Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi. Warhammer Fantasy is the property of Games Workshop. I don't either; I am simply a fan with more than a few bats in his belfry. Many thanks to Kindred of Twilight for betaing.
A/N: Okay, here it is; the first chapter of the revised version of WAAAGH! Ranma! This new version will be a bit closer to the Warhammer fluff than the original- sorry for those fans of her, but that means Forna won't be appearing. Besides, this isn't really the sort of story to incorporate romance. I have other fanfics for that. Ranma won't be recruiting units of other races into his force this time either- they just didn't feel right. Individuals (the equivalent of special characters), however, are all right. I'm currently debating on whether or not to bring back Ubari the dwarf- if you want to see this guy make a comeback, then review and let me know.
Also, the rating is currently at T, but the subject matter (occasional profanity & frequent gory violence) means that I won't hesitate to re-rate it as an M if people feel that is more appropriate.
Chapter 1: Ranma Gets Green
Akane looked down once again at the ornate ring now adorning her left thumb. That weird street vendor who'd given it to her had sworn that it would grant her a single wish, but she had to be careful what she wished for.
"I wish… I wish… now what should I wish for?"
"Akane! Hey Akane, wait up!"
"Ranma…" she growled. She and Ranma had been fighting all day- again. It started this morning, when Ranma refused to eat the breakfast she had begged Kasumi to allow her to make. Then, on the way to school, their argument about her cooking attempts had been interrupted by Shampoo, who Ranma had refused to give the boot despite the fact she'd glomped him yet again- the pervert. Couple this with the fact the two had started carrying out a "conversation" via thrown notes which had ended up in her being sent to stand in the hall and hold buckets for disrupting class, and the fact that at lunch Ranma had refused her cooking to go eat Ukyo's, and Akane was furious.
"Go away Ranma! I'm trying to decide what to use this ring on!"
"Come on Akane! You've got the cure to my curse right there in your hands! Wish me back to normal- come on, I'm begging ya!"
Now, this might seem a rather excessive bit of acting on Ranma's part, but let's not forget that this is the guy who actually went on a date with Tatewaki "Blue Blunder" Kuno in his girl-form to try and get a cure. If the choice was between his dignity and a cure, dignity would lose every time. Of course, the choice between a cure to his curse and protecting the innocent was a much harder choice. He was on Akane –not literally- from all sides, cajoling and pleading to the best of his ability (which, it has to be said, wasn't that great) to persuade her to use her wish to remove Jusenkyo's influence from him, unaware as always that he was trying to quench a fire with gasoline. The more he talked, the madder Akane got, and the madder she got, the more he talked until finally Akane's limited control snapped.
"I wish you'd just GO AWAY!" She screamed, and lashed out with her left hand to deliver a resounding slap to the cheek. Unfortunately for both of them, she failed to notice that the jewel in the ring on her thumb had begun to glow with a brilliant, blinding light until, at the exact moment she hit Ranma, it flashed with a sudden blinding explosion of brilliance. When Akane could see again, Ranma was gone and a quick glance at her thumb revealed that the once-gleaming jewel was now dead and cold. As she took in the empty street, a single word slipped from her lips, embodying Akane's reaction to perhaps the greatest mistake she had ever made in her life.
Ranma had no idea what was happening to him- he'd definitely felt Akane's hand impact his cheek, but there had been no pain. There was a sensation of falling, which wasn't all that unusual, but falling downwards instead of being propelled sideways was unusual. He couldn't open his eyes- when he dared; a brilliant flash of non-colour blinded him. Finally, the falling sensation stopped and he could "see" through his closed eyelids that the blinding light was gone, so he cautiously opened first one eye, then the other.
And his jaw promptly dropped in disbelief: instead of standing on a street in Nerima, he was floating in midair in the midst of some impossibly huge library. Books, parchments, scrolls and slabs, all bound in chains of fire and stacked on shelves that stretched into infinity in all directions, bizarre shapeless forms in varying hues and colours crawling all over them, tending the contents of the library like mad gardeners tending to a sprawling mess of weeds and thorns. Ranma's gaze took in the insane vista for an untold period of time before his eye finally fell upon the being who was clearly in charge here, a mountainous monstrosity that finally gave him some clue as to the true scale of this place.
