Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Wanderings ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

---Disclaimer---

Ranma 1/2 and all its associated characters and locations are used without permission and belong to their respective copyright holders. Anything else (Teh Sthlhu, The Four Empires, Typhon Sidhe, Leannan Sidhe, Ceoeff, Merac, Hiwt, etc.) is owned by me. So there! ^_^

---Title---

Wanderings: Chapter Three
(Rewrite of The Wandering Saotome)
A Ranma 1/2 Altaverse
By Dr. Suekeiichi Kaiton
(Skaiton@netscape.net)

---

"...And out of Darkness came Light;
A warrior of might midst the plight;
'Round his head was a crown
Made of purest gold,
And polished like mirror-glass.
(Or so I've been told)
He rode on a ship high in the sky,
And there was no wave he could not ply,
Onward he rushed to his Doom.

The Enemy did turn
And cowered like a worm
As the King returned
to the place of his birth.
For through Death
and hardship he'd proved
His honor,
And courage,
And worth.

High in the hills,
And low in the seas
Did their battle rage on
'Till all their strength
had been gutted and gone.
Out of the sea he did rise,
Sun on his shoulders,
And Stars in his eyes.
He had dispelled the gloom."
- From the 'Warrior' manuscript

---The Dead Lands---

The hallway was black and dark as pitch so that even he, Faolum Eh Wattam, who walked the same corridors each day stumbled against the raised floor panels. Aside from the utter lack of illumination, the stronghold was deathly cold although they were at the South Pole so it would be expected. The cold was very much a physical force in the Citadel of the Dead as the cool eddies and breezes from the open windows would freeze his bodily fluids solid and require a good few hours to thaw.

Faolum Eh Wattam had been a powerful Warlord in the early days of the world and commanded armies the likes of which had not been seen for millennia. When he was struck down by the rebel armies of Xiang he had cast a spell of resuscitation over his body and awaited the time when, three days later he would arise again. Unfortunately he had not anticipated Xiang''s foresight in having all the Warlord's bodies interred in the icy soil of the Dead Lands. He had arisen to the biting chill and arctic tundra as a zombie. Apparently the mystical curse hanging over the icy bottom of the world had affected his spell. (1) However, no matter his own departed personal powers, he was a cowardly sycophant at that moment, cringing before his master - 'Seitak Ieu'Kinochi,' or hand of darkness in the Druidic tongue. He was on his way to the main audience chamber, a spherical room where only he could enter and commune with Dread Lord of the Void.

Opening wide the heavy door, he knelt in his long robes and activated the transmission beacon which allowed him to commune with the ruler of the Dark Empire. Before long, a cascading wave of energy formed before his eyes and the shadowy figure appeared with the wheeze of hydraulics and the expulsion of compressed air.

"What is it?" A cyclopean band of light, jagged and pointed to the ground lifted from the veil and regarded him emotionlessly.

"Something has happened, my lord..."

---The Citadel, Lan-Dria---

"What is this? The Crimson Warlord making 'peace' with his neighbors!?" Lan-Drian the XVI rose from his throne and kicked over the table of strategic maps and documents among which were copies of the three treaties Ranma had signed. "What the devil is going on here!? Typhon Sidhe never does anything for no reason! Could the Harpies have a secret weapon?"

"A weapon powerful enough to cow Typhon into peace? Preposterous! These are the Harpies we're talking about!" His chief advisor snorted from beside him as the Emperor went on a rampage, crushing the strategy board and destroying the very expensive piece of technology. "Would you please try not to destroy the equipment, your august Majesty?"

"I will destroy what I will, Neotomi!" Lan-Drian gave the sparking, smoking console another harsh kick before seating himself. "I have endured his humiliating victories and risen stronger every time but even after twenty years I have no idea what goes on in that head of his."

"No doubt he would like to keep it that way, Emperor." Neotomi, a taller man of willowy body-type and pale skin leaned over and righted the table, leaving the shattered remains of the console to the Emperor's servants. "But what could be his motive in this of all things?"

"The Harpies are nothing but pathetic power-hungry vultures! I have needed their mountain as a strategic location for decades and now Typhon butts his fey head into the mix." Lan-Drian slammed a fist into the armrest and balanced his chin in the other hand, looking out the palace window to the ice-storm already upon their capitol city of Dreumos. "And when will this dratted weather end!?" The Emperor was understandably annoyed by the latest news.

