It was early afternoon in the sweltering tropical heat, and any
sane person had long retreated from the sun's fiery rays to any shelter
they could find. The ground was cracked and dry under the people's feet as
they marched along, unhappy. The harvest was bad, the fishing was worse,
and a marauding band of trolls was wandering the forests, ready to pounce
on unsuspecting merchants at a moment's notice. What was a good peasant to
do?
        Go get roaring drunk, that's what they'd do.
        It was thus that the Dragon's Head Pub and Taxidermy Emporium was
packed to the proverbial gills that sunny afternoon. In any normal city,
this wouldn't be such a bad thing: lazy farmers sitting around getting
drunk wasn't a volatile mix, merely one with a unique and occasionally
near-fatal scent.
        On the island of Singe, however, it was essentially akin to packing
68 metric tons of plastique into a piggy bank.
        Sitting squarely in the Dimos Ocean off the coast of Sandoria and
striding the continent's steamy meridian, Singe was possibly the most
dangerous town around, considering it dominated 86% of the island, with
the rest being inhabited mainly by monsters such as trolls, blow-demons,
and insurance salesmen. Sea serpents were plentiful in the seas around
Singe, but not much else, meaning that you either learned to reel
one-handed with a spear in the other, or you found a safer job in mine
demolitions. The people of Singe were hardened to the point of structural
brittleness, so it didn't take much to make them crack. It was the kind of
place criminals would vacation at if they only weren't so morally
fettered.
        A normally boisterous street fair which ran from the harbor to the
gates was silent as Singe's inhabitants either siesta-ed or drank
themselves into a cross-burnin' frenzy. Thus, the Dragon's Head was
becoming a loud and rather obnoxious place, even by Singe standards.
        "Ya know what the problem is?" a burly and sufficiently drunk
patron asked rhetorically (unwittingly so, because if cornered his like
reply would be that rhetoric was probably best cured with St. John's
Wort).
        "What's that, Jeb?" his companion, also burly and relatively
smashed, replied, demonstrating that literary convention knows no
universal borders.
        "It's all this *MAGIC*!" he shouted, waving his drink in the air.
"Ever since they put in that damn church or whatever it is, there's all
these creepy magicians around here! Probably bad luck, the buggers.
Dressing all in black and thinkin' they're better than us..." He pointed
at one table, where a figure sat warpped in a mage's black mantle, nursing
a rather exotic-looking drink in silence. "Just like that one!"
        "Shhh, Jeb, shut up! You wanna get one of angry at us?" the
companion hissed, looking at the cloaked figure warily.
        "Ha!" Jeb replied. "So what? We're already doomed. No food, no
economy, no ships from Saillune or Sandoria in weeks...and it's all their
fault!" the heavyset drunk slurred, standing and sauntering over the the
mage's table. "I don't give a troll's ass!" He jabbed the cloaked figure
in the shoulder with a meaty finger. "Hey, you! Why dontcha use your magic
for somethin' useful and fix this heatwave?"
        "Go away," a cranky voice growled. "Can't you see I'm drinking?"
        The face of Jeb's companion paled considerably. "Don't make him
mad, damnit!" he warned. People in the bar were already taking cover.
        Jeb ignored him, poking again and turning to try and look under
the mantle at the figure beneath. "You gotta be crazy, wearin' black in
this heat! You stupid or something?" When the figure did not reply, he
grinned, feeling confident. "Hey, why aren't you blastin' me yet, mighty
magician? Or are you just too second rate to do it?"
        There was a heavy silence in the air. A psychological tumbleweed
drifted through the room, taking those with clear heads and strong senses
of self-preservation with it.
        Then the silence broke:
        "Burst...Flare."
        The resulting look on Jeb's face shortly before the spell went off
was impressively comic, but was sadly remembered by none but the mage, as an
expanding blast of white-hot flame burst from the sorcerer's fingers,
enveloping the entire building and streaking into the sky like a missile
detonation. Heads turned from all over the city to witness the scene.
        What most found when they arrived at the Dragon's Head was a
smoking pile of rubble that smoldered in ominous silence. A few brave
souls intrepidly stepped toward it, only to recoil in terror as the rubble
shifted, then parted to reveal a singed but triumphant figure who arrived
laugh first.
        "OOOooohohohohoho!" Naga the White Serpent cackled, invigorated by
exercising her powers. "Just you wait, Lina Inverse! When next we
meet...I'll be ten thousand times stronger!"



