed by the demonic entity known as Lum, a being who Akane suspected was really Mousse's familiar, the Tendo's had been ordering take out. And, since Akane was certain that the meals were over processed, adulterated with chemical preservatives, and unhealthy for them in the long run, she insisted on helping Kasumi in the Kitchen. Unfortunately, Nabiki, her father, and their foreign house guest refused to eat anything that wasn't a sinful delight. So, being ever the conscientious observer, Akane reasoned if she skipped her home economics class today, and went shopping, she could get home and finish cooking dinner before Nabiki considered ordering pizza again. Akane reasoned it would be a bit difficult for the Black Rose or the pervert extraordinare to track her movements if she wasn't at school, and there was nothing as safe as houses. Of course, she didn't really need luck at the moment. Being that she was never one to tempt fate with something as appealing as a banana, with Akane's current disguise no body on the street would recognize her.
Granted, there was the risk of being home alone with Kasumi for three hours. But, for some reason, Akane didn't really see her as much of a threat (passive aggressive or otherwise). Besides, Kasumi only seemed interested in teaching Akane how to cook a proper meal. Which is why she had to stop by the secondary store, and her chemistry class, to pick up a few extra special ingredients Kasumi insisted would literally make Akane's cooking to die for. Apparently, they were going to be making chocolate curry, with dazzle surprise cupcakes and rainbow sprinkles, among other things. Akane still didn't quite understand why she had to pick up a gorilla costume, or why Kasumi suddenly seemed interested in having several dozen cans of whipped topping at the ready all of a sudden. But, so long as Kasumi wasn't trying to kill her, it didn't really matter. Of course, since you have to be a legal adult to buy whipped topping (because they're an inhalant that's totally more dangerous than helium and appear to be the leading cause of brain huffing injury among 40 something year old celebrities) Akane had to convince Dr. Tofu that Kasumi was planning something 'extra' special for his birthday before he was willing to break the law and Hippocratic oath just to help her get a quick fix... and it was a good thing too, Akane heard that the corner store had been ravaged by a humanoid typhoon (or some other such natural disaster) shortly after he left.
It was then that Akane noticed the sound of a garbage can being knocked over, the sound of a wind chime, and a rolling bottle coming from the alley to her right. All of which interrupted her concerns about Dr. Tofu needing a new pair of glasses. Akane stopped for a moment, grounded herself, and short of dropping the plastic grocery bags she was carrying filled mostly with whipped cream, dried goods, and few knick knacks, prepared herself for a fight. What the high school student, dressed in a gorilla suit, saw was hardly what she expected to see. Rummaging through the trash, next to the dumpster, was something she wouldn't expect to see playing street angel outside of her wildest fantasies.
In theory, a pony with vanilla colored fur and a mane of crimson, pink, or magenta was exotic, but not altogether unexpected outside of a bar. After all, the monk they had hired to exorcise the oni demon from Kasumi, when Mousse's efforts proved useless, had mentioned that fairy spirits were quite real and usually very large in contrast to what she had learned of them from television. If what she was seeing were accurate, then the creature was roughly the size of a large dog. Supposedly, the fae were fond of rumpots, crackpots, and damsels in distress. Often spiriting them away to lands of enchantment that were nowhere near the Caribbean. And, at the moment, being among the population at the greatest risk for distress, especially considering her family support system currently consisted of a megalomaniac, a sociopath, a crybaby, and a succubus, she definitely felt she qualified for the later category. Either that, or, becoming paranoid with the constant threat of death from above, and the heat from the poorly ventilated costume she found herself wearing at the moment, was causing her to develop a psychotic breakdown disorder of her own.
Of course, practically everything she knew about fairies she learned from watching cartoons, all she got out of the monk was the insistence that if she ever found the godfather of a snake tailed minotaur, a diminutive gnome, or a happy troll she should chain it up and demand to know what it was planning on doing with all the underpants and silky darlings...Obviously, he was drunk at the time, so Akane had initially dismissed half of what he said as the delirious ramblings of an wild eyed old man. But, that was no reason to completely dismiss everything he said. Especially since he seemed rather ineffective as an exorcist and wound up getting temporarily possessed by the oni himself.
Akane's first indication that the creature was a fairy was the unusually high volume of stuff saddled to her with a rucksack and tarp that has seen better days. The creature smelled of sake and rum, furthermore there were indications that the filly was carrying several raffia bottle baskets of alcohol in addition to more than a few weaved paracord bottle holders filled with broken remains of sake bottles, along with encumbrance that looked to be fashioned of toad leather, and more than a few herbal supplements in clear plastic baggies. If this creature wasn't on a spiritual journey, with all the alchohol, wacky weed, magic mushrooms, and first edition copies of lovecraft novels in her possession, it soon would be. Unusual coloring aside, and besides the fact that the creature was clearly female, the second clue she was dealing with a magical critter of some sort was the lack of a visible anus or genitalia. Akane went to some dark places on the internet, and when she looked up Monsieur Cheeks from her favorite childhood show 'Ultimate Muscle' in idle curiosity one evening...the filter bubble used by her search engine, specifically the giggle auto complete feature being just one of those things that made web searches interesting, included a direct link to the THPPPT Project.
Finding an unusual website dedicated to the idea of making sure the horsies from 'Starla and the Jewel Riders' were all anatomically correct was, to say the least, unexpected. Anyway, It was thanks to this website operated by a group of religiously fanatic pokeymaniacs and gumbyphiles, offering what they believed was a public service, and the creature's striking resemblance to her childhood friend Sunny Muffins, that she knew exactly what to look for. And, It was thanks to this diligent study of bizarre anatomy she was able to clearly discern this creature was altogether lacking a visible poopoolater and googie. The only possible explanation for this oddity was that the creature was either a tulpa of magical origin or a fairy spirit of some kind... and if it was a spirit creature she'd probably live a little bit longer than Sunny Muffins did under Nabiki's care.
Of course, to be fair, Sunny Muffins just kept insisting his real name was Ace Swift no matter how many times Nabiki whipped him. Eventually the poor creature just started rambling and confessed that some evil unicorn, or siren, named Sonata had teleported him to this horrible land of hairless monkey demons, that he was super sorry, and that he would do anything if she could just make the hurting stop, before he just sort of broke down and incoherently insisted he was Rainbow Dash, then Twilight Sparkle, then Gilda Somethingorother, and who knows how many other names he belted off that were most definitely not Sunny Muffins in delirium. Eventually, Nabiki just got tired of beating him whenever she got bored. And then, she started using him as a makeshift beanbag chair on the dojo floor while she played Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney on her 3ds.
"Hey, Listen!" *thck* the pony expertly using her right arm, prodded at a can from pastem to hoof "You won't get away from me that easily Mister P!" The words spoken by the odd creature once again drew Akane's attention to the present moment. The pony glared indignantly as she pounced at the shadows behind an overturned garbage can. She did this while simultaneously flipping 180 degrees on a lateral axis only to catch a pillow that had immediately lost some of its stuffing. What such an item was doing between a bar, and a burger joint, amongst abandoned forklift loading palettes, keggers, wine barrels, and broken stools, among other things waiting for the devils cut, could only be answered by the man who decided to sleep off whatever he'd drunk the night before in a pool of his own vomit.
When the unseelie creature spoke it had sealed away any doubts for Akane that the creature was some sort of spiritual apparition cooked up in the darker corners of her mind. And, it was definitely a girl. One thing she knew for certain at that moment was the gender of the mystery creature (that may have well have been a unicorn) for all she knew of the taxonomy of magical horses (and the green bendy straw that had conveniently lodged itself into the rat's nest of the critter's hair along with a few discolored jawbreaker sized gum balls, animal crackers, and a lolipop). Sunny muffins, in contrast, was clearly a pegasus pony of some kind and much cleaner. She knew that much because Nabiki had the wings bronzed and mounted on her bedroom wall for some odd reason, along with the pair of hedge clippers, whip, and a bear trap she used to tame her imaginary friend into submission.
"U-um Hello?" Akane asked tentatively as she approached the entrance to the alley. Resting her hand on the frame of a Caterpillar fork lift not entirely sure what she was seeing (much less hearing), probably because two thirds of her vision was blocked out by the mesh coated eyelets of the mask she was wearing. And, mostly unsure if the magical creature presented before her was completely real. After all, if she didn't know better, the creatures horn looked like the rough approximation of a tool often used to measure the quality of one's spit. All the filly needed now was a toilet paper spoolie rolled into her hair to complete the illusion of a really hot mess.