"Perhaps if we rid the land of the Harpies we could establish a foothold in Teh Sthlhu?"

"True, but how? We cannot risk a full assault as we planned, if Sidhe's children are in the mountain he will no doubt retaliate..."

"We will simply have to make sure no evidence exists." Neotomi smirked at the Emperor's open-mouthed look of astonishment which quickly turned into a smug smirk of all teeth.

"You have something planned, do you not? Some secret weapon like before...I knew it!" Lan-Drian jumped out of the throne, drab cloak of navy whirling in the air as he grabbed the taller man by the lapels. "Don't you!?" He soon realized that his grip was stopping the flow of blood and oxygen to his advisor's head. "Sorry about that, Neotomi old boy, I got a little bit carried away." He scratched the back of his head, after all if Neotomi had another secret project in the works than everything might still end spectacularly.

"'A bit carried away'? Anyway, Emperor, my men have reported complete success with the device found at the North Pole."

"That strange disk Geogindle's troops found?"

"Yes, sire, it seems to be a dimensional portal." Neotomi returned his tie to its normal location and brushed off the front of his uniform. When he returned to the anxious Emperor's gaze his purple eyes glittered in the dim light. "My men inform me that it can project a transportation window of infinite size."

"Big enough to transport a mountain?" The Emperor knew exactly where the conversation was heading, those Harpy twits would pay!

---Sidhe Castle---

"Gimdal, Heimdal, Vodral, come here!" The chieftain Kyatt Gatt called out into the darkened chambers for his three master-craftsmen.

Ranma was sitting in a surprisingly comfortable chair made of volcanic rock as the chieftain of Helmdenthal tapped impatiently on the sides of the cavern. The city of Helmdenthal which resided underneath the palace was an amazing world of heat, fire, and metal. The items and weapons they made astounded him, particularly as they pulled the steaming mounds of liquid metal out of the lava with their bare hands. Apparently, and his memory confirmed it, his visit was the first time Lord Typhon had descended in fifty years. He was met with fanfare as he and his escort were lead to the chieftain's chambers, a beautifully carved cavern of sparkling volcanic glass and gems.

"If they are not here I shall return later..."

"No, no, my Lord! That simply will not do! They're probably just asleep...yes, that's it! Asleep!" The chieftain crossed across his desk and gripped a hanging cord by the chair. "This will get them up!" He pulled hard and an awful cacophony arose from the depths of the residential caverns, as loud as it was through all the stone, Ranma was sure it might have burst a few eardrums up top. "It will just be a moment, my lord."

"I have all the time in the world, Gatt! Let them take their time." Ranma crossed his legs and watched the taller Gargaroth try to emulate his movement, he succeeded for the most part. "I must say, chieftain, this has taken very little time at all, I am very surprised."

"Oh, my lord Typhon, we are only too happy to accommodate a person such as yourself! Feel free to come down here anytime!" Kyatt sat back against his chair and wondered how his Lord could stand sitting like that for so long. "It has been so long many of us have forgotten what you looked like."

"I would have though with all the inter-breed marriages many of your people would have been up top."

"Well yes, but many of those that marry stay up top and do not return to the caverns." His own daughter was among those few who married ordinary men and lived in the palace proper.

"I don't understand why, Gatt, this place has as much beauty as the great hall in the palace." Ranma looked up at the elegant mosaics on the ceiling depicting his (Typhon's) deliverance of the Gargaroth from Gargarotha and the yoke of Lan-Dria. He was smiling at the larger-than-life image of himself.

Gatt wondered if the Lord had noticed his own use of a contraction. "Er...yes, my lord, we have always prided ourselves on our art and buildings." He scratched his chin and ran the palm of his hand down the side of his face, worrying about his standing with the lord. A dull plodding was heard from the caverns as three Gargaroth entered and stood at attention. "Excellent, here they are, Lord Typhon."

Gimdal, Heimdal, and Vodral were all half-breeds and thus of normal human height although their sinewy arms denoted their enhanced strength. Each looked identical to the next, as was natural since they were brothers, except for minor differences in apron and attire. Gimdal was an inch shorter than the other two and had a head shaped like a squash, pointed at the top and tapering down to a wide chin. His apron was made of black leather and it was clear he was the blacksmith. Heimdal was the tallest of the three and wore a red eye patch over his left eye. By the line of hammers and picks he was sure to be the blademaster. Vodral was of average height and looked normal in all respects until one saw that his right eye was milky white and not the usual black. He was the armormaster. All three looked down at Ranma with a mixture of admiration and trepidation.

