Waaagh! Ranma!

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi. Warhammer Fantasy is the property of Games Workshop. I don't either; I am simply a fan with more than a few bats in his belfry.

A/N: I'm glad to see that this remastered version is shaping up to equal its predecessor in its popularity. Just to clarify, though I appreciate the offers made, Gideon020 and I are currently quite satisfied with KindredofTwilight's work as a beta- the note about seeking a beta was an unintentional remnant, left behind by accident.

Chapter 2: Starting the Waaagh! Part 1

Ranma groaned as he finally, reluctantly woke up. For some reason, his body felt really sore- as if he hadn't slept on his usual futon. The explanation came when probing fingers touched cold, bare rock and his eyes, after they adjusted to the low light, revealed him to be sleeping in what was unmistakably a cave. A cave currently littered with about twenty-five hulking forms, in varying states of sleepiness. Ranma looked over his surroundings with a growing sense of dismay.

"Great. So it wasn't a dream."

He'd been hoping he'd just cooked up the events of yesterday, his teleportation, his fight, his unwitting ascension to leadership of a band of Orcs, inside of his head. That his memories of heading further down the mountains and settling into a conveniently spacious cave when night had fallen had just been dreams. No such luck. Hearing his stomach growling, and smelling meat cooking from a large fire that had been thrown together at the mouth of the cave, he got up and headed there- he didn't know what was cooking, but he hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday, and he was starving.

A small band of orcs was standing around the fire. Several were roughly gutting, jointing and skinning various woodland critters -a couple of wild boars, rabbits, several birds- and passing them to a smaller cluster, who promptly impaled them on stakes and held them into the fire that the third and smallest cluster was tending.

And not very well, it had to be said. Ranma didn't really know much about the local flora, but he had spent the vast majority of his life on the road and so he knew how to survive. Which meant, among other things, he knew how to build a fire- and lumping still soggy branches and green leaves on a load of dried moss was not a good way to build one. Great gouts of smoke gushed from the impromptu pyre, leaving the orcs nearby coughing and spluttering.

Ranma stepped over to the fire, deciding that getting warm was worth a little smoke inhalation as the orcs made way for him to sit down as the wood began to dry out enough to start burning with a flame and get some cooking done to the meat and soon the smell of cooking, and burning meat was filling the air along with plenty of thick smoke.

When the meat was cooked, then the grab for food began and Ranma's unique food-stealing skills came to the fore as he managed to grab much of the better looking pieces and avoid the ones with too much char on them, but strangely enough even though it was obvious Ranma was the one grabbing the best stuff, the other orcs didn't even react in their likely usually violent manner… maybe it was a prerogative for a boss to get the best stuff then?

Shaking his head and whacking the hand of some orc who thought he was sneaky enough to steal food, Ranma focused on eating as the fire crackled cheerfully even as it belched smoke into the air, earning coughs and wheezes while hands grabbed, slapped and punched to get the last available sticks.

As morning meal finished, one of the orcs tapped his mate on the shoulder, "Hey, yoo neva did finish dat story about how yoo beat dat humie wit' da big hamma usin' a stick."

The other orc looked confused and then the light of remembrance hit and soon he was launching into a story, which Ranma managed to work out was about how the orc had somehow beat up a blacksmith during a raid with a plank of wood after losing his sword.

This was soon met by more stories, each one larger and more over the top than the last.

Ranma sat and listened as his new "followers" (not that he wanted them to follow him anywhere) bragged to each other of their exploits. Now, normally, Ranma was actually a fairly modest individual- though he didn't hesitate to trash-talk his opponents in battle, boasting of his prowess wasn't something he did as a general rule. Still, it was a way to pass the time, and it wasn't as though he didn't have his own stories to share.

Ranma waited until the latest orc finished his story, about a duel with a self-proclaimed swordmaster, before he spoke up.

"You call that a fight? Where I come from, someone like that wouldn't have even be a tussle."

"Oh yeah? Well, ain't yoo da tuff wun. Yoo sayin' yoo've fought better swordboyz?"

"Better? Boy, I used to start each day off by kicking the ass of a guy so good with a sword, he could smash rocks with it."

"Ah, I could do that!" drawled one orc.

"Boulders the size of your self? From a hundred steps away? Just by stabbing yer sword at it?"

"Aw, cummon, do we look like we just fell off the turnip cart? Nobody's that good!"

"I'm serious! This guy could smash stone and cut through trees with one swipe- and he used a bokken."

At the look of confusion, he remembered that this was an entirely different world. "A wooden practice sword." He added, for explanation.

"And yoo beat 'im?"

"Just about every morning- guy was a pushover by my standards. Besides, he's kind of... stupid."

"How stupid?"

"This bozo was so stupid, if you chopped his head off, he'd be twice as smart!" Ranma replied, then wondered for a second just where that had come from- that wasn't his usual line of humor. Still, the orcs seemed to think it was funny; they burst out laughing, slapping each other's shoulders and with glee.

"So, if that boy was a grot, who didja go to fer a real right?" Some orc asked.

"Well, there's always Mousse- guy carried more weapons than, well... you lot."

"More weapons than us?" The orcs said, sounding somewhat offended by the idea.

"Yep. He practices a style called Hidden Weapons; he wears these goofy-looking robes and he pulls out all sorts of junk from them. Not just swords and clubs and axes either- which makes him kind of hard to take serious. I mean, what self-respecting fighter uses kettles, chamberpots and combs as throwing weapons?" Ranma said, only half-joking.

"The lad'z a humie scraplauncher!" Marvelled one orc.

"Scraplauncher?" Ranma asked.

"These junky catapult-fings. Them... wotsits, Gnoblars build 'em. Throw all sorts of junk atcher- my cousin Ded'ed died from a horseshoe to da face. Splattered 'iz brainz everywhere- I fink I still got some..." The orc began rooting around in his pockets, prompting Ranma and the nearby orcs to recoil.

"Uh, that's okay you don't need to show us."

The orc shrugged but he stopped searching his pockets all the same as Ranma sat down and began searching his memory for another fight, nodding to himself when he remembered one, "Speaking of throwing stuff, I remember this fight I had with one of my more tougher opponents, some guy named Ryoga. He learned this technique that allowed him to toss these really powerful blasts of green light. I gotta admit, that was a toughie, until I worked out the trick."

Several of the orcs openly scoffed, one brave wit jokingly saying, "Yeh sure boss, pull the uvver one."

Ranma's face was impassive but he raised a palm and to the shock of the orcs, a ball of blue-white light began to form, growing in size until it was as large as an orc's meaty fist, and then with a flick of his wrist he sent the ball flying out the cave entrance and into a large tree, where with a explosion like a thunderclap, the massive evergreen creaked and fell with a thunderous crash as birds vacated their roosts.

Looking back at the other orcs, Ranma simply raised an eyebrow and the boyz coughed and looked away, though story telling was now officially over since no one could top what Ranma had done.

Ranma didn't show it, but he was kind of sorry that he'd stopped the talk now- it had actually been kind of... cozy, was the only word he could think of to describe it. He allowed the silence to linger for a minute or so, then spoke.

"So, what do you lot normally do?"

This led to a lot of confused looks and massed shrugging before some orc spoke up.

"We pick a fight."

The words hung in the air for a moment as Ranma fully digested them, then he felt compelled to break the silence. "With who?"

"Who ya got?" The orc nearest him said immediately, in what would have been a very effective snapback if he hadn't been completely serious.

Ranma said nothing. It wasn't like he couldn't understand where they were coming from- truth be told, there were times back in Nerima when he felt he was walking around with a target painted on his face. He suddenly wondered if he should be worried that he actually did understand these things... Pushing that down in the depths of his mind, he stood up.

"Well, while I ain't looking for trouble, I gotta better things to do than to sit around here all day."

Almost as if the universe had been waiting for that, thunder suddenly boomed and droplets of rain began to fall from the overcast skies- erratically at first, but with the menacing potential of a full-blown deluge. Ranma looked up, repressed the urge to cuss, then turned around and headed back inside.

"Then again, I guess I can stay here until the rain's over."

The Fikskulls watched him go in puzzlement. So it was starting to rain; what was the big deal? Eh, humies were weird, whether or not they were wimpy little grots. But then again, orcs didn't really like slogging through pouring rain even to get to a fight, and as no one particularly wanted to get beat down again this soon, they decided not to question Ranma's authority by leaving on their own and trooped in after him.

Of course, being stuck in a cave while outside quickly turned into a thundering storm soon turned boring. There wasn't really enough room here for Ranma to train, he didn't have any manga on him, so he resigned himself to just being bored. Around him, the orcs looked even worse off than he was- but then, they seemed to have rather short attention spans anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of them dig into its pockets before it triumphantly pulled out a set of dice. Said orc quickly became the center of attention as it started an impromptu game of dice that initially engulfed all thirty Fikskulls before a number of others found their own dice, causing the mob to split into a number of smaller clusters.

Ranma watched them as they began gambling, with bets being placed on all sorts of things from coins to weapons to broken baubles to knocked-out teeth, envying them their distraction. He had learned his lesson from the Gambling King, thank you- he and gambling games didn't mix. Kind of odd that he could bluff people pretty damn well in any other arena... but anyway, he didn't even have anything to bet but his clothes. And he was not putting them up for stake.

So, with nothing else to do, Ranma decided to try turning his mind inward- meditation wasn't exactly his favorite thing to do, he much rather practice his moves than sit around contemplating, but that didn't mean he wasn't any good at it. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his muscles and begin to let his mind clear. This dimming of temporal awareness meant that he had no idea how long, if at all, he'd been meditating before he was rudely jolted awake.

"I saw dat, ya cheatin' git!" bellowed one orc.

"Whut're yoo talkin' abawt, ya stoopid zogger!" snarled his opponent.

"Yoo been usin' loaded dice, ya filthy bastard!" Roared the first, who promptly punched the second in the face then jumped on him, setting the two rolling around and around while the others cheered and called encouragement to whichever they sided with. Ranma groaned to himself, but figured that he had better sort things out before they killed each other, standing up and springing easily over to the squabbling pair.

"Break it up! Break it up! Hey, you listening ta me? I said break it UP!" Ranma snapped, emphasizing his words by grabbing both orcs by the back of the head and smashing their faces into each other with... not all his might, because that would probably be fatal, but enough force that the sounds of their skulls cracking together echoed through the chamber and their noses gushed magenta blood as they were crushed on each other's face. Flowing with the momentum, Ranma threw them both aside, the other orcs quietening down as he glowered down at them.

"Give me the dice." he said, coolly and calmly.

Neither orc moved.

"Have you gone deaf? Gimme the dice!"

One of the watching orcs stepped forward, scooped up the dice from the ground and tentatively held them out to Ranma, who repressed the urge to blush in embarrasment and instead snatched them from the orc's hand. Crouching down, he rolled the dice... a 7. When the next six rolls all produced a 7, it was clear to everyone that the orcs' quarrel had been legitimate. Staring fiercely at the guilty orc, he snatched up the dice and squeezed them in his fist until they crunched into powdered bone, dramatically opening his hand to let the resultant off-white dust spiral pathetically down onto the floor. Not saying anything, he sprang back to his chosen perch and settled back down. As he did, the orcs quietly resumed playing, the guilty orc revealing the original, non-loaded dice he had been using and which he'd slipped up his sleeve in order to use the loaded ones. As the game got back into full swing, Ranma allowed himself a wry smile.

"This leader gig isn't so hard after all."

With that, he resumed meditation... only to be jolted out of it again by another fight.

"Zoggin' hell" He murmured, unthinkingly using the orc curse word, and sprang over to break it up again.

After breaking up a few more fights, and breaking a few bones which was a clear indicator on how annoyed Ranma was, the pigtailed martial artist and unwilling orc boss retreated back into the caves to the perch where he had hoped to get some sleep but with breaking up fights and cracking heads Ranma was now too pumped up to just get some sleep so he wracked his head for something to do until he came to the idea of checking his stuffspace pockets to see if they still worked.

The idea for the dimensional pockets that just about every martial artist -including their main user, the Chinese Amazon warrior known as Mousse- called 'Stuffspace', was to create a place that could store anything and could only be accessed by the one who created it. Whatever the trip to this place had done to Ranma, it was most evident in this technique as Ranma initially met with a fair amount of resistance in opening the pocket; either it opened a hole that started sucking everything in or it simply created a burst of light and vanished. Not one to be discouraged, Ranma tried again and again until finally he managed to open a hole and his schoolbooks along with an empty bento fell out.

Picking up the bento and giving it a once over before once again opening the pocket and tossing it in, Ranma looked over his school books and then out at the massive deluge outside that showed little sign of letting up before, with a shrug, Ranma did something that his teachers at Furinkan High would have paid through the nose to see; Ranma Saotome started reading his school books.

Several hours passed in relative silence, as silent as listening to the loud shouts of bets and counter-bets of gambling orcs could be, and Ranma realized that he could actually make use of the stuff in his school books when it came to his new...followers? Regardless, if he could educate these brutes then at least he could stand to watch them fight when they likely went up against a more deadly opponent than mutant animal-people. But, just like back in Nerima, reading all that dry educational material soon began to affect Ranma and in a matter of minutes, he was out like a light, snoring softly with his Chemistry text-book covering his face and his back against a sturdy stalagmite.

With their boss asleep, the orcs gambled on unaware that someone had managed to sneak past them.

Gragtar grinned darkly, idly tapping the head of his new war hammer (which he'd traded his old choppa for) in his meaty palm. He couldn't be boss until he beat the boy who was already boss... but nobody said he had to beat him in a fair fight! Slinking as silently as a 7-foot tall 275-kilo mass of muscle and malice as could, he crept up to Ranma. Ranma, whose ability to sleep through just about anything was one of his few unknown talents (alongside his talent for cooking), snoozed on placidly, unaware of Gragtar's looming presence. The orc sneered, spat on each palm, rubbed them together, then gripped his weapon's hilt with both hands, lifted it over his head and swung it down with all his might!

And succeeded only in making a small impact crater where Ranma's head had been, the human having rolled aside at just the last second. He blinked in confusion, then shrugged it off and tried again. Another miss. A third try was just as bad. Furious now (as though an orc needed much encouragement to get angry), Gragtar began pounding away frenziedly with the hammer, doing the best he could to imitate a jackhammer and hopefully crush Ranma's head to a bloody pulp, throwing up a small cloud of dust in the process. Gragtar finally stopped, chest heaving with exertion, and allowed the dust to clear. No blood anywhere.

"Dis humie's slipperier asleep den when 'e's awake!"

Someone tapped Gragtar on the shoulder at that point.

"Whut?" Gragtar snarled, currently focused on finding out where Ranma had gone and thus ignoring whoever was standing behind him. Ranma gave a dark smirk at the ex-boss's antics.

"And stay out!" Ranma shouted, hurling Gragtar through the air like a living spear to smash headfirst into a sapling, at the foot of which he promptly collapsed unconscious. There was a chorus of applause from the other Fikskulls; orcs just loved quality entertainment!

With the immediate excitement over, the Fikskulls settled back down to their continued games of dice, mixed with the odd brawl. So long as they didn't get too rowdy, Ranma ignored them, instead resuming reading his Chemistry book. This segment on producing gunpowder looked particularly interesting...

This distracted state, coupled with the fierce storm currently raging outside, meant that it wasn't any real surprise that nobody noticed the intruders until they had actually gotten into the cave, whereupon the Fikskulls promptly froze, waiting to see what would happen.

"Where's yer boss?" Snarled one of the figures, a quintet of hulking (even more so than usual) orcs clad in crude armor, bearing a number of weapons (at least three each) and with a skin tone of green so dark it was almost black.

"Where iz 'e? Dis iz a challenge!" The speaker snarled again in its deep, guttural voice.

Ranma quietly put his book aside and headed forward, struck simultaneously by feelings of foreboding and deja vu. Standing in front of the five strangers, he put his hands on his hips and looked up to stare them in the eye.

"Whatcha want?"

"Don't get mouthy wif me, slave! Where's da boss?" Grunted the largest of the challengers.

"Slave?" Ranma's eye twitched at that. "Listen here buster, call me that again and I'll break that club of yours over yer head! I'm the boss here- so whatcha want?"

"Yoo? Da boss of dese here boyz? What kinda runts iz yoo lot? Call yerselves orcs! Well, I'll break yoo across me knee, humie, den we'll show dese here boyz what it means ta be orcs!"

"Go right ahead and try. In fact, I'll let you have the first strike." Ranma sneered at his opponent, who towered head and shoulders over him. Rumbling deep in his chest with a sound like stone grinding on stone, the club-wielding black orc strode forward, hoisting his weapon and lashing out in a two-handed strike straight at Ranma's head.

Ranma calmly leaned over the side, allowing the obviously projected blow to whistle harmlessly past. "That's one."

Grunting to itself, the orc made a diagonal stroke, which Ranma easily sidestepped. "That's two."

Now snarling, the black orc made a waist-level strike, which Ranma hopped over as easily and as calmly as though he were leaping a puddle. "Three strikes... you're out!" The moment he landed he lashed out in a high kick, catching his unwitting opponent off-guard and striking them so hard that they soared upwards and bounced, headfirst, over the cavern roof, collapsing unconscious at the cave entrance.

With barely time to do more than gape, the remaining challengers looked up and one saw a slippered foot smash into his face with enough force to leave a visible imprint, though the armored hulk only staggered instead of falling down as Ranma landed gently on the groaning leader before flicking up a hand to give them a come hither motion. His challengers didn't need any further invitation.

A war hammer came in to take off Ranma's head but met only air as Ranma ducked, reached up behind him and upon snagging his hand on the weapon, artistically flipped onto the weapon and kicked the orc in his metal faceplate before hopping over an arm that lashed out with a large sword while the orc spun crazily before staggering to a stop, breathing hard before he goggled at seeing Ranma standing on his weapon with a smile as the human stepped forwards and kicked him in the face again, this time knocking him out.

As two armored orcs lay on the floor, the other three came together and glanced at one another before moving in cautiously and Ranma was surprised to see a fair amount of coordination in their apparent tactics. Ranma waited to see what would happen, and didn't have to wait long as the three came in, intent on catching Ranma between their weapons. Axes, clubs and swords came together with a symphonic clanging of metal but not human flesh and the three looked up and behind them to find their opponent.

"Sneaky git made a runner fer it." The orc who said that didn't even have time to react as fist came down on top of his helmet, driving all three to the ground thanks to their locked-together weapons as Ranma landed in the center of the steel and wood and lashed out with kicks to the faces of the three until they all sported rather nasty bruises and welts. In the background, the Fikskulls cheered and hollered joyfully; not only were they getting a fine show of an ass kicking, but their new boss was kicking the tar out of these strange gits who had tried to just take over. At that moment, the leader of the group recovered consciousness and with a roar of fury lunged forwards with the intent send Ranma's head flying all the way to the Northern Wastes.

Ranma for his part turned, grabbed the club and yanked it from the orc's surprised hands and, with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, brought it to soundly land on the dark-skinned brute's head, sending him back to dreamland before the club whirled around to finish the job of knocking out the remaining three orcs.

Pleased with his handiwork, Ranma turned to the others, "So now what? Do we kill them?"

It was a half-hour before the challengers regained their consciousness and wits about them to find themselves securely tied up and their weapons lying a few feet away as Ranma sat cross-legged in front of them, the rainstorm well and truly over though the forest was also truly soaked.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up. I don't know if you guys follow the same rules that these guys do, but I beat you, so I guess that means I'm your boss now." The leader grunted out a laugh at that.

"The zoggin' hell makes yoo think we'd follow a stinking humie?"

Ranma chuckled at the question and insult, "Oh I don't know, maybe because I'm the only one here who wanted you alive, the others were real keen on your stuff." A glance at the Fikskulls shooting glances at the weapons and the armour of the dark-skinned orcs, while nursing lumps and bruises that were the physical proof of Ranma's statement. The leader frowned.

"Hrrmmph, I guess we'ze gonna follow yoo then, yoo'ze our Boss now." One of the others made to protest but was silenced by a meaningful stare that Ranma deciphered easily, 'We're not gonna win this one.'

"Right then, I guess we'll have to untie you and give you back your weapons before we head off." Quick as a flash the bonds were gone and the weapons back in the hands of the stunned orcs as Ranma headed to his perch to pack his few meager belongings while the Fikskulls made the new members welcome, which meant good-natured teasing that started a brawl that Ranma had to break up, along with a few bones.

"Right then, what to do now?" There was a communal glance at each other while Ranma looked out at the sodden forest before the leader of the dark-skinned orcs spoke up.

"Yoo'ze may be our boss, but no proper an' 'ard orc is gonna follow yoo'ze unless yoo can make a Waaagh!" Grunts and comments of agreement chorused behind the orc, "And that means yoo'ze gotta get more orcs instead of putzing around in a dinky little cave!" A chorus of agreements, now louder and rowdier began as Ranma turned to look at the orc.

"What the heck is a Waaagh?"

The orc looked smug, "That's where a Boss proves he's the biggest an' 'ardest orc around by stomping on everythin' and everyone! That's how you get ta be a real Boss!"

The chorus of agreement was deafening and by the looks on their faces, Ranma knew he'd face a mutiny if he didn't agree.

"So all we have to do is recruit more orcs and look for bigger fights?" At the nods and eager looks, Ranma sighed, "What the hell, lets do this then." He held up a hand at the raucous cheers and cries of 'WAAAGH!', and asked a fairly simple question when they all quieted down, "But first things first. Which way do we go?"

The looks of confusion that greeted him told Ranma that this was going to be a long day…

And that's chapter two up and done. In the next chapter, Ranma's Waaagh finally gets underway… but first he's got to get himself a proper army under his command. Anyone else see trouble on the way…?