Disclaimer

Planescape and Dungeons and Dragons are not owned by me. Neither is Ranma. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

"Tell you what, berk. I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

-- Zatosk, Red Abishai to a planewalker new to Baator

A Hot Night in Baator

For a long moment Ranma stood still, simply trying to absorb the impossible, barren landscape before him. Mere moments ago he had been exploring a set of secret chambers that he and his father had found in China while seeking to return to Japan. Suddenly, he was here. If the book he had skimmed before his arrival was correct, he was in another world. And a very unpleasant one at that.

Normally, Ranma would react instead of think, as he had been trained his entire life. But staring at the bright flash of another fireball as it fell to the earth and burst with terrible fury, he realized that, for once in his life, he was in a situation where his martial arts, the thing he had focused on to the exclusion of all else, might avail him little. Even if he could fight off whatever inhabited this place, he had no food, no water, nowhere to sleep. Eventually, even he would die. For the first time, Ranma faced his own mortality.

Before he could contemplate further, a noise beside him caused him to spin around. Staring at him wide eyed was a strange creature that caused Ranma's own eyes to widen slightly. It was only three feet tall, with modest wings a spiky tail. However, its body was covered with spikes that made Ranma realize the precision of his combat skills would be put to the test. He eyed the creatures wicked barbed fork, its haft longer than the creature was tall, warily. It seemed to be made out of a strange green metal like nothing Ranma had ever seen before.

The small creature's body language, however, screamed fear as it slowly inched backwards until it hit a wall. When it did, it appeared to consider for a moment, before throwing itself onto the ground. "Please great master!" it shrieked. "Please don't kill Halitsu!"

"Quiet!" Ranma barked, glancing around warily. He decided the creature in front of him might be pathetic, but that didn't mean this hellish landscape didn't have any threats. The creature, Halitsu, began to quietly whimper and beg for mercy.

"Please master, Halitsu can help. What does master want?"

"Umm. Where am I?" When the creature gazed up at him with incredulous black eyes he chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head.

"This is Avernus, First Layer of Baator, great master."

"Baator?"

"Baator is Baator. Is where Halitsu is from. Is where all Baatezu is from." His small, pointed face curled up in a parody of concentration. "Halitsu think hear some mortal call Baator Hell. Halitsu not sure."

Ranma gulped again. Not good, he thought. Definitely, not good.

"This place near great fortress of the great Bel. Is master here to use nasty magics against the great Bel?" Halitsu seemed to cringe at the very thought.

"Bel?"

"Yes, Bel mighty Pit Fiend. Bel rule all of Avernus. Bel lead great Baatezu army against Tanar'ri. Great battles. Bel mighty. Please don't hurt Halitsu. Halitsu worthless. Less than nothing, but Halitsu life all Halitsu have. Please don't kill. If must use mighty magics, please use against others. Like Tanar'ri. Everyone hate Tanar'ri. Why not kill them, leave Halitsu alone?"

"Why do you think I'm going to use magic on you?"

Halitsu once again looked up at Ranma incredulously, before once more planting his face onto the black rock of the ground. "Master no carry weapons. Master come to Avernus unarmed must mean master have mighty magics, like Mad Witch, but even Mad Witch carry mace. Most Baatezu no be hurt without mighty magics, or mighty magic weapons, so master must have powerful magics, or master no come to Avernus, else master die. Well, master die eventually. After Halitsu's masters have much fun. Master have mighty magics, yes?" The little creature looked up at him speculatively, a sinister look growing in its beady black eyes.

Ranma, who had begun sweating, called up all of his confidence and imagined the creature in front of him was his father after he caught back up to him for getting him into this mess. His eyes narrowed menacingly at the creature, whose eyes widened once more in fear, before it eeped and buried its face into the ground.

"How do I leave this place?"

"Leave, master? Halitsu not know. Halitsu just do what masters tell. Go here, worm. Go there, worm. Carry this, worm. Guard that, worm. All Halitsu know is what Halitsu told." He paused for a minute. "Maybe Crazy Witch know?"

"Crazy Witch?" Ranma asked dubiously.

"Yes, yes. Crazy Witch. She live near here. Have hut in cave, near source of river in mountains, over that way. She appear, Baatezu go kill. But she kill them instead. Have strange magic. Have bad mace. Baatezu no come back. Finally Bel go, they talk. Now she live in cave, Baatezu leave alone. Maybe she know way to leave? Go talk to Witch, leave poor Halitsu alone. Halitsu no hurt anyone in several days. Halitsu been good. Please no kill Halitsu. Halitsu worthless. Halitsu not worth waste mighty master's magics to kill."

"If I don't hurt you what will you do?"

"Halitsu go back to guard portal. Halitsu job guard portal, but no one ever come through before master come. Halitsu just pretend no one come through, and Halitsu no get in trouble, and master no need kill. Just forget all about Halitsu, need never see Halitsu again. Halitsu just go back to boring job, guarding empty portal."

Ranma looked at the pathetic creature for a moment, before, with a snort, he started off in the direction Halitsu had pointed. "Don't worry. You aren't worth my time. Thanks for the info."

Halitsu kept his pointy nose planted into the rough stone until Ranma was well out of sight, before standing up, clenching his fork tightly. "Filthy stranger think he get best of Halitsu? Think he can scare Halitsu, and no problem. Halitsu go tell Bel, maybe get promoted. Yes, Halitsu serve well, get promoted, go show filthy stranger why he no humiliate Baatezu." Nodding firmly, the spiny creature grinned, spread its wings and took off. "Yes. Halitsu get revenge on pigtailed stranger. Just he wait. If there any left of him after he tell Bel." With a high pitched snicker the creature flew away, until, in its inattention, it was struck by one of the great fireballs. After a moment, slightly singed, it pulled itself out of its crater. Looking around to see if anyone had noticed its accident, it then cleared its throat, scratched the back of its head sheepishly, and flew off once more. Keeping a close watch skyward, it began to cackle once again.