"Gimdal, Heimdal, Vodral, this is our Lord Typhon Sidhe." The three bowed. "He has come down to our fair city to ask us a favor. He needs weapons and armor of specific weight and materials. By his descriptions I'd say we have to break out the mithral and Orihalcion." Gatt gestured to Ranma. The tall fey stood up and looked at the trio.

"I am Lord Ranma Sidhe, for Typhon is gone. As Kyatt said, I need armor and weapons manufactured for my new troops and chieftain Gatt suggested that you three were the best Gargaroth for the job. Will you accept my commission?" The three looked at one another. Gimdal and Vodral were opening their mouths to accept when Heimdal spoke.

"How much is the commission worth?" The other two were willing to do it for free just out of respect to Typhon but it was the second brother that had the common-sense and bravery to broach the subject.

"I will agree to pay you twenty-five thousand each for two thousand sets of armor and swords, knives, etc." Gatt smiled as he realized that as chieftain he would be receiving a tithe of their commissions. "That is after Gatt's tithe is taken." The chieftain's face fell and the three brothers looked at one another again and unanimously nodded.

"This we will do for you, lord Ranma. We merely must know how you want them and in what sizes."

---Audience chambers---

"What news of Lan-Dria, Gerabeve?" Leannan sat upon her smaller throne and listened to the reports as her husband oversaw the forging of new armor. "Has that bumbling fool Lan-Drian the XVI tried to attack us yet?"

Toh Gerabeve, commander of Sidhe's military and first general of the Crimson Warlord knelt with knee and hand to the carpet. A short man of stocky frame, his black hair was off-set by his yellow eyes and his nose occupied much of his face. "Not as of yet, my Lady, but his forces are moving on Fire Mountain as we speak. Our scouts have reported a strange object being carried with the army. It appears to be something of great importance."

"Any news on what it might be?" Ranma pushed open his own doors as the servants on either side looked at him in confusion. Choiler tapped his staff to the floor and announced the Lord's arrival, calling out in centurion tones the extent of Ranma's titles. "Lan-Drian has had his eye on Fire Mountain for the past decade he must have something big planned."

"Shall I mobilize a unit, sire?" Gerabeve looked up and stood with his hand on the pommel of his sword. "I can have the Chepharos prepared within the hour." Leannan looked worriedly from Toh to her husband as Ranma looked out the skylight and into the blue sky. The weight of the world could have been on his shoulders with the reluctance he spoke with as Gerabeve finally grew impatient. His head came back from the clouds and he looked to her with a warm smile.

"It looks like we picked a perfect day to ally with Fire Mountain." He turned to Gerabeve in haste and with a fell voice spoke. "Ready my unit, Gerabeve and have them board the Chepharos but tell them not to dress in armor. I think my little request to the Gargaroth will be answered in less than an hour, knowing their factory system." The shorter man bowed low so that his cape fell to the ground and swiftly left.

"Do you think that this is a good idea, lover?" Leannan felt very apprehensive about Ranma going out against an unknown Lan-Drian weapon, Kami only knew what dangerous explosive that madman had dug up in the frozen wastes of the North Pole. "I do not feel comfortable with you facing an unknown." Ranma strolled up to his throne and took her hand in his as he sat. She looked up at him and felt his confidence through the bond, he was trying to subtly make her feel more at ease.

He was smiling widely at her.

"Do not give me that innocent look, Ranma Sidhe, you are trying to influence my feelings through the bond." She felt the intrusive emotions fade. "Nice try, lover, but you still have much to learn about our link." She patted his hand and watched as the man with Typhon's face smiled warmly and leaned out of his chair to kiss her.

"Everything will be fine, Leannan, I promise. Besides, when has 'The Crimson Warlord' ever lost?" She flashed a toothy smile to match his own.

"Never."

"I'm not going to deface this body of mine by marring it with defeat if that makes you feel any better." The use of a contraction was noted by the female fey but she chose not to bring it up, rationalizing it as a side-effect of the assimilation still taking place. There were still signs of change being wrought over his frame, the slight rounding of the cheeks and fuller color returning to deathly gray hair. "Seumethpro signed our peace accord and we have a duty to him and my children."