Just then, while attempting to steady the balance of her currently barrel chested frame, Akane noticed a small white rabbit as it careered towards her in a disorganized facsimile of a straight line. This allowed the the pony to chase after the small rabbit, who was wearing a digital/camo patterned yellow polka dot bandanna, as the filly just sort of danced around unsure of which foot to stomp the dodgy little rodent with, and with exactly how much force to use.
"Back off! Mister P is my boyfriend now, and I'm going to marry him." The little pony made this statement after she had pounced upon the rabbit with a hop, skip, an a jump. The fairy was now holding onto the rabbit, clutching it tightly, having successfully pinned it to the ground with her two front hooves. Struggling as the rabbit was, the filly was bound and determined to keep her prey in line, similar to the way a toddler would hold onto their woobie or a dog would guard a bit of teary cloth.
"Ooh- Kay then. Do you have a name?" Akane asked. The pony sort of looked up and cocked its head as if seeing the gorilla in a blue grass tutu, with matching coconut brasserie, and blue Hawaiian lei made of carnations for the first time, then noticed the baggies filled with whipped topping after questioning the significance of the red camilla behind the great ape's right ear, and immediately perked up.
"Awe Sweet! You making ice cream!? Can I have some? Ah'Really, really, really like ice cream... an apple fritters, but mostly ice cream a la mode with apple pie and-"
"I-What!?" Akane was a bit displaced by the odd response to her question.
"Well, why you got all 'em cans of whip cream for if you ain't making ice cream?" The filly asked.
"ice cream?" Was that what Kasumi/Lum needed all the cans of whipped topping, grenadine, chocolate, and cherries for? Akane briefly wondered why she thought it would be used for something a bit more kinky.
In yet another time and place... (but, more than likely a few hours after the arrival of some important dignitary from Canterlot to check up on the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville. A celebration haunted by the return of Nightmare Moon... )
Naturally, it was a dark and gloomy night, made more miserable by the approaching thunderhead that threatened to escape the everfree forest. If the gloom and misery had left behind more than just a cold feeling of someone walking over a grave attached to it, then it would be the feeling of a slick wet cough, and provide a blood curdling, or draining, if not a numbing, effect at the extremities. Having returned from exile Luna, that is to say Nightmare Moon, wasn't sure if she should pity the creature before her or pray to the celestial temple it wasn't just an apparition of her overworked imagination. Then, there was a matter of which creature she should feel greatest sympathy for, the feral kirin who had apparently just cleared the avatar state, or the mangled body of the manticore she was feeding off of. Coated in blood, the fanged creature tore through the connective muscle tissues that remained of the manticore's lung and ribcage. With about as much effort expended by a foal when it tears through the tissue wrapping paper of its presents on Hearth's Warming Eve, the kirin ripped through blood and bone to reveal the manticore's heart.
The creature continued engorge herself on the manticores internal organs as Nightmare Moon approached. It was dark, so beyond shades of red and hints of creamy or sandy yellow fur Luna couldn't genuinely make out the true colors of the Kirin before her, even with the faint glow of the creatures battle aura. There was also the matter of the creatures preference for silk, black kevlar, and mythril which was evident from the torn wraps, sleeves, and brustpanzer in which the creature was adorned. Black, blue, silver, and white gold, it was more than luck that they ran into each other on this eve of destruction it was kismet. The creature before her was already wearing her team colors. Feral, yes, but she had need of a guard dog to protect the elements of harmony anyway. What better tool than the one before her. But, that left the question of who, or more specifically where, the creature's handler was. Dragon or filly, even with the avaricious growth spurt dragons were known for, it was obviously too young, and altogether lacking in insight or the level of consciousness needed to be wandering the woods alone without a guardian or foal sitter. Powerful, yes, capable of identifying threats to self and others, maybe, able to survive long enough to develop her talents and be of any real use to Nightmare Moon, no. Considering someone, or something, went through the trouble of marking her with brocade butterfly ink, even without the mark of the battling god, it was clear the child before her was something special.
As she approached the creature Luna observed other details beyond that of spectral, stygian, and etherial. The creature was glowing with a tainted green aura of magic that changelings were fond of, but there could be no doubt as to the species of her query. This creature had a taint of the familiar about her, and it wasn't the influence of the magical artifacts, nor the brocade butterfly ink the critter adorned herself with. Although, that would certainly make influencing the creature before her that much easier. If she didn't know better she might have assumed this was one of Discord's pawns given the amount of chaos energy, dark magics, and the tantalizing amount killer intent encompassing a perfect elemental golem. Even as she approached the Kirin downwind it immediately stopped what it was doing, which consisted mostly of lapping up, and slurping down, the blood and amino acids of her prey's stomach like it was gourmet soup. That is, before the aggro alarm triggered. Immediately alarm bells went off in Luna's mind as if a snake was about to jump out and bite her when the kirin's ears folded back, its hair stood on end, and in almost the same instant she found herself knocked over breathless before she noticed the low growl. With the kirin hissing at her, ready to tear into her with what appeared to be etherial blades of ice and fog... if the tantibus energy in her mane hadn't reacted in time, and were it anyone else attempting to restrain the feral beast before her, she probably would have found herself sliced into a dozen pieces or waiting for the helhest of dullahan.
"N-nice kirin-kitty. Pretty kirin-kitty" Nightmare moon smiled in relief as the adrenalin washed through her system and she rolled onto her side. "How would you like to help mommy with some skanks?" This, was of course, a rhetorical question. Because, the kirin lacked both the capacity to understand what Luna was saying at the moment, and was altogether lacking in conscious choice of her immediate and impulsive actions.
"Once upon a time... in a world populated by ponies. There was a creature anthropomorphic in shape but perverted in spirit. This creature was man, and his name was Prometheus. Because man likes to spend his free time in acts of creation, while simultaneously destroying anything he cannot control, manipulate, influence, or manage, with reckless abandon. Man's friendship with Celestia was strained by an act of thievery Prometheus consciously knew was wrong. And so, it would come to pass, that man and pony were divided, so the same, over a sign of eternal friendship and selfish love that burns but is untamed."
-PURGS Religion 3rd edition
"... two species bore of the same spirit, but divided in two, were given dominion over the universe; all that is, ever was, or ever shall be. They were divided, yet one in full harmony with all of their being. They were opposite, so the same. They were contrary, so in agreement. They occupied both the light and the dark and from each other drew their strength. Never could they be apart, but only one could destroy the other, and the other destroy the one, thus ending all things. Because of this fact one had to be in control of the other, and so begins the story of hell in Heardshire..."
-Lunapolis Edit
"The brocade butterfly was a symbol of everlasting friendship and the end of all things. For not only was the dance of the butterflies iridescent and hypnotic, it was paralytic too. The tuft of a cloud, a bright rainbow's glow, a pegasus feather, the butterfly's gold (specifically the excrement, vomit, and chitin of a brocade butterfly's carapace) were the ingredients necessary for the pollex prickly pears of potara to bear the seeds of the shujyugan. For this reason, it was essential the brocade butterfly (a species of hemotropic vampire moth) remain alive.
-Totally Random Magazine
"Some people say, you can identify especially bad humans because they have a two dimensional personality, and take great pleasure in foalnaping animals, burning forests to the ground, and probably sneak around in the bushes waiting to rape, or murder, or pillage, and ravage. They don't give a hoot. They're beggars, and blighters, and ner-do-well cats, so lock up your fillies and colts."
-Ghost Pony Writer
AppleBloom ½: Mirrors Multiplied
Apple Bloom ½ : The Brocade Butterfly Effect
Chapter 3
The Name Game/Knurd
"Where do you think you're going? Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous run off alone?" The voice was that of his partner in crime, Discord. Sage advise but Ryoga was a on a mission. Crocodile tears or not Happosai's nanban mirror had better work as advertised. He was on the edge of the everfree forest. Somewhere beyond the bandersnatch and the slithy toves there was a gateway between worlds.