Meanwhile

For hours Ranma moved cautiously along the razor sharp slopes of the low hills in the direction the tiny creature had pointed. Ahead of him he could see the large mountains of twisted black stone. Time crawled interminably as he was constantly on edge, his danger senses screaming a non stop warning at him. Occasionally he had to duck down and hide. Sometimes it was to protect himself from the great fireballs that seemed to fall like wrathful hail from the unchanging, bloody skies. Other times, it was to hide from leathery winged fliers. It was difficult to tell from the ground, lacking as the sky was anything to grant useful perspective, even clouds, but some of the creatures seemed large and very fearsome. Ranma decided that, greatest martial artist of his generation or not, there were better ways to spend his time than trying to fight his way though hell. Especially if, as Halitsu claimed, he couldn't harm them without magic.

Below the jagged hills he traversed spread a great plain of red earth, upon which nothing grew. Moving across it were endless rows of figures. Many marched in even, determined lines, carrying out nameless business that ranma was quite certain he did not want to know the details of. Many more seemed to be conducting endless battle drills, preparing for some great war. To his critical eye the fiends seemed to possess a significant level of skill, even if they were weapon users. The weapons were cruelly barbed and hooked, mostly pole arms of various sorts, and all were constructed of the strange green metal Halitsu's fork was made of. Fortunately, they were all too busy to notice his cautious scurry over the broken hills, so he rarely had to hide to avoid notice.

Eventually, he finished crossing the foothills and arrived at the mountains themselves. They were very tall, seeming to try to tear at the red sky with wicked black claws. Not too far away Ranma could see a slowly rising cloud of white smoke. The smoke was a steady column, appearing quite different from the black bursts that arose from the bursting fireballs, instead appearing to be from a very smoky fireplace or campfire. With a nod Ranma set off in that direction.

Eventually he saw up ahead a depression with what appeared to be water moving in it. Eyes lighting up, he remembered Halitsu's mention of a river. Thirsty from the tense, endless walk through the searing hills, Ranma sped up to an eager jog. And then he saw it.

The river was not of water.

Flowing sluggishly, the dull red blood oozed along the base of the depression. Where the blood splashed against the black rock the foam seemed to briefly form twisted, tormented faces which seemed to scream as they noisily splashed against the razor sharp stone. The air stank like a thousand slaughterhouses. After gazing across the wide river in horror, he looked upstream, where, in the distance, he could faintly hear a terrible chorus of wailing, like damned souls in agony. With a shudder Ranma realized thats probably what they were. He averted his gaze and tried to block out the sound. Downstream he could see a shallow place where he could cross the river.

Walking slowly, nearly dragging his feet, he finally arrived at the shallows. He stared at them for a long moment, when he saw the face of a face of a beautiful woman in a wave before it struck the shore. She looked as though she was in unimaginable torment. They locked eyes for a moment, hers pleading with him to help her, somehow. The moment ended when she splashed against a hunk of obsidian on the shore. Ranma gulped.

Finally, after he gathered himself, he stepped into blood. At the ford it was only ankle deep, but his cloth slippers were instantly soaked through, bathing his feet in hot blood. His feet squelched horribly against the rough rock, and he prayed that nothing beneath the surface was sharp enough to pierce his skin. A fireball struck the river nearby, close enough to ripple his clothing with the hot wind of its detonation. A great cloud of red steam rose into the air, and the wind brought with it the sharp stench of boiling blood. Where rocks poked out of the current in shapes sufficient to slow the flow even further large, scabrous congealed masses formed sickening islands. Finally, sweating and green, he reached the other side, and, hopping over a brownish mass of clotted material near the far shore, he landed on a flat rock and stood still, shuddering. He had never felt so revolted in his life.

Once he had himself fully under control Ranma continued along the path towards the column of smoke, which proved to emanate from a small cave mouth in the side of a cliff. Around the cave entrance, spaced five feet apart, were wooden posts, having the appearance of a fence missing its rails. Seeing no purpose to them, Ranma strode briskly forward, only to be confronted by a figure leaving the cave.

She appeared to be an older woman, with long, tangled white hair, oft patched red robes, and slightly pointed ears. She coughed hackingly for a moment, and then, as though sensing him suddenly, glanced up, her bloodshot eyes opening in fear. She screeched, and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out some tiny object. She shouted in an indecipherable language, its strange, twisting words somehow passing through Ranma's mind without pausing long enough to even be recognizable as anything more than something beyond his imagining. Waving her arms wildly, she hurled what she held at Ranma. He tensed for a moment, expecting an attack, and then blinked confused when he saw that it was nothing but a tiny bit of spider web.

Great, he thought. I see why she's called the Mad Witch.

To say that Ranma wasn't at the top of his game just then would be quite the understatement. He had been walking across a searing, fiend filled wasteland for hours without so much as a drop of water to drink, and that was after a long day hiking through the back country of china. In fact, his day had started very early, as he and his father had been awakened prematurely by a crazed chinese amazon, who, in Ranma's opinion, as the worst loser he had ever imagined. Because of the attack, and his father's general stinginess, Ranma had not had more than a single meal of rice that day, and that had been many hours before he had arrived here. All told, Ranma was exhausted, starving, somewhat dehydrated, and more than slightly terrified. His surprise at being confronted by the woman's actions kept him from noticing what his danger sense tried to tell him until it was far too late to act. Specifically, too late to leap to safety, as suddenly, from nowhere, strands of incredibly thick spider webbing appeared, stretching from pole to pole, and, more importantly, completely immobilizing him. He was trapped as thoroughly as any fly in history.

