Realms

by Jeffrey Vasquez

A simple mistake in heaven, and three rather important young people are ripped from their proper places in time and space, to end up… Well, God knows, but he isn't saying! Adventure Ah! Megamisama Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon Ranma crossover.

7. Chapter 6b

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Disclaimer:

All characters and settings are used here without permission.

"Aah! Megami-sama" (or "Oh My Goddess!") was created by Fujishima

Kosuke, and is licensed to Kodansha and AnimEigo.

"Ranma 1/2" was created by Takahashi Rumiko, and is licensed to

Shogakukan Inc., Kitty, Fuji TV, and Viz Communications Inc.

"Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" (or "Sailor Moon") was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and is licensed to Koudansha, TV Asahi, Toei Douga, and DIC Entertainment, L.P.

"Forgotten Realms" was created by TSR. Inc. and is owned by Wizards of the Coast.

All original characters, places, and other creative wonders belong to me. Please drop me a line if you want to use them. 6b

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There were places on Toril that beings of intelligence knew well enough to stay away from. In some cases, these beings of intelligence were forced beyond their control to enter such dangerous environs. All others that dared enter the ruins of once fair Myth Drannor were…how does polite society put it?

"Just plain wrong in the head."

Zuieez V'heron wouldn't necessarily call himself mad - not yet at least. But entering the crumbling confines of the once proud capital of his cousins, alone and with very little in the way of magic to protect or defend himself…well, he didn't feel that it was one of his brighter moments. It had taken all of his cunning and resourcefulness to survive the last several weeks, which was saying quite a bit. He had dodged and skulked, intimidated and blustered, and murdered with abandon – all to stay one step ahead of Kelemvor's Scales; and some how, against all odds, he had succeeded…even if only barely. Thus he lay, cut, bruised, and broken in some places, in a small clearing near a pool of clear water fed by a small stream. He was no closer to his original goal than when he had started this foolhardy quest, and his frustration continued to mount at his failures. All attempts at claiming his goddess had fallen to naught.

During the first week of his hunt he had seen her bleed, as freely as any mortal, after a fierce battle with a pack of demonic hellcats. Their ghostly luminescence had slowly faded as she stood triumphantly over their brutalized bodies, but Zuieez had seen the transience of his goddess and yearned to leash her. Looking back on it, it was a moment of pure prideful stupidity, but an attractive trap to fall prey to nonetheless. She was powerful to be certain, powerful but mortal. And that, he had hoped, would be her undoing.

Over the next four weeks he hunted her, looking for a way amidst the elven ruins to claim her power as his own. It was on the seventh night of the second week that he stumbled upon a cache of spells in an abandoned tomb in the Polyandrium, the second great burial ground for the fallen heroes of Myth Drannor.

To say that it was dangerous magic was an understatement – the scrolls contained a terribly old elven magic that, according to the accompanying text, should have bound this woman, regardless of her plane of origin, to Zuieez body and soul. The price of such power was dear in both body and spirit, and taken three sleepless weeks just to decipher, let alone prepare to cast. Multiple pacts with demons and devils had been made in order to gather the necessary materials and insight…but still the cost of power had been higher than even he had anticipated. He had been forced to give his left eye and three centuries of his long life to gain the catalyst for the spells…but to what end?

Was even the promise of such power worth the price? Zuieez wasn't so sure. Of what use was power, if you didn't live long enough to wield it? Would this goddess even be powerful enough to win back his soul from the demonic brokers he'd dealt with? For the first time in his long life, the drow was filled with regret and uncertainty over the course he'd chosen. Yet, there was little left for him but to follow through with his plan. Now, he sat here with his back against a large walnut tree, hoping for a miracle while fingering the spell focus that had been grafted to his body. The small gem encrusted bracer reeked of power. Each of the eight jewels had something of the goddess trapped within their hearts: Two hairs captured in amber, and six droplets of her divine blood sealed in pink diamonds. All he had to do now was find her and enact the spell, then all his dreams would come true!

The soft sound of leaves rustling overhead drew the drow's eye upward into the shadowy branches of the trees surrounding his small camp. Zuieez cautiously fingered the elegant long sword he'd pilfered from some long dead elf lord's tomb and began mumbling a spell under his breath. The babbling of the nearby brook resounded in his ears as he stretched his senses, looking for the attack that was certain to come. And come it did, but not from any angle he had been anticipating.