"Don't try to stop me." Ryoga was defensive, using the iron cloth technique he undid the knot in his scarf lengthened bandanna and snapped it into a vorpal blade instead his preferred method of pulling ribbon shuriken out from under his bandanna's knotted pommel, guard, and branch. Rather than his favored gold and green ensemble he was wearing a faded red tank top blouse, short-short cut off jeans, and and sandals all borrowed from Akane's private collection. Because, where the hell else was he supposed to find a decent pair of pants in a land filled with half naked talking unicorns? Sure, he could have gone stag in his birthday suit, or formed some sort of rudimentary codpiece with poison joke, but he didn't want to traumatize the locals. Not that they'd know what they were looking at if they saw something unnatural.
"No, I wouldn't dream of it. This is just the sort of thing I live for. Plus, this is a rather ingenious solution to an unbalanced equation." Discord smirked as he rubbed his mismatched hands in gleeful anticipation. "At the very least I know you'll provide me with a few centuries worth of entertainment. I almost forgot how much humans remind me of butterflies. Each with your own skewed perspective, potential for change, and ability to see possibilities that probably wouldn't exist without you." Discord then pulled a bag of popcorn and magically whipped up a pair crystalline 3D glasses out of subspace. "I mean if Twilight got ahold of the mirror, talk about deja vu, everything would just double over again like clock work and there wouldn't be anymore Sharknado sequels to marathon on Mardi Gras. You! You on the other hand, you're a smart person. Someone who can divide by zero and know your competence isn't hindered by ambiguity..."
A rival will tell you the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
A politician believes a stranger is a friend you haven't met.
A sociopath will tell you a friend is a gift you give yourself.
A manager believes anyone in their chain of authority is a friend.
An addict will tell you if you want a friend you have to be a friend.
A celebrity will tell you a friend is somebody who owes you a favor.
A scientist will argue anyone who knows you by name or reputation is a friend.
But, a cowboy will tell you a friend doesn't just bail you out of a jam, they go down in the muck with you.
And, a neighbor will tell you a true friend would give you the shirt off their back, then forget to return something they borrowed while offering you an opportunity _for something of lesser value_ in exchange.
The French believe that the definition of friendship among women is different from the definition used by men. Although, depending on time of day, it has been argued by the culturally ignorant you can never really tell if the French are gay or european.
Some psychologists believe that the more friends you have the better your basic level of functioning, potential, or ability to cope... Completely discounting other obvious problems caused by friendship like developmental disorders, personality disorders, mood disorders, while also ignoring factors that really affect functioning like social status, class, education, prejudice, laws of physics, financial constraints, time, chance, property, poverty, personal space, basic economic principals; And, the random whims of sadistic individuals who believe the only alternative to war is subjugation, mostly because they wouldn't know the difference between peace and compromise if it bit them or their ass. Of course, it goes without saying all the aforementioned problems of the world can be resolved easily with friendship,right? Especially, under the guise of protecting society rather than assisting the culture to change for the better.
Naturally, it's also true an inquisitor only tortures the folks they don't like. So, you're probably going to be okay.
There are four measures of success that are almost always universally accepted under the just world hypothesis of sadists: 1) The number friends and disciples one has. 2) How well you serve others, your government, or master. 3) Personal Achievement, so long as it is beneficial to others. And, 4) How much money or resources you have at your disposal. The theory being one measure of success buys the other three... Unless, of course, you have an unpleasant personality or are considered a "negative" person. Because happy good, anger bad; and if you aren't successful it's because you're unconsciously jealous or angry with the confederacy of idiots around you. In which case, you deserve what you get for being a bad apple and should know that the beatings will continue until morale improves. You aren't affirmed or loved because you obviously hurt other people by being honest when you know silence is golden and duct tape is silver. You've failed at loyalty when you expect reciprocation for support, encouragement, kindness, trust, or the benefit of a doubt, when you cannot offer unconditional high regard. You've murdered love by wanting care, commitment, consideration, and catharsis when what you need is a lesson in humility, ridicule, and obligation. And respect? forget any idealistic notions about that being something kind of like an admiration for one's ability to show tolerance, sympathy, generosity, kindness, and gratitude, or the ability to treat others with dignity, fellowship, appreciation, and courtesy.
In fact, in a sadistic culture, respect is an arbitrary concept of personal entitlement, judicious trepidation, and ritual bootlicking that exists only to selfishly establish boundaries and sanctions for other people using rough trade. Religion was supposed to change all that, not reinforce it, then science came along, it changed the world view for a while, but many thousand years of human history (documented or otherwise) later and people are still motivated by self interest, and not necessarily for the greater good. Because, human beings still view things in simplistic opposition to one another and call it a just world hypothesis. They created a doublet system wherein good & bad, right & wrong, justice & poverty are all in opposition to one another. For every angel in heaven there is a demon, and for every human that develops a personality disorder in childhood or adolescence, there's a pony out there somewhere that gets it's cutie mark.
However, there are still some wandering this world who believe in change for the better. Because, change is as inevitable as death and taxes. So long as there's life there's hope. And, hope springs eternal that individuals can change without working against their nature, or changing that nature against their will. Of course, Some people don't have or keep friends the way one takes responsibility for a pet and looks out for their welfare. Even if you were your brother's keeper you wouldn't be responsible for their crimes, their words, or their actions. If friendship is the concept of mutual trust among equals, then one often wonders where are the people like me? " If any one asks..."Ryoga started.
"I'll tell them I chased after you past the first star to the right and ran straight on till morning. Tah tah!" Discord waved goodbye with his free appendage.
"O.K. For real this time!" the eternal lost boy cried out as he activated the Nanban Mirror. Within a flash of light, the world around Ryoga Hibiki disappeared in a burst of thought.
It has been argued that humans really are more like wasps than the birds and the bees. Take away their cognitive complexity, their sense of humor, their ability to tell stories, deny their insight, dismiss their creativity, ignore their right to self determination, perhaps offer some other justification for fatalism or dependency, and the only thing left is spirit, appetite, and reason. That, and their propensity for mimicking or copying the survival strategies of all that breathes, swims, and crawls upon the earth. For there is no creature feebler than man so long as the gods grant him the tools and resources to overpower or overcome this life with only the spirit of a butterfly. And, while a horse couldn't be expected to feel the weight of a stone for the want of a nail, the same stone could be the nail in a butterfly's coffin.
Enter the Shujyugan, an enoki like cordyceps mushroom (developed by dragons) to reduce the aggressive, heterotrophic, and entomophagous tendencies of one apex predator towards their mullerian antecedents. Whether it was convergent evolution, or emsleyan morphology, the brocade butterfly was not exactly what one would consider a good feeder insect. Unlike changelings; a creature that could only be described as the unholy offspring of a 250 pound jeweled wasp _and a glass winged butterfly with the wingspan of an adult pegasus_; Brocade butterflies didn't just taste like turpentine saturated with ovarian ink. Worse, their blood was like an ink made of urushiol mixed with curry and had enough lucibufagins to kill a juvenile within a matter of minutes if left untreated. The fact that the inquilline butterflies lived among both the changeling and equus populations, with the latter slowly becoming brightly colored batesian mimics, and the former being almost exclusively used for reproduction. It was only a matter of time before the dragons took steps to eliminate the threat to the sustainable food supply.
Besides, the idea of a Dragon being laid to waste by a Breezy the size of a Minotaur, defeated the purpose of contaminating the water supply in general. Especially after the alchemists of the badlands went through the trouble of developing a scatological protozoa, from the michigan of froggy bottom bog, to carry a (mostly harmless) baculovirus. One designed to make the livestock break out into show tunes, or giggle at the ghosties, whenever they have a pique of emotional disequilibrium. After all, there is no point in hunting the ponies constantly running into, and out of, the everfree forest _for no apparent reason_ if you couldn't track them down to their nest and smite them all like kittens.
