Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma ½™ or Warhammer Fantasy Battle™ in any way, shape or form. Fan-art based on this series –and suggestion on how to represent Ranma and the Fikskulls in games of Warhammer- would be greatly appreciated.
Author's Notes: well, that chapter went down much better than I could have anticipated. I even got a few character suggestions, and all of them were quite well created. I especially like yours Gideon020; I don't suppose you could "flesh out" the circus he's in so I can introduce him as part of the next chapter? I intend to have the next few chapters set in Mordheim; makes things easier. One thing I forgot to mention before; a Fire Kobold is a sub-breed of Goblin that's not only immune to fire but can also spit fire as well. Ironic that you suggested a unit of Ogres Booyah; I was contemplating a scenario where the Fikskulls are up against an Ogre Army, but they're more concerned about the fact Ranma's accidentally drunk a fluid that is, in essence, equivalent to drinking six liquefied Mad Cap Mushrooms in one shot. Orc & Gobbo players will understand just what that means. Also, Coranth, you needn't worry; while casualties are inevitable, I have no intention of letting Shirotaka die. Not unless it's in some incredibly heroic manner, like killing a Black Dragon single-handedly or something like that. Erentei; I'm very fond of D&D- I'm even part of a project at the WoTC boards to make a Warhammer Fantasy D20 Campaign Setting. You have ideas; I want to see them.
Chapter 21: Old Troubles Made New
"Fire inna hole!"
WHUMP! KRA-KOOM!
"Direct hit!" Squee shrieked triumphantly, before laughing like The Joker with a lungful of helium until he took too deep a lungful of smoke and started coughing. Da Deff Kart's mortar had one big problem; when it fired, it sent a high-pressure cloud of chemical smoke gushing out of the door and all the various holes and cracks in the walls. While this could have been an advantage, it was just as likely to affect its driver as it was anyone standing next to it, friend or foe. Still, the mortar itself had been pretty damn effective; having just blown about thirty of the muck-encrusted undead that had begun attacking the Fikskulls to pieces. Squee lashed out at the Giant Squig hitched to the front of Da Deff Kart, whipping the frenzied beast into charging forward to smash into a regiment of zombies.
The Greenskins had been slogging through the swamp, the ruined spires and shattered towers that marked what had once been known as one of the greatest cities of the Empire –and which was still known as the City of the Damned– faintly visible on the horizon, the sun beginning to set, when suddenly the marsh had boiled and heaved as sodden zombies and mud-cacked skeletons had begun to emerge from the depths. Tired and surprised as they were, the Fikskulls veterans had faced tougher foes than this, and the new recruits were truly receiving their baptism of fire. Quite literally for those who made the mistake of standing too close to Squee and his uncontrolled barrages of bombs and rockets. But, as Ranma had taken every opportunity since the battle with Captain Gunder's forces to train his army in fighting together more efficiently, things were still going the way of the Greenskins.
Fergee's face was split by a broad smile of pure delight as he leapt around like a child jumping in mud puddles, almost incidentally squashing undead into so much pulp beneath his giant feet. All of the Fikskulls did their best to keep as far away from the enthusiastic Giant as possible; though Fergee was almost unnaturally well balanced for a Giant, he was still a Giant- a creature notorious for its clumsiness, and they were in a slippery, slimy, squelchy swamp. No one wanted to be at ground zero when he finally slipped and fell over.
Urbari and Chirrick fought back to back –and neither of them had any idea how that had happened– against a ravening pack of slavering ghouls, Urbari's runeaxe and Chirrick's Weeping Blade (once the property of Warlord Tribble) hacking and cleaving through the degenerate cannibals. The two actually made quite a good team; Urbari's thick armour and sheer Dwarf toughness allowed him to easily weather the blows from their opponents, and while they were distracted Chirrick could literally cleave through their ranks.
As for Ranma, he was on foot and facing quite the challenge himself; he had taken it upon himself to combat the leader of these creatures, a Vampire. In life the creature had apparently been a human woman, and apparently quite a beautiful one too. In undeath she was a sad remnant of what she had been, a feral stinking beast clad in mouldy, shredded finery and face contorted in an expression of bloodlust. She shrieked in fury and clawed at Ranma's face like an animal, the human resorting to a defensive revision of the Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken to ward her off. Finally, he saw an opening.