Towering before him, so huge that Ranma and all of the motley crew referred to as the Nerima Wrecking Crew could have stood with room to spare on the palm of its hand, was a creature whose form was almost abstract enough to defy description. A lean, sinewy, roughly humanoid form, its puckered stump of a head protruding directly from between its shoulders, each of which was studded with a great, curling spike, the tips of which crackled with multi-coloured flames. Leering, mocking faces rippled across the entirety of its tremendous body, constantly rising and then sinking back into the flesh, whispering and cackling and gibbering to each other in an endless babble that, now he was aware of it, assaulted Ranma's ears. Picture a thousand Kodachis laughing in imperfect unison and you have some idea of the cacophony.
The creature's eyes -at least; the ones in its puckered face- weren't looking at Ranma but closed in deep concentration. Then, as if the thought had attracted them, they sprang open and fixed themselves upon Ranma. Ranma could only stare back, transfixed; it felt as though the thing's eyes were staring into him- through him. As though they could peer through flesh and bone to see his thoughts and his soul. It was as if he was being flayed alive by the thing's gaze... and then... he was. Ranma's screams filled the still, silent air as the all-consuming pain washed over him, but the shapeless horrors crawling across the tomes paid him no heed. Had Ranma been able to see, he would have seen himself engulfed in colourless fire, a fire that suddenly surged away from his body and began to shift and change until it had formed a perfectly identical replica of him, an agonized Ranma forged from flame. A Ranma that began to solidify until where once there had been one Ranma, there now was two. The creature moved, just a twitch really, and the two Ranmas -whose mutual pain was now beginning to ebb away- where cast away. One hurtled off into the distance, while the other hurtled towards the floor and vanished. Tzeentch, Chaos God of Change, allowed himself a small flicker of satisfaction before returning his attention, once again, to the ever-shifting web of the futures...
Far away from the Realm of Chaos, yet also quite close to it (Space and Time are hard to judge when dealing with the Aethyr and the Materium), in the Middle Mountains of the Empire of Man, three months after Archaon's Storm of Chaos...
"C'mon! Who'z 'ard enuff? C'mon!" Roared Gragtar Fikskull, Big Boss of the Fikskull tribe of Orcs. Gragtar, like all Orc Bosses, had climbed to the top of his tribe's totem pole by being big enough and strong enough to beat up, intimidate or outright kill all the Orcs in his way. Unfortunately for the Fikskulls, while big and tough and strong and mean, Gragtar wasn't a very good leader. Beastmen, Chaos worshippers, rival Orc bands and Imperial soldiers had pushed the Fikskulls up into the more barren and inhospitable reaches of the mountains, killing off most of their numbers in the process.
Now a mere thirty greenskins remained of what had once been a hundred-strong tribe. Sensing the grumblings in the ranks, and seeing as how the survivors had bulked up as only orcs who've survived life-or-death confrontation do, Gragtar had paused in their wanderings to hand out the usual supply of handy beatings to ensure none of them got any funny ideas. He glowered at his followers as he booted the latest victim aside, none of them daring to meet his gaze.
"I'z da big boss! I'z da leader ov yooz lousy bunch'a gitz! Anywun what sayz uvverwize, c'mon out and fight me!"
A sudden sky-based rumble caught his attention and he unthinkingly looked up.
"Thunda? Wivvout a cloud in da sky?"
That was when he spotted the rapidly-approaching dot in the sky and, with a un-orcy yelp, threw himself aside just as it smashed like a catapult shot into the spot where he'd been standing.
As Gragtar hauled himself to his feet, he heard a groan coming from the small crater. But surely that was impossible? Not even an Orc could survive that sort of impact! Gragtar's jaw promptly dropped when a figure -a human, and a rather wimpy looking one at that- suddenly rose up from the crater.
"Ah, jeez, that's gonna leave a mark. Where am I anyway? What's going on?" Ranma asked. He blinked as he realised he was standing in the middle of forest on a mountain, surrounded by thirty hulking, green-skinned, square-jawed and, frankly, rather smelly creatures clad in bits and pieces of leather and rusty metal. "And who the heck are you lot?" He asked.
"Now, lessee... yer right where ya don't wanna be, we'z da orcs, yoo'z a stinkin' humie, and yoo'z gonna get yer arse kicked! Waaagh!!" Bellowed Gragtar as he yanked his choppa off his back and charged at the stunned human, intent on cutting him down where he stood. To Gragtar's immense surprise, the human weaved aside from his blow effortlessly before delivering a backhander that made even Gragtar's brains rattle in his skull. He stumbled back a few steps while the human slid into an unarmed fighting stance.
