Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ The Wild Stallion and the Drow ❯ Revenge is a dish best served as a side dish...with Ramen? ( Chapter 13 )

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Ranma belongs to Takahashi-sama and a whole slew of companies; Eilistraee, Forgotten Realms, and characters therein belong to TSR and Wizards of the Coast; Hornblower and Aubrey/Maturin Characters belong to their respective copyright owners. All I own are the Enterprise, Bereth, Crystina (I can always scan their character sheets for proof), and any other characters I come up with.

 

Chapter 12: Revenge is a dish best served as a side dish…with Ramen?

 

Bayankala Mountain Range

Qinghai Province, PRC

A swirling vortex of mystical energies began form and open in front of the gates to the Joketsuzoku village. The guards readied their weapons for what denizens of Hell would come pouring forth to attack their small village. Trumpets and horns sounded from the towers, calling the villagers to arms to defend this small portion of Earth from the unholy legions bent on global destruction. As the vortex stabilized, Amazon archers lined the walls facing the vortex.

So it was much to their surprise when only two cloaked riders came out from the vortex, the banner of Eilistraee worked into their cloaks. “Get Kuh Lon,” one of the guards in one of the towers called down. “Riders from Japan.”

The aforementioned Matriarch pogo'd up to the gates. “What is it, Lather?”

“Riders of Eilistraee, Matriarch,” the Amazon called down, “not the armies of Darkness riding forth.”

“Open the gates.” The guards at the gate proper heaved the bar off, as windlasses in the towers began cranking, swinging the gates back. The vortex that caused all the commotion winked out of existence with a “pop”.

Riding into the gates, the two emissaries from the Church of Eilistraee halted their spirited mounts in front of the aged Matriarch. Cologne looked over the two, noting the unstrung elvish composite bows on their backs, the sheathed longswords within easy reach near the pommels of their saddles. “Emissaries of Eilistraee,” Cologne called in Japanese, “be welcome to our humble village.”

Both riders pushed the hoods of their cloaks back, revealing their faces for the first time. Both were silver elves of fair features, one with silvery blonde hair, the other though had traces of wood elf in her ancestry—with the red hair, green eyes and freckles. The lead rider, the one with silvery blonde hair, dismounted, and bowed before the prune on a stick. “Matriarch Cologne,” she said, “I am Siliverntolwen, emissary of Lord Ranma, beloved of Eilistraee; my Herald, Lónannûniel.” The redheaded elf nodded slightly. “I come bearing grave news, and a request from his Lordship.” There were, of course, murmurings among the Amazons around the two emissaries.

Cologne made hushing motions. “What sort of news, honored Emissary?”

“Lord Ranma requires the assistance of the Amazons in liberating his wife.” Suffice it to say that got the attention of the Amazons, if Cologne falling off her staff was any indication.

00000
Frigate Acheron
Two days west of the Isle of Prespur

 

The water in the hold of the frigate was up to the waist of the two drow prisoners chained to the bulkhead. Above them, the clanking of chain pumps and the splash of water gave them some indication that the crew of the Acheron was concerned about their ship. Apparently a few of the ragged broadsides from the Enterprise managed to score some minor hits below the waterline of the Zhent-chartered slaver. “Well,” Nabiki commented, “this is certainly a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.”

Eilistraee smiled grimly at her priestess' comment. “That it is, my child. That it is. I wonder, though, whose warship we tangled with. No navy that I know of has massive amounts of Lantan artillery mounted on their ships. Of course, it doesn't surprise me that this ship we're in would. Thayian slavers have the Red Wizards approval for what they do, and therefore access to the arsenals.”

Nabiki shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it was Ranma,” she said half seriously. “After all he does have this uncanny knack for beating the odds.”

The Goddess of Good Drow smiled in the darkness of the hold. “Yes, he does, Nabiki.” She sat there for a few moments, thinking about her pigtailed husband and the exhibition duel before he went off to train with Solonar.

“Eil-chan, Ranma's like family to me. Hell, after the attempted wedding to my violent little sister, he forgave me when he found out that I had placed both he and Akane in mortal danger.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Family honor was the excuse that our parents used to force them together time after time,” she spat.

