Fall of a Martial Artist, Rise of a Demon Lord

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma ½, Infernum or any related characters in any way, shape or form. This work contains themes that may offend – reader discretion is advised.

Author's Notes: Infernum, to answer the questions of the curious, is a third-party "D20 system" RPG produced by Mongoose Publishing. While it does use the same general ruleset as D&D 3.5, it isn't actually linked to any of the existing D&D settings, particularly not the Great Wheel. Its actual inspirations include Doom, Dante's Inferno, Mad Max and Conan the Barbarian.

For those curious about certain details about the Infernum or its occupants, I've created a forum where you can post your questions and thoughts and I can get back to you quicker and in more detail then this story would allow – I'm very hesitant to make use of 'info dumps' like I did in the last chapter; it couldn't have functioned without it, but I know it usually harms the overall quality.

Chapter Two: The Taking of Spine Castle, Part 1

3rd Lament, 766AF

Ranma sat, or rather, crouched on the barren stone floor, listening to the hissing of flames and the crackling of roasting chitin. He'd been traveling with these creatures, these self-proclaimed demons, for hours now through these dark, trap-riddled tunnels, and he was more then grateful for the rest. About an hour ago, some kind of monstrous primeval beetle-thing had come tearing out of the floor and attacked them, only to be cut apart with fangs and claws and melee weapons of all sorts. After that, Captain Tchort had commanded a rest period while Nezrebe used its magic to seal up the tunnel that the Spawn had come from. The demons had set to roasting the beetle-thing with little talk, though there were some small conversations going on. Most had drunk from some kind of bottle that each demon carried and jealously guarded from its fellows. Hungry and thirsty, Ranma had begged for some water, receiving mocking jeers and finally a bottle of snowmelt from the surface. It had tasted terribly bitter, but Ranma had drained it willingly, too thirsty to care about the taste. It wasn't the first time he needed to drink brackish or nasty water to quench his thirst. Now, while he waited for the food to cook, he had decided to ask Captain Tchort just what this mission they wanted his help with was.

"We've been sent by Baron Zenisky to clear out a band of thieves and brigands that call themselves Djara's Brigade." The Hulk rumbled. "They stole one of our holdings, Spine Castle, from its rightful owners and now they're dug in like rockbiters, using it as a base to make raids on our lands and murder our tunnel crawler teams. The Baron thinks they might be hirelings of the Hoarders, but none of us care about that. We're to kill them and take Spine Castle back."

Ranma nodded slowly. He wasn't convinced that he was hearing the whole truth -they called themselves demons, for crying out loud- but the mission made sense. "So why are you coming in through these tunnels?" He asked.

"Spine Castle's tough to take in a frontal attack." Tchort explained. "Even after that invader blasted a breach in 312 AF and made a gatehouse there, it takes a lot of effort to come in through the front door, and House Lictat can't afford that sort of sloppy war. Before the breaching, the only way in was by air or through these tunnels; we're trusting that they'll be so fixated on without and above that they won't look beneath and within until it's too late. Still gonna be a hard fight, though, which is why I took you in: you killed three of my best in a few seconds, even though we had surprise on our side. With your talents, we'll get this done easily." With that statement, the demon rose to its feet and walked off.

Ranma sat and lost himself in thought, wondering how he could have possibly ended up in this sort of mess, then blinked when one of the smaller demons -Artificers, they called themselves- presented him with a chunk of scorched chitin and a glutinous shapeless mess of orange goop stuck to it. Ranma blinked at it, then realized the other demons were taking the same stuff from the beetle-thing's carcass, and gingerly took it from the demon's claws. It smelled horrible, but Ranma swallowed his revulsion and took a bite. It tasted almost as bad as it smelled - like salted half-set meat dripping with spatterings of suspicious charcoal-like crunchy bits. Ranma forced it down and ate it anyway; this was all he had and he had eaten worse in the past... though not much worse. He pushed himself to eat as much as he could stomach, reasoning that he had no idea where his next meal would be coming from or even what it would be.

If Ranma had the faintest clue that his mental processes had just mimicked his father's, he probably would have contemplated killing himself.

After choking down the 'meal' as it was, Ranma decided that if he was going to leave this group after they finished whatever mission they were setting out to do, he needed a lot more information than what he supposedly knew at this moment. One look at the Stalkers and the glint of cruel mischief in their eyes cemented his decision to stay away from them for the moment and Tchort was deep in conversation with the weird wolf-headed thing that stank to heaven in those stained robes, so he walked over to the nearest Artificer and sat down next to it, the demon responding with a mechanical noise of curiosity as Ranma held up the gun he had taken in that fight only a day before.

"So uh, what exactly is this thing? Doesn't look like any gun I've ever seen."

The Artificer cocked its head as Ranma held up his weapon, before it nodded in understanding. "That's a shattergun you hold there mortal. It is one of the three most common...'guns' here in the Pit. It is designed, or rather was designed, to disable escaping slaves, but worked too well, killing them within seconds of impact."

Ranma blinked, "Damn, sounds like a waste."

The Artificer shrugged, the metallic plates grinding together slightly.

"Not really, we just take the souls that come from the dead body and torture them anyway."

That was the opening for Ranma's next question. "So what do you do with souls anyway?"

The demon's response was to hold up its nearly empty bottle.

"Plasm, or Plasmic Iliaster. The substance of the soul, the spark of human life, the stuff of which angels are formed. Only through the torture of a soul can it be harvested and because of that, it is our lifeblood, the reason Hell exists. Much as you mortals need food and drink, so do we need iliaster. It sustains our life, powers our spells, fuels our machines and drives the gears of the Infernum on their course. Iliaster is the fuel of Hell's fires, and without it, there would be nothing here but dust and darkness."

Like a flash the vial was gone as the Artificer studied Ranma with pale eyes, "You have more questions, I can sense your curiosity. Speak them, and for now I will provide you the knowledge you seek… so long as they do not harm us." Ranma felt as though the demon was grinning behind all that armour, "All things in Hell come at a price. Pay now or later, with your blood or that of others, but you will pay."

Ranma did not know it at that time, but those words would stay with him for the rest of his life. Thinking carefully – despite his reputation for impulsiveness, he was not stupid by any means – he chose to ask another question that had been bothering him. "After I killed those friends of yours, why did you just leave them to rot?"

The Artificer stared at him and then made a noise that was doubtlessly laughter, but reminded Ranma more of electrical static. "We are not so sentimental as you humans. They were dead, they had not been breached, we took what we needed from them and left them. There is nothing more to say."

"Breached?"

"Should an angel or a demon take a mortal wound, the iliaster within their bodies begins to leak out, much like ichor; it is possible, and indeed practical, for another demon to consume this iliaster as it seeps from their wounds, drinking it to revitalize themselves." Again it laughed at the horrified expression on Ranma's face. "This is the Infernum, mortal child. Only the strong, the cunning, the ferocious and the lucky survive here. One must be strong, here (it tapped against its chest with one clawed finger), or one shall perish. But if your will is focused and your drive great, there is no height you cannot climb to amongst the flames. We of Lictat were once common demons, grubbing in the ashes for the leavings of the other Houses, but now we stand before them as equals. In time, who knows? Perhaps, when the Throne of Hell is claimed at last, it will be House Lictat that shall bring forth the King of all Demons…"

"…What do you mean, they weren't breached?" Ranma finally asked, disgusted, truthfully wanting to avoid speaking any more on this topic, but unable to help himself.

"You killed them too fast. The iliaster within a demon is only drinkable while life still clings to their shell. When they die, all of the iliaster within their corpse turns stagnant and drained, becoming worthless to us." The artificer explained, grimacing with disgust, but at what, Ranma didn't know and didn't particularly want to know.

With that, he fell silent, having already heard more then he was comfortable with. He was unaware of the penetrating glance burning into him, the Daemon known as Nezrebe scowling under its hood as it turned back to Tchort.

"Such curiosity, with the right words that mortal could have made a fine slave for Lictat." It glared at Tchort, "And you had to agree to its deal. 'No strings attached'? You're as brainless as the rest of your kind!" Tchort simply rumbled in its throat, and Nezrebe raised a hand, "Fine, fine, it was an oversimplification. But still, what kind of idiocy possessed you to agree to such terms?"

Tchort glanced over at the human talking with the Artficier, now discussing how mortals existed in Hell, and shrugged, "I have a feeling. He's got something...special about him. He'll go places, I know it. Call me stupid if you want, Beast, but Lictat will benefit, one way or another, because of him."

Nezrebe's response was to spit a gobbet of greenish saliva onto the rock, "Suit yourself Hulk, but I still think you are a fool."

"And I think you're more trouble than the crowns it took to hire you. So if you have nothing else to say, lets get this mission done with." Rising to its feet, Tchort clapped its hands together, the sound drawing the attention of everyone to the towering figure, "All right; enough lazing about. Get your gear together, we have a castle to retake."

Ranma grimaced as he checked his new shattergun and loaded a clip of ammunition and at Tchort's signal, the group began heading to their destination once more.

There wasn't precisely a military order to the warband's procession. More of a kind of ordered anarchy; Tchort and the Artificers were roughly at the forefront, as their natural armor, coupled with the metal armor they were wearing on top of that, made them durable enough to form a kind of walking shield wall, Nezrebe at the back, and the Stalkers fanning out loosely around the group, a "designation" into which Ranma found himself falling, though he tried to remain closer to the group, mainly as he still didn't entirely trust them not to lead him into a trap or try and shoot him in the back. He blithely ducked under a spear that suddenly shot out of the wall at neck-height, reaching up and snapping it off about two thirds of the way down before it could retract, then leapt over a sudden pit trap that opened under foot. So far, he had to admit that this mission honestly was easier then some of his usual fights back in Nerima. The next hour or so of walking just flashed past with no casualties or even serious injuries, making Ranma wonder if these demons were even going to need him - after all, how dangerous could these enemies be if they were too stupid to make effective traps? He blinked as he realized that the group had stopped and were staring at a wall.

"What's the matter? Forgotten the secret latch?" He asked.

"There's not supposed to be a wall here, human." Nezrebe growled disdainfully. "You. Touch the wall." It barked at one Stalker.

"Me? No way, I ain't touching it!" It snarled back, before Tchort grunted with disdain and shoved it against the wall in question. Sparks immediately flew through the air, the demon howling in pain before the cascading energy threw it, charred and smoking, to the floor.

"I'll bite. Just what happened?" Ranma asked in the resultant oppressive silence (well, save for the pained gasps from the injured Stalker).

"A Warding. As I suspected; those miserable maggots have sealed the way in both physically and mystically, and we have no explosives!" Nezrebe hissed.

Ranma, remembering what the Artificer had told him about the reasons why humans could be valuable in Hell, tried not to look offended. "Explosives?" He asked sarcastically, pushing his way to the front and then punching the wall with all his strength, opening a hole large enough for all of them save Tchort to push through. "Who needs explosives?" He finished.

"...How the fuck did you do that?" One Artificer demanded.

"It's all in the wrist." Ranma replied off-handedly. "Are we going in, or what?"

"Fine – you go first." Some demon commented.

Ranma shrugged nonchalantly and hopped casually into the darkness beyond the hole, the other demons hesitating, then following as Tchort scowled thunderously.

Being first meant that Ranma was effectively cut off from the light generated by the belt-lamps the Delving Claws all wore, but this castle had sputtering torches mounted on the wall and lit, even though this was supposed to be an effectively abandoned section of the castle. The light they shed was pale and barely pierced the clouds of greasy smoke that wafted from them, thick with the scent of putrefying fat being burnt. The smell was horrible, and the smoke stung at Ranma's eyes, but he'd been trained to overcome adversity and he was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself, so his performance wasn't affected. Certainly not enough to prevent him noticing the shadowy figure present in an alcove at the end of the hall. Ranma froze, trying to become one with the darkness, as he studied the figure. It looked like a woman, more or less, the only difference being its left arm was unnaturally thick and muscular - it had to be, in order to support the chainsaw that had somehow been absorbed into her hand, pipes and cables running into muscles further up her arm, metal meshing blotchily with suppurating flesh, bladed chain idly spinning, not yet revolving fast enough to achieve full cutting speed. Ranma waited for what felt like an hour, then, when he was certain that the guard hadn't seen him, he slunk back the way he came.

Tchort grunted to himself as Ranma returned from his run ahead, "Well, what did you find out?"

"There's a guard up there, but I don't think she's too alert. I'm positive I can sneak past her." Ranma replied confidently.

A Stalker spat, "All well and good human, but what of us? Unless you have some magic trick to hide a Hulk, a Beast who stinks of rot, and the oil of the Artificiers, from her senses then please enlighten us." The others snickered as Tchort's hand made a chopping motion, eliciting silence as he returned his focus to Ranma.

"He is right, unless you can get us all past the guard, the alarm will be raised regardless." A moment's consideration and then, "Kill the sentry. Our mission here is to take the castle, we cannot afford letting any survive."

"What! Me? No way, I didn't sign on to do your killing, have one of your dog-things do it!" Ranma snapped in shocked outrage.

Faster than anyone, let alone Ranma, could react, Tchort's hand lashed out and backhanded Ranma across the face as the various demons smirked in amusement as the Hulk stood over the teen, "I can suffer insolence from these rats because I know I can depend on them to do their job. You have no such privilege human, so long as you are with us you will follow my orders, or suffer the consequences as a result. Kill the sentry."

In an instant, Ranma shot to his feet, effortlessly launching an uppercut that knocked Tchort clean off its feet. "I won't!" He declared.

Weapons snapped into place as Nezrebe shook his head, "So you sneak past her then human, and then what? Will you sneak past the others as well? Will you spirit away the castle under their noses? You seem to think that if you're defeated that they will treat you with respect. They won't, like us they would gladly take the chance to tear your soul free of your corpse and torture you for sustenance and amusement. You are an insect in their eyes humans, good only for the fun of crushing under their boots. And not only that, what makes you think you avoided detection by that guard?"

Ranma said nothing, mind racing for answers, even as Tchort pulled itself to its feet. "It's nothing personal, human, simply business. It knew the risks when it began raiding our lands. Besides, you killed my Stalkers without any hesitance."

"That was self defense!" Ranma protested.

"So is this. What's the matter? Does this guard look more human then my demons did? Is that why you're uneasy?" Tchort asked, grinning wickedly at Ranma's flinch when this was brought up. "You're already a killer, boy. Abstaining now won't take the ichor from your hands. The sentry will die, the only life you can save is your own. Now, what will you do...?"

Ranma's head sank. It was true, he hadn't hesitated to kill the Stalkers that had attacked him, and as the other demons had pointed out, this band of tunnel crawlers were the only ones in all of Hell currently not inclined to be hostile to him. He needed their help. Without a word, he turned around and slunk back to the alcove, doing his best to ignore the mocking jeers he could feel being thrown at his back. He was also aware of the Stalkers that slunk after him; they were good at stealth, but not quite as good as he was. Quickly and quietly, Ranma was watching the sentry again, studying her as he tried to muster the will to do what he must do. But there was also a pragmatic reason to Ranma's hesitance; the chainsaw on the end of his target's arm posed a threat even to him, and being where it was meant that Ranma had to either remove it or kill her quickly, lest he find himself exposing parts that were never meant to see the light of day, or missing vital pieces. Like his head. Ranma watched and waited, mustering his strength, feeling strangely like a snake preparing to strike.

Then, when the sentry moved into a position that Ranma judged suitably open, he virtually exploded into action, darting across the intervening space in a blur of motion, right hand spearing into her back with all of his strength, puncturing surprisingly tough flesh and bone like a harpoon, left hand latching onto her chainsaw-wrist like an iron clamp, a vital move as she jerked and shuddered and tried to scream with shredded lungs, threshing wildly for a good two minutes before finally going limp with one last spasm. He released her wrist and yanked his hand from her chest, sickened to his heart and stomach as the corpse collapsed onto the stone floor.

Almost immediately after that he felt a hand slap him on the back as a Stalker grinned next to him, "Nicely done, nicely done! You just might be cut out for this human!" He noticed the look on Ranma's face, "Hey, I'd have a long face too ya know, this one's actually a bit of a looker, but chin up human, at least you ended it quick for her."

Ranma shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face, then continued forward, the Stalkers now moving ahead of him and dealing with any guards they found, obviously deciding that the human had had his fun and now it was their turn to do some killing as gurgles and muffled snaps and cracks echoed through the stone hallway as Ranma jogged down the hallway to join them.

Tchort noted that it was easy to tell which kills the human did and which his Stalkers did. The human's kills were precise, surgical and almost always clean while the Stalkers...to say that they made a mess was an understatement from the torn out throats and nearly decapitated heads along with those that had been mutilated for trophies. There were no gunshots or explosions so at least the alarm hadn't been raised, but Tchort was wary to simply waltz down corridors that had been apparently cleared, not simply because some of his Stalkers had a tendency to leave behind harmless but annoying boobytraps as jokes.

So it was a relief to find the human and the Stalkers waiting patiently at a three-way fork in the corridor. The solution to the obvious and unasked question, barely took any thought at all as Tchort rumbled, "Split up, find the rest and kill on sight but be careful, we don't know how many are left in this place or what they have to throw at us."

With only a brief pause that saw Nezrebe take command of a group that included the human, Tchort made a signal and the three groups ventured into the gloom.

And here's the latest chapter at last. Originally, we were going to make this just one chapter, but we decided we'd taken long enough to get something new out. Not to mention that having its own chapter to itself will help the 'fight scenes' get much more detailed. To those of you who do recognize Spine Castle, yes, Ranma will find out its secret. Those of you who don't know about Spine Castle will discover in the next chapter. As for the matter of fate pools and boosting armor/weapons, that's a trick Ranma is going to need to wait in order to learn about; the Delving Claws aren't quite ready to tell him about those special tricks just yet.

An inevitable part of life in the Infernum is mutations. So, naturally, that means that Ranma is going to be picking up some mutations as the story progresses and the Corruption begins to fully infuse him. The thing is, there's so many mutations (50 themed 'Chains', with an average of 3 or 4 mutations per chain) it's hard to decide what ones to give him. In the Author's Notes, I mentioned a forum I created for Infernum. Well, one of the topics I established there is a complete transcript of all of the Common Mutations from the Book of the Damned (Infernum Player's Handbook, for the curious). Please feel free to read over them, and then alert me, via review to this fanfic, a post to the topic, or even a PM, which mutation(s) you think would work best for him.