"Hey, what's yer problem greenie? I didn't do nothin' to you!"
Gratgar growled deep in his throat as he hefted his choppa, "My problem? Yoo'z my problem humie cause yoo'z still standing! Now stand still so I'ze can bury ya!" He flourished the weapon with a roar and charged, intending to bring the crudely forged blade down in an overhand chop that could splinter stone.
Ranma could have taken Gragtar down right then and there; this creature was leaving more gaps in his defences than Akane ever had. However, that wasn't Ranma's behavior in normal situations, and right now he was feeling more than willing to toy with an opponent to vent some of his own steam. Hey, he'd been sent who-knew-were and just subjected to intense physical torment (albeit without having a single mark left behind) he had a right to be feeling ticked!
Instead, he waited until 'just' the right moment, then sidestepped, allowing Gragtar's blow to whistle past harmlessly. With a roar the Orc boss hacked and slashed at him, Ranma slipping away from the lethal edge with seemingly mere inches to spare in every occasion, even going so far as to begin somersaulting around -or over- Gragtar. He had just landed behind Gragtar when, with a furious bellow, Gragtar spun around in a fast and rage-driven attack that surely had to cleave Ranma in half at the waist... right?
Wrong. Gragtar heard laughter and even some smatterings of applause from his boyz, a situation that puzzled him until he heard a faint whistle and looked around... to see the human perched casually on the back of his choppa. That was the last thing he saw before Ranma delivered a fierce kick to his face at point-blank range, sending Gragtar toppling unconscious to the earth with a tusk flying from his mouth. Ranma landed easily, having sprung off as his 'perch' fell, and made a show of dusting his hands off.
There was an eerie silence for several minutes as the Orcs took in the scene. Then, one of them piped up.
"So... does dat mean he'z da boss now?"
"Don't be an idjit! Course he ain't! No stinkin' humie can da boss!"
"Who yoo calling an idjit, idjit? 'E beat da old boss fair 'n' square, an' da rulz say dat any boy what can beat da boss is da boss."
"He's a humie! He's not a boy!" Roared the other Orc, and took a swing at the first orc to have spoken, punching him out. And then another orc, bigger than the one who'd just been hit, apparently took offense to that and punched the second orc. Which made a fourth orc start punching him, and then the whole gang was a writhing knot of flying fists, tusks and curses, arguments of "'e's da boss!" and "no 'e's not!" and "yes 'e iz!" being shouted at the tops of respective lungs.
Ranma watched the proceedings in disbelief, a small sweatdrop trickling down the back of his head. Even he and Ryoga didn't fall out that quickly. While Ranma was distracted, Gragtar stirred from his spot on the ground. Unable to find his choppa, and seeing the humie was distracted, he picked up a nearby tree branch and advanced on Ranma as silently as possible... which meant that it was really only due to the fact he was so close that he managed to get behind Ranma.
Gripping the branch in both hands, he raised it over his head and bashed the smart-arse human over the head with it as hard as he could. The crack of wood breaking echoed through the glade like a gunshot, actually startling the other orcs into stopping their brawl to see what the hell had happened. Gragtar boggled in disbelief as the human casually raised his head the slight distance it had bent from Gragtar's blow, a blow that had shattered the branch in half, then turned around to stare Gragtar right in the eyes... before he took advantage of Gragtar's shock to punch him out cold again.
The Orcs watched Gragtar fall again, before one bright spark spoke up.
"Da rulz say dat anyone what beats da boss iz da new boss, right?"
"Yeah." Chorused the others.
"But a humie can't be da boss, right?"
"So den... don't dat mean dat whoever clobbers dat humie is da new boss?"
Ranma only had time to blink in confusion before he backflipped from a trio of large axes and landed in a stance as his eyes narrowed, "Oh, so that's how you want to do this huh? Fine by me." He moved.
The first orc in his path roared, sending spittle flying as he wildly slashed with an oversized knife as Ranma ducked and weaved before crouching under the greenskin's defence and sending his heel straight up, catching the hulk on the chin and staggering him before Ranma twisted the heel and pulled himself up as a group of swords landed where he had been crouched. Standing straight up as the orc staggered, Ranma raised his other leg and like he was marching in place, stomped several times before leaping off the orc as he collapsed.