“I know that excuse well,” Eilistraee sighed. “My father signed an agreement for me to marry Ranma when he was 5. But from the time he returned to Earth, I truly fell in love with him.”

“He does have that affect on women, my Lady,” Nabiki chuckled. “I was all set to take on the engagement, but his curse frightened me. And my `darling' younger sister seemed like she could accept it. After all, if Akane hates boys, then where's the harm in being engaged to someone who's a girl half the time…”

Nabiki was interrupted by the door to the hold thumped open. Down the ladder came their tormentor, Faeryl. The drow priestess halted just short of the water sloshing around the hold. “It seems your husband does indeed have some skill, traitor. However he won't survive when next we meet.”

“Then that was his ship you engaged?” Eilistraee asked, curiosity heavy in her voice. There was also a subtle overtone of hope.

“He was seen on the deck. However, it matters not,” Faeryl snarled. “When next we meet, he will die. And then you will meet your mother.”

Nabiki decided to add her two yen. “You know,” she said, “everyone who fights Ranma always says that. And then they tend to lose. Quite badly.”

“Do not underestimate the power…”

“Of the Dark Side of the Force,” Eilistraee said with a grin on her face. Nabiki caught the reference, and couldn't help but laugh.

“Bah, I don't know why I even bother. I should just let Lloth deal with the two of you,” Faeryl growled at the laughing pair of good-aligned drow, as she turned and headed back up the ladder.

“Mistress,” Nabiki asked, as the hatch slammed shut, “why do you taunt her with cheesy movie lines?”

“Because it's fun,” Eilistraee replied. “It's all keeping in the spirit of Anything Goes. Because I've come to enjoy seeing look on Faeryl's face when I make fun of her, by finishing her sentences with those lines.” The drow goddess raised her shackled hands, the chains holding her to the bulkhead rattling. “Because I can't fight her as I would any other time. Were I not manacled in with these, you would see just how much damage I can do when I'm angry.”

“Eilistraee, I have seen you when you're angry. Remember that first night at the shrine? I was watching from the window to my room.”

“Quite right,” the imprisoned goddess's voice trailed off, leaving the two drow in silence, with only the clanking of the chain pumps providing any noise.

“Eilistraee, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Nabiki. Since you are like a sister to my husband; and that would make you my sister-in-law, as well as my priestess.”

“Why?”

“`Why' what?”

“Why Ranma?”

“You've had almost a year to ask me, and it comes up know?”

“Well, between school, training under Ranma and Crystina, and tending to the needs of my small flock, I haven't had the time.”

“It's a rather long story.”

“Well, we appear to have plenty of time,” Nabiki said, wryly.

The drow goddess formerly known as the `Dark Maiden' sighed. “Father wanted me to lighten up, and lose the `Dark Maiden' title. But I was so caught up in my millennia-old war against my Mother, for her treachery to our surface brethren, that I never had time to find romance, or even the occasional fling. I only saw my fight as my life; to lead my people back to reconciliation with the world of light and trees, of fresh air and cleansing rains.

“I guess Father saw Ranma's potential to be a great ally and bridge the differences not only between humans and elvenkind, but elvenkind and drow. Or Father thought that Ranma would have been abused his during his married life, and would have died either a shriveled up shell of his former self or with a tanto in his belly, and needed a fiancée that would not want him to put aside his dreams and hopes for his wife's.”

“Ukyo and Shampoo, right?”

“They are part of that equation. Ranma told me about Ukyo, and how they used to pal around together. But her dreams were not his dreams; no matter how hard Ranma tried to dissuade her from trying to pursue him, she continued to have Ranma in her dreams, working beside her.

“Shampoo was blinded by her tribal laws. You saw that yourself before when she barged into our house. The whole `Women are strong warriors, men are for making babies' philosophy of the Amazons is, unfortunately, Mother's as well. Ranma would never have been happy in that environment, whored out to spread his bloodline throughout the Amazon tribe. He would have died a bitter man.”