By the time Ranma came fully to terms with his new, helpless, situation, he noticed the old woman reemerging from the cave mouth, having darted inside the moment he was caught. She held in her left hand a three foot long mace, its head having eight flanges made of polished steel, the cap shining with gold. The weapon appeared to be of exceptionally fine manufacture, with tiny golden runes etched all along the flanges. In her right hand she held a leather waterskin.

"Thought ye could sneak up on an old woman," she cackled in a high, scratchy voice. "Well, ye found out I'm not so defenseless as ye thought, eh, little devil?"

"Wait, wait, wait, I'm not a monster!"

"Ha, think I'd believe that. Get a taste of this, devil!"

With that she flung the waterskin at him, which, true to its name, turned out to be full of water. When it made contact with Ranma, he became a her. Ranma struggled for a second, but discovered quickly that, despite her reduction in stature, she was still completely trapped by the magical webbing.

"Hah! I knew ye were a devil of some kind. Showing yere true form now, eh? Didn't like that holy water did ye?" With that, she raised the mace in both hands over her head.

On top of all of the other problems, setbacks, and out and out disasters of the day, weakened and exhausted as she was, to be trapped, helpless, at the hands of the mad woman who she had thought was her only chance of escape, was simply too much. In a way, despite the fact that her turning into a girl was going to cause her death, she was, in a twisted way, almost grateful for it. Otherwise, she would have been even more mortified than she was as the tears began to fall. For a moment she tried to stop them, but, when the old woman raised the mace, she lost it. Tears pouring down her face, she closed her eyes and intensified her struggles, the futile motions becoming more frantic, as despite her lack of hope, she refused to give in to the death she expected to arrive in moments.

It didn't come. After a few moments she managed to get herself back under control, and glanced up to see the old woman looking at her, the mace held to strike, but hesitating. Looking into her eyes she saw a kernel of pity. It made her burn with shame.

"I've never seen a devil cry before. Are ye one or not? If ye are, I'll smite ye twice for trying to trick an old woman."

"Please, I'm human. I fell through some kind of magic circle and landed here. I'm just trying to find a way home."

"Then why did ye change into a girl?"

"It's a curse. Whenever I'm splashed with cold water I turn into a girl. Hot water turns me back into a boy."

"Never heared tell of no curse like that before. Hmm, it's strange enough I almost believe ye. What god did ye manage to offend to get a curse like that?"

"I didn't offend any god. My pops is the one that robbed those temples..." realizing what she had said, she trailed off sheepishly.

"Hah! Rare's the Power that wouldn't carry a grudge like that onto ye. Give an old woman a minute." With that she dug into her robes, finally pulling out a large, finely cut sapphire. Gazing through it she studied Ranma for a long moment. "Hmm, it looks as though yere true form is that boy I saw a minute ago. Perhaps ye're telling the truth after all. And that holy water triggered the change, but I didn't see no burns. Hmm. Alright. I believe ye."

Ranma felt relief flood through her. The old woman concentrated for a moment, and the webs faded away. "Come on inside, afore ye're seen. Wouldn't do for no fiends to come upon ye just now. Ye look like yere near yere wits end. Not that I can blame ye. I was much the same my first day hereabouts."

Inside the cave proved to be a large space, with a small hut at its center. The hut appeared to be made of wood with old thatch for a roof. Smoke poured copiously from a crude stone chimney. As they walked to her hut the woman said, "Back home they called me Hexla, the Mad Witch. Ye can call me Hexla though."

"Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

The inside of the hut was plain, but cozy. A low table with a pair of rough wooden chairs sat near the cheerful fire, its heat not truly necessary even in the cave. A single bed sat against the opposite wall, its thin sheets neatly tucked in. The wall opposite the doorway was covered in bookshelves, holding a handful of thick tomes, and a large collection of strange materials in bottles and jars. It reminded Ranma of a country version of the lab that had transported her here.

"Sit down, sit down, ye look dreadful thirsty. Let this old woman get ye a drink, and perhaps a bit of a bite?"

Ranma disappeared, reappearing at the table so quickly it seemed as though she had teleported. Hexla blinked once, before cackling and gathering a large plate of food from cabinets set above the mantle.

The food was simple fair, but, after her day, the plain water, black bread, and plump sausages were the sweetest meal she had had in years. A cackling Hexla refilled his plate and glass several times, grinning all the while. "My, my, ye have a healthy appetite, eh?"

Ranma chuckled, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. Suddenly she stopped, concerned. "I'm not taking all of your food, am I?"

"Oh, no. Don't ye worry about that. I have plenty, and to spare."

"How? Where do you get food out here?"

"Magic, of course! I can conjure me up as much food as I need."

Relieved, Ranma continued eating until she was, for one of the first times in her life, completely satisfied. Leaning back, she sighed cheerfully.

"Here, ye said hot water would turn ye back? Have this." Taking the offered tea kettle, Ranma swiftly returned to his natural form. "Thanks, lady."

"Don't worry a thing about it," Hexla leered. "I like ye much better that way."

"Umm..." Ranma fumbled, more than a little disturbed. "So... I came here hoping to ask you something."