A twist in mid-air avoided a hammer from one orc before Ranma grabbed the handle and then the wrist of another charging orc and as the pigtailed teen hit the ground, he began to spin, pulling the two orcs with him as Ranma continued to spin. Faster and faster he spun until the orcs felt their bodies leave the ground as Ranma carefully timed his spin as the mob drew back so that they wouldn't be hit by the spinning orcs. As the spin intensified, Ranma released the orc with the hammer and a split second later released the one with the choppa.
The results were brutal as the two orcs became missiles, smashing into the mob and bowling over most of the group as Ranma recovered, using the breathing space to regain his breath as the orcs groaned before one got to his feet and with a bellow charged Ranma. The two met in a fist-fight, Ranma dodging the greenskin's massive fists before he grabbed them and headbutted the orc. Skulls cracked audibly as Ranma's head met one that was just as hard and the two staggered backwards. Ranma recovered first and charged, the orc put up a weak defence but was felled as Ranma landed a spinning backhand and used the momentum to deliver a high roundhouse, knocking a tooth loose as the orc collapsed with a roaring groan
Ranma breathed hard before standing tall and calmly challenging, "Anyone else want to have a go at me?"
There was chorus of groans before the smarter orcs answered him with variants of "no boss, you da boss."
"What are you lot talking about? No, never mind, I probably don't wanna know. Can you at least tell me where I am?" Asked Ranma in an exasperated tone.
The orc he'd directed this final question to looked puzzled then shrugged before he responded as best he could. "Uh... here?"
"Terrific. I'd get more sense out of Kuno..." Ranma muttered to himself. Sensing the biggest orc was coming up behind him again, Ranma (who'd had enough), twisted his torso around sufficiently that he could grab him by the front of the shirt, before lifting him up and pile driving him head-first onto the ground, all in one swift movement.
"Are you gonna cut that out or what?" Ranma complained, more from instinct than any real belief it would help, before drawing his leg up and kicking his foe squre in the stomach, sending him shooting through the mud, still balanced on the top of his head, before he finally fell over flat on his back, the other orcs stepping aside to let him go past. Grumbling and muttering to himself, he turned, picked a direction at random, and walked off into the forest.
The orcs watched him go before, with a communal shrug, they picked themselves up and started shambling after him. Gragtar was last to get up, and watched them go. Normally, as ousted boss, he would have gone elsewhere and found another orc tribe to kick around. That was "Da Way". But he had been ousted by a stinking human- a never before situation. So, with a snarl, he stalked after them, intent on taking his revenge and reclaiming his leadership.
Ranma put up with the pack of noisy, greenskinned creatures lumbering along behind him for all of seven minutes. Then he stopped suddenly (causing many a minor collision as the orcs tried to repeat the gesture) before whirling on them.
"Why are you going this way?" He snapped impatiently.
"Koz we'z following yoo." Some orc wisecracked from a position of safe anonymity in the middle of the group
"...Why?" Ranma finally managed to ask.
"Koz yoo'z da boss. We foller yoo now. Dat's da rulz." Another said.
"I don't believe... I beat you all up, so now you're gonna listen to what I say?" Ranma asked incredulously.
"Dat's right." They chorused.
"Well, forget it! I don't need to be looking after anyone! I get into enough trouble on my own!"
During this spiel, Ranma had resumed walking, the orcs following behind, and hadn't been watching where he was going. When he turned to look, he found he had walked right into the midst of a band of what he could only describe as monsters, all of which were hefting weapons and expressions of incredulity- that were quickly changing to hostile opportunism.
Ranma could have made any of a number of pithy comments here, all of which would have been appropriate, but he settled for a single, simple, word that summed up his feelings on this, on recent events and his life in general.