As she dove towards him he leapt upwards, twisting around in midair to land facing her back. Before she could react his right hand, fingers extended to render it vaguely blade-like, lashed out and stabbed deep into her back, the magic of the Shockwave Gauntlets reacting with the move to blast a hole directly through the Vampire's chest. For a heartbeat they remained in a frozen tableau, Ranma's hand hovering in the middle of a sizable hole in her chest, before the Vampire's form changed into a statue of solidified dust and ash, which then broke apart in a billowing cloud as a final tortured scream split the air.
The dust had no sooner begun drifting towards the earth than the air where the Vampire had once stood began to ripple and pulse with arcs of black lightning, which then erupted to strike all of the undead upon the field. Their master destroyed, the dark magic that shackled these corpses into a blasphemous parody of life was dispelled, causing the undead to finally collapse apart into their eternal rest. As Urbari and Chirrick double-teamed the last Ghoul, cheers of victory and triumph echoed throughout the mere. Dusting his hands clean, Ranma smiled as he surveyed his forces. Though Mordheim was practically on the horizon, the Fikskulls were really too tired to go any further tonight.
"Set camp!"
A couple of hours later, and the camp was finally beginning to settle down for the night. The evening meal having been eaten, most of the Greenskins were settling down for the night, the sole exception being those unlucky saps on guard duty and the odd Greenskins still engaged in some gambling game or the other. The sole exception was the tiny figure of Wiggit, who determinedly made her way across the camp to the hollow where Ranma had established his sleeping position. As she stepped into the hollow, Ranma looked up from the fire over which he was cooking his meal, leaning against the curled-up form of the sleeping Shirotaka, with Urbari and Chirrick both sharing his fire.
"Heya Wiggit. Pull up a lump and take a load off."
The Night Goblin Shaman did as she was told and sat down, Ranma returning his attention to the… whatever it was he was roasting on the fire, as the Skaven and the Dwarf eyed her curiously. Finally Ranma lifted the cooked thing and took a bite out of it before speaking with his mouthful.
"So what brings ya here?"
"Dere's… somefing we needz ta talk about."
"What is it? Some of the newcomers getting uppity? Someone I needs to put in their place? Is that it?"
"It'z somefing ta do wit da newcomers, yes, but it ain't a fight dey'z lookin' fer. Dere ain't no easy way ta say dis… ya gotta git hitched."
Ranma almost inhaled his meat and promptly started choking on the lungful of burning hot flesh, while Chirrick and Urbari both stared at Wiggit as though she'd just lost her mind. Ranma finally managed to half-spit half-puke up the meat that had nearly killed him and barely paused to finally get a decent lungful of air before on the Night Goblin.
"ARE YA OUT OF YER MIND!"
"Hear me out, hear me out! Dere's a reason fer it!"
"There'd better be!"
Wiggit quickly began to talk, honestly afraid for her life- the expression on Ranma's face was that intimidating. It was sorta traditional that a Big Boss would take at least one mate, so as to produce strong offspring who would –when/if they grew up– be an asset to the tribe. It wasn't required as such, and the Fikskulls themselves were more than understanding if Ranma didn't want to follow that tradition, but it was normal and the newcomers would be more likely to integrate if Ranma started following the tradition. If he didn't, there was a good chance that the newcomers would start to drift away, and if enough of them did that then more would drift away, ala "rats leaving a sinking ship" and soon Ranma would barely have any forces whatsoever. Wiggit trailed off nervously; she didn't like the way Ranma's eye was beginning to twitch. His fingers flexed and clenched tightly, sinews and joints cracking before finally he spoke, practically grating out the words.
"Is that everything?"
"Uh… yeah. Pretty much. Ya don't haff ta do anyfing wit her, just so'z ya know."
"That's enough. Leave me."
Wiggit hesitated, and then Ranma snarled and partially lunged forward, hands clenching into fists that she knew could have smashed her to pulp.
"Now!"