"Well, ask away deary. Don't leave an old woman in suspense."

"I'm trying to find my way home. Do you know a way?"

"Well, thats not too simple of a question, is it? I don't even know where yere home is, though I s'pose it doesn't truly matter. Ye'd be happy to be anywhere but here, I'd think?" Ranma nodded vigorously, to which Hexla responded with a cackle. "I'd say so yes. I'd rather be anywhere else meself. Unfortunately, I don't have a clue."

Ranma deflated. "Oh."

"Now, now. Don't get defeated yet! Just because I don't know a way, doesn't mean this old woman doesn't know someone who might!"

"Really?"

"Of course, I know many things in me old age. Wisdom is the province of yere elders, boy, and remember it! Nearby is a place with a great pillar made of heads, called the Pillar of Skulls. Each head is a sage, and bein' in the pillar is punishment for petitioners who lied to customers for a living. Now they are trapped like that, unable to move even to defend themselves. However, if ye offer them something they want, then they will tell ye what they know, which is quite a lot. I'm sure at least one of 'em knows a safe way from this place. Just be prepared to pay the music – they will want something in return!"

"Like what?"

"How should I know that? I never leave me yard – magic or not, if I run into some fiends out in the middle of nowhere that'll be the end of this old woman!"

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you here?"

Hexla sighed. "That is a sad story, that I can tell ye. I'm from the Outlands, the place in the center of everything. I had heared tell of what was out there in the planes, and decided I wanted to see it for meself. I spend years studying magic, and working on the spell I would need to travel the planes. When I was finally ready, I cast it, and at first I thought nothing happened, it just filled my hut up with smoke. I ran outside, and right into a stone wall! Sure enough, my spell did work – just not like I intended! Instead of taking me somewhere wonderful, it trapped me and me hut right here in Hell itself! And worse, it used up all of me sweetgrass and bat skulls during the casting. Without more, I can't even try it again to see if it takes me somewhere safer. Ever since, I've tried to research a new way out, but with little luck. It seems like this old woman will be stuck here until her dying day, but if I tried to leave, I'd say that day would be even sooner!"

"I questioned one of the demons i found..."

"Devils," Hexla interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Devils, or as they call themselves, Baatezu. Never, ever call 'em demons. Demons are what are properly named the Tanar'ri. They've been at war with each other since the dawn of time. Call 'em the name of their ancient enemy, and it won't be pretty. If ye mean some'at from a lower plane, but don't know what it is, call it a fiend. That name won't get ye into any trouble."

"So there are demons and devils?"

"And more things besides! Yugoloths, and Gehreleth, and Barghests, and Night Hags, and many more besides! And of them there are dozens of types, not just the few kinds ye may have seen around! There are more fiends than ye can shake a stick at, and no mistake!"

Ranma gulped. "Okay, then. I questioned a devil I found, and it said that only magic or magic weapons could hurt fiends."

"Aye, that's mostly true. Sure, the weakest will die about as easy as any mortal, but only the very weakest! Rare's the fiend that can be felled without magic." She gave him a thorough once over. "If'n ye don't know any magic, I suggest ye find a good magic weapon. Even if ye manage to find a way to give this place the laugh, devils have long memories, and they hold grudges. Chances are, someone will figure out ye was here, and managed to escape. And when they get a chance, ye'll need some'at to defend yereself with. Keepin' one eye over their shoulder never hurt a berk."

"Weapons are for the weak. They're a crutch."

Hexla chuckled. "Try walkin' up to some real cutter and tellin' him that. He'll laugh and hand ye yere entrails. Maybe whatever Prime world ye came from ye can ignore weapons, but out here, there are but two kinds of berks. The prepared, and the dead. And weapons mean bein' prepared. Some things can't be hurt without 'em, and ye better believe those things will be happy to hurt ye back while all ye are doing is hurtin' yere fists!"

Ranma considered it for a moment. Normally he would scoff, but he really didn't know this place, and so far she seemed to know what she was doing. She was still alive anyway. "Hey, you know a lot about this magic stuff. Can you cure my curse?"

"Sorry, lad. I can't do a thing for ye. Yere best bet would be to get out of this place and find a powerful priest. 'Course, it'll cost ye. But one of 'em should be able to fix ye right up. Keep ye lookin' so nice all the time," she leered. Ranma gulped again, quickly standing up.

"Well, thank you very much. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Don't worry yere handsome head over it, deary. This old woman was glad to help. To find that Pillar, just follow the river through the hills. Once past 'em, cross the plain until ye reach some more hills, where the river bends. Head to your right towards some hills, and ye should soon reach the pillar. Just remember, it won't break its word, but it'll try to cheat ye. Be smart and don't let it. If ye want to survive in the planes, ye need to keep yere wits about ye, and always think. Chargin' in blindly will just lead to a messy end."

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Hmm. Not really, about the only other useful thing I know is the local Spell Key, but yere no wizard to take advantage of it."

"Spell key?"

"Aye, nothin' is consistent across the planes, not even magic. Without the proper key, spells won't work right. I had a mess of trouble when I first arrived here, and that's a fact! Took me a while till I figured out I needed to be holdin' a chunk of obsidian stirred up by one of them fireballs if I want all of my spells to act right!"

"Well, thank you again for your hospitality. I'll never forget it."

Hexla shuffled her feet. "Now, now. It was nothin'. Just be careful. And remember, use yere head. And don't trust anyone here! Not even me!"