The means of infecting the brocade butterflies with cordyceps was also quite ingenious. Patient zero, code named Chrysalis, was a genetically engineered hybrid. Created exclusively for the sole purpose of eliminating the blight upon the food supply, without infecting or contaminating the other 'tastier' weta in Equestria, she turned out surprisingly resilient. Her conception was actually surprisingly difficult for the alchemists of the badlands until a 'fabulous' sea serpent known only as Algernon, who really wanted to be called Steve, made a shocking discovery. He learned that if you made a porridge with royal jelly, a witches brew comprised of a dragon's whisker (along with a few other magical ingredients that may or may not be considered the ultimate aphrodisiac), and monster's ink, one has all the tools necessary for a magical mutagenic compound. Anyways, once ingested the chemical makeup of the porridge breaks up the blood molecules into kittens, or something, then their cuteness sets phasers to hug. Which allows for the Tuvix bonding of DNA between two incompatible species without intercourse, lighting your farts on fire, or illicit drugs and alcohol. In fact, the process is so very magical and scientific even the author can barely explain it.
Which, brings us to Prometheus. The last of the brocade butterflies, who entered the final throws of death after breaking bad from the cancerous cordyceps, latched on to the first female thing he encountered and managed to impregnate Celestia's woobie. A purple monkey named 'Dishwasher,' for reasons that will probably never be explained, was horribly violated. Although, many suspect the purple monkey was named for its desire to lick a plate clean after having cake and eating it too, the monkey was actually a golem created by Celestia to act as her girl friday. Imbued with Celestia's magic the unnatural creature immediately unleashed the power of the sun upon her visitor. Then, with all the grace of a pineapple being shoved through a straw, Dishwasher eventually laid an egg (or was slowly and painfully eaten alive by the butterfly wasp larva). Soon, a parasitic race of larval monkey demons was born. In addition to a race of horribly mutated changeling creatures infected with cordyceps, seaponies, threstrals, bugbears, ahuizotal, and twittermites. But, in all fairness, the para-sprites had it coming.
Prometheus wasn't the only brocade butterfly to go on a wild mating spree that day, the vampire like species of butterfly as a whole just went ape nuts, and ran amok in an attempt to lay and impregnate everything that looked like it was remotely compatible... like green alligators, and long necked geese, humpty backed camels, and some chimpanzees, bats, and rats, and elephants, and you can be sure, the luckiest of all was the unicorn. Thus, spreading cutie pox, feather flue, petrification, rabies, and tonsillitis, throughout all of Equestria faster than you can say prestidigitation. Ever the pragmatist, Celestia had the offspring (at least the ones that didn't look like ponies) rounded up and disposed of in the most humane manner she could come up with. Namely, shoving them all through a hastily enchanted looking glass and making the horrible creatures quietly disappear, like she had done with Sunset Shimmer when she discovered the poor dear had "ambition" and wanted "power" of all things. Because, the idea of injustice anywhere was a threat to her perfect world everywhere. So, fearing the fallout of trauma visited upon her little ponies if they were reminded of intercourse, Celestia magically fig leafed the entire population with magic. It goes without saying, after the deed was done, the living portion of dragon's food supply was irreparably contaminated with lucibufagens and the west wing virus. In fact, the dragons probably would have gone completely extinct if they hadn't evolved a capacity to obtain vitamins from minerals or developed new uses for the aerial screw.
Many years later within the city limits of Ponyville, in yet another time and place to be determined...(But, probably around the same time a dignitary from Canterlot arrived to check up on the final preparations of the Summer Sun Celebration. Then panicked when an evil enchantress showed up to crash the party.)
The day had started out like a stuffed shell recipe and then devolved into a purple monkey dishwasher. Emphasis on the purple monkey. There was no reason for Pinkie Pie to be so knurd, she hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, she was in desperate need of high spirits, and only the finest in both caffeine transcendence and the gifts of the mother liquor would do. Just as soon as she figured out how to escape these prison walls. It was as if some pony took the cheesy spinach filling meant for the stuffed shells and decided to make a chimichanga. Ignoring the fact that you would technically be reinventing the quesadilla, before frying up okra until it was nice and snotty, and then covering everything with the stinkiest, most fishiest smelling shirataki noodles in the world hard boiled in cabbage soup. Naturally, if Pinkie had with her all the ingredients necessary to make a pan-galactic gargle-blaster she'd be faster than Filly-Second on a sugar high. After all, the pony equivalent of 307 ginger ale, with five hour energy, and a red bull chaser was a well known treat among all the party ponies in her head cannon. Unfortunately, she instinctively knew her attempts at self medication were quickly wearing off. She knew this because at least one of her tulpa was physically present, in more than the phenomenal third man sense, and the little voices in her head were once again inspiring her to play the bass guitar, or start listening to rocks and bags of flour again.
One thing was certain, 'Illeism wasn't being as objective oriented as usual, and had started singing awoooga-chaka about how much she liked Rainbow Dash after complaining about pony oppression. And, 'Gypsy wasn't exactly sure why Pinkie Pie was asking her if she knew any magic tricks that could allow any of them to spontaneously phase through walls. Of course, Pinkie was pretty sure Gypsy was holding out on her, despite protestations she was a regular ol' earth pony. Pinkamena, on the other hoof, was once again questioning the nature of reality. After all, if life was so fair then why do roses have thorns? Naturally, Pinkie ignored 'Mena Jack because she was a grumpy pants under the delusion that she was a farmer at sweet apple acres. Despite being forthright, blunt, and being brutally honest to the point it was downright painful. 'Mena jack was crazy. Insisting that that Apple Bloom was her niece, Big Mac was her brother, and that some "talent-less hack from Manehatten" named Appletini was the poor girls mother. Then, Surprise said she'd ask her friend Blue Star what she would do next time she was in Canterlot. Surprise tried to reassure Pinkie that Blue Star wasn't just GED smart; she was PhD smart. But, that really wasn't all that helpful since Surprise was just another voice inside her head, and would probably never get there (Canterlot that is) without her help.
Sweetie Drops, known to most of the locals as Bon Bon, woke up in the gray bar motel half expecting to be in chains. She had a knot on her head the size of a meatball. It smart like the sting of a wasp, and made her feel pretty stupid. She had first hand experience with a similar technique called the umi-sen kengyu, one of the newer minotaur fighting styles developed by Grandmaster Taro. A style borrowed heavily from Krav Maga and something called the art of of the sneaky thief, wherein the opponent seems to teleport moments before knocking you out cold. She winced as she rubbed at the sore spot, that was definitely going to leave a bruise. Having recently returned to consciousness the Saddle Arabian spy took stock of her surroundings. Escaping the Ponyville jailhouse was tarter sauce compared to tartarus, but that really wouldn't really matter if she was the only fox in the henhouse.
Bon Bon wasn't exactly alone, but she wasn't entirely sure if either of her companions were stable. A statement that seemed woefully ironic given the paddock they were in. Although, the presence of two Pinkie Pies would explain how she was seemingly everywhere at once, and somehow had a ready alibi for the local disappearances and murders attributed to the 'six winged serpent' killer. Although it still wouldn't explain the identical cutie marks, Sweetie Drops was reassured her changeling in sheep's clothing theory held water... which held better than her bladder had while she was unconscious.
Sweetie was separated from the two Pinkie's on either side, by bullet proof glass partitions, with holes cut through out the middle of the glass horizontally. The floor was cold, grey, and only a few shades lighter than the charcoal shades of iron in the bars. To make matters worse there was a grid of electrified steel or aluminum razor wire that hummed beyond the iron cage she found herself in. Naturally, since the local drunk tank was designed with a unicorn in mind it was fortified against most magics, and no amount of physical brawn an earth pony could bring to bere _short of that available to an ursa minor_ could put a dent in the cage before they were electro-stimulated into unconsciousness. What made her cell unique was that it was intended to protect an interrogator, detective, or witness from the ponies on the other side of the glass... which, oddly enough, made it more secure than the cells holding the one, two, many Pinkie Pies.
This made the position her captor put her in most unusual, if not incompetent. While Sweetie was unable to unlock her cell from the inside out, it was entirely possible Starscream was unaware the middle paddock could open the doors, or rather the portcullis of the other two cells independently of each other. Despite being locked in like a monkey in the middle, she could very well release one or both Pinkie Pies immediately. Track down the Kirin, and get even with the backstabbing guttersnipe. Even if Starscream was a mildly ethical villian, this aggression would not, could not, go unpunished. Sweetie Drops pushed herself to her feet unsteadily. Her head hung low until she had regained some sense of equilibrium. But, nothing could prepare her for the stygian reflection in the glass. She could have sworn she saw a ghost like image of Starscream close enough to cause physical injury, close enough to kill her, if Sweetie hadn't misplaced her footing and slipped on her own urine like it was a patch black ice or a banana peel. If she didn't have at least one foot on stable ground she might have fallen completely flat on her face and busted her snoot. As it was she only wound up in a downward dog position with her fore hooves splayed out. Looking up with a crick in her neck the spy noticed the asperi, the apparition, seemed to have developed a contemptuous smirk the moment Sweetie attracted the attention of the other two prisoners.