                            Improfanfic Presents...
        	        
	                      Slayers Glorious!
                Chapter 1: A Skilled Rival Conceals her Claws


        Despite their rustic and somewhat morally bankrupt nature, the
residents of Singe were not a stupid group of people. They had developed
the special kind of common sense which was traditional among gypsies,
tramps, and thieves. That is to say, while they couldn't spell disembowel,
they probably knew more about it than you did and would be more than happy
to demonstrate if pushed on the subject of spelling in general.
        Hence, the residents of Singe knew that the compact ball of
destructive laughter that was Naga the White Serpent was to be avoided at
all costs. This was a more or less normal reaction for Naga in cities
across the continent, who strolled through Singe with a bored look on
her face, recent events playing out in her mind. Off to see more of the
world, she said. Going deaf in one ear from the laugh, she said. Meet you
along the road sometime, she said. AH! THREE HEADED DOG, RIGHT BEHIND
YOU!, she said.
        How could Lina Inverse survive without her strongest and only
rival there to protect her? Why, the number of times Lina had been saved
by the power of the White Serpent, they could be counted on...
        Naga paused in the street. On one hand. Possibly less. She sighed.
        "Who am I trying to kid?" the sorceress muttered to herself as she
wandered down the streets of Singe. "Naga, the Goldfish's Feces. Even Lina
used that name for me." A snarl made its way across the angular features
of Naga's face. "No one ever cared about MY accomplishments. MY powers.
Always Lina. Getting respect out of her was like pulling teeth!" the black
sorceress continued to stomp down the street, developing a remarkably
medieval road rage effect.
        Hence, when a figure jumped out in front of her, she promptly
reached out one hand and blasted it into the side of a building without a
second thought. However, it was the sound she heard after the satisfying
THUD of body into brick that caught her attention.
        "Itai..." a distinctively non-male, non-bandit voice muttered,
followed by a bout of coughing as the smoke cleared from the blast Naga
had so casually sent at her fellow pedestrian.
        Eventually the obscuring smoke drifted away, clearing to reveal a
tall, overly busty woman in what could only charitably be called clothing
standing over her most recent victim, looking uncharacteristically
annoyed. Her dark cobalt eyes, narrowed in annoyance, peered into the smoke
but could only glimpse a vague figure, probably a young girl...and in
obvious Mage Guild-style robes. Naga's annoyance soon teetered on anger, and
she placed her hands on her hips. "I don't know where she is," Naga snapped
irritably. "I haven't seen her in weeks, and frankly I don't care where
she's headed. Now please leave me alone or I'll have to punish you and it
WON'T be pretty. Understand?"
        The cloud eventually disrupted, giving the White Serpent a clear
bead on her vict...assailant. She stood at a relatively diminutive height,
the top of her head on an even keel (speaking in terms of height rather than
gravitation, mass, or centrifugal force) with Naga's chest. A freckled face
with high cheekbones made her seem incredibly young, and the cornflower
blond hair in a meticulous pageboy cut enhanced that image. She wore a dark
black tunic and attached skirt, a golden hexagram...the symbol of the Mage's
Guild...emblazoned on the front. Various decorations and talismans with the
same hexagram symbol, as well as a light white scarf, marked her as a
younger student.
        The youth coughed a bit, then blinked as she looked up. "Ano...who
are you talking about? I'm not looking for anyone." She blinks a few times.
"I was just on an errand..."
        Naga blinked, then put a hand to her mouth and let go with a loud,
long laugh, sending sane citizens of Singe scurrying for their homes like
rats from a sinking ship. "OOOOOOHohohohohoho! If you're not careful, you
could get crushed easily! It's a wonder what they're teaching you in the
guilds these days," she added, shaking her finger disapprovingly. "Of
course, not everyone can be expected to have the canny combat reflexes of
Naga the White Serpent. Ooooohohohohohohohohohohuh?" Naga blinked, cut off
at the last minute by a sudden amount of pressure applied generally in the
glomp-prone waist area. She twitched. "What are you DOING?" the black
sorceress demanded.
        "NAGA THE WHITE SERPENT! We're SAVED!" the girl squealed, sending
vibration-sensitive objects a'vibratin' for blocks. "Finally, the legendary
Naga the White Serpent! Who would have thought you'd EVER show up in SINGE
of all places I NEED to go take you to meet Guildmaster Rhaen at once oh my
god I'm gonna get SOOOOOOO much applause for this c'mon let's go let's go
let's GO!" the young magician babbled, latching onto Naga's arm and using
the leverage of shock-induced catatonia to yank her find in the direction of
the guild with roughly enough force to crack pavement.
        Naga blinked, and after about ten feet the shock wore off and she
regained enough composure to plant her feet and provide some resistance.
"Hold on a damn minute!" she snapped, digging in with the heels of her
dominatrix-style boots and yanking back her captured arm. "What do you mean,
you're saved? I don't even know who you are." She sighed, turning to look
out at the sea for a moment. "Besides, you heard wrong. You want Lina
Inverse, and I don't know where she is." There was a pause, before she
turned to look at her assailant again. "Nor do I *CARE*! Understand that?
Now go away. I was on my way to find some good alcohol in this city and I'm
not letting your games get between me and a pleasant state of grape-induced
unconsciousness."
        The girl blinked, letting go of Naga's arm in confusion. "Does this
mean you're not going to help us?" she said, sniffling. A black-sleeved hand
made a pass across the face and under the nose as the freckled student
looked away. "All we'd heard was that there was a powerful sorceress named
Naga the White Serpent, the terror of an entire countryside of bandits...the
Guild here is so new and we're having so much trouble keeping it alive, we
thought maybe the infamous Naga could help us..."
        Naga paused, turning to the side. Terror of the countryside...ha!
What a laugh. True, she and Lina had a remarkable reputation on the
mainland...a remarkably bad reputation, thanks to Lina's careless Dragu
Slaving, a horde of ten Naga clones, two Mirror Shades...well known. And
feared. But not loved. And many times Lina was the only thing between Naga
and loneliness. Now Lina was gone and all that was left...was some
flattering little twit.
        As Naga considered this, the girl continued to blubber, at one point
blowing her nose on the edge of her standard-issue robes. "I mean, they sent
us away from Sairaag with all this gold, and with the reward and all..."
        What occurred next could not be truly captured without the aid of
special spectrographic equipment and a stop motion camera, as Naga literally
snatched the girl up in both arms in mid-cry, laughing uproariously as a Ray
Wing spell lifted both women into the air toward the guild.
        "OOoohohohoh! Fear not, for the most powerful and respected
sorceress, Naga the White Serpent, is the answer to all your money
problems!"