“Sometimes, I don't think any child knows what their parents are thinking about,” Nabiki said. “Genma with his whoring out his own son, the worst being the marriage contract for a bowl of rice, pickles and two fish, or Daddy forgetting his own marriage arrangement with the Chardin family, or even Corellon providing a legally binding marriage contract between you and Ranma.

“There were times I wish Daddy had been able to stay strong after Momma died. His grief overcame his control, and no student worth their salt would want to learn from an overly emotional sensei. Kasumi chained herself to the house, giving up on applying for Tokyo University and going into medical school. I had to find someway to keep the Dojo afloat financially. Akane, my poor sweet delusional sister, buried herself into her martial arts. I think the Tendo Clan died the day Momma died.”

“I wouldn't worry, Nabiki. Somehow, I think that between you and Kasumi, you'll revitalize your Clan.”

“I hope so, Mistress. I'd rather not have the current generation be the last of the Tendo Clan.”

“Nabiki, when Ranma gets us out of this mess, and back home, why don't we all take a trip back up to Tokyo, see your father and pay our respects to your mother.”

The drow of Japanese descent smiled. “I'd like that, Mistress.”

00000
USS Enterprise
12 hours behind the Acheron

 

The former US Navy frigate sailed through the rollers of the Sea of Fallen Stars, the fourteen starred and striped Stars and Stripes and the broad pennant on the mainmast streaming in the breeze. Ranma paced the quarterdeck, like a caged tiger. Enterprise was among the fastest frigates built by the US Navy in the late 18th Century, capable of almost 250 nautical miles a day. But she wasn't fast enough for pigtailed warrior. They had shortened sail, taking in the cor'sails and stun'sails in the face of a freshening gale the day before. But even with just the mainsails set, Enterprise still managed to get within 12 hours of the slaver. Killick brought up a cup of tea for him, but left Ranma to his pacing. The watches changed, and the officers of the deck stayed away from their captain.

“With Mr. Lambe's compliments,” Midshipman McKimmson said, saluting. “Repairs to the lower hull have been completed, and is reporting eighteen inches of water in the hold, and holding.”

“Very good. Mr. Roberts, how does the glass look,” he asked the officer of the watch.

“Holding steady at `Fair', sir,” the former Cormyr Blue Dragon (Royal Navy) lieutenant replied, stumping back from the barometer. He'd invalided out when a bolt from a pirate's ballista took his leg off below the knee and was fitted with a peg leg. “You're thinking about adding more sail, sir?”

“What was the last reading of the log?”

“10 knots, sir. We're not going to do much better than that without a War Wizard conjuring up winds.”

“I know,” Ranma replied, pausing in his pacing. “I'd rather do this on my own, and not rely on a mage or magic.”

“Of course, sir. Although, I've heard that you are favored of Corellian…”

“No magic, Mr. Roberts,” Ranma growled. “Reset cor'sails and stun'sails and set the royals as well. As much canvas as she can hold, for as long as the barometer holds steady.”

“Aye, sir.” Roberts pivoted on his peg, and turned to the bosun of the watch. “Royals, cor'sails and stun'sails if you please, Mr. Gareth.”

“Aye sir,” the bosun replied, before turning and shouting “All hands to make sail! All hands to make sail! Last one up'll report to me for punishment!” The ship's drummers began beating the call to make sail while the bosun's mates piped the call through the open hatches, and the crew began pouring up from belowdecks. From high atop the masts, the booms were rigged, yards set, and sails bloomed out. The Enterprise began to accelerate, as the sails caught the wind.

“Twelve knots, Mr. Roberts.”

“Twelve knots, sir,” he reported.

“Good. As long as this wind keeps up, we'll catch up to those bastards. I'll be below, Mr. Roberts.” Ranma left his section of the quarterdeck, and climbed down to the main deck. Of course, his Jusenkyo curse hadn't been happy about not being activated for so long, so as Ranma made his way to the belowdecks, a wave came up along and broke over the deck, and, incidentally, hitting the aquatransexual. “Gah! Killick there, a cup of hot water!”