"Good. All of you are awake." Starscream, or at least the infinity mirror like hologram thing that bore her faded appearance said. The being reflected within the glass partitioning the cells of the paddock containing all three earth ponies seemed relieved."There's a problem... Ranma needs your help." it didn't matter to Sweetie Drops which of the reflections she looked at, being that they were on either side of her and the voice seemed to be coming from all directions and nowhere as a whisper to her ears. So, she did the sensible thing and chose to look at the less familiar looking Pinkie Pie, the one who looked super depressed and knurd, rather than the one with a murderous gleam in her eye. At least, that was her intention, until the split second when the other Pinkie Pie started laughing maniacally, taking the concept of giggling at the ghosties a step beyond the pale of what one would consider creepy, and delved straight into the horrifying.
"Hey! What gives? You're the jerk that ruined my basement." The straight haired Pinkie Pie said in a moment of discord.
"Uwah! ha ha ha ha ha ha. looks like we're in for good show tonight. heh heh heh heh, ha ha ha ha. He he he, Yes." The Pinkie Pie with the wild and moussey rats nest of cotton candy for hair seemed to clear her throat before regaining her composure.
"Who's this we? 'You got a mouse in your pocket?" Sweetie asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer of the creature who stood before her. A creature that resembled Pinkie if she were moments from being a walking corpse, a corpse that had just barely crossed the uncanny valley of death save for a sick smile or clownish grin. Sweetie wasn't sure she wanted an answer to her questions much less be part of it.
"Mousie? Yes, there was a Mousie. But, he is now Pogo Surprise. But Still, we are also Pinkie, an' 'Mena, and the normal one too, of course. Ha He he, hah hah hah, a hoo hoo, Yes."
"QUIET YOU! Anyway, the "WE" that's all of us, need to stop Nightmare Moon _and rescue Ranma_ before that succubus drains his magical aura and permanently links us together. I can teleport like the raven king and shadow-jump like a dragon-wraith, but I still need your help. I think, between the two of us, Ranma and I can probably distract her long enough and buy you some time, but you need to get to the creepy castle in the woods stat. And, I mean like now, before she completes the familiar summoning ritual.
"Who's Ranma?" Pinkie Pie was pretty sure she knew everyone in the one horse town that is Ponyville like the back of her hoof.
"Pinkie Prime, has a good point. Why, in the name of Celestia, should we help you?" Sweetie Drops asked. She wasn't particularly motivated to help some self absorbed, troll faced, cotton headed ninny-mugger. "It's not like you've done anything to deserve it."
"Look, I really don't have time for a debate right now. Nightmare Moon is still playing with those fillies who like singing ritardando crap while looking for the elements of harmony. And, the only reason I'm even here right now is 'cause Ranma fell asleep. We don't have the time or energy to waste playin' the stupid game right now. So, you want in,' and out of your cages or what?"
"What, definitely what." Sweetie Drops replied, not entirely sure 'what she was agreeing too.
"Will there be apple cider?" The newly christened Pinkie Prime asked.
"Down with pony oppression. Yes." Pogo quipped.
Somewhere in the everfree forest...
"Wow! Trixie, ah'm sorry I doubted you. When you said you defeated an Ursa Major I kinda' thought you was just blowing smoke up our butts."
Trixie gulped, "Y-yes, The Great and powerful T-tr Trixie defeated this manticore with her awesomeness..." Trixie looked at what was left of Roger, the trained manticore she was bringing to the summer sun celebration for her lion tamer act. Saying she was surprised to stumble across the corpse of the personal bodyguard she was hoping to count upon as a guardian, while she and the others trundled through the Everfree forest after surviving the fall off a cliff face with minor injuries, was an understatement. "Y-you have nothing to fear so long as Trixie is here. *cough* Yes, W-we, we, should probably get Muh-moving before the ti-ti-timberwolves show up."
At roughly the same moment Akane was bewitched by an odd magical fairy of the pony variety, in an alleyway behind Remedy's and Wac Donald's, just up the street and around the corner a young girl named Temari Kaminarimon was geeking out because she finally got a pony for her birthday. And, they was good eating too. Especially with trumpet mushrooms and pineapple sauce. Not that she would ever eat her precious Koneko-niku, because Temari was a true street angel, even if she was mostly homeless and her only friends were Ultra-man, Billy the Puppet, and Guy Fawkes. Apparently, Genma's policy to accept every martial arts challenge and his chauvinistic inability to think little girls capable of murder horrendously backfired. Who knew? Although, (in hindsight) if Ranma wasn't enthralled in the neko ken (something that had been occurring more often since he was cursed) she probably wouldn't be purring like a kitten and nuzzling her new owner. Genma considered himself lucky he was still breathing while Temari rosined up her new bo.' While Temari put the finishing touches on her prize by using her blood stained _blue shield with gold filigree_ bandanna as a rudimentary cowboy styled dog collar, Genma wasn't sure if he tried to crawl away or use the crouch of the wild tiger.
With a single blow to the bespectacled martial artist's head, using only a kendama the size of a croquet mallet or gavel (assuming the handle of said gavel was 24 inches long or heavy enough to ensure the Gordian knot of Guerrilla girl justice would not come undone anytime soon), and accompanied by a final crow of victory; Temari claimed her prize. That is to say, after tagging the prostrate Genma on his swollen butt cheeks, the eclipsing moon no doubt heavy with the full weight of his well deserved whipping of the glutinous bootius maximus; Temari strung Genma up with her cats cradle, then donned her black Venetian butterfly mask. And, with a cry of "Cutie mark crusaders feminist avengers, yay!" while holding up her kendama to the sky like it was Thor's hammer calling forth a bolt of lighting that would never come, Temari and her Toku masked henchmen quickly lost interest in the defeated Genma. Having completed their game of 'purge the infidel' the young ladies then wandered off to play 'You're next,' Jigsaw,' and Vendetta' with their favorite dandy, a sniveling scarecrow by the name of Hikaru Gosunkugi. 'cause he looked like he was going to do something wrong, and the cutie mark crusaders were nothing if they weren't pragmatists and good neighbors.
It kinda' goes without saying under their masks Temari's ragtag team of misfits were Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Opal Bloom. Fearful of the glorification of violence in television, these girls oxymoronic hands off helicopter parents, right winged, fostered, luddite, or otherwise, v-chipped those brats like they were Nuzlocked pokemon in social exile. As such, their residual aggression with the blue screen of death and their autocratic parents was easily channeled into good old days martial arts…and gang violence. Sure, they had their own garage band, and Vinyl Scratch was kind enough to upload a few of their singles to the internet, but they weren't nearly as popular as Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. It probably didn't help that the girls sense of justice was dictated by an outdated model of fair play, or that they were operating against the odds with both hands tied behind their back. But, the girls could feel secure in the knowledge that while Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were playing video games in their ivory tower, the CMC's were out and about in the real world, making a real difference in the streets around them, for the benefit of all humanity. Because, there would be no more cruelty towards animals, or robbery, or blackmail and assault in the streets under their watch. No Siri, The CMC were the best squad of vigilante, justice wielding, juvenile stunt girl reporters, and whistle-blowers, ever.
The situation leading up to Genma's less than spectacular defeat at the hands of an unmasked cutie mark crusader could have been prevented with a solid judo chop to the back of the girls neck or blow to the girl's stomach. After all, he was more than three times the girl's size and could easily dwarf her the way a teddy bear dwarfs a bendy doll. Unfortunately, his opponent was armed with a hammer, fishing wire, yarn, bladed gyroscopes, explosives, and a bigger set of balls than anything Genma's unarmed combat style could bring to bare. So, provoking the girl by flicking off her mask, after dodging most of her attacks, while looking over a pocket edition of 'Rich Dad Poor Dad' really pissed the child off. Naturally, the hammer of righteous fury extended the girl's reach. So, Genma was wide open after a sharp blow to his pendular sweet breads left him grabbing the hammer with one hand while the other cradled his scrambled huevos rancheros. After that, Genma's defeat was child's play in every sense of the word. And, let's be honest, his opponent was sorely tempted to bust his kneecaps. Fortunately, she was engaged in an act of consensual sparing and they agreed to a knock out or first blood. Genma was planning on slapping her after the mask was knocked off, but them's the breaks.