	                        [*]

        The tropical heat washed over the building site of the
soon-to-be-famous Mage Guild of Singe, bathing everyone in a warm,
homicidal-rage-inducing glow. Most citizens of the island couldn't quite
fathom why a Mage Guild would be built in their little ole' city. Most magi
of the civilized world wondered exactly the same thing, but for different
reasons. Magicians wondered why the Guild would spend good money building an
outpost on an island with a collective IQ measured in fractions. To them, it
was the equivalent of building a very large and expensive siege engine out
of wicker, then attacking a castle with it in the middle of a thunderstorm.
The Singefolk simply wondered why they needed a big building full of tinder
(eg, books and, to the particularly vicious, mages) when the only fires
started in Singe on any scale beyond a cooking fire tended to be labeled
"urban renewal".
        Nevertheless, Rhaen the Violet had petitioned the higherups of the
main Guildhouse in Sairaag to give him enough funding to create a small
Guild school in the backwater nation of Singe. Doing so had been like
pulling teeth (or, in some cases, like using a large, blunt object to smash
them in. Metaphorically speaking, anyhow) but he'd done it.
        Granted, there were some slight problems.
        The most significant problem had come in the form of Big Meaty
Vinicent and his own personal metaphor, which bore a striking resemblance to
a broadsword the size of a radio tower. Mr. Meaty (as he preferred to be
called, or else) had come down to the construction site of the Guild in
order to offer his friendship to the new business tenants of Singe. As a
friendly type, he had wanted to make it exceptionally clear that sometimes,
dangerous and unforseen things happened to the unwary in Singe. Of course,
as a friendly type, he was certainly willing to offer his help in preventing
such things. For a small fee. Oblivious (or perhaps uncaring, or potentially
both), the local Praetor of the Guild who was overseeing construction had
thanked Big Meaty Vinicent and sent him on his way. Four days later a
foundation collapsed, killing two workers and setting the project back by at
least two weeks. Vinicent had come in the next day to talk to the Praetor
and offer his condolences over the accident, and to once again offer help.
Real nice and friendly like. After all, he had said, a 'pretty piece of leg
like yourself shouldn't break a sweat worrying about uncouth gentlemen and
their acts'.
        In order to show her appreciation for his offer, the Praetor invited
him to step into a small room to wait for a moment while she drew up the
necessary papers. Five seconds later the entire portion of the building was
encased in a block of ice roughly 10 feet thick. It was currently under the
supervision of the Water Shamanist Division and had acquired the colloquial
name of "The Meat Locker". Further friendly inquiries were met with similar
like amounts of friendship, generally backed by consequentially liberal
amounts of sorcerous firepower.
        Rhaen, being primarily a researcher, had been content to let her
handle it. Although he and the Praetor were not the best of friends, he
certainly respected her tendency to get things done. Thus, he had smiled,
patted her on the back, and blithely informed her that since he trusted her
judgement so much, and she had such a flair for it, that he would gladly
give her full run of the project. Before she had time to complain, he had
shut the door to his makeshift shack and was not seen again with the
exception of meals for the following month.
        Suffice it to say that Praetor Actinaea was not exactly in the
best of moods 99% of the day. She was currently assisting Singe's excuse
for an interior decorator in choosing a type of decor for the Guild's main
hall and attempting to convince him that "Blood Of Your Enemies", while
interesting, was not exactly tasteful.
        Of course, it was at this time that the newly installed double doors
to the main hall were thrust open by the power of drama, Naga entering the
