Chapter 1 Lonely Soulmates
Deep in the Northern Realms of Lodoss, inside a castle designed to look like a grouping of skulls, it was the home to one of the High Mages of Marmo, the dark wizard Brona. At the moment he was hunched over the pages of ancient Elven texts from the War of the Gods, between Falis, the God of Light, and Falaris, God of Darkness. The accounts were that of the Elves of there era, who watched and documented the horrible and powerful war.
The great dragons that were alive in this day were the survivors of that great war of the ages. Brona sat back in his chair thinking, turning to one of his undead warriors. He had already seen many of Valis' Knights head to the east, guided by the Mercenary King Kashu, heading for Marmo and a final conflict against whatever ruler had taken the place of Beld after his death.
Brona felt Beld was a fool to rely on Cobalts, Dark Elves, Goblins, and Men, to be part of his army. It was one of the arguments they had went through before Brona left Marmo and went to live in the Northern Mountains of Lodoss, where the once great wars of the ages had been fought. It was here that Brona found his army, buried under the ground. With his dark magic he raised his army, combining the undead with that of the rocks and stone from around the area. He stood looking at the parchment he found. "The fool Wagnard intends to resurrect the offspring of Falaris, the Supreme's cruelest daughter," he paused looking about. His long grey and white beard billowing in the gentle breeze, his darken blue robes also fanning out, "Why settle for Kardis the Mad when you can have the power of the Gods themselves, I will find away to raise Falaris from the depths of hell from which he was put to rest those ages ago, so that he may lead my army of the Undead, to victory against these pathetic creatures, and wipe them from this world."
It had taken Ranma less time than he thought to arrive in the town of Voris, a small place just below Valis' outer border, it was a place best suited for thieves, bounty hunters, and other less friendly people, the one place in all of Lodoss that was both good for information and bad for anyone who wanted a long life. Pirotess took a few minutes to gain her footing, after being carried at such a fast pace that would leave anyone with jelly for legs. Ranma looked around quietly keeping his senses alert, he already had a feeling the woman he was traveling with was not the kindest of souls, and the place they were in now pretty much confirmed that. He looked for the clothing store Pirotess mentioned.
Pirotess looked over at the young man, she was now stuck with. She didn't like having a debt to anyone, and now that her life was saved. She was bound to stick with the youth until her debt could be repaid, she would've preferred to return to Marmo and be at the side of her lord, Ashram. "The clothing store is a block up the street," she replied to him in the solemn voice she used before.
Ranma gave a nod just before an arrow was sent straight for his forehead. It never made its mark because the boy's enhanced martial arts senses gave him the sound, the point of origin, and what kind of malice that was behind it. He grabbed the arrow before it was a good inch from his face. This gave everyone in the area pause, only elves, dwarves, wizards, and acutely trained fighters could ever have caught that arrow, in there minds. Ranma then looked up in the direction the arrow came from. At the end of the bow, was a very frightened man about average size. Ranma simply snapped the arrow in half and gave the man a warning glare, before walking toward the clothing store.
Pirotess walked behind him with an amazed look on her face. The two remained quiet until they entered the store. She watched him browse through the clothing, and noticed he was checking each one for some reason. He would put the article of clothing against something flat then strike it, with his bare fist. Then with a silent nod the youth would set it down. He did this until he got four outfits, most were dark in color, with the brightest being a Crimson red. After Pirotess paid for the items in question, she and Ranma walked out of the shop, as Ranma was now dressed in the crimson red tunic with no sleeves, black pants, boots, new arm bracers, and had a bandana over his brow.
"I suggest you should get a weapon of some sort," she stated.
Ranma was about to make his standard comment about how weapons were a waste of time, and that a true fighter should only use their fists. But he saw the people here mostly had swords, bow and arrows, double-bladed axes, daggers, and other types of long range to melee weapons. He saw a weapons shop not far away and then hefted his pack up heading in that direction. Pirotess thought about following him, but she needed to get something to eat. "Sir Ranma, I will be in that Tavern, getting something to eat." She explained to him.
Ranma looked over his shoulder and gave her a silent nod, before heading into the weapons shop. He glances around the shop with passing interest, and he noted that they had no katana, samurai, or any other type Asian style blade. It focused more on broad, long, and short swords, English and French style weaponry. He looked at the Scimitar style blade then at the pike further down the aisle and got a note worthy idea. He purchase the Pike and the Scimitar, then purchase extra binding that was often used in hilt repairs for swords, he also bought a pair of gauntlets and some craft tools.
Pirotess ate quietly, as well and stuck three human men in their legs with her dagger, for making those lewd human male passes at her. She had long ago made it clear that no human may have her, but that had changed slightly when she met Ashram, the cold hearted black knight of Marmo. He had an aura of power that she was greatly attracted to. So much so, that she had nearly given her life to save him, and may have done so if not for the youth that had rescued her.
She frowned slightly, the youth was a mass of contradictions, a warrior, yet untouched, shy, yet could kill a man with ease. This so far is what she could gather just after spending a mere few hours with him. Most young men his age have chosen a destiny for themselves by now, but he has not. He is much her mirror in many ways, not much the difference both were souls that have yet to be tamed, both fear little or nothing, and both seemed to be at the moment floundering for a place in the world.