Still, if you're wondering how Ranma came to be possessed by the neko ken in pursuit of Starlight Sparklebum, we have to go a bit further into the past. At about the same time Temari was discovered in a dumpster by an estranged cross-eyed postal worker, Genma and his son began their martial art's training adventure. Their journey was to be one that taught the humanities beyond the academic disciplines; a grand tour of all the martial arts training grounds, Shinto shrines, rashomon, historical battlegrounds, and noteworthy sites of legendary assassination. How this lead to Ranma becoming a bastard of the star clan is a bit of a stretch for the imagination, but not altogether outside the realm of possibility. Ranma's state of disassociation is not exactly one of demonic possession. Ranma didn't accidentally disturb the spirit of a possessed bakeneko statue or rescue a royal member of the shadow clan from being run over by a car. No, Ranma's father selected the technique because he thought it would be "cute." Unfortunately, for all the blessings Ranma seems to have been given from the star clan, being ailurophobic as a result of Genma's courage building exercise of tossing Ranma into a pit of starving cats while wrapped in sausage, made it virtually impossible to summon a contracted familiar. As such, the neko ken was a complete and total wash unless Ranma was a hare's breath away from death (or Genma did something stupid enough to piss Bastet off).
Plus, there was the whole matter of Ranma being a virgin sacrificed directly to the god of war, in this case Bastet and not Aries. Thus, as a true bastard in the most literal sense of the word, Ranma Saotome is an insufferably adorable monster if not the only one contracted to the star clan outside of Maomorin and his current host…a young fellow who bought a brass teapot as a gift for mother's day that turned out to be a cursed bell. A bell which rewarded sadism with lots, and lots, of pocket money. And, while it goes without saying that this particular young man became a morally unappealing individual who kept the teapot and wound up giving his mother a copy of 50 shades of gray. When his parents died in the throws of passion known only to David Carradine and other masters of the martial arts school of hop-gone-don-juan or shibari-kamasutra, the spirit of Maomorin was released from it's accursed vessel and subject to the whims of the little boy's grandmother. It goes without saying she was upset when the well of good fortune from misery had run dry. But, that is a story for another time. Besides, who wants to hear about Sentaro Daimonji's grandmother, or someone who literally has money flowing out of their butt like Richie Rich on MTV's Cribs.
All you need to know is that Maomorin was a single minded beast of burden. A lonely monster looking for a sadistic life partner. And, when he found Ranma it was Twuu' Love. True Lur've not the "I'm going to get you an then I'm going to eat you" kind of love, but the really kinky kind of love that involves meat puppets and regular spankings with chips, dips, chains, and whips. But, I digress, the point of the story is that two star crossed monsters eventually crossed paths and while one couldn't take a hint the other just couldn't say no. The fugue of anxiety made Ranma loopy to the point where s/he would eventually just black out during their 'wild encounters' regaining conscious awareness only after a hot bath or a dirt nap.
O.o
In yet another time and place... (But, more than likely a few hours before the arrival of some important dignitary from Canterlot to check up on the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville.) We shall now divert our attention to realms beyond the ethereal and stygian where we encounter the greatest villain since Sassaflash (Yes, I actually looked that up.) Behold the first signs of the apocalypse, right on schedule.
"Mwah ha ha ha! You fools! You might have been invincible against anyone else using celestial force, but you- YOU! decided to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight! HA! HA ha ha! Don't you coyote ugly bastards know you can't fight the moonlight!" the evil overlord Satan gloated with demonic glee as she used her hand to hold together what was left of the right side of her face while she staggered around addressing an audience that wasn't close enough to hear much of anything she was saying.
She sneezed as the meat started to magically knit back together, causing her left eye to pop out of its socket for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. It was clear to anyone watching that the ruler of hell wasn't exactly a hundred percent at the moment. And, there was doubtlessly some form of irreparable brain damage as a result of the blow, not that there was much left to work with all things considered. Because, for some reason, the great and powerful Satan felt the need to monologue like a typical cartoon villain. "The tide favors the enemy now, but it will turn against you before long." Hunched over while trying to push her eye back in place, Satan used her free hand to pull the sword out of her scabbard, pointed it towards the sky and shouted "EXCELCIOR!" Just before Alciel grabbed her arms from behind effectively stopping her in her tracks before she did anything she'd regret. You know, like needlessly (if not blindly) charging enemy soldiers head first like a wild beast in a drunken fugue.
"Sire! We don't have time for this, the portal is closing." Alciel was relieved to see that his master was at least recovering from the forced trepanation about as well as to be expected of a functionally immortal demon roughly the size of a Clydesdale with the body of a well endowed woman and the lower half of an ungulate. Of course, being Satan, her fashion sense naturally left a lot to be desired as she was dressed more or less like a gothlolicon with Welf Crozzo armor... because cos-play in hell apparently.
"Oh no you don't! You're not getting away that easily." the angel-half Emilia immediately broke formation as the heavenly soldiers entered the devil's throne room, drew her sword, flared her magic aura and used haste, strength, and flight, to close the distance between the rest of her company and the portal Satan escaped through. The portal that was opened by Alciel with about as much care as a bull in a china shop. Intending to eliminate the greatest threat to all that is holy since sliced bread, single handedly, once and for all, Emilia charged through the void into the unknown like a wild beast in a drunken fugue.
Within a single flash of purple light the world around Hero Emilia Justina vanished in a burst of light. Or, at the very least, blinded her with the righteous fury of justice. Because, not moments later she bumped into a never nude cross dresser, known only as the vorpal bunny among certain circles of hell. He was wearing a yellow bandanna, pink tank-top, and what appeared to be short shorts (or cut off jeans) and sandals. Of course momentum dictated that the two would continue moving in the direction of the creative force with least resistance. As such, neither one was going to encounter what they wanted in the moments that followed. Because, as of this moment, the two feral hero's of the void were virtually lost in whatever time or relative dimension of space they found themselves in.
The first thing Satan was aware of when she regained consciousness was the carousel boutique. She didn't know it was the carousel boutique at the time, but she was now eye to eye with a creature that was obviously a member of the squirrel family. That is, it would be a squirrel if she was remembering the taxonomy lessons she received from her father accurately. It was white, had slitted pupils, and the hair of an oompah loompah, which was decorated with a purple bow. The odd creature had an irritated (if not disinterested) look on its face as it tilted its head to one side. A collar matching the bow in the odd creature's hair was studded with opal gemstones, the largest of which was decorated to look like a flower.
"Are you okay sire?" Satan's focus switched directly from the squirrel to the source of the dialog. While she was a bit disoriented to see a lavender unicorn pony, with a platinum mane, and golden eyes standing over her... dressed in what remained of the rags and armor she had last seen Alciel wearing. Her visual spectrum was now somehow on the borderline between thermal and ultraviolet. More to the point, there was clearly something broken inside. Almost as if what she was seeing was somehow paradoxically a kaleidoscopic in nature and yet perfectly normal at the same time. Oh yes, Something was most definitely broken. With double vision in one eye and apparently half the floor zooming down while spinning around her, the other eye sort of focused off into the distance as it twisted upwards towards the ceiling, it was a wonder she could intentionally look at any thing at all, much less the albino oompa loompa squrriel that had taken to using it's tongue to lick the litter of it's paw.
Oddly enough, because she was evidently laying on her side twisted like a gray pretzel; Something deep inside clearly told her the dark magic hadn't completed it's job repairing the damage to her frontal lobe. Not that she could really tell if lights still hadn't completely turned on upstairs. But, something about this entire situation was clearly wrong, so very-very wrong. And, not because everyone who knows anything about unicorns knows that they are in fact goats with lion tails and not ponies at all. In fact, as she recalled, the entire species more or less went extinct because they could only be touched by virgins.