There was a light impact atop his head, and then a second later a forceful blur launched his head backwards against the bark of the tree, stunning him. The spell on his lips was lost and Zuieez blindly scrambled to his feet waving his sword in an intricate whirlwind of death that would keep his attacker at bay until his eyes cleared. He immediately began casting another spell over himself, one that would protect him from non-magical weapons. He felt the magic take affect even as his vision cleared.

What he found before him caused his stomach to clench in a knot and his knees to wobble like one of Ghaunadaur's oozing children. It was her! Fully healed and drinking from the brook not eight yards away! He began casting immediately, with little preamble, triggering the layered webs of spells within the bracer that would chain her to him. To his amazement, rather than run or evade, she simply sat and watched him with open curiosity as he unleashed the powerful magic on her. What happened next though, would haunt Zuieez to the end of his days.

A pale violet beam of energy lanced toward the crimson haired goddess, ripping and rending the ground as it closed toward its target. The nude form simply cocked her head and waited for the energy to come to her. Zuieez could only stand there, dumbfounded and bewitched by the moment. The spell had struck and his red headed goddess simply batted and played with the eldritch energies like a cat! The drow's heart soared with malicious glee as the spell web calmly sunk into her body. For an instant her eyes glowed with silver flame, but otherwise there was no outward sign of success or failure.

The spell had to have worked! It had entered her body, just as the text said that it would. But the final manifestation had not happened. There should have been at the very least a golden nimbus present! He should have been able to feel her presence in his mind as well, and yet…he did not. Zuieez drew himself up and called on what little confidence he had left to him to command her as he had his demonic minions of late.

"Hear me, Nameless Goddess! Kneel before me, for I, Zuieez V'heron, now command you!"

Instead of heeding his mandate, the naked figure ignored him. She bent to the brook again to drink and then calmly began to groom herself – licking the back of her hand and rubbing it over her head and face.

Frustration and rage filled him!

He knew he had cast the spell correctly!

"KNEEL! I COMMAND YOU!"

She paused long enough in her grooming to glance at him beneath her wild bangs and twitch her nose.

He tried to command her obedience again. And when that failed, he tried again and again and again. He knew he must look the fool, jumping and stomping in the mud – screaming his damned head off for who knew how long. In the end it didn't matter though.

She finally grew bored with his tantrum and meandered over to a tall shadowtop. There, as casually as you please, she stretched languorously against its trunk maintaining her image of a cat. The sight of her nubile form set his blood afire with need and desire.

He watched in amazement as she shredded the age-old giant with claws made from silver flame on her left hand and black lightning from her right. The mighty tree toppled with a crash, and his red haired goddess casually leapt away into the branches of another tree.

Zuieez felt suddenly, terribly, lost. An emptiness unlike anything he'd ever experienced welled within him. Soon after came the despair.

He had thought himself patient. Most of his race was by necessity, and yet here he was, scrambling for ways to capture this red haired goddess for his own. It was no longer a matter of personal power to him. It was both a principle and a need…a challenge to be proved and a means of self-preservation. His life and soul were on the line. He had to succeed!

Even if it meant destroying her!

After all, if he could not possess her then no one would. The real question now was – could he truly destroy her? In each confrontation they had, she would look at him and those stormy blue eyes would swallow him whole. He could tell that she was toying with him and it was confounding.

He did not enjoy feeling like a mouse.

Her divinity was a paradox, for he had seen her bleeding from wounds time and again. Her numerous battles with the inhabitants of Myth Drannor had been terrible and devastating to the area and the combatants alike. Every attempt on his part to prove that mortality to himself had failed though. The poisonous bloods that she consumed had no effect; the traps her enemies set were sprung with cunning and ease long before they could harm her, and any confrontation was evaded, ignored, or brutally countered.

She was indomitable. He had spoken truly that first night upon seeing her. She was a goddess. And perhaps that was the distinction. Mayhap he was approaching her from the wrong position…. Perhaps supplication would gain him the power he sought, where domination had failed. He balked at the thought in disgust. He had thrown off the yolk of one matriarchy. He did not intend to fall prey to a second – no matter how alluring it might seem.

But, as the hours grew, his aversion to that notion slowly fell before the reality her power.