Hexla watched as Ranma left her cave, a wistful look on her face. Finally, she sighed, and headed inside her hut. Walking to her shelf, she pulled a mirror down and gazed into it at her tired, time ravaged face. She had never been a beauty, and even for a half-elf she wasn't young when she arrived here in Baator, but it seemed like each year since had hung on her like a decade. Finally she spoke a single word, "Ar'kle-mens."

The mirror fogged over, and after a moment her reflection was replaced with that of red, reptilian face. "Yes, Hexla? What is it."

"I've just had a visitor. Some poor Clueless boy came wandering in, looking for a way out. Only thing he seemed to know about magic was his curse."

"Curse?" the reptilian speaker hissed.

"Aye. Turns from a strappin' young black haired lad into a cute as a button red head girl with a splash of cold water. Hot water turned him back."

"Strange. I wonder who he offended."

"Thats what I thought. Whoever it was must have had a twisted sense of humor. I've never heard of such a curse."

"What did you tell him?"

"Well, if'n I knew a way out, I certainly wouldn't stay here, now would I! I sent him to the Pillar of Skulls. Mebbe it'll know something."

"Hmm. Thanks Hexla."

"Don't worry about it. Would ye like to come round for tea later?" she batted her eyes at him.

He grinned at her, or tried. It showed far to many razor sharp teeth for most people to appreciate, though Hexla was well used to the expression. "I look forward to it, though not tonight, something came up. How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. I won't keep ye, then. I still have to report this intruder to Bel." She frowned. "I hope nothing bad happens to him. The lad seemed nice enough. But, I can't risk my agreement. If I don't tell him and he found out he would be... unhappy with me."

The creature grimaced. "That would be most unfortunate. See you tomorrow, Hexla."

Elsewhere

The trip to the pillar took several hours, although Ranma would never know it. Baator was the domain of orderly, Lawful Evil. If you make a deal with a devil, you would be wise to count the fingers of the hand that you shook with, but you will at least be sure that the deal is honored. Sure, it'll be full of loopholes that will be exploited and used against you before the blood on the contract is even dry, but the devils will do exactly what they agree to. This was reflected in the character of Baator itself, with Avernus, the first of the nine layers of Hell, being an unchanging wasteland. Harsh, cruel, and inhospitable, nothing ever changes there. That included the sky. No stars, no sun, no moon, not even the slightest darkening or lightening of the dull red glow. Just a perpetual bloody sky, unbroken save for the endless rain of fire crashing down onto the waste of a landscape.

Despite its name the pillar was not really composed of skulls. It was more than twenty feet high, a densely packed pile of heads in various stages of decomposition, but most still intact. The pile disappeared into the earth below, the bottommost visible heads still trying to speak despite mouthfuls of moist red dirt.

As Ranma approached he could hear them arguing endlessly, the details of whatever they discussed lost in the cacophony of so many shouting voices in such close proximity. Ranma stood at the base, trying to ignore the stink of rotting flesh, and stared at it for long moments. Finally, as they continued to ignore him, he spoke. "Um, hello?"

The silence was sudden. All the voices instantly cut off, and every head turned its eyes to face him. He felt hundreds of eyes crawling on him hungrily and shuddered. Then, all the heads began talking at once, seeking Ranma's attention, until finally one head, its brutish features far too large to be human, shouted "'Nuff!" and all was silent.

The enormous head was more rotten than most, but it still rolled its glistening orbs, each easily the size of a softball, to focus clearly on Ranma, revealing a keen intelligence. "What business have you with Pillar of Skulls?"

"Um... I want to leave this place."

"I knows many ways to leave. What you offer in exchange?"

"What do you want?"

Its huge orbs gleamed hungrily. "Service!"

A thin but handsome face with pointed ears suddenly shouted "Knock out the ogre head and I'll tell you what you need to know!"

Another, this one that of a chubby middle aged man, called "Bring me a fiend and I'll tell you!"

A third, this one a fresh looking bearded head, unusually small in size, called down in a wheezing voice "Tell me the Spell Key of this layer and I'll let you know!"

All of the heads began shouting what they wanted at once, and Ranma couldn't hear anything else. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what Hexla had said, something about.... "Got it!"

The heads all quieted down, and stared at him again.

"I know the Spell Key! It's a chunk of obsidian from one of those fireballs!"

"Ah, yes, I see, I see. Now, could you bring me one?"

Ranma started to turn to go, when he stopped and turned back around. "You said you'd tell me just for the information!"

The small head looked chagrined, while all the others laughed mockingly. "Fine, fine. A portal from here lies to the west, and the Portal Key is a fiend's spine."

"No, you fool!" the fat head shouted. "That's five days from here. The closest portal is is to the south, and its Key is a brick from the Great Avernus Road."

The small head pouted, while the rest all shouted their agreement with the fat head. "What's a Portal Key?"

"Portal Key need be held by person who lead way through portal," the large head ground out. "No key, portal no open."

"Just head south," the fat head said nodding in a direction. "Pass by Bel's fortress. The Great Avernus Road run just south of its gates, but I'd advise against vandalism anywhere a fiend might see you. Take the stone and go further south, and you'll find the portal atop a lone hill."

"Thanks... um... yeah, thanks." Ranma backed away slowly, trying to figure out what to say to the giant pillar of heads being punished in Hell which had just helped him. Coming up blank, he simply turned away and walked off in the direction that the fat head had indicated. Before he had even walked ten feet the heads were once more arguing loudly among themselves.