room in the traditional staged manner: laugh first, body second, with her
breasts running halfway between the two.
        "OOOOHOHOHOHOHO! As was desired, the incomparable Naga the White
Serpent has arrived to save this Guild from devastation!" she boomed
dramatically, her captive peeking out from behind the doorway, looking
extremely frightened, though whether the fear was of Naga, Actinaea, or a
little of both, was unclear.
        A long pause ensued, until the tension (as well as Naga's power
pose) was broken by the Praetor deigning to turn and face the new
entrants. She took a step forward, raising an eyebrow at Naga. The two
women eyed each other speculatively. Actinaea wasn't a very tall woman;
her height was more or less average. Her face was angular and her mouth
seemed turned in perpetual frown, matching the cold gleam in her dark grey
eyes. Hair of a similar dark silver-grey was pulled back into a tightly
controlled double braid which bobbed with each of her precise, 
businesslike steps. Her clothing -- a dark black pair of well-worn crushed
velvet trousers and a loose, blood red tunic -- seemed out of place with
the various Guild badges and occult talismans scattered about her body, or
the sword at her hip.
        Actinaea sighed, pointing at the door with one slender finger. "I'm
sorry, but the workmen don't need any 'entertainment'. I thought I pointed
this out the last time one of you dropped by. I can hammer the point home,
if you'd like, in a most literal manner if necessary."
        Naga's face began to form into a frown, and she moved to dismiss the
little woman in her traditionally supersonic manner, but was halted when her
'captor' jumped out in front of her as if protecting her from a bullet.
"Praetor! You don't know who you're talking to!" she bubbled, shaking her
head back and forth like a hand mixer set on 'puree sheet iron'. "This is
THE Naga the White Serpent! She's going to solve all of our problems!"
        Actinaea raised an eyebrow, smiling, then clapped her hands in front
of her, eyes wide. "Oh, the great Naga the White Serpent! You've come to
save us! Huzzah! I never thought I'd meet the one and only Goldfish's Feces
face to face," she snapped, her voice going from mock-childlike to taut and
angry at roughly mach one. "Mariposa Manin Fehlmeier, if you darken my
doorstep with this trash again I promise that the result will be entirely
unpleasant. Are we understood on this?" The dark grey eyes flickered to
Mari, who cringed, then to Naga, and Actinaea was surprised to find an
unflinching and perhaps even angry-looking White Serpent staring back at
her.
        "Well, then," Naga began, her tone businesslike. "I can see that the
Guild is more or less the same, no matter how many flat-chested troglodytes
are running it. If the White Serpent's powers are not needed, she will find
her fortune elsewhere, breastless beast." She turned on her heel and glanced
at Mari. "Come along, there is much else to do." And with a swirl of black
mantle, Naga swept her way out of the room.
        Actinaea grinned, holding out one hand at Naga's turned back. The
breast cracks were almost tolerable, but after three months of being trapped
on an island where cro-magnon man was more or less and evolutionary step or
ten forward, damned if she was going to be called a troglodyte by a mere
sidekick. She felt a familiar power flow through her outstretched fingers,
whispering the spell so as not to be heard. "Wind Bleed."
        She watched in satisfaction as the unstoppably quick shockwave of
pressure streaked across the room, unseen to all but herself. However, her
face soon froze in shock as the spell impacted on a bright, disc-shaped
white shield which sprung into existence around Naga and Mari as they neared
the door. She could only watch, stunned, as the so-called Goldfish's Feces
walked out, unperturbed and conversing with Mariposa as if nothing had even
happened.
        Frowning, she turned back to the interior decorator, losing herself
in her work. But somewhere in the back of her mind, an image of Naga the
White Serpent was laughing at her.