Zuieez knew his limitations. He was no archmage with access to large stores of power and knowledge that would aid him in destroying or chaining the goddess to him. Nor did he have the luxury of time necessary to become that powerful. His commanders would send out others to search for him the longer he was away, especially considering his long silence. If they didn't find him, the dark denizens of this hellish place eventually would. His luck could only hold out for so long. That only left him one foreseeable option: worship.

She had proved time and again that she was a force to be reckoned with. If he could not beat her, then his only course was to join her. At least she would help him survive. He forced himself to meditate on the thought of bowing himself before this demi-goddess throughout the rest of the day and well into the night.

The distinction between the religion of the drow and this robust goddess was readily apparent. One set had been forced upon him socially at every turn – first by the Spider Kissers, and then by the minions of the Masked Lord – however, this…this was something that he could choose to do for himself. There was no one forcing him at dagger point to follow this path…outside of himself that is. His own stupidity had led him to this impasse – there was no one else to blame. Yet, by accepting responsibility for his folly, he felt liberated. In spite of all of his folly, he had a chance at freedom. All he had to do was swallow his pride and throw himself at her feet. Hopefully she would be merciful and save his hide from the debt he had accrued.

It was an opportunity, which if exercised correctly, would lead him somewhere unknown. Such a thought, while intoxicating, was very much terrifying as well. Would she care, or would she simply walk away from him as she had after he had cast his spell? What would she ask of him? Did it really matter in the end?

The questions lingered, plaguing Zuieez day and night for another ten days. He wandered, surprisingly unhindered throughout the tainted woodlands of Myth Drannor, weighing the value of his life. What he found in the end was awe inspiring – at least for one who had been raised little better than a slave. Plain and simple it was freedom.

On the tenth day of his reverie, the drow smiled, losing himself to the wonder of his discovery and thoughts of his goddess. He would have to find her – the sooner the better. Perhaps she would favor him, and let him touch her…he shivered at the thought and nearly lost himself to the daydream. Something in the air kept him wary though. It was as if the atmosphere were charged with something unnatural.

The first truly physical sign that something was amiss came in the form of a leaf falling on his nose. Zuieez closed his eyes and plucked the offending object from his face. When he opened his eyes though, he found himself staring at his red headed goddess.

His heart rejoiced and he felt tears coming to his eyes! Had she heard his silent prayers and secret desires? Was this a sign of her acceptance? He stared at her, worshiping her with his eyes.

She knelt, panting, in all her feminine glory barely three feet away. A fierce smile grew on her flushed face as she returned the drow's stare. Sweat clung to her like dew and the air around her seemed charged with energy. The sight of her made the drow want to chase lightning and howl at the moon. He could feel his loins stirring and he relished the sensation. He was alive and his new goddess had accepted him! He would live for her and relish every moment and experience she blessed him with. After barely an instant, she turned and sprang away to a low branch overhead and balanced there impossibly for a full minute before taking off again.

It was another sign.

Rapture filled the drow's soul and it wasn't until he felt the next physical sign that he knew something was truly amiss. The ground trembled and the forest fell silent. The hairs on the back of Zuieez V'heron's neck prickled and he felt the sudden need to run. It was a signal he had become very intimate during his stay in these cursed lands. And so he gathered his weapons and pack as quickly as he could and did just what his body was telling him to do – follow his goddess.

Lucky for him.

For not a moment later a riotous mob of demons, devils, various clergy and members from the Cult of the Dragon, a group of adventurers, and a series of Elven Ghosts bore down on his small glade.

Perhaps this was a test.

If he could keep sight of her and avoid death until she ended the test, then he would pass. If he failed, well he was obviously not worthy of her. Zuieez cried out with rapturous joy (or perhaps terror – he wasn't exactly certain) and tried his best to keep the crimson blur in his sights.

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Ranma-neko was glad that the little black "he" had decided to finally join her fun. He hadn't been enjoying himself lately and she was tired of watching him brood. She had to make sure that she kept sight of him though; it wouldn't do to have one of her only real play mates getting squished by so many of the tainted ones. Ranma-neko sighed and slowed her pace.

She was going to have to end her latest romp sooner than expected. They had been corrupting her land and spirit long enough. Maybe she would challenge the fiery Black Heart first. His stink was almost as bad as rotting Blight Tongue, and his pack had been tainting the rivers near her home this morning.