Ranma traveled south quickly, but soon discovered a problem. The River of Blood, which he had crossed earlier, was in his way, and he had to cross it to go south. To make matters worse, this wasn't the simple ankledeep flow he had encountered near its source. Instead, it flowed far more swiftly, and appeared to be quite deep. Ranma explored up and down the river bank for almost an hour before he found the best place to cross, a section that was only waste deep. With his only other choice being to backtrack all the way to the mountains, or to wade across, he paused, steeling his courage. "It's just a little blood. I can do this. I'll get out of here, and find a way home, and beat the old man for getting me into this, and everything will be okay. Yeah. Just a little blood." With one last, deep breath (which nearly caused him to gag from the smell of the river), he waded in.

The previous trek through ankle deep blood had previously been the third worst moment in his life. After all, terrible as it was, at least he was still male and not attacked by c-c-c-furry little fiends. This was much, much worse, and that only after a few steps. Holding his hands high to keep them out of the blood, which was deep enough to soak them if he left them to his sides, he moved as swiftly as he safely could, not wanting to lose his balance on the smooth worn rocks of the slick bottom. He nearly jumped from his skin when a large, scabrous clot bumped into his side, and was grateful when his shiver dislodged it.

He was nearly to the far shore when it happened. Wrapping around his leg, some thing grabbed him and pulled him down into the warm blood. Closing his eyes hastily, he fumbled about, seeking to dislodge the thing that had grabbed him. Grabbing it, he found it to be a long, hard tube of flesh. Coated in thick, slimy mucous, it was impossible to get more than a loose grip on it. Pushing at it, he nearly had his leg free when suddenly it bit him on the side. The wound burned like fire, and unconsciously, he opened his mouth to scream. Blood poured in, and he immediately choked, the creature coiling about him, tightening its grip.

Calling up the last of his reserves he increased his struggles. Forming a fist with his left hand, he began to pound away at the creature's apparent head. Each blow sent waves of fire through his side as it jarred the teeth sunk deeply into his flesh. Finally, as he began to black out from lack of air, the creature loosened it's grip. Diving for the surface, he gasped for air, and began choking on the blood he had swallowed. Finally, choking and coughing up blood, he pulled himself onto the shore. He lay there, semi-conscious, and stared at the thing that had attacked him. It was enormous, like some giant anaconda, but maggot white. Its mouth was the cruel, sharp toothed circle of an enormous leech. It thrashed on the surface angrily for a moment, before finally sliding back beneath the blood in search of other prey.

Ranma lay still for a long time, recovering. The bite on his left side was longer than a hand span, a ragged circle of torn and bitten flesh. His entire body was soaked in blood, not even an inch spared the red stain. His mouth was thick with the taste of hot blood. It took him a long time to recover his nerve.

"I won't die here. I refuse. I won't let this place kill me. You hear that! Hell or not, I won't die!" He rested for several more minutes. "I won't. I still have to beat the old man for this. And I still have to be the greatest martial artist ever. If I die here I won't do either. I won't lose. Saotome Ranma doesn't lose!"

He moved more slowly after that, his stiff side slowing him down. At that point he would have given nearly anything to clean his mouth out, and, given the sweltering heat, something to drink as well. By the time he reached Bel's fortress, he was completely exhausted.

The fortress was the largest structure Ranma had ever seen. It was a mountain of cruel stone, a sprawling edifice to evil and damnation. A thirty foot high fence of iron surrounded it, its posts surmounted by human skulls, their eyes glowing balefully, jaws working to let forth an endless wailing. The keep itself was constructed of iron, marble, granite and basalt, the arrangement speaking of an utterly alien logic and mindset. The architecture was as bizarre as the choice of materials to make it, but, despite the seeming inconsistency, Ranma couldn't help but feel that there was some infernal logic to it all that he couldn't quite comprehend. Spikes, barbs, and hooks jutted out everywhere, with obviously thick walls and high guard towers adding to its defensive feel. Ranma had little experience with feeling aura's, but even he nearly choked on the hatred, pain, suffering, and dark ecstasies embodied in its every brick.

The area around the fortress was incredibly dangerous as well, with endless patrols and other swiftly moving groups of fiends constantly surrounding the structure. They were of seemingly endless varieties, with the only similarity between most being the terrible evil of their vile forms. After observing this for a long moment, Ranma pressed on.

Further south, he reached the promised road at last. It was a wide stone path of black bricks which stood out plainly against the red soil of the plain. Past the road Ranma could see a lone hill standing by itself, its top covered with jagged black rock. However, if Ranma had thought he could easily pull out a stone from the road and simply head up into the hills, he was gravely mistaken.

The road was covered in fiends. Not simply a few, but a veritable army of the foul creatures. They milled about, all of them heavily armed, obviously waiting for something. A few groups practiced battle formations, while others sparred or worked on their combat skills alone. Others talked, or rested on the dirt near the road. Overhead, leathery winged fliers circled lazily. Worse still, the flat, open plane offered no hiding places near the road, making it impossible to approach close enough to grab a brick, much less cross to head to the portal.

With a sigh, Ranma settled into the best cover he could find, a crater with several large black rocks around its rim, and prepared to wait the devils out. Ranma had never been much for patience however, and, combined with his exhaustion and wound, he soon found himself slipping into fitful dreams, waking often as one group of devils or another took up loud battle songs in some terrible, croaking language.

After four restless hours a huge winged figure flew from the fortress to the north, and moved swiftly to the gathered host. The flyers landed, and all the rest instantly arranged themselves into neat formations. The enormous red figure eyed the host for a moment, before growling out a speech in the croaking language. With a loud cheer, the army followed him down the road, marching east to the accompaniment of singing and drumming.