"Alciel?" Satan asked the lavender unicorn pony laced in armor, shortly before realizing this wasn't a cartoon show. Taking stock of her current surroundings it was clear to Satan that she was in a tangled mess of what can only be termed the creative vomit of visual design. Trapped like a fly in a web of fabric, yarn, thread, latex measuring tape, and paper cutouts she assumed were patterned after a fashion. From what she could gather her lower half was more or less the same albeit a bit narrower and petite. Her wings had become less like a bat's and were now more griffon like and "Jesus Christ! What happened to my hands?"
"Sire, I sincerely doubt he had anything to do with this..." Aciel commented.
"Where are we?" Satan asked as the lavender unicorn pony… that is to say Alciel tried to assist his overlord Satan to her feet. She would have a grander and more impressive title than lord of the flies, something along the lines of queen of the damned, marquis de sade, or emperor penguin, but her public relations firm pointed out that those names wouldn't strike fear in the hearts of baby bunnies, and it was very important that the little bunnies (especially the vizzerdrix) be absolutely terrified of her wicked-wicked ways. Her name and title alone had to represent everything soccer mommies feared their children would grow up to become if they didn't play by the rules, while simultaneously appealing to sadistic self hating narcissists (that were overspecialized in forming political alliances for the sole purpose of manipulating others) into believing a sense of duty [or the intention] to take necessary and reasonable precaution to prevent social, physical, psychological, or spiritual harm had nothing to do with latent ability or personal merit.
"Are you all right?" Alciel asked
"I shall be soon, but first we must find some place to recover Alciel."
"Yes sire. But this place seems an awful mess."
"Alciel. Do you even know where we are? I don't recognize anything." Satan blink blinked and tried to look around the room. The room looked like it was hit by a tornado. There were craft carts, assorted mirrors, decorative windows, pony shaped mannequin dummy's, and through the windows one could make out railroad tracks that go on forever.
"Sweet merciful cupcakes Sire, your eyes!"Alciel was horrified.
"I knew it, there's something wro-Amalthea!" Having somewhat regained her footing Satan was horrified to see her reflection. Now resembling something like a hideously deformed bug-eyed Pegasus monster. Before her visage stood a creature whose visage was so terrifying the bunny rabbits would be overrunning hell within a week. All thoughts of the unholy terror that would be unleashed if the bunnies of hell ran amok, and the glorious defeat of the holy rollers and bible thumpers at hands of flopsy, mopsy, and cottontail, were immediately halted when Satan's attention was diverted by a voice that fizzled in her ears like ginger ale.
"Sweetie Belle! Sound the alarm. Get the new sheriff… Quickly!" Hopefully the urgency in her voice conveyed the capital 'Q' in armory. There they stood thick as fashion thieves "Well, then, it looks like we have some uninvited guests. I'll have you know that you're too late, in a few hours princess Celestia will be here for the summer sun celebration with MY testera, brustpanzer, and barding and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Do not speak to us with such familiarity, Mule! Do you wish to die where you stand?" Alciel postured defiantly or was it indignately...not that there was much of a difference.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid you'll have to slow down. I don't speak applenese." The mule replied.
"Is she F(bleep)king retarded?" Satan asked tactlessly, what she normally would have thought silently... because she's one hell of a politician.
"We're demons you stupid cow! We could destroy you easily where you stand." Alciel growled.
"Wait Alciel, it's possible our magic isn't working properly at the moment. Speak to her slowly, like a child, until we can figure out more about the layout of the situation." Satan wisely counseled her general.
"Hark! What light though yonder window breaks. It is the east and truly you art the sun." as Alciel said this he smiled while nodding his head stupidly as he lifted one of his fore hooves off the ground dramatically
"I said speak to her as if she was a child, not flatter her with platitudes." Satan rolled one of her eyes in disgust. Had this been a comedy routine she probably would have clopped him over the head. Unfortunately, given their current circumstances, it might be seen as an abuse of power. Plus, she really didn't want to touch a unicorn because they were just icky. The thought of it made her shiver in her newly acquired timbers. It was a wonder her knees weren't knocking together.
"I'm Sorry your majesty. Please remember to punish me later." Alciel was crestfallen yet oddly looking forward to doing something a bit kinky later on. Of course, given their current circumstances and the fact that his liege wasn't particularly fond of unicorns, they probably wouldn't be playing any reindeer games anytime soon. And, No, I don't think he had anything sexual in mind.
"Gasp! Of course, why didn't you tell me you were with the envoy. You must be Twilight Sparkle and Spike." It was then that the stupid cow had a change of attitude as her personality seemed to immediately warm up to her uninvited guests.
"Huh?" the two off-worlder's asked, simultaneously dumbstruck by the mare. Clearly there was some sort of mix-up or complete misunderstanding.
The tsundere creature then approached Satan "Oh my, I've heard so much about you. I'm sorry for any misunderstanding. Of course, I wasn't expecting you arrive so early. I'm Rarity, by the way. I'm in charge of the decorations." And, there most definitely was a misunderstanding between Rarity and Satan the moment the unicorn reached out to touch her. Like most demons in hell Satan had some level of haphephobia. It was a natural response given her suspicious nature and unfounded belief that unicorns probably spread syphilis like chicken pox. Satan jumped back from the mare as quickly as a spider would pounce on its prey.
"How dare you! Do not presume to touch me you filthy creature!" Satan snorted in vexed indignation and pawed at the ground like an angry bull "You should know your place, prepare to die foal! GRAAAAAAH!" Satan then attempted to summon the biggest, brightest, lightning bolt she could forge to smite Rarity right where she stood not moments before. Unfortunately, for Satan anyway, nothing really happened.
"Oh that she knew she were! Yet, She speaks and says nothing. What of that?" Alciel commented as he laughed nervously hoping that Rarity would find the preceding events an odd greeting of some sort.
Moving on from this estranged introduction we find the real Twilight Sparkle just now making the final preparations for her journey to ponyville, because she was lazy.
The summer sun celebration was only a day away, and the real Twilight Sparkle (relatively speaking) was currently reading PURGS Religion in her ivory tower… that is to say her private suite overlooking the city of Canterlot from Celestia's castle. The reigning theory among the many of the guards in gossip was that she or her brother, if not both, were related to Celestia in some way. It was not that her talent with magic was an accident of birth, as they all knew the dragon hatcher was a studious little thing, but it was odd that Celestia practically adopted the two as her wards while she maneuvered their parents (who had practically no extended family) into social, economic, and political positions where they never actually interacted with their children outside the castle walls. Not only was she for all intents and purposes the Reigning monarch's apprentice in arcane magic, but her brother (for similar reasons unknown) was immediately fast tracked, and not just for military service. Rather, he was being personally trained in strategy and purple prose by the court's royal painter Narcissus D. Gray. A pony who would be captain of the guard if the position hadn't already been given to Shining Armor the minute Twilight Sparkle was more or less adopted by Celestia.
The Ponies Universal Royal Gaming System was actually a generic sort of universal role playing system that was developed by Starswirl the Bearded because he was a mad genius and knew learning was essentially a four stage process that consisted of Modeling, Role Playing, Feedback, and Reinforcement. A teacher will model the behavior and skills they expect their student to learn, ask the student to reenact or recreate what they were taught, offer constructive criticism devoid of evaluative language that could potentially harm the student's self image. And then, it was left to the student to either learn how to reinforce those skills and talents themselves or allow it to be reinforced by the village, their employers, friends, and family. Naturally, the latter methods of reinforcement had a more deleterious effect on many of the skills, abilities, and advantages one retained as it was based entirely on something outside yourself. As with most individuals being motivated by self interest, in a culture where the strong take from the weak, or the smart take from the strong, in a logic driven world where prideful people make poor slaves, it was only a matter of time before some brony pony-ed up and took advantage of the willing and ostracized the willful.
Regardless, the Ponies Universal Royal Gaming System Inquest magazine was how Twilight kept up with all conspiracy theories in Equestria. It was where she read all about everything from Treehouse 13, the Trolluminaughty, Dungeons and dragons, to bunnies in burrows. And, as an aspiring fan fiction author, it provided a wealth of novel shortcuts and gimmicks to keep people on the edge of their seats while she set forth to prepare, stage, and deliver a winning performance of penultimate fiction. In theory, PURGS also had books on magic and psyonics with special rules that Twilight had yet to master, but since she decided to read the series backwards alphabetically she was currently reading through PURGS Religion. PURGS Religion was filled with all sorts of kooky information about the creation myths of Equestria; and while the chapter about the mare in the moon had caught the gleam in her eye given the upcoming holiday, she was really curious about the Atavus ponies of King Kyros.