Yes. She would be rid of fiery Black Heart first, and then she would focus on the Burning Ones. They were much stupider and would be easy kills. After they were done, she would approach the Blight Tongue. Her pack was much larger, and they were attacking the worldblood. The sooner she dealt with those creatures the better.

It was going to be a busy day. Ranma-neko sighed and shook her head. Tomorrow, she was going to find a nice sunny rock and be lazy. No hunting the twisted ones, no playing with silly cubs.

Oh! Look! There was the grumpy see-through-she. Time for Ranma-neko to invite her to play….

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If Braerindra, the last of House of Calauth, could curse her fate she would have. Being a Sentinel of the Coronal House and the Coronal Person had long since lost its appeal – pointedly because both had died long ago. She had watched as the Armies of the Khov'Annilessa – the Trio Nefarious, laid waste to her beloved city.

The nycaloths and their demonic armies had pressed siege against her homeland and driven her people away. Yet she remained, alone and unremembered, guarding a patch of soil and sod filled with little more than worm food from the hands of despoilers. Still, this was the life she had chosen for herself and she was determined to endure it to the end. She missed the days of old though. She missed Eltargrim and Josidiah. She missed Elminster and those rare few others that had visited her in her long vigil. Their memories were becoming fleeting now, and Braerindra knew that what little was left of her mind was slowly collapsing under the weight of her eternal vigilance.

She still remembered her charge though and executed it diligently; much to the dismay and hatred of those few demons and treasure hunters that tried to breach her protectorate. The only entity that had dared approach her of late was that poor, insane, red haired elf maid. She would come and stare at Braerindra for hours on end, neither crossing the Sentinel Ghost's threshold nor approaching the guardian.

It was frustrating to be subject to such a mockery. Nothing pained her more, than to see the blood of her people reduced to such a mindless state. Braerindra snorted, as best as a ghost could and rolled her ethereal eyes at the sight of an unruly mop of bright red hair.

"Speak of the devil and she appears."

The guardian spirit sighed and contemplated the feral elfmaid. There was something incredibly…off…about the child. She had a power about her that dwarfed anything Braerindra had ever encountered. And yet, the child, although feral, still seemed all too mortal in spite of the power that slept within her. Perhaps she was a demi-goddess, or a powerful sorceress that had fallen prey to a bad spell or curse. The watch ghost shook her ethereal head and set the mystery aside. The ghostly sentinel knew her questions wouldn't be answered anytime soon, but she had all of eternity to uncover the truth, or at least until the elfmaid decided to stop visiting her grove.

Braerindra suddenly blinked at a tremor that rippled through the fine web of magics that she commanded. Her ghostly eyes widened in horror at the horde of evil fell upon her position. Demons and Devils alike entered the grove, followed closely by a mismatched group of drow and humanoids, all of them screaming and cursing in their attempts to reach their red haired prey. To her surprise the maid sprang behind a number of broken columns and then scurried rapidly around yet another small mountain of rubble, finally turning and positioned herself in the shadow of a large stone that had once been a part of the Coronal's favorite gazebo. The cat-like elfmaid crouched low to the ground and stilled suddenly, waiting patiently until her target maneuvered itself into the proper position.

Braerindra watched in silent approval as the maid literally pounced on the lead Cornugon as it cleared the ruined slab and slashed at the demon's throat with her closed fist. Magic flared in the Sentinel's ghostly mind, and the Cornugon's head fell clean from its shoulders. The maid bounced on, clearing another pile of rubble as her kill slowly fell to the ground. The Cornugon's body writhed, fighting its inevitable demise and thrashing all within range with its fiery whip. The body exploded soon after, taking many of the small mob's number with it to the grave.

The maid hadn't lingered idle while her first foe perished. She had maneuvered herself into another strategic position and pounced on the confused throng with wild abandon. She slashed mercilessly into the left flank of the damned, sending body parts, acidic blood and all manner of gore flying in all directions. And all the while, her face bore a wild, carefree smile. Middling and minor demons fell left and right, scored by the maid's magical talons. Her feral hissing and yowling spurred the Sentinel to act, as the first of the horde was finally driven over the threshold of her protectorate.

Braerindra stepped forward and unleashed her magic upon the disorganized group of infernals, humans, and drow. Demons and devils alike fell to her holy spells and her mighty sword. Chaos reigned. Infighting exploded amongst the Tanar'ri and Baatsu, and the human cultists and drow followed suit.