        Mari bounded along after Naga as she strode through the site of the
Guild, black mantle gliding along behind her with the rapidity and
assuredness of her steps, breasts doing the nosebleed dance as she wandered
through a pack of construction workers clearing their tools out of the site.
        "Ano..." came a voice from roughly chest level, on Naga's left
flank. "Miss Naga, where are you going? Slow down!"
        "OOOHOHOHO! Money waits for no woman, Mariposa-chan! If the
chestless wonder doesn't think the great Naga-sama is worthy of her
attention, we'll merely go to more appropriate authorities!" the black
sorceress responded, her laugh set to heavy stun. "Now, where is Guildmaster
Rhane's office?"
        Mari found herself coming to a quick stop as she slammed into the
now-halted Naga with a distinct, soft *whump*. Blonde hair bobbing as she
picked herself up, she pointed to a small but well-built looking house on
the side of the main guildhouse. "He's been locked up in there ever since
last month, and only comes out for dinner alone," she whispered.
        Throwing back her cape, Naga smiled and began a steady march toward
the house. "Ha! Then he'll have to make some time to see the White Serpent,
then, won't he? Come along, Mari-chan," she beckoned, beating a steady path
to Rhaen's literal front door.
        "Hai!" Mariposa cheerfully responded, dashing to catch up.