Wiggit promptly took off like a bat out of hell, and Urbari and Chirrick didn't wait around to be given their marching orders; they simply got up and walked away after the black-and-green blur that was Wiggit. Ranma heaved a sigh after they'd gone, suddenly feeling as exhausted as the old him would have been after twenty rounds against Ryoga, Mousse AND Kuno. He knew he'd really overreacted to Wiggit's story, but it just wasn't fair. He was finally free of the yoke of arranged marriages, and now they wanted to shackle him to a girl he didn't want again? What sort of cruel deity was laughing at his misery?
He quickly slapped himself across the face- he was losing the point here. The point was that unless he wanted to see the army he had so painstakingly assembled fall apart around his ears, he was going to have to get a "trophy wife"; a girl who he could parade in public as his mate. He was still grateful that Wiggit had told him that he wouldn't have to actually "do" anything with her- he didn't think he was ready for that yet. He sighed softly; all this worry was pointless, for now he'd just sleep and in the morning, well, that would sort itself out when it happened.
Ranma still wasn't feeling so hot by the time he woke up the next morning, resulting in the Fikskulls being ordered to remain at the established camp and train themselves in battle coordination, while Ranma himself took Shirotaka for a flight. The Fikskulls –other than the three who had been present at Ranma's "debriefing" the night before– were confused, but Ranma was the boss. Soon, the swamps below were ceding their dominance of the landscape to forests as Ranma soared through the sky, the joy of flight erasing his worries and cares as he simply absorbed the sheer pleasure of feeling the air caressing his face and watching the land below pass by uneventfully.
Check that. He pulled Shirotaka to a stop as a new scene met his eyes. Down below, Orcs were fighting against a warherd of Beastmen, whose ranks included a quintet of strange, mutant Trolls and a trio of Minotaurs. Coupled with these bruisers were about eighty Beastmen (with Ungors outnumbering their Gor cousins by about 2 to 1) and two-dozen mutant wolves. As the Orcs numbered maybe thirty in number, plus a further twenty mounted upon the backs of enormous wild boars, things definitely were not looking good for them. These Greenskins weren't part of the Fikskulls, but Ranma hated unfair fights. Not to mention Beastmen in general. A prod to the ribcage was all the signal Shirotaka needed before bellowing a bestial warcry and dropping from the sky like a stone, Ranma eagerly riding it all the way down.
The Wyvern landed on one Minotaur with bone-crushing force, instinctively driving its venomous tail-barb into the creature's spine just to be thorough as its jaws lashed out and closed around the skull of a second victim, Ranma vaulting from his seat in a neck-breaking flying kick at the third. Grinning savagely as the all-too-addictive flush of adrenaline and bloodlust surged through his veins, screaming into his mind like a red-hot tidal wave, Ranma turned in search of fresh victims. A skip, a hop, a rabbit punch and a Gor was down for keeps, its companions just barely turning to face Ranma before his Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken began stripping the flesh from their bones.
Bones breaking beneath his skilfully ungentle caresses, twisting and turning instinctively to let all manner of weapons whistle harmlessly past his armour-clad body, Ranma beamed with the joy of fighting. Forget girls, forget the myriad other things that had been forced on him prior to his salvation- this, this was the true ultimate meaning of life, this was the one sole reason behind everything, this was what made life worth living! He howled with laughter as he slaughtered his way through the ranks of the Beastmen regiment until all that was left was their leader- he was going to enjoy this!
And that was when an axe suddenly came out of nowhere and struck off his target's malformed head, sending the mutant body toppling to the ground in a torrent of gore as Ranma's gaze instinctively followed it. He looked up from the body towards the slayer, though even he had no idea whether he intended to congratulate them on a well-performed kill or pout at the fact they'd stolen his kill, but as it turned out what he ended up doing was staring in disbelief at the creature in front of him.