Ranma just had time to get into a defensive posture as, with a braying scream, the various monstrosities charged at him. From behind came a great bellow of "WAAAGH!!" as the orcs reacted by charging forth in answer, almost knocking into Ranma before he managed to leap up into a tree and get out of the way. The glade was turned into a scene of carnage as greenskins and goatmen (the closest general descriptor) slammed into each other like two loosely-assembled trains colliding into each other. The air was filled with a cacophony of screams, shouts, bellows, curses, bleats and barks as they tore and bashed at each other. As Ranma watched, one runty looking mutate managed to drive a rusty dagger into the side of an orc's head, only for the blade to snap off about halfway along its length. Apparently untroubled by the four inches or so of rusty metal rammed into its skull, the orc's jaws gaped as wide as possible before it chomped onto the runt's face in what almost looked like a parody of a kiss, thick tusks crushing bone and black gore spilling down the orc's front as it pulped the skull. It spat in disgust as the corpse dropped, then rejoined the fray.
But as well as runts, there were also bigger, brawnier creatures interspersed with the runty creatures, and these were giving the orcs much more trouble, seemingly being as tough, strong and brutal as the orcs themselves. It wasn't easy to put an orc down, but they were going down- three of them had already fallen. That was when Ranma's conscience began screaming at him to get it in gear; he didn't want to lead these things, but he had gotten them into this fight and it was his job to try and get them out of it. With that, he plunged from the tree, purposely landing with concussion-inducing force upon the head of a brawny that was ready to plunge a spear into an orc it had knocked down. Springing aside with his usual easy grace as it toppled, Ranma didn't even look back as he kicked out in midair, striking one opponent with dazing force in the face and using that to propel him into a third.
Even though this fight was clearly lethal, Ranma just couldn't bring himself to strike to kill. Of course, he had no such problem with disabling them, and there's a big difference between "alive" and "undamaged". One charging brawny was met with a straight arm punch to the solar plexus, near doubling it over as Ranma forced the air from its lungs (and more than likely broke a few ribs) before a high-kick to the jaw sent it practically somersaulting into the air, landing unconscious on the ground with a crash. Another came at him from the side, only for Ranma to seemingly slide underneath its striking arm before grabbing said arm with a grasp like iron. Push one way, pull the other, and the beastman screamed in pain as Ranma snapped the bones clean in half, pulling its arm in a direction even its Chaos-altered anatomy was never meant to go in.
Ranma let it go, howling to itself as it clutched its broken limb and staggered away, and turned his attention to a cluster of runts that had fenced some orc boy up against a tree. The greenskin snarled and flailed back at them as best it could, but their spears had more reach than he did, and so far he was covered in dozens of tiny wounds, seeping magenta blood, as though the creatures -being too weak and cowardly to kill him directly- were aiming to torment him to death. If that was their plan, they were sorely disappointed when Ranma smashed into them with all the lethality of an out-of-control tank, literally knocking them flying with the strength of his blows. The orc looked at Ranma, a resigned expectation on his face, though his expression changed to shock when Ranma ignored him to continue fighting. As he slid gracefully through the melee, he noted that the orcs were definately beginning to look like the winners, greenskinned brutes hacking swathes of carnage through the ranks of the weak and disorganized runts, allowing them to close in on the bigger, tougher mutants with greater numbers. Many of the goatmen were now beginning to break, running away from the battle and randomly into the trees. The orcs whooped and jeered as each one did so, which only furthered disheartened the survivors- and infuriated the beast that was clearly the leader.
"Stop! Come back! Cowards! Gor strong! Gor kill greenskin! Blood for blood god!" howled the beast, quite literally so with its final infuriated declaration. This helped Ranma pinpoint the thing at last; alone of the savage motley it was wearing armour, a ragtag asemblage of draping chainmail and plates of iron. It carried a long, gorespattered sword, having just wrenched it from the ribcage of an orc (which lay there twitching spasmodically for a few seconds before it casually chopped his head off) and unlike the others looked more like a wolf that had learned to walk on its hindlegs than some insane crossbreed between a man and a goat. It shook its gory sword above its horned, lupine head, screaming in fury.
"Blood for blood god!!"
And that was when Ranma hurled himself to challenge it; surely the others would scatter and run if this thing went down. Right?
Bringing it down proved to be harder than it seemed as the wolf-man proved itself to be as agile as Ranma and far tougher as the two fought, Ranma breaking bones and the wolf opening up cuts and slashes as the Orcs cheered for their boss. But the wolf-man was smiling.
"You holding back. You don't kill. That make you weak!" Ranma ignored the taunt as he continued to fight, but the wolf-man continued, "You think that no killing make you strong? Look around smoothskin, those you defeat, orcs kill!" Ranma allowed himself a glance just as one creature he had taken down tried to crawl away, when suddenly one of the orcs stepped over to it and with a raised boot, stomped its skull in with a spurt of gore.