        Traditionally, a guildmaster is a man of great respect in the
kingdoms around Saillune and the northeastern continent. Man is meant in the
most literal sense; females rarely rose to such heights, though whether this
was due to chauvinism among magicians or proof that the female of the
species is, in fact, the smarter half, is unclear. What IS clear is that in
a large enough city, the Guildmaster is a man of great political (if not
magical) power. He is often rich, always treated with dignity, in a great
house on a hill somewhere.
        What Rhaen had was a tall woman in practically no clothing who had
more or less broken the door on his temporary lodgings by flinging it open
at near-supersonic speed.
        Guildmaster Rhaen was not, per se, the most imposing figure in the
universe. Unlike his more cosmopolitan comrades, he did not command the aura
of respect money and power could buy. Instead, he was a stooped, bent man in
rapidly fraying violet robes who smelled mainly of formaldehyde and other
rather nasty alchemical mixes. As such, when confronted with the
gravity-defiant, eye-level bosom of Naga the White Serpent like incoming
grenades, the best he could manage was a choked "Grrrk."
        Naga hmphed, holding her entrance pose for as long as muscle tension
would allow, until Mari came scurrying past her, huffing and wheezing as she
stood in the middle of the room, brushing sweat from her brow. "Guildmaster!
I've brought...the famous...Naga the White Serpent!" she heaved, as Naga
watched with a haughty smile. "Now everything...will work out...just like
you said!"
        "OOOOOHOHOHOO!" Naga chortled, fully within her element at this
point. "Fear not, for the inestimably powerful and lovely Naga the White
Serpent has arrived at last!" She paused for a moment, letting Rhaen pull
himself out of the rubble of his desk, then peered down to stare him
squarely in the face. "And let me warn you straight off: mentioning my
nickname on the continent or my FORMER sidekick will make this go very badly
for you."
        A small, mousy-looking man, Rhaen did not argue. Instead he
catapulted up, grabbing Naga's hand and shaking it firmly. "Lady Naga! At
last, someone has come to deliver us in this forgotten hellhole! Someone to
smite our foes with impunity!" Rhaen's proverbial cup runneth over as he
pumped Naga's arm like a handcart jack, eyes wide as dinner plates. "Someone
to defeat our oppressors! Trample our foes! Messily dismember our..."
        "I GET it!" Naga snapped impatiently, grabbing her arm back from
Rhaen and dusting off her glove. "Now. I can understand why you would desire
such a reputable sorceress as myself." She smiled.
        Rhaen sheepishly stood up and nodded vigorously, then was bowled
over as Naga produced a megaphone and screamed "BUT YOU MUST FOCUS BEFORE
THE WHITE SERPENT WILL SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS!" hard enough to knock the
Guildmaster back into his table and onto the floor. Mari had wisely prepared
herself by ducking into the doorway and crouching in case the structural
capacity of the building was compromised by the raw power of Naga's mighty
lungs.
        Pawing his way out of the wreckage of his desk, the Guildmaster
nodded shakily, Mari rushing to his side to help him up. Rhaen pushed a pair
of spectacles back into position, fixing his eyes on Naga. "Alright, then,"
he said, voice beginning to take on some of the important qualities of
sanity and clarity. "As I'm sure you know, Singe is not the ideal place for
a Mage Guild to be built. To convince the main branch in Sairaag to fund
this endeavor, we promised to deliver unto them a heretofore unseen artifact
of the legendary Shazard Lugandi." He paused as Naga began to shiver
violently. "Did I say something wrong?"
        Naga shook her head, laughing it off nervously. "Nothing! Simply
a...little drafty from the sea breeze, nothing more. Certainly not a bad
reaction to the name of Shazard Lugandi or his mirror. Definitely. 100%
certain."
        Raising an eyebrow, Rhaen continued. "Singe was rumored to have one
such artifact, the Silent Bell...however, our search revealed that it was
long ago stolen by a marauding tribe of nomads from the Desert of
Destruction east of the Elmekia Empire, and hasn't been seen since." The
Guildmaster began to pace. "As you can guess, the creditors in Sairaag will
be wanting their artifact soon, or they're going to repossess."
        Naga hmphed. "So you wish to hire the incomparable White Serpent to
boldly delve into the Desert of Destruction, facing certain peril and
probable death, all because you decided to build a Guild in the middle of
NOWHERE for no apparent purpose?" She hmphed, turning toward the door.
"You'll have to do better than that. Come, Mariposa! We have much to do."
        Mari blinked, then scrambled for her things and scurried after Naga.
"Hai, Miss Naga!"
        Rhaen, crestfallen, scrambled forward also, snagging Naga's mantle