Apparently, an earth pony named MuTsu made a pact with a pegasus pony named Lucifer for a devil fruit known as the pollex prickly pear of potara before the two fused together in order to become a futanari, whatever that was, called Pogo Surprise. Everyone Twilight asked about futanari, which amounted to about four guards and a librarian, mostly just turned beet red and shuffled their feet in awkward silence. One snickered, and said a few things that made little sense to her. Such as a futanari being kind of like a reversed alicorn. Upon further reading it was discovered the futanari then used the brustpanzer kinjakken to take over a rainbow factory near Herdshire which was used as her flying Castle Grayskull. Pogo Surprise was reportedly defeated in mortal combat by an unnamed earth pony (posthumously named Polaris and later North Star because she didn't have an identifiable cutie mark) wielding a chakkram known only as the ring of Gekkaja, and aided only by similarly unnamed familiar known only as little bunny foo foo. The two ponies were permanently preserved in ice, flash frozen during the final throws of battle in a hurricane created by the windigos who fed off of their mutual hatred for one another. Although, some ponies theorized that the hurricane was actually crafted by the hoof of the North Star herself, the shear amount of magic one would need to pull it off would rival if not exceeded even that of two alicorn princesses and a draconequus combined. And, that quite literally eliminated earth ponies as far as natural potential anyway. King Kyros apparently came across the monument of preserved hatred and thought it would look good as the centerpiece to the underground maze in his castle of glass. Sadly, no one ever knew what became of Kyros Kingdom, much less the Atavus ponies after an earthquake buried his kingdom somewhere near Canterlot or Ponyville.
Sunset Shimmer was still getting over her initial shock at the discovery that Twilight Sparkle was the nefarious Dark Grasper, one of the four dark generals of Nightmare Moon leading the guildy monster assault on Earth for all the magic en loco aurum. This was naturally a shock to Sunset considering she thought, and genuinely believed, earth devoid of magic entirely until she was recruited as a twin-tailed soldier of justice in the fight against evil. Granted, she herself wasn't to be trusted, because as soon as she understood how this new magic worked she would abandon these ape children to their fate at the hands of their new enemy.
Becoming student council president of Canterlot High had been no small feat, and would hopefully leave her above suspicion for betrayal should she do more with this newly discovered power than give herself a nice rack and decent sized bubble butt. Naturally, using the magic of the twintails to enhance her figure was all for the benefit of their de facto leader Big Macintosh. Mac was nothing if he wasn't the biggest pervert she had ever met, with the biggest crush on bacon tail. And, if Sunset were actually human and the apple polisher didn't have that creepy hairstyle fetish, she might consider him genuine bonding material. Seriously, what was it about the twintails that captured his eye? She had know idea, the only reason she had availed herself of the style in the first place was not a matter of choice.
Upon entering this world Sunset found herself subject to the whims of Ranko Tendo, a lonely and sickly little girl who wanted friends so desperately that she genuinely believed that she'd summoned Sunset using a magical trapper keeper and koi rod of love she purchased from of a gypsy named Toramasa Kobayakawa at the student store. She (Ranko that is) didn't realize the old man was teasing her when he told her not to open the binder until after midnight. Not that she would have known the base of the statue outside her school was a portal to another world, or that it would matter after Sunset used the last of her magic to trap the creepy little bunny boiler in her hastily enchanted bedroom mirror. The girl's sickly grandmother and her butler were so relieved their ward had returned to 'normal' they didn't question any of the lies Sunset cooked up to explain the presence of a unicorn or the fact that she seemed to have amnesia. Sunset still had nightmares about the girl, and it sent sent shivers down her spine even thinking about being that little girl's "pyonkichi" for any length of time. It was only a few short years after this her grandmother took ill, what Sunset assumed was the human word for elders entering the madness of their final heat cycle, before social services sent Ranko in name alone to live with her cousins in Nermia.
It goes without saying she did not expect Akane to return home with an 'almost' unicorn and a goon.
Elsewhere...
Anyone who remembered anything about Ryoga Hibiki knew he was the demigod of unrequited love, third class limited, and the last human descendent of Hercules…which apparently translated into a white Pegacorn with an assorted Rorschach splatter of gypsy markings that changed every time his curse was activated, scratch that, every time he went from shifting twixt rabbit and the devil's walking parody on all four footed things with wings. If it weren't for the mark of the battling god on his torso no one would be able to recognize him from one day to the next. Which really sucked, because he still felt super self-conscious about the horrifying tattoo of emasculating glory. Emilia the angel half turned Pegasus pony hadn't found herself altogether unscathed by the period of adjustment to her new form, but she rather enjoyed her reputation as the wicked witch of slaughter among the Apples. In fact, the two "almost heroes" had made quite a reputation for themselves in the Kyrosian empire as being 'gay' for justice. Gay, as in happy, was a horrible analogy to describe the two mercenaries of Whimsy-Shire, but given the local level of technology put them roughly 200 years before the human equivalent of the common era, in the middle of nowhere between four warring empires, Ryoga supposed it could be worse. Considering three of the neighboring kingdoms depended upon each other symbiotically, yet bickered amongst themselves like children in a high school musical production, with seemingly no explanation for suddenly breaking out into one song or another, other than some form of enchantment gone horribly, horribly, wrong... it was a wonder he hadn't lived up to his reputation as a goon and just picked up all the ponies and bopped them on their heads.
While not nearly as impressive as the crystal empire, Whimsy-Shire being home to all manner of magical beastie that were not of the three narcissist kingdoms run by the Unicorns, the Pegasi, or the Apples was actually really cool. Very cool, like in a perpetual state of autumn or early spring cool. Somewhere near the center of a kingdom Ryoga would call a utopian paradise devoid of fleas, twittermites, parasprites, and bugbears was the shining glass jewel of the Kyrosian empire, the infamous castle of glass. Of course, since there weren't enough jewelers in the world, not even in the crystal empire, much less enough lovecraftian ponies or smithies to smelt or magic enough glass to forge a ziggurat of such complexity and size, what many believed to be a castle of glass was actually a monumental ice sculpture carved out of a glacier like an anthill that had to be maintained with precise weather manipulation and the power of love. Subconsciously Ryoga knew this was total horse-pucky. After all, as the god of unrequited love (if even an unconsciously autistic one to any limited degree), anything that had to do with the elements of love such as service, affirmation, time, faith, hope, charity, and especially lust were within his divination. He may not be able to see through a lie any better than frosted glass; But, to the best of his recently acquired and limited knowledge of magic, there was no plausible way for the ponies to harness the power of the seasons much less negate the power of the sun.
The only other thing that bothered Ryoga about the kingdom was the seemingly endless supply of jellybeans that were coming out of it. In fact, jellybeans were one of the major exports coming out of Whimsy-Shire second only to glass gem corn, soda, oranges, purple stuff, silk, formica, and food coloring. Odder still, practically no one batted an eye whenever Ryoga infrequently shifted forms within the castle walls. And, regardless of species, anyone who wasn't a traveling merchant or from outside the uncanny valley had a very odd manner about them. If he didn't know better Ryoga could swear they were all possessed by some odd wasp like qualities. Then there was the matter of the King Kyros, unlike most of the rest of the castle lemmings who stared unblinking and vaguely reminded Ryoga of mantids waiting for their prey to edge closer, the affable King Kyros really seemed to like Ryoga and was rather disappointed when he learned Ryoga and the pink pegasus Emilia nothing more than a platonic relationship, like there was something he intended to do that would improve the situation. It was just creepy. It wasn't until Kyros introduced his daughter 'Medusa' [an older and shockingly sluttier version of Ranma's mirror clone] who just conveniently, if not suddenly and without warning, seemed to crawl out of the woodwork (in a manner not unlike a larval succubus after the last fruit of the loom) springing from almost nowhere in a way that made things quickly take an awkward turn. It wasn't just that she turned his stomach, no what really put Ryoga off was the way she knew how to call him P-chan with an almost perfect pitch, breath, and match of Akane's voice.