The Deadman's Relic

By Kyle Emmerson

Ranma 1/2, and all subsequent characters and situations presented herein 
are the
intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi. I assume no credit for these 
characters
and situations. I'm merely borrowing them.

Perdido Street Station, The Scar, and Iron Council, and all subsequent 
settings,
characters and situations presented herein are the intellectual property 
of China
Mieville. I assume no credit for these settings, characters, and 
situations. I'm
merely borrowing them.

Note: It really helps if you have at least a general understanding of 
The World of
Bas-Lag. I suggest you pick up these great books today and start 
reading! However,
in the event that you're lazy and cheap, I'm going to try to write this 
in such a
way that everything is understood properly.


Prologue: The Tar Ferry


    The ferry shifts, pitches and yaws, as it fights against the current 
of the
River Tar. The Ferryman, some loudmouthed Cactacae is talking to me, but 
I ignore
him. The bright red flowers that bloom from his photosynthetic skin 
twitter in
frustration. I am taking in what I see here in this noonday sun. New 
Crobuzon, the
city I was born. The city I had hoped never to lay eyes on again, and 
the city I
was honour-bound to enter.

    It hasn't changed. In ten years, the cityscape is exactly the same 
as when
I left it. Cold, barren, and futile.

    This is a Dead City. I see evidence of it everywhere. In the sludge 
of the
Gross Tar, where the river turns to toxic chymicals. I saw it in the 
khepri slums,
in the ghettoes. I see what I left behind. The people of this city are 
dead... They
just aren't aware of it.

    But, oh, this city has it's beauties. Grandiose and beautiful 
architecture,
much of it ancient, dot its streets. The landmarks are endless 
throughout this
city. No, this city hasn't changed. I look towards the ribs that jut out 
of the
ground and seem to encase the city from thousands of feet above.

    What creature left behind those remains? And what could have killed a
gargantuan of that magnitude?

    I know the stories, the theories... Some say it's an avanc, beached 
up from
long ago. Avancs... Some people will believe anything. But the truth is, 
attempts
at excavating the ribs, to even find out what kind of creature it once 
was, has
only met in disaster. But those ribs, they stand out high above the city,
threatening to take it within its grip... I look to the west, and the 
sun reflects
off of the Cactacae Glass House, a little piece of the Cymek that they 
attempted to
take with them.

    These Cactacae have forgotten themselves. They are a shamed breed.

    In the centre of the city, miles away, the top of Perdido Street 
Station is
visible. This is where all lines meet. All trains, all elyctric lines, 
it is the
centre of the city. It was said to have been designed by a madman 
centuries ago. He
was also said to have died in the magnificent and twisted architecture.
    The ferry battles its way upriver, and I must sigh. I had never 
wanted to

see the city; To be in the shadow of those wicked ribs ever again. But 
here I
stand, minutes away from the city. And only my honour is stake. I must 
carry out
his last wish.

    I don't know how long I'll be in the City, but I know I will not 
stay. Not
here. Not in this place of haunted memorials. This place of corrupted 
lives and
pointless deaths. This place of the broken and despondent and empty.

    But I will carry out my duty, whatever that duty may be... and I 
will move
on. This I know. This city holds nothing of me save ghosts.

    Where I will go is yet to be seen. Perhaps I will return south, to 
Myrshock
or Cobsea. Perhaps I will continue on to Shankell. Yes, Shankell was a 
good city.
On the edge of the Cymek Desert, and home to many Cactacae. The battles were
amazing. I remember standing, captivated by the fights. The way the 
gladiators
moved. Their quickness, their precision... Their ferocity.

    I remember my first bout. An honour-battle against an old friend. It was
after that we had to move on. And so on we went, to High Cromlech, where I
spent much time learning what I could from the Quick Warriors. Many of 
my memories
of High Cromlech are fond ones, but I would never return. The living and 
the dead
were an obscured line there. You were just as likely to come across a 
Thanati or a
Zombie. Ghuls and Vampirs stalked the streets at night. A dark place.

    Perhaps I will go west, over the Swollen Ocean, to Nova Esperium, or
farther, perhaps even to the Continent of Bered Kai Nev itself.

    Or perhaps I will wander without aim, and see where the Gods will 
lead me.

    I am going through the shadow of the ribs, as the sun blinks out of 
reality
for a brief instant. It reminds me of the Cymek.

    But as the North bank looms ever closer, I am snapped from my 
reverie. The
Great City of New Crobuzon stands before me, with it's humans and 
xenians. Cactacae
and Khepri and Vodyanoi and Wyrmen A motley assembly of sentients, all 
thrown
together into one giant melting pot. There is not purity here. This I know.

    I can see now the people of the dock. Human and Khepri and Cactacae. All
looking for a way out. I wish them luck. I see two of the humans 
ushering a limp
khepri, her headlegs torn off in some accident... or worse. She seems 
disoriented.
Perhaps even... empty.

    But that is the curse of this city. This curse that out shadows even 
my own
curse, earned with the death of a man at the edge of the Cacotopic 
Stain. But that
isn't why I'm here.  I'm here to deliver a message.

    As the ferry slows and bumps into the dock, its impact absorbed by the
rubber panels, I step of the ferry. My last thought entering the city 
flows over
and over in my mind...

    Find Soun Tendo...

End of Prologue

Author's Note: Okay, so here it is. The beginnings of my return to 
ficdom. I've had
this idea burning over and over in my mind, and I believe I can pull it 
off. This,
the prologue, is obviously a monologue from Ranma's POV in the story. 
You'll find
this is a very different Ranma, who grew up in a very different world. 
But his
spirit will remain the same. As with all the characters introduced. 
However, not to
worry. There will be more monologue "Chapters", but the majority of this 
fic is
going to be in third person narrative. :P

As always, C&C greatly appreciated, I'm looking forward to seeing if 
there's any
interest in this. Also, This Prologue is FINAL, but I still am looking for
prereaders for future instalments. Let me know. (Whether you know the 
World of
Bas-Lag or not.)

Peace out, all.

Kyle "Boomer" Emmerson
06/06/06


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