and screaming "There is the small matter of the substantial reward
involved!" as he kicked up a cloud of dust, dragged on the ground after the
retreating sorceress.
        This was almost instantly remedied as Naga quickly turned, hauling
Rhaen up by the lapels and planting him on his own front steps, laughing
loudly. "OOOHOHOHOHOHO! You should have mentioned such a thing to begin
with! Of course the great Naga-sama would never leave a fellow sorcerer in
the dust!"
        Rhaen muttered imprecations under his breath as he brushed off his
(literally) crushed velvet robes of dark violet, frayed or not. "We have
slightly over 3000 gold coins of Sairaag mint...and all of them are yours if
you can complete this particular mission."
        Naga perked an eyebrow. "I'm listening..." She leaned in closer,
smiling the smile of the attacking hawk with prey in sight.
        Rhaen sweatbeaded, pulling on his collar. "The amount we were given
would have been far more than enough as it is...however, we have a great
deal of leftover capital. It won't pay our debt, but it could be used as
funds to retrieve the item."
        Naga nodded. "Certainly! Money is for spending. But how did you
construct the guild at such a low price?"
        The Guildmaster coughed. "Our Praetor has somehow managed to
complete construction at far less than cost."
        Naga smirked. "I wonder how," she commented dryly.
        A dark, flat voice rang out from behind Naga, causing her to turn.
"Mainly because I understand that sometimes, people have to pluck their own
chickens," Actinaea said, scowling. Her iron gaze flickered to Rhaen.
"Guildmaster, I highly protest hiring this woman. She in untested,
unreliable, a loose cannon. She could easily destroy our reputation before
it even begins." A wry smile crossed her lips. "After all, is not the name
of the Goldfish's Feces famous?"
        Rhaen blinked, and Mari opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off
as a black-gloved hand interposed itself in front of her mouth. Naga took a
step forward. "Hmph. Foolish girl," she said, staring down at the
considerably shorter Actinaea, much to the Praetor's annoyance. "I can see
you don't have as great a grasp on reality as myself, so let me fill you
in." The spherical gravity field of Naga's chest bounced in Actinaea's face
as the black sorceress leaned forward. "I was learning spells that could
incinerate a man while you were learning to read, little girl. And
'Goldfish's Feces' or no, *I* know Shazard Lugandi's work. *I* have the
knowledge of the Saillune and Elmekia areas. But mostly, *I* am here and
*she* is not. And if you're waiting for *her* to arrive, little one, you'll
be waiting a very, VERY long time." Straightening, Naga leveled her gaze at
Rhaen. "Now then. As a fellow magician, I cannot sit idly by while innocent
money is threatened. The great Naga-sama accepts your proposition."
        Actinaea blanched, then looked at Rhaen with daggers in her eyes.
"Guildmaster! You can't be serious!"
        Rhaen glanced at Actinaea sheepishly. "She has a point, Praetor.
Unless you have a better suggestion, I'm inclined to think that Miss Naga is
our best choice in this matter," he replied solemnly. Naga smirked
arrogantly.
        Actinaea frowned even more. Nothing was going her way. Specifically,
Rhaen had once again gone completely over her authority, regardless of her
position, and hired someone who was sure to make a complete and utter mess
of the assignment. And she would be stuck with doing his work for another
indefinite period of time as long as she sta...
        An idea flickered through Actinaea's mind.
        She glanced at Naga, then looked at Rhaen. "Well, then. Since this
is obviously an important Guild matter, I should accompany 'Miss Naga' on
her trip. It would be unfair of us, after all, to not offer assistance."
        Naga raised an eyebrow. "Now, just one moment..."
        Rhaen blanched. "Now, now, Praetor...we need your particular skill
here. Besides, it is obvious that Mariposa would be help enough for Miss
Naga, despite her youth and lack of skill."
        Mari nodded brightly. "Hai!" She paused. "HEY!"
        Actinaea hmphed. "How about I send a letter to the Sairaag branch,
Guildmaster? I'm certain they'd love to hear about your funding requests. In
detail."
        Rhaen's face blanched further, sheet white. He pulled on his collar.
"However, it is obvious that having the steady hand of an instructor would
be of great benefit to Mari-chan."
        Actinaea smiled thinly. "Glad we see eye to eye."
        Naga hmphed. "As long as you stay out of my way, chestless wonder,
you are welcome to assist the mighty White Serpent."
        The silver-haired magician smiled caustically. "Trust me, the honor
is all mine."
        "Very well then. Mariposa!"
        Mari blinked, recovering from her attack of self-consciousness with
a clumsy salute. "Hai!"
        "Come. We have many preparations to make at the port."
        "Hai!"
        