It was bedlam.

Magical traps that had lain dormant for centuries exploded to life, rending body and spirit alike amongst the host of evil. Braerindra had no concept of how long the battle had lasted, but in the end the advance had been broken and the red haired girl had moved on, taking one or two of the remaining host with her. The others looked around at the destruction and quietly left, rather than continue the fruitless quest for the feral elfmaid's life. Braerindra couldn't blame them. The Sentinel looked at the blasted burning earth and the bloody carnage surrounding her and shook her head.

At the very least it hadn't been a boring day.

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Highden

In the weeks since the engine test, Keiichi had moved on to working on the frame and suspension while Duncan "prettied up" the sewing machine. In the time that it had taken Keiichi to finish all the calculations and drawings, Duncan, Sam, and Bertrold had taken the finished product to some place called Waterdeep. Upon their return, Duncan had orders for fifteen machines and a grin a mile wide. It was nothing next to Bertrold 's though. The gnome looked positively ecstatic.

Between the two projects, the shop was constantly busy. Duncan and Bertrold had hired a skilled, yet very shy young gnome by the name of Ruthart Gambool to help fill the sewing machine orders while Keiichi worked on the frame of the "Iron Horse." The orders were filled in record time, and had been shipped to Waterdeep with Bertrold seven days past – giving Keiichi, Duncan, and Ruthart the extra time they needed to finish the last of the touches on the "Horse" before their patron's return. Duncan seemed overly eager to surprise Bertrold with a working model before his return in two days time. It had been a grueling task, reminding Keiichi of his days with Ootaki and Tamiya. In the end though, the satisfaction he felt made the long nights worth it.

The day of truth arrived clear, bright, and beautiful. Sister Maerdith arrived early to help Sam with breakfast and chores so that they would have extra time to spend watching the test; while Keiichi, Duncan, and Ruthart made some last minute checks and adjustments to the "Iron Horse" before the trial. As the morning wore on, Sam was forced to serve breakfast in the shop in order to get "her boys" to eat something substantial. It was a tough task to pull them away from the last minute touches they were making, but the heavenly smells of Sam' rolls won over the trio in the end.

"How far do you want to go?" Keiichi asked as he popped the last bit of cinnamon roll into his mouth. Sister Maerdith had been pleased at the improvements that his grammar was making. Keiichi was happy too. He hated sounding stupid.

"Depends I guess." Duncan said. The lack of commitment in his voice betrayed his nervousness. "Let's see how she handles between here and Grinder Street."

Keiichi nodded and motioned for Ruthart to open the shop's main door. The young gnome jumped from his stool eagerly and ran to the sliding door with barely contained excitement. Keiichi and Duncan finally made their way out of the shop carefully pushing the Iron Horse over the hard packed earth of the stable yard. The weight was extremely heavy, even after Keiichi's innovations of creating a hollow frame. They had been unable to find a suitable material for the wheels, so in the end Duncan had crafted metal and wood rings to fit on the outside of the spoke rim. Keiichi had made a last minute addition, in the form of a sidecar, just after Bertrold had left for Waterdeep in order to aid in the bike's balance and stability.

As the pair moved the primitive motorcycle out of the stable yard and onto the main road, a crowd began to gather. Keiichi saw a number of familiar faces from the temple of Ohgma, including Learned Father Ellosin and Brother Evandur. Young Lord Ferin Gullywarden was there too, as were his henchmen, standing next to a wealthy dressed gnome bearing a golden symbol of Gond hanging predominantly from a chain over his heart. The gnome laughed at something Ferin said and shook his head.

Keiichi turned his attention back to Duncan and Ruthart focusing his attention on navigating the bike into position. The pair bowed their heads and began to murmur a prayer to Gond.

"BEST TO GET ALL THE HELP YOU CAN WHILE YOU CAN, EH STEELWATER?" Ferin's voice echoed above the noise of the crowd. A slight wave of laughter rolled through the crowd.

"MAYBE HE'S PREPARING HIS SOUL, JUST IN CASE." Keiichi didn't know whose voice that was, but it lit a fire in his belly. It garnered more laughter through the crowds this time, but Keiichi ignored the mocking as best he could in favor of listening to Duncan's gruff prayer.