Pirotess thought about going back to Marmo, but she didn't want to come face to face with Wagnard. She shuddered softly, that wizard, gave her a cold chill thinking about him. To die in a fight was one thing but to be sacrificed to the great goddess Kardis, allowing her resurrection was something she didn't try to hard to accomplish. She looked around the room ignoring the lustful sneers several human men were sending her way. Wondering where her rescuer had vanished to, when she saw him head up the stairs to the rooms, attached to the Tavern. She quietly stood up and followed him up the stairs, once entering the room he was in she saw a Pike, some extra bindings for repairing a hilt, a Scimitar, and a few other odds and ends. Unsure what he was going to do she went over and laid down watching him.
Ranma first began stripping the pike of all its metal, and then the scimitar shortly followed. Then he pulled out a metal sheet from his pack and laid it out from the fire place to the edge of the bed then set up a mesh screen. Pirotess wondered how he could carry such cumbersome items in his pack and still be able to walk. Ranma meanwhile was thinking back to a time where he and his father had stayed a metal smith's shop during there training journey... He himself had spent many days inside the shop itself watching the metal smith make farming tools. Until one day he had asked the smith about making a sword. The smithy declined but gave the boy a copy of an ancient scroll to make a sword of his own. Ranma had spent many nights after he and his father left the smithy's home reading the instructions on how to make a sword. The forging actually didn't require a lot of heat. In actuality it required ki heat and patience.
Ranma made it a point to memorize every detail on how to make such a sword. Pirotess watched him undo the Scimitar and the pike then watched him put the metal inside an iron cauldron, over a fireplace with barely enough heat to even make the metal do anything but become red hot. She snorts in irritation, until she saw him glow a light blue, her eyes widen greatly watching as the flame though it was still low, it actually seemed to move quicker. "Great Falaris?" she whispers, "What manor of being are you?" she asked.
Ranma smiled softly putting the blade of the scimitar into the cauldron, "I'm a martial artist," he said simply.
It was a reply that only seemed to make Pirotess a bit more irritable. "What is that some new class of wizard?" she asked.
Ranma blinked once then shook his head, "Actually it's a form of unarmed combat," he states then turning back to what he was doing adding more ki to the energy surrounding the cauldron.
Pirotess's brow furrowed a bit, she never heard of such an unarmed form of combat that was combined with magic but then again she had never been to the northern continent of Alecrast before. If this person was a citizen of that great continent then she could only take his word for it. What irritated her more was this constant stream of emotions that were flowing through her. She knew they were not hers for she never felt sadness, depression, or loss before. The other emotions she was feeling she had felt before, anger, love, and self-incrimination. She knew these emotions she was feeling were coming from the young man before her she just didn't understand how.
Ranma meanwhile had finally melted down the metal enough to get it to look like metal in it's hot liquid form, then he brought the mold he had made long ago, when he first arrived at the Tendo Dojo, and opened it up to reveal the mold for the metal in the cauldron to be poured into. Then he pulled the cauldron gently toward the mold and with careful precision, he slowly poured the metal into the mold. Once it was set inside he quickly set the other side of it, down and then closed it with the fasteners. He brought the mold over to the vice he, just bought and began to tighten it into a point that some of the molten metal spewed out of the ends. Then he undid the mold from the vice and softly laid it in a bucket of water.
Pirotess watched this at first with great interest then after a few minutes slowly fell asleep. A few minutes after her eyes closed she felt a blanket lightly cover her and heard, "G'night Pirotess," Ranma said softly, before walking back over to his little workstation. Pirotess felt her heart beat a little faster, after a few seconds it slowed down. She started to wonder why it was beating fast in the first place.
By morning Ranma had pulled the mold out of the water and let it set, while he meditated putting both his Nekoken ki, and his confidence ki into the molding, using this to sharpen the blade to a fine point, no bigger than a molecule. Pirotess slowly woke as Ranma finished setting up the hilt for his sword. She noticed the hilt was the shape of a dragon, the tail designed as a part of the handle with the tail point designed with a jewel to be the tip of the pommel. The dragon's mouth was open as if waiting for the fires to spew forth, and the wings of this dragon made up the rest of this hilt, sticking out in a smooth curve. She watched Ranma open up the moldings to reveal the blade of the sword, finely crafted with that of natural heat and ki energy, the blade was unbelievable. The base of the blade looked like the dragon's flame while the rest was neatly glittering in the newly rising sun. But what was odd about the blade was that instead of metallic silver, this gave off a metallic crimson red, as if the sword had been forged in blood not metal.
"What do you call this blade of yours Sir Ranma?" Pirotess asked.
Ranma shrugged softly, "I designed this sword to look like that red dragon I saw in that volcano we came out of, what was the dragon's name?"
"Many do not know the true name, but many called it Shooting Star, the Demon Dragon of Fire Mountain," she replied solemnly.
Ranma shook his head, to name such a blade after a weak name like that. He looked up at the image of a palace above the fireplace, and saw the majestic goddess of Creation, Marfa. "I think I'll name this after her," he stated as he pointed to the painting with the sword, "I'll call this sword the Flame of Marfa," he said softly, as he brought the hilt to the sword and clasped it over the blade, completing it, and with a few rings of the bindings the hilt was then firmly in place. He swung the sword around in several graceful arcs, and then went into one of his katas, testing its stability, strength, and fluid motion.
Pirotess watched in great awe at her companions movements, apparently this master of unarmed combat could compete in the realm of knights. "What now?"
Ranma gave her a weak smile, "Um, I don't know."