        Shining in the torchlit darkness was a ball. A crystal ball,
hardly 8 inches in diameter. It shone with light that was not light, and
inside was a hazy picture, a picture of a dark-robed female form, almost
none of her face visible under the mass of straight red hair falling down
in front of it. However, as a dark robed figure entered the room, the
seeming tableaux shifted, the woman raising a single hand and pointing.
        *You are late*.
        "Forgive me, my lady...it has been a busy day."
        *You were able to convince her to accept?*
        "Yes, my queen. It was deceptively simple."
        *Ah, yes. She has such...potential, in so many ways. You are certain
she can collect the item?*
        "I am sure. Her talents are unique. Were it not for Lina Inverse,
she may have been one of the greatest sorcerers of our time. A pity others
don't see it."
        *Maybe. And when she gets the item?*
        "I will take it from her. She is powerful but simple at heart. It
won't take much. Our other 'companion' may complicate matters, though..."
        *I trust you, my servant. Do what you feel necessary.*
        The picture faded, and the robed figure smiled a deranged little
smile. What was necessary, indeed...

        The Lady of Sandoria IV pulled out of the docks of Singe with
relatively little fanfare. Or little sense of direction either, considering
that Mari was ineffectually tying up the few crew members who had survived
Actinaea's initial reaction to their refusal of passage for the three
sorceresses, which had left a significant dent in both the crew and parts of
the ship.
        And on the prow, the black cape of Naga the White Serpent blew in
the breeze. A new day, a new quest. Life...was good.
        "OOOOHOHOHOHOHOOO! Man the rudder, Mariposa! Onward and upward!"
        "Hai!"
        Granted, when a stray, unmanned sail boom caught Naga square in the
face, sending her reeling across the deck, the effect was essentially
ruined.
        Actinaea sighed. "This...does not bode well."

<----->

Author's Notes:

I'll say this right off the bat: this starter is a nightmare. I am 100%
against it being in the sweepstakes, but my significant other has threatened
me if I don't send it in, so I'm going to. And hey, if it gets in, I know no
one else can butcher it as bad as I originally did.

Anyhow. This is my plea. Please listen carefully:
IF THIS STARTER MAKES IT IN, AND YOU WRITE FOR IT, DO NOT ADD ANY CANON
CHARACTERS TO THIS STORY. YES, THIS INCLUDES XELLOSS. *ESPECIALLY XELLOSS*.

This is not a story about Slayers Next and how cool it is to write about
Xelloss and throw around lots of "Sore wa himitsu desu!"s. It's about Naga
and about writing a fanfic in the context of the Slayers world with a 99%
new cast of characters. Please. I'm BEGGING you...if your primary motivation
is to add a canon character to this story, please don't sign up. That's NOT
what this is about.

That being said, good luck, long life, etc. Comments and other misc.
nonsense can be sent to lina@sandwich.net. Flames will be summarily ignored.

Future authors: If you're in need of ideas, there were a ton that didn't  
fit in here. Email me if you want to know.