"Oh hallowed Wonderbringer, we yer servants and friends come to ye beneath the eyes of the sun, to honor ye and ask fer yer blessings on our craft. I thank ye humbly fer bringing me wife Sam and me new friends Keiichi and Ruthart inta me life. They've helped bring this dream ter bear this fruit. May our actions and its function bring ye future glories and further the Craft. Function above Form."

Keiichi waited for the "amen" that never came. Duncan simply reached into the sidecar and pulled out two metal helms with padded interiors that Keiichi had asked him to craft. He handed one to Keiichi and then pulled the other over his own head. More laughter came from the steadily growing crowd, but by this time, Keiichi didn't hear them. He looked heavenward and whispered his own little prayer.

"Bell-chan, if you can hear me, please let this go well for Duncan. He's worked hard for this."

Duncan slid into the sidecar and Keiichi straddled the bike. With a wave and a grim smile to Sam, Maerdith, Ruthart, and surprisingly an out of breath Bertrold, Keiichi kick started the engine. There was a great "BANG!" that caused everyone in the crowd to step back, but when the engine didn't explode Sam and the others began to clap enthusiastically. Keiichi looked down to Duncan and smiled at the manic grin the dwarf had plastered on his face. The sound of the engine reverberated up and down the street, drawing even more people to watch the spectacle unfold. Keiichi's smile soon surpassed Duncan's. It had been ages since he'd felt a powerful motor beneath him.

He gunned the engine and engaged the clutch, which in turn caused the wheels to tear into the hard packed dirt. The "Iron Horse" roared and upon finally finding the traction it needed, shot down the street. There was a mighty cheer from the crowd, but even that could not drown out Duncan's surprised cursing. Keiichi just whooped for joy and increased his speed, completely by passing Grinder Street altogether.

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The Yartar Road

On the outskirts of the town of Hemmerling

Usagi watched the modest group walking down the road towards the main encampment. From the serious set in Ulin's face and the set of Conner's shoulders, the first round of negotiations with the mayor of Hemmerling hadn't gone very well. They'd set up camp on the outskirts of the town in a thick stand of trees near a modest river. The refugees had spread themselves throughout the grove, making impromptu tents and lean-tos in order to shelter against the occasional rain that had cooled the growing heat of summer. And in spite of their numbers, the camp remained relatively clean and well organized. Ulin had commented early on that they needed to make the best impression possible, if the negotiations were to be successful.

Behind Ulin's company, rode the Hemmerling delegation, looking all very stoic and important. The man she assumed to be the mayor rode a well-muscled brown horse, with white socks. The animal and the man had much in common from Usagi's point of view. He, like the horse, was large, and barrel-chested with tanned skin and sharp eyes. He had the look and manner of a veteran warrior, as did the small contingent riding around him. Usagi let her eyes drift over each face in turn, until she'd found the other two people she'd been looking for. Shandri and Viet trailed the procession, but seemed more interested in stealing glances at each other than anything else. Usagi couldn't help but smile at that. At least the day wouldn't be a total loss.

As the procession drew near, Usagi and a few members of the camp drifted out to meet them. Faim and Marcus, an elderly couple, stood to her right while Heb shadowed Usagi's left flank. Faim and Marcus were one of the many that had followed Usagi from Moerstead, while Heb had been with Usagi since the mines. The thin man spoke very little and tended to brood quite a bit, and when Usagi drew near he would all but run from her presence in fear and shame. She was certain that he was having trouble dealing with everything that had happened since the mines and was content to allow him his space. Someday he would stop running and Usagi knew that she would make her shoulder available for him when he did. Usagi was drawn from her contemplations as the procession finally drew close.

Ulin took a deep, albeit discreet, breath before making introductions.

"Mayor Raelin Thistlebuck, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Lady Usagi Tsukino, the leader of this camp."

Usagi shot Ulin a hidden glare as she bowed to Raelin. The action seemed to unnerve the men from Hemmerling for some reason, but Usagi ignored their reactions in favor of trying to remember the speech Ulin had made her memorize before going into town.

"It is an honor to welcome you to our camp, Mayor Thistlebuck. We offer you safety and protection during your visit, and hope you will draw comfort from our hospitality." She bowed again hiding a sudden attack of nerves.

"It pleases me to accept your hospitality, Lady Tsukino." The man's voice was, if anything, deeper and richer than Usagi had expected – so too was the warm smile he wore. It seemed incongruous with the attitