Yet again, another chapter already. Don't worry, it'll be a few more
days until Chapter Four, because it'll be hard to write at work. So,
the next chapter probably won't be out until Thursday.
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 Three: Adaptation
Sitting in the Wave Serpent, Ranma looked out the
viewport at the battlefield. It was littered with the
bodies of dead and dying Orks and Gretchin, and the bodies
of dead Eldar. He had watched, confused, as Dalhavadar and
his Warlocks had removed shining green gemstones from the
chests of their fallen kinsmen, then left the bodies
behind. Now, the force was moving away, in the opposite
direction from the path of the Orks' retreat.
To their left raced a flight of jetbikes, their
carapace-like front fairings painted dark red, rising into
stylistic flames. They stayed in a perfect wedge formation,
each rider echoing the motions of the others perfectly.
Behind the bikes was a larger vehicle, though not as large
as the Wave Serpent, also hovering off the ground. It was
similar in style to the bikes, but had an additional rider
above and behind the pilot, apparently a gunner, as his
seat swiveled, and was attached to the large, graceful
cannon that was the vehicle's main armament.
On the right, several small units of warriors
maintained an easy running pace, despite the apparent mass
of their armored suits. Each unit seemed to have a
different style of armament, and had a different color
scheme. Some, like the Howling Banshees he had assisted,
wielded pistols of some sort, and blades, obviously
specializing in close combat. Others, like the unit right
outside the Wave Serpent, wore red and black armor, with
huge vanes sprouting from the sides of their helmets, and
carrying weapons slightly longer than the Eldar were tall.
These, which the Farseer pointed out to him as Dark
Reapers, were definitely long-range fire support.
Eventually, the force reached what was likely their
rally point. It was the site of a series of obelisks,
surrounding a pair of arcane constructs. The constructs
were over six meters tall, and arched towards each other.
Like most Eldar structures, they were encrusted with gems
of varying hues, and runes connected by graceful swirls,
knotwork, and other patterns. Totally confused by where he
was, and what was happening around him, he tried to think
of how he got there. All he could remember was a brief
image, a face. It was a human woman, with a smile that lit
up his heart like the sun. He realized that, when he first
got there, he remembered much of where he was before, but
the memories had begun to fade, even before he encountered
Dalhavadar.
Unit by unit, the entire force began to line up in
front of the two constructs. Energy flared, and darkness
filled the space between the constructs. The different
segments of the Eldar battle force entered the darkness,
and vanished. Finally, it was their turn.
Dalhavadar turned towards Ranma. "Now, Human, be
warned. You are one of the first to ever step foot upon a
Craftworld. You will be watched by all, and likely insulted
by many. Keep your temper, and watch your tongue. This
which we enter is called the Webway. For your own mental
safety, I ask that you allow me to put you to sleep before
we enter."
"Nah. Can't be much worse than... than... well, I
really don't remember. But it can't be much worse than some
o' the things I done," he boasted.
"Very well. However, I would recommend that you close
your eyes." The Farseer turned, and resumed his meditations
upon the pouch full of gemstones in his lap.
When the Wave Serpent entered the Webway, Ranma braced
himself for nausea. What he received, however, was a
bombardment of images, sounds, and emotions, most far
beyond his naive experience. Tortured figures wrapped in
leather and spikes reached out to other, and the Wave
Serpent, taking pleasure even in the pain each others'
garments inflicted. Their moans shocked him, and their
radiating emotions apalled him. And then, as suddenly as
they had entered, they left the Webway.
**********************************************
Akane sat on her bed, shortly after her sisters left
her room. She was not as bad off as she had been, but she
was still in a state of emotional turmoil. If Nabiki and
Kasumi were telling the truth, and she had no reason to
believe they weren't, then there was one thing that
connected all those who had seen the phenomenon.
They all cared for Ranma, in one way or another.
What confused her was that not even his parents had
seen it as clearly as she had. Did that mean that she...
she cared for him... more than his parents?
Preposterous. He was an egotistical, chauvanistic,
self-centered, playboy. He was a rude, boorish jerk. He
wouldn't eat her cooking until she practically had to force
it on him, he was constantly flirting with other girls, he
picked on both Ryouga and P-chan, and he wouldn't stop
insulting her.
But whenever she needed him, he was there. She had
lost track of the number of times he had saved either her
life, or her freedom. And, well, she was alone. She could
admit to herself that he was cute. Sighing, she had to
correct herself. He was downright handsome.
The question was, did she love him? In the darkness of
the night, all alone in her room, without even P-chan
around, she decided she could admit that, yes, she loved
him. The worst part about that was, he didn't love her. How
could he? He, himself, said it. She was an uncute tomboy,
she couldn't cook, she was a flat-chested, thick-thighed
gorilla, and she had the face of a monkey. She always hit
him, and he never raised his hand to her. He wouldn't even
hit her when they sparred.
No, it was impossible. There was no way he could love
her. There was no way anyone, other than that stupid Kuno,
could love her. Before Ranma came, the boys wouldn't attack
her to date her because she was cute, but because Kuno told
them to. And she would rather die than end up with Kuno.
She'd rather live in agony, than die without Ranma.
***********************************************
Within the Nekohanten, two women and a man sat
discussing the day's events, though there was little more
that any of them could add.
"If it is your old friend," started Mousse, "what
reason would he have for kidnapping Ranma?"
"None at all, boy, none at all." Cologne's brow was
furrowed with worry. That is, it was furrowed even more
than normal, and that's a lot of furrows.
"Maybe he need boy with curse?" asked Shampoo.
"I seriously doubt that. There is a boy among the Mei
Shu Yin, not forty miles from our village, who has the
curse, and he is not a warrior. This boy would have been
much less trouble to deal with than our 'Untamed
Stallion'." Cologne frowned. "What I really do not
understand, is that such an action is against the code of
conduct this man holds himself to."
A thousand swirling colors swirled in the air beside
the three. The swirl opened, and a young man, no older than
seventeen, stepped out. His brow was beaded with sweat, and
his entire body was shaking. "Now, Khu Lon, what is it you
think I have done?" The shimmering gateway collapsed, and
the young man simply dropped into a nearby chair.
Cologne nodded at him. "Welcome, Shaman. It has been
over a century."
"Yes, it has. Pardon me, but the effort of holding a
gate open over twelve thousand miles is rather exhausting."
The Shaman looked at the two younger Amazons, both of whome
merely stared at him. "Again, what is it I am accused of
doing?"
The story of Ranma's disappearance was related to him.
"Yes, that sounds like a powerful psyker of some sort. You
say that only certain people could see the effect?"
"Yes. It was only my daughter, Shampoo, a girl named
Tendou Akane, and a girl named Kuonji Ukyou. Of these, the
Tendou girl could see it the best." Cologne pondered this.
"Does this mean that the child has the potential to become
what you are?"
"No, Matriarch," said the young man. "That potential
is locked away from all Mankind, until it is safe to once
more release it to the world. Perchance, were these girls
close to the boy?"
"Ranma is Shampoo's Airen!" exclaimed the attractive
young girl.
"Yes, and, by the Japanese culture, the other two are
his fiances. He spends the most time with the Tendou girl,"
added Mousse.
"Then the answer is simple. Does this boy have any
close family?"
"Stupid panda Airen's father. Shampoo once hear from
Mercenary Girl that Airen's mother is nice, honorable
lady." She turned to Cologne. "Great-Grandmother, when
Shampoo going to meet Airen's mother?"
"Later, once he has returned, child."
"Well, then," said the Shaman, "I would dare say that
those two could probably have seen the phenomenon, as
well."
"What are you saying, Shaman?" asked Cologne, although
she already knew the answer.
The common connection between those that saw it, is a
positive emotional relationship with the boy."
"You mean they love him," said Mousse.
"Or, are good friends." The young man looked around.
"Khu Lon, do you perhaps have someplace I can rest? The
exertion of reaching here was quite more... than.. I..." He
slumped forward, and would have slipped out of his chair,
if not for Mousse's quick reaction.
"Mousse, carry him to you room. You spend this night
in your cage."
"But..." Splash! "Quack."
*************************************************
The Craftworld was an almost continual source of
wonder for Ranma. Most of the Eldar went about their daily
tasks in flowing silks, and fabrics that Ranma could not
identify. They moved with as much grace as any martial
artist he had known, yet did not carry themselves like
warriors. Even the Aspect Warriors, as he learned the Banshees and Dark
Reapers were called collectively, moved more like dancers or artists
than warriors.
No matter where Ranma went, he was accompanied by the young
Warlock, Ardallan. It was he who answered any question the young man
had, as though the others would not deign to speak to such a lower life
form. It annoyed Ranma, but he had to keep his temper in check. These
people weren't warriors; at least, most of them weren't.
A few hours after reaching this place, Ranma asked the Warlock a
question. "Ardallan, what exactly _is_ a Craftworld?"
"Why, it is a starship the size of most worlds. It is here that
the Eldar dwell, and not upon a sphere of rock, floating in the sky.
Once , the Craftworlds were immense fleets of ships, linked only by a
common philosophy. Now, the fleets have docked, and grown together, to
form one, giant ship." He sighed. "To view Valdur Avendel from a ship,
outside its confines, is to see myriad gems, orbiting one another,
locked in a dance of light and beauty. Many sections of the Craftworld
are not linked in physical form, but by safe paths in the webway. These
sections swirl and float around the core, shifting and flowing with the
gravitic ripples of space."
"A starship? The size of a world?" Ranma could not imagine it. He
barely had a concept of what a starhip was, and now to find he was on
one that was not only larger than Tokyo, but was likely as large as the
entire Earth, was staggering. "Jeez, how many people you got on this
thing?"
"Not many, I'm afraid. We are a long-lived people, and do not
often bear progeny. The wars with the Tyrannids, the Orks, your own
people, and the hated Chaos deplete us, and fewer and fewer of our kind
are born each generation." Ardallan sighed. "I myself am the father of
only one child, though I have been with my lifemate for over nine
hundred of your years."
"Nine hundred? Wow, the Old Ghoul's only three hundred. Ya don't
look a day over twenty-five."
The Warlock laughed. "Perhaps, when compared to your kind. As I
was saying, when we first left our homeworlds after... an incident we
do not like to discuss, there were billions of Eldar in each Craftworld
fleet. Now, at least here, there are only a scant few million."
"Oh. Um, I saw your people out there fightin' pretty good. Do you
have a dojo, or training hall, somewhere here?" Ranma put one hand
behind his head. "I sorta need to keep in practice, and I dunno how
long I'm gonna be here."
"There are training halls, as you put them, yes. However, they are
the shrines of the Aspects of the War God, and only those dedicated to
those Aspects may enter except upon extreme circumstances." Ardallan
glanced down at the pig-tailed Martial Artist. "However, allow me to
speak with my daughter. It is she who you saved, back on the blasted
patch of sand stained with blood."
"Oh, okay. Um, how long do you guys live?"
The Warlock considered for a moment. "At this time, the oldest
Farseer not yet in the Dome of the Crystal Seers is Ailunaraven, the
Bright Flame of the Forge. He is over fourteen thousand of your years
old."
Ranma was speechless. "Wow... so your warriors can have thousands
of years of experience. They must be incredibly skilled."
His companion laughed. "Wild Horse, allow me to explain to you the
Eldar Path. All Eldar are innately psychic. This leads us to be
vulnerable to possession and worse by the daemons of Chaos. In order to
defend our souls, we have developed a special way of life.
"We dedicate ourselves to one aspect of life, to the exclusion of
almost all else, so as to prevent the thoughts inspired by Chaos from
affecting us. As a Warlock, my thoughts are dedicated to the task of
improving my psychic abilities to be strong enough to protect the
Craftworld. However, in a few centuries, my cycle will perhaps turn,
and I will be a sculptor, or musician. Perhaps I will even join one of
the Warrior Shrines.
"But, only in a rare few incidences does an Eldar become stuck
upon the path. This happens, unfortunately, most often upon the path of
the Warrior. They become the Exarchs, champions and teachers of their
Shrines. It is they who most often do not yet reach a thousand years of
age, for theirs is a brutal path."
Ranma nodded as if he understood, when he would need a lot of time
considering what was said to fully understand. "This daughter of yours,
is she an Exarch?"
"No, Ranma. However, she could likely persuade her Shrine's Exarch
to allow you access to the training area for your practices. But, you
will be demanded to follow certain rules, and forbidden certain courses
of action while you are there." Ardallan glanced over to his left,
where a rather beautiful young Eldar Female gave the young Human an
appraising glance. "Including a vow of celibacy."
Ranma let out a breath he had been holding. "Trust me, after...
well, I really don't remember what it's after, but ya don't hafta worry
about me chasin' after them."
The Warlock laughed, and led the martial artist down the long
corridors of the Craft World, to the Webway entrance that would take
them to his daughter's Shrine.
************************************************
"I'm telling you, Daisuke, we were the only ones that saw it.
Nobody else did." The Japanese schoolboy was scratching his head,
talking with his slightly taller best friend.
"I dunno, Hiroshi. I mean, it was right over there, and it was the
size of a house! Someone else _must_ have seen it, whatever it was."
Daisukehad his hands in the pockets of his Furinkan High School
uniform, and kept pace with the other young man.
Without warning, a long, slender blur whipped down, wrapping
around Daisuke, and yanking him skywards. "What the... " yelped
Hiroshi.
"OHOHOhohoho! Could it be that these two peasants beheld what only
I, the Black Rose, was so cursed as to apprehend?" The speaker was a
very pretty young lady, dressed in a leotard, and little else, carrying
a ribbon that was used in Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics.
"U-um, hello, Kodachi?" squeaked Daisuke.
"Come, now, refer to me as Kodachi-dono, like you're supposed to,
And, please inform me of what you saw, that you proclaim that none
others saw?" She smiled sweetly at him. Daisuke couldn't decide whether
to get a nosebleed, or a panic attack.
"Umm, Akaneandranmawerewalkinghomefrommmrrfff!" A hand cut him off
before he had really begun.
"Please, one more, and with a little more decorum, if you don't
mind." Kodachi lowered one eyebrow, and Daisuke felt like the sparrow
in a serpent's grasp.
"Okay, um, Akane and Ranma were walking home from school. Shampoo
showed up, and glomped on to him. Akane got mad, and kicked him into
low Earth orbit. About halfway up, some kinda glow popped up in front
of him, and he vanished." He glanced at the ribbin. "Um, Kodachi, er,
dono, can I go now?"
The insane gymnast considered for a moment, then flicked her
wrist. "You are dismissed," she said, not watching as the boy was
flipped off the rooftop, his friend breaking his fall with his head.
"Oh, Ranma-sama, I am here for you! I shall rescue from this vile
imprisonment that filthy peasant, Tendou Akane, has sent you into!
OhoHOHOHOhoho!" With that, she bounded off into the night.
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
http://members.tripod.com/~Valandar/fanfic.html
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