---Fire Mountain---

Titus Geogindle was a husky old centurion a bit too heavy for the standard chest plate and a little too saggy for the combat grieves. He stood on a precipice overlooking the rough mountain that periodically spewed hot magma high into the night air. He and his phalanx had been sent to be the coordinators of the operation and at the moment he had scouts circling the area for pockets of harpies hidden under the dense layer of fallen rock and boulders. Thus far no resistance had been found.

In the tent beside him sat the device, a flat disc of metal and glass hooked up to a portable nitrous generator. All they needed was one good shot and poof! No more Harpies. As he understood it, the device had to be placed deep within the mountain and activated from afar with a remote trigger. It would then project a wide cone of transportation which would swallow the entire mountain above it into twisted space and into another dimension.

"Praetor? All the scouts have returned." A young officer approached. Geogindle continued to look through his binoculars.

"Good. What news?" There seemed to be renewed activity on the southern face, they would have to approach from the North.

"They report an opening to the catacombs on the eastern slope."

"Excellent! We approach from the North in two hours."

---Chepharos troop transport---

Ranma lounged in the back of the carrier as it skimmed the straits of Charybdis separating his lands from the frozen tundra of the Empire. The waves were inconsequential to the craft as it was rather smooth sailing with only a few instances of spray coming over the deck. On either side of his cross-legged form were fifteen soldiers in his army, each one trained and accomplished in the basics of Anything-Goes and his new sword style. Half of the trainees were female, most military children although there were a few peasant daughters and two Gargaroth itching to test their mettle. The rest were young men; new enlistees from the pro-Sidhe craze that occurred post-assimilation. Without a command or request the two Gargaroth sat on either side of him, his personal guard so to speak.

Ravin was the taller of the two at 6'1 and she sat at his right hand polishing her Orihalcion sword intently as if afraid it would tarnish or rust in the span of a few moments. She was relatively human-looking as her head and features were of normal proportion. He was flat-chested even for one of her kind but her nipples poked from the leather jacket she wore. Her mithral breastplate sat at her feet as she told him it was 'too restricting'. Her shiny black locks were pulled back in a braided pony tail matching the style he favored on Earth.

Uei was of normal human height, standing at only perhaps 5'9, short for a Gargaroth. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and let lie to create a shimmering blanket of ebony to cover the tanned olive skin of her neck. She was blessed with larger breasts than Ravin but they only served to make her appear unbalanced as their sheer size did not quite match the proportions of her body. Also, she was a rarity for she was half-breed with one eye white with a blue pupil and the other completely jet black. She was picking at the leather jerkin she wore underneath her mithral breastplate as the cold night air only accentuated how rough and uncomfortable the leather was against her chest.

"We are nearing the mountain range, my Lord." The pilot stated from his location directly behind the fey. Ranma had been leaning against the control console. As the darker mountains moved across the navy skyline Sidhe's eyes hardened and he stood.

"We touch down in a few minutes, make sure all your armor is in place and your helmets are on, I would not put snipers past our enemy." He patted Ravin on the head and proceeded down the row, oblivious to the worshipful smoldering gaze of lust she held in her eyes. She quickly affixed her armor. "Remember everything that I taught you and you will make it out of this alive. Our objective is to capture or destroy this unknown weapon before they get a chance to use it against our ally." The group nodded in unison as he finished and he nodded back as the Mountain of Fire spewed gouts of lava into the night sky.

"Good luck everyone."

---To be continued---

(1) The South Pole of The Realm is a chaotic mix of magic and gravity. The Dead Lands as they are called have a tremendous magnetic effect the entire world over so that North is the opposite direction a compass's needle faces. This accident occur during the Great War of Independence (or The War of The Shadow), when Maximillian discovered the Warlord's plans for a magic-disrupting weapon and sabotaged the construct with the help of his Shade wife, Kase. The weapon, which had been constructed on the South Pole, exploded and showered the continent with chaos magic which was constantly in flux. This had the side effect of disrupting the proper use of magic anywhere on the frozen tundra and realigning the gravitational pull of the world. North is therefore still North but a compass needle will point straight up if you were flying South. It is all a matter of perspective.