That's when one of the Orcs suddenly shouted impatiently, "Whutchu waiting for Boss? Kill 'im so we'ze can get going and do some more fightin' already!" Ranma blinked as he dodged a sword; did these thing only care about fighting? He stumbled as his foot landed on a rock and Ranma saw the others were looking impatient as well. For a brief moment that, internally, felt like it lasted a lifetime, Ranma realized where he had seen that expression before. On his own face, as he waited for his opponent's next move. In a sudden flash of insight, he realized he really wasn't all that different from these orcs; he fought, he got impatient and he was always on the lookout for the next fight. So then, what stopped him from killing like these brutes did? He knew the answer: his honour and the fact that all of his previous fights weren't to the death. But this wasn't Nerima, he was stuck who knows where and fighting some freak in a forest who wanted to likely do something horrible to his corpse.
The wolf was about to strike when Ranma grabbed its wrist and twisted, breaking it horribly and eliciting a scream as Ranma grabbed the sword and slammed it into the creature's gut. Ranma stared into the beast's eyes and with a hard tug, the sword tore open the abdomen and as intestines slid out onto the grass, Ranma let go and allowed the body to follow, staring at it before he turned away silently.
Ranma inhaled deeply -through his mouth, as an unbelievably foul smell began wafting from the corpse and made nose-breathing impossible- in an attempt to quell his roiling stomach. For all his training to be a martial artist, Genma had never trained him to be a killer- he had never wanted to be a killer. Before he could dwell on that, however, he was almost deafened by a chorus of the now all-too-familiar battlecry:
"What! What is it? Who's attacking us?!" Ranma snapped, immediately and unthinkingly bringing the sword into a defensive position. As the orcs began crowding around him, laughing and slapping each other -and him too- on the back, he realised that the cry had been one of jubilation. All of the beast-things were dead or fled, leaving only the orcs on the battlefield. He staggered as one orc -he thought it was the one who he'd saved from the spear-wielding runts, but it had no wounds now- slapped him exuberantly on the back with a hearty guffaw.
"I knowed yoo woz da boss! Yoo dun led uz boyz but good!" He crowed.
"What are you talking about? I led you right into a fight!" Ranma protested. Another guffaw was his answer.
"Dat'z whut a boss iz supposed ta do! 'E'z supposed to find uz fights, an' win 'em too. We ain't had a victr'y in munfs, an' now yoo turnz up and givez uz wun in a coupla minutes? Yoo woz meant ta be da boss!"
Another bellow of joy rang out in response to his words, leaving Ranma feeling very confused but also, perhaps, a little pleased? At that, the orcs began dispersing, quite obviously intent of looting whatever valuables the mutants might have been carrying before they had died. Ranma watched them as they did so; he still wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of being anyone's leader, but they seemed happy enough to have him, and if there were more things like these wandering the woods, having some backup might be handy. He guessed he'd stick with them. For a while at least.
On the edge of the glade, Gragtar smouldered with fury as his tiny red eyes fixated themselves on the stinking humie that had taken his place. Worse than that, his boyz -Gragtar's boyz- were currently bathing in the simple, unrestrained pleasure of an orc that had just won a good scrap, so they weren't likely to try and kick the humie out for a while. Well, Gragtar wasn't going to take being usurped lying down, no sirree! He stopped for a second, distracted by a sudden twinge, and pawed clumsily at one shoulder, finally yanking free the top half of a spear that had been rammed there before it broke off in its wielder's hands. Right before Gragtar broke him in half. Gragtar idly tossed it aside, knowing that the quirks of biology that made orcs the hardest race in the world would fix him up right as rain in a few minutes, and resumed glaring at Ranma. Well, if this humie thought he was gonna get away with taking Gragtar's boyz, he had another think coming! Gragtar was gonna stick with this tribe, follow him to the ends of the world if he had to, and he would take his boyz back. By Gork and Mork, he swore it!
And that's the first chapter done! We hope you enjoy this revised edition of Waaagh! Ranma! To those who were fans of the first edition, or simply my work in general, we have an offer: we need a beta for this story, so if anyone's interested, please leave a review or send me a PM.