When everything was clear, Ranma slowly stood and stretched. His side was still stiff, but it wasn't as sore as it had been. His muscles were tired, but they could move well at need. He was exhausted, but he knew that if the adrenalin started, so would he. With a final nod, he set out.

The walk to the road was tense but uninterrupted, until, when he was nearly there, he heard a sound behind him. There, in the sky, flying forth from the fortress, came a menagerie of the flying creatures. Out in the open as he was, he was sure that he had been spotted.

Speeding up, he dashed to the road, and knelt beside it. The bricks were smallish, and made of the rough black rock that most of the hills had been. Digging his fingers into the soft red soil, he quickly worked his hand under a brick, and with a great heave, pulled it free. From behind he heard an outraged shriek, and so without pause, shot off at his best speed toward the portal.

When he reached open ground, he risked a glance back, and immediately regretted it. The creatures, several score of them, were nearly upon him. They were taller than him, between six and eight feet in height, with great leathery wings and long, prehensile tails. They were scaly, with a nearly even number of red and black beasts, all of them with razor sharp claws prepared to rend his flesh. With a gulp, he poured on his best speed.

It became a race to the portal, with Ranma giving it his all. Had he been anyone else, he would have been in tremendous danger, tired, injured, and thirsty as he was, he would have easily tripped over the razor sharp rocks as he approached the hill, either injuring himself so much that he would have been easy picking for the fliers, or else inflicting mortal injury outright. However, in his training with his father Ranma had developed a significant tolerance for such things, and with his balance even the most difficult terrain was no obstacle. Therefore, while he was not leaving the fliers behind, they also were not gaining on him.

When he finally crested the hill, he saw the portal. It was a natural appearing archway of black stone, with nothing about it other than its aberrant shape calling attention to it. On either side of the arch burned smoky torches. Standing silhouetted against their light, directly in front of the arch was a man. He was tall, his handsome if angular face set with an expression of total confidence. When Ranma crested the hill, he raised his hands in greeting.

It was then, as Ranma stumbled to a stop, that he heard a cheerful, urbane voice in his head. "What ho, traveler! I hope your journey so far has proven pleasant. I am Ar'kle-mens, guardian of this portal. What can I do for you."

Understandably disturbed by this calm figure, Ranma paused, catching his breath, and glanced around. The fliers had stopped their approach and now simply circled the hill, all except one, who landed nearby, and crouched, watching intently.

"I'm Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

"Charmed. I take it from your hasty approach you desire to pass through this portal that I guard."

"Of course."

"Splendid. However, you will have to pay the toll. It's nothing serious really, just a simple favor." The man held up a small white orb. "All that you need to do is carry this through, and you can be on your way. Otherwise, you would have to fight me for the privilege." The man smirked. "I don't recommend that option, however."

"What does the orb do?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I promise you that it will not directly harm you."

"What about indirectly."

"Such things are, unfortunately, beyond my control. However, I can assure you that the orb itself will not harm you."

Ranma hesitated uncertainly. He was in Hell. Probably dealing with a devil. There was no way that this wasn't too good to be true.

Seeing him hesitate Ar'kle-mens started to look annoyed. After a moment he growled, his face briefly appearing similar to the red skinned monster crouching nearby, before returning to its human form. "I could just as easily force this on you and throw you through the portal you know. Take the orb."

"I don't think so. I think I'll fight you for it."

With a growl the figure stepped forward, eyes flashing red. Ranma took his stance. "I'm Soatome Ranma of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts."

"You'll be dead."

Ranma started with a quick, probing left, simply getting a feel for his opponent. Ar'kle-mens easily moved his head out the path of the simple attack and replied with a strong hook. Dodging out the way, Ranma lashed out with a hard side kick.

The kick connected with a loud crack, causing Ranma to grunt in pain. Its like kicking rock! he thought. Not good.

Smirking again, the creature lunged forward with another punch, followed immediately by several more quick, precise strikes. Ranma weaved through them all, lashing out with a three hit combo of his own punches, each one of them catching his foe square in the face, none of them provoking more than the slightest twitch. Ranma jumped back, his hands stinging, one of his knuckles bleeding from hitting. His opponent showing not even the slightest injury.

The battle continued in that vein for several minutes, Ranma lashing out with precise, probing attacks, tagging the man the majority of the time, but nothing seeming to so much as faze him. In return his opponent fought back with significant speed and skill, but not quite enough to land a finger on Ranma. Growing desperate, Ranma took to the air, leaping into a prodigious jump kick. Ar'kle-mens leapt with him, catching the kick on his forearm and lashing out with a rising kick of his own. Ranma, however was ready. Twisting impossibly in midair he wove around the blow, grabbing his ankle for leverage, before launching a punishing combo to his foe's ribs. Each strike had his full power behind it, the hits driving the air from the man's lungs, causing him to fold up, his face rising into the final hit of the long series, a punishing smash to the face, driving him into the ground with the full weight and power of their combined momentum.

Ranma flipped away, smirking, leaving his enemy lying in a crater in the ground. His victory was short lived, however, as with a growl his enemy rose. The human shape disolved away, leaving an enraged, and completely uninjuried devil holding the orb. It appeared to be of the same species as the red fliers that had been pursuing him, but was slightly larger than the other one on the hill. Eyes flashing red it darted forward, still clutching the orb in its left hand.

Ranma rolled out avoiding a furious hit that shattered a rock formation. With a growl the demon spun around clawing at the air, Ranma avoiding being eviscerated by a hair's breadth. Somersaulting forward, he rammed his heel into his foe's nose as hard as he could, far harder than he had ever hit an opponent before. In reply, the devil simply grabbed his foot with one hand. Before Ranma could react he was spun through the air and slammed face first onto the ground. While still dazed, the creature repeated its action in the other direction, slamming him on his back. This happened twice more, before finally the creature threw him into a rock formation.

Ranma coughed, his vision blurring. That had hurt. Looking up through the spots dancing before his eyes, he stared into his foes red orbs. Holding out the sphere the devil spoke once more in his thoughts. "Useless. You cannot harm me. All your blows do is hurt yourself. Take the orb. I promise once more that it will not directly harm you. This is the last time I will ask. There are others who will come here in time, and one of them would serve me well enough. I chose you because you were convenient, not because you are necessary. Take the orb or die."

Ranma hesitated. The creature raised its hand, claws spread to end his life. Staring up at them, Ranma tried to will himself to move, but realized that he would never be fast enough. It was the end.

"Goodbye, mortal."

"Wait! I'll take it."

Ar'kle-mens smiled. "Smart move. Here."

The orb was smooth and seemingly made of dull white glass. It was warm to the touch, and smelled faintly of vinegar. "If you betray me I will know. Simply take the orb through and your task will be finished. Double cross me, and I will hound you to the end of existence and bind your soul into the River of Blood for all eternity. Understood?"

Remembering the faces in the river Ranma gulped and nodded vigorously. "Good."

Standing slowly, his battered body crying out in protest, Ranma gripped the orb in his left hand, and the brick in his right. Stepping forward to the arch, he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped forward. As he entered the space the brick in his hand vanished, and before him, as though a curtain parted, he could see somewhere else. Stepping through he sighed, relieved, as the portal closed behind him, leaving him standing in the alley next to a cobbled street. As he started to relax, however, he glanced down, as the orb began to pulse.

It started first with a simple flashing of white light, slowly, but speeding up rapidly. A deep thrumming sound seemed to build from everywhere at once, and the orb grew uncomfortably warm. A static charge built in the air, and Ranma's hair stood on end. Most of all, however, he could feel it with his ki senses. It was rapidly building up power, soaring past anything he had sensed before, and as it was nearing climax, the light flickering into a steady glow, the sense of power leveling off, the sound turning into an unbearable hum.... it cracked and shattered into dust. The built power drained away into the air, accomplishing nothing.

"Huh. It broke." Ranma thought for a moment. "Hope he doesn't blame me." Finally, relieved, he looked around. And, for another time that day was struck completely speechless.

Meanwhile

Ar'kle-mens chuckled to himself, holding the second half of the orb set. It was the pinacle of his genius, a decade of careful work, all of it to produce the greatest device ever created by an Abishai Baatezu. Ar'kle-mens would be remembered forever as the greatest genius in the history of the Lower Planes! After all, it was he who had crafted the magical orbs that would destroy the wards protecting the city of Sigil from invasion. How Bel would laud him for finally opening the path of conquest. Why, Asmodius himself would promote him. He would soon be ruling an entire Layer of Hell. Yes, he thought. I am a genius.

The orb activated, building up. Soon, he grinned. Soon. Finally, as it reached its climax.... it broke. "No," he whispered with his rasping voice. "Impossible. Inconceivable! My genius is unmatched. The path into Sigil should have opened! How, how is this possible!"

Turning around to head back to his lab he noticed his fellow Abishai gathered around him, glaring. "It's not my fault. It was perfect! It had to be something else... yes! That's it! He did it. He must have broken the orb." His fellows were unimpressed. One of them expressed this by hurling a rock at his head.

As he flew off, fleeing the wrath and jeering of his peers he shouted at the top of his lungs, the words echoing across the first level of Hell, "Saotome Ranma, this is ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Somewhere, on a tiny world of the prime material plane, a black piglet sneezed.

Author's Notes

There you have it, the first real chapter of my Planescape epic. Clocking in at over 9000 words, I'm very proud of it.

I know many of you may disagree with some of the things that happened. I rewrote Ranma being captured by Hexla several times until finally it felt right. Some of you may still disagree however. Its a free country, afterall.

As for Ranma's power level... he was dreadfully over matched here. An Abishai Baatezu requires a +1 or better weapon to hit – in other words, magic. I would have allowed Ki attacks to work as well (the Scarlet Brotherhood expansion from second edition, as well as some other editions of D&D define a Ki strike as being equivalent to a +1 weapon), but starting Ranma didn't know any.

Ranma in general will be as powerful as any other inexperienced, low level individual, just with a swift learning curve and several unusual (but not unheard of) talents. In many ways, his danger sense will be his most useful ability out on the planes. As far as him using weapons... I'm still undecided. I could also have him receive ki combat training (probably from a Cipher monk), or find a magic item that makes his barehanded attacks magical, or he could give in and carry a weapon for when needed. We'll see.

This chapter was pretty dark in places, as one would expect for a trip to Hell. This was based on the Planescape adventure "To Baator and Back" from Well of Worlds. I lifted a small amount of dialog from it as well. The quote at the top is from the Planes of Law boxed set.

I was torn on how to start this story, between having him at a young age reach the outer planes and be raised there, or him arriving in this fashion. If I had taken the other option, he would have passed through a portal to the Beastlands when he was a child while in the Neko-ken, and would have been found and raised by a Catlord, eventually becoming a Ranger. In the end I took this path, as Ranma would be more like Ranma that way, and I really like using this module to start things off. I ran this once with a group of gamers in college. Their expressions during the River of Blood scene... priceless:)

Next chapter sees our hero arriving in Sigil, City of Doors. What fate awaits him there?