Here's Chapter One of the fic. This one should begin to set the scene,
but the whole reason Ranma was chosen has not yet shown itself. So,
hold your horses, all will be explained.
Disclaimer: The trolls in Great Britain at Games Workshop
own Warhammer 40,000; I don't. I don't own the Ranma
characters, either.
The Emperor's Hand
Chapter One: Encounters
Ardallan stared out at the battlefield from the viewport of
his Wave Serpent. The vehicle's armor and force fields protected
him from harm, but only his own training as a warlock protected
him from the horror just outside.
Everywhere he looked, green alien blood mixed with the pure
red of the Eldar. Though more skilled and with greater
technology, the Eldar just did not have the numbers to push back
the Orks from the beachhead they had developed.
A shriek of sonic and psionic feedback announced a squad of
Howling Banshees diving into close combat with the Ork assault
troops. Their masks, fitted with special psycho-receptors,
channeled both their battle cry and feelings of rage into a
potent weapon, capable of overloading the nervous system of the
target. So potent was this, that one of the enemy Orks found his
head exploding from the feedback. Unfortunately, there were only
eight Banshees attacking over thirty Orks, and the odds did not
look good for the warrior-women of the Eldar.
A flare of energy, and the Wave Serpent lurched. One of the
erratic heavy weapons of the enemy had impacted against the front
energy field, which barely dissipated enough energy to protect
the vehicle. Ardallan turned his helmeted head to look at Farseer
Dalhavadar. With a nod, the leader of Task Force Arweinydd
motioned for the driver to stop, and let them out. One Farseer, a
psyker of power more than any other race in the galaxy could
imagine, and his five Warlock bodyguards, a force that could aid
the beleaguered Banshees.
*************************************************
The energy surrounding him faded, and Ranma Saotome found
himself in what looked like Hell. Huge, green-skinned monsters
were fighting what looked like women in strange armor. A hovering
vehicle of some sort was disgorging helmeted men in robes with
swords, and energy bolts were searing across the field. Making a
snap decision because of the huge axe that narrowly missed
splitting him in two, not that he really needed much help in this
decision, he launched himself into battle against the greenskins.
Perfectly placed shots send his foes into each other, rendering
them rapidly unable to continue the fight.
The sound of a pistol shot impacting armor caused the
pigtailed martial artist to spin, and see one of the warrior
women spinning from a round that had caught him in the shoulder.
Ash she fell, so did an immense axe, heavy enough to cleave her
in two. Unwilling to just sit and watch, he hopped forward, and
snatched her up, and jumped out of the way of the green thing.
Setting her down by the stopped vehicle, he bounded back into the
fray with a leap kick at the axe-wielding thing. It flew
backwards as one of its tusks shattered from the impact.
As the sand of the desert world crunched under his feet, a
loud whirring noise alerted him to danger from the rear.
Spinning, he saw a clockwork monstrosity almost twelve feet tall.
Two crane-like arms jutted out at awkward angles. One ended in a
buzzsaw, while the other ended in a lobster-like claws. Two odd
cannons sprouted opposite each arm, and it tottered on awkward
legs. He ducked a sawblade, seeing the weapons of the armored
people bounce off the thing. "Geez, what is this, a tinkertoy
robot? Gimme a break!" With a loud kiai, he projected his
confidence forth. To most, shimmering waves of heat seemed to
flow rapidly from his outstretched palms. To those with the eyes
to see it, however, it was a lance of brilliant yellow energy.
All, however, could see the armored shell of the lumbering thing
rip apart like a tin can in a sandblaster. It fell, the tiny
green thing inside flying clear just before it exploded. Looking
around, and seeing that he was surrounded, it sprinted off in a
random direction, knocking itself out on the hull of the hovering
vehicle.
Slowly, the tide of the battle began to turn. Routed by the
appearance of this strange, invincible warrior, the unit fighting
Ranma panicked and ran, spreading their panic to other units. Not
knowing why their buddies were so scared, the others decided it
must be something pretty bad, and decided to scarper, themselves.
Although still outnumbered, the armored warriors took advantage,
and immediately counter-attacked. Only a short battle later, and
the green enemies had either been cut down, or fled the field.
*************************************************
Seeing the injured Banshee by the Wave Serpent, Dalhavadar
knelt by her. The wound was not severe, but a fragment of her
armor had shorted her Mask, and the feedback had stunned her. The
only reason she was still alive was the strange, unarmored Human.
Strange, that a Human would save the life of an Eldar. "Mon-
Keigh, I would speak with you," he said. The Farseer spoke in the
crude tongue of the Humans, trusting that he would not know the
full meaning behind the Eldar word for Mankind.
The human walked over, and spouted gibberish, with a
concerned look on his face as he glanced at the fallen Banshee.
It was not in Imperial, or even Old Imperial, but in a lilting,
musical language. Realizing that they shared no common language,
the boy tried again, slower, while pointing to her shoulder.
Dalhavadar shook his head. He did not know how this boy had
gotten here, or what language he spoke, but he was a Farseer, a
psyker with the powers of the mind. He removed his helmet, and
locked eyes with the human. *She will be fine, warrior. But I
must know about you.*
Confusion grew in the boy's mind, making it difficult to
maintain contact with. *I-in my mind? How? Not get too
deep...thoughts of Akane not probed...* The boy shook his head,
and steeled his gaze. *I a-am Saotome Ranma. I don't know how I
got here. I jus' saw some girls fightin' monsters, an' helped
'em. Waitaminute - pointed ears? Who are you?*
*And who are you, Warrior, to not know the Eldar, or the
Orks?* responded Dalhavadar. Squinting slightly, he read the
boy's aura. At the core, the shining light of confidence burned
with an intensity that shocked him, layered as it was with the
touch of another. The signature was clear, for he had seen it
first hand. This boy had been touched by the Emporer, perhaps
even taken from his backwater home to this battlefield.
*I dunno. I jus' know you look like an Elf from one o'
Hiroshi's manga.* The word Elf carried with it connotations of
not just pointed ears, but also grace, skill, and longevity, and
not a little honor.
*Elf is a word I have not concieved of in thousands of
cycles. How is it you were able to project your aura as a weapon?
It was no psychic power, for I would know.* Dalhavadar cocked his
head, as his Warlock bodyguard approached, and began to bind the
Banshee's wounds.
*You mean my Mokou Takabisha? Um, it's a chi blast. I gather
my confidence, and channel it at an enemy. It does the rest.*
Ranma shuffled his feet, nervous by an entirely silent
conversation.
*Remarkable. You will accompany us to Valdur-Avendel.* This
was a statement, not a question.
*I guess...what's Valdur Avendel?* asked Ranma.
*Our home. But, first, take this...* He reached into the
pouch he carried on his belt, and pulled out what appeared to be
an earring of some sort. *Place it in your ear.*
Doing as he was told, Ranma thought, *So what is this thing
gonna do for me? I hope it isn't cursed or nothin.*
Dalhavadar spoke. "No, it is not. It allows you to
understand us, and us to understand you. I did not give it to you
earlier, as I had not made contact with you long enough to guage
the pattern of your thoughts."
Nodding, Ranma did a double-take. "Hey, it works! But I
kinda heard your voice in the background, an' Japanese in my
ears. Does it sound like that the other way, too?"
"Yes, Mon-Keigh. Now, you will get in this Wave Serpent, and
we return to Valdur Avendel, and away from this blasted patch of
blood-soaked sand."
What amazed Ranma most about that statement was that
'blasted patch of blood-soaked sand' was only a single word.
*******************************************
Akane still could not believe what she saw. He was gone.
Because of her. Her anger. Her...her jealousy. He wasn't coming
back. He had to come back. But where was he? He was gone. He
probably couldn't come back. And it was her fault.
A loud 'Thwack!' on the table by Cologne's staff brought her
back to her senses. "Child, I realize you seem to find it
neccessary to wallow in guilt, but this will not help us find out
where Son-in-law has gone to. If you please, could you describe
the edges of this 'hole' in space?"
Glancing around the table, she could not bring herself to
meet Cologne's intense gaze, or the scornful look of Shampoo. Her
eyes dropped back to the table as she spoke. "I-it was like a
thousand swirling colors were mixed together for the outline. It
was pretty ragged, but it was almost hypnotic. And the hand was
pretty much the same. It was like I was frozen, and couldn't
move. Um, Cologne?"
Not dropping her intensity one notch, the old Matriarch
simply said, "Yes?"
Akane fiddled with her thumbs, and said, "Wh-why can't you
ask Shampoo these questions?"
Cologne nodded. "True, I could ask Shampoo. Or almost anyone
in Nerima. With one problem."
"Wh-what?"
"Only the two of you saw what happened, and only you could
clearly make out either the gate, or the hand. To everyone else
in Nerima,"continued the Matriarch, "the only thing strange
appearing in the sky today was a white duck wearing glasses."
"I don't understand, why could I see it as clear as... as,
well, day, and Shampoo couldn't, when she was right next to me,
and she even spotted it first?" Her voice dropped a few notches.
"She's got better eyesight than me." An unspoken thought added to
the troubles on her face.
"I do not understand, but I will. First, you need to eat, it
is dinner time." Cologne hopped down off her chair, and walked
back to the kitchen of the Nekohanten.
"Dinner? Oh! Kasumi will be worried..." began Akane.
"SIT! I have called your family." Cologne peered out around
the edge of the counter, as it was taller than her. "I have given
them a suitable story, and told them you and Ranma are eating
here tonight."
"And they bought it?"
"Yes. It seems that your middle sister was out, probably
fleecing more money of the Kuno boy. She ought to get it over
with, and fleece him for it all." The Matriarch had raised her
voice, to make it easier to hear over the clatter of pots and
pans.
"What you mean, Great-Grandmother?" asked Shampoo.
"She ought to marry him," came the reply. In spite of
herself, Akane started to laugh at the idea.
The door of the Nekohanten almost exploded off its hinges as
Kuonji Ukyou charged in. "Cologne, something's happened to Ranma!
And I want to know if you had anything to do with it!" Her chest
was heaving, causing her spatula shuriken to rustle in their
bandoliers, and was holding her giant battle spatula.
"N-no, Ukyou. It was my fault." Akane could not bring
herself to meet the okonomiyaki chef's eyes, any more than she
could Cologne or Shampoo. In fact, the tears she had been holding
back by sheer denial finally erupted forth.
Confused, Ukyou turned to the young Amazon. "What happened?"
"Shampoo don't know. Was on delivery, and stopped to say
hello to Airen, when Kitchen Destroyer knock him for loop. Then
hole in sky open up, and hand grab Airen. Now he gone." Her face
showed sadness, but, strangely, little anger towards Akane.
"I-I thought I was hallucinating...but he's gone?" Ukyou
pulled out a chair next to Akane. Glancing over at the crying
girl, she reached over. They may be rivals, but they were still
friends - somewhat. "Don't worry Akane, if anyone can figure out
what happened, it's Cologne."
"I know. But it's my fault!" Turning, she buried her face in
the chef's shoulder. "I just lost my temper! And now he's gone!"
Cologne watched the touching scene from her perch on her
staff. A thousand swirling colors, drawing in the eyes. It
sounded like... but it could not be him. Though he was ten
thousand years old, still was he physically a child. And his
power was not that great.
Not yet.
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
http://members.tripod.com/~Valandar/fanfic.html
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