It –no, she– was maybe four inches shorter than Ranma. Her skin was green, though a paler green than was normal for an Orc's, and her hair (which was pulled back into a braid that hung down to around her hips, except for two short face-framing bangs) was a deep green, only barely distinguishable as being not-black. Her eyes were also a vibrant green that made Ranma, for some inexplicable reason, think of emeralds, or the first leaves of spring. She was dressed in a short, midriff-baring shirt and short pants, both made from jet-black wolf fur, and leather boots of the typical Orc style. She wielded a double-headed greataxe, the weight of it and the way she held it causing her obviously well-developed muscles to ripple visibly, and two double-headed handaxes were strapped to her back in a cross-pattern.
Finally, and most noticeably of all, other than the muscles, and the green skin, and the tiny tusks that barely jutted past her lower lip, she looked completely like a human girl. She swung her greataxe into a battle-ready posture and inhaled deeply in preparation of a fight, an action that caused her shirt to strain to contain her bosom. (Somewhere between a B-cup and a C-cup, though closer to the C if Ranma was any judge. Damn Happosai and his constant involvement of Ranma in his perversions; the ability to judge a woman's bra size by sight was not a skill any real warrior should have!) Ranma didn't react; he wasn't entirely sure what this creature was, but it was obvious she wasn't on the side of the Beastmen.
"Who're yoo?" She snarled, whereupon Ranma simply grinned back, one of the cheeky but attractive smiles that had helped him unwittingly win the hearts of his fiancées in Nerima. He crossed his arms and legs nonchalantly, and would have learned back casually if there were anything to actually lean on. It was hard to say how much of this was automatic, the instinctive reaction of Ranma's admittedly impressive ego, and how much of it was deliberately calculated, a manner of inducing insecurity and doubt without appearing overtly threatening, but it was a tactic Ranma was unquestionably skilled in the use of. He was silent just long enough, then spoke in an easy tone of voice, effectively throwing his would-be interrogator off-balance.
"I'z Ranma da Weird. Who're you?"
"Forna da Pale" she responded instantly, then clamped a hand over her mouth (almost braining herself with her axe in the process) as she realized what she had just done. She glared at Ranma, who simply let it wash over him; uglier-looking things than her had glared at him before. It was anyone's guess what would have happened next had not a pair of the mutant Trolls suddenly attacked them. Forna struck out with her greataxe, hewing off once spindly mace-tipped limb before gouging deep gashes in a sucker-covered chest.
Ranma dodged a blow from an appendage that was equal parts octopus tentacle and crab pincer before jump-kicking his victim in the throat. As it bent over, gasping for breath, he punched it savagely in the crotch before knocking it over onto its back with a snap-kick. He then leapt into the air and dropped onto its chest like a stone, in mid-air drawing Gitzduffd's Staff from across his back and using the exaggerated point of its butt to impale the Chaos Troll's heart. It voiced an ear-clutching roar of agony that quickly gurgled to a halt, the blow having proved mortal beyond even its regenerative powers. He looked over to where Forna had just decapitated her Chaos Troll, then grinned at her and gave her an appreciative salute. The –whatever she was– looked startled, then shyly smiled back at him. The two then turned and went their separate ways into the battle- there was still plenty of killing to be done.
When the fighting was over, the surviving Orcs –the Mugwhomp Tribe, they called themselves– gathered around to applaud Ranma's fighting skill- and to find out exactly who (and what) he was. When they heard about his position as Big Boss of the Fikskulls tribe, they immediately asked if they too could join his tribe, their former leader having been killed. The Big Boss –and soon to be Warboss– couldn't help a faint smirk that spread across his face. Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
"There's somefing I needz ta talk ta yooz about first…"
Okay, chapter done. I think this one was a bit weak, plot-wise, but that's not really my call- it's the right of you reviewers to decide whether you like my work or hate it, and I'm happy to admit that so far, and in general, you've liked it. I think you can figure out what Ranma's going to do, and I'll try and do the "aftermath" in the next chapter, but I'm not too confident in my ability to handle it very well- part of the reason I left it out of this chapter. Anyway, I'm very pleased with all the detailed characters people have been giving me; good characters inspire scenario ideas, which makes for more chapters to this story. Keep up the great work peoples! Also, I'm pleased to report that this story has, at only 21 chapters (including this one), surpassed my previous "Great Story" of Sacrifice ½ by over 200 reviews!