“I guess that would explain why the Captain doesn't like magic,” Roberts said to himself, as he stumped along the quarterdeck.

00000
The Joketsuzoku Village
Qinghai Province, PRC

The Amazons had brought the two elven emissaries into the main council chambers. Lónannûniel hid a smirk as she looked around the table at the Elders. She was almost as old as some of the eldest, yet she was barely approaching middle age. Siliverntolwen set her teacup down, and spoke. “Elder Cologne, you heard correctly. Lady Eilistraee and her priestess Nabiki were captured by drow and Humans aligned with Lloth…”

“Forgive me, Emissary, but how did they capture Lady Eilistraee,” Perfume asked. “According to Kuh Lon, she is a deity.”

“That is correct, Elder. The Zhents used the Manacles of Bhaal on her.” At the confused looks on the Elders faces, Siliverntolwen explained what the Manacles were. “The Manacles are, from what I've heard, a fiendishly sinister magical set of manacles, designed to severe a deity from their spiritual realm, and thus their power. No one knows why they were created, or why they were named after an elder god of Death.”

“And these are what have bound Lady Eilistraee?” Cologne asked.

“Yes, Elder. Lord Ranma feels that your assistance is required and would be greatly appreciated.”

“We will need to deliberate on this, Emissary. Please accept the hospitality of the Joketsuzoku during our deliberations. Shampoo, please take the emissaries to the guest lodge,” Cologne said. She added, in Mandarin, “The emissaries are to be accorded all rights and privileges of allies to the Amazons. No Challenges, and certainly no Kisses.”

“Understood, Elder,” the purple haired Amazon replied.

“Thank you, Elder,” Siliverntolwen replied smoothly. She and Lónannûniel rose from the table and followed the former fiancée of Ranma out of the Council chambers and across the village square, past the Challenge Log.

Unfortunately for Lónannûniel, a certain myopic duck boy mistook her for Shampoo and tackled her in a flying glomp. “Oh Shampoo,” he cried, “let me show you my love for…say, why is your chest smaller?” His hand closed on one of the redheaded elf maid's breast and squeezed. Several times.

“Stupid Mousse,” Shampoo shouted, as she hit him off Lónannûniel with one of her bonbori and into a cistern. “You grope emissary of Eilistraee. You lucky she not request your head as apology.”

“Who's to say I won't,” the redheaded elf replied, as she reached for the longsword hanging from her belt.

The now blind duck began quacking furiously at Village Champion, when he flew out of the cistern. “You is dead duck now, Mousse,” Shampoo replied to his squawking. “We should ask Herb to lock you. Have Peking Duck for dinner tonight in honor of emissaries.”

“Does this happen often,” Siliverntolwen asked, confused. Lónannûniel had grabbed the white duck by his neck, much to the concern of said duck, who began quacking up a storm,

“Sadly, yes Emissary. Mousse not care who he glomps. He annoyance, but is harmless.”

“I don't care,” Lónannûniel growled. “He grabbed me where only my betrothed is allowed.” She released the grip on the hilt of her longsword, and reached for her dagger.

“Lónannûniel,” Siliverntolwen said patiently, as her companion brought the tip of her dagger up to the beak of the myopic pervert. Mousse's eyes grew large, and he ceased his attempts to escape. “Let the Elders handle him. He is their problem after all.”

“What problem would that be, Emissary,” Cologne asked, pogoing up. She almost fell of her staff when the Matriarch saw the lethal intent in the redheaded elf's eyes. “Never mind, Emissary. I see that Mousse has embarrassed us once more.

“Emissary, the Council of Elders has finished its deliberations, and we will send a detachment of Amazons under the command of Tei Pei.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Siliverntolwen said, bowing graciously to the shriveled Matriarch. “Please inform Tei Pei that we will be leaving as soon as the sun illuminates Mt. Phoenix. And not to eat heavily this evening; the teleportation circle tends to make the uninitiated…ill.”

“Thank you for the information, Emissary.” Cologne turned to her great-granddaughter. “Fetch Mousse's cage. We'll keep him there until we decide his fate.”

“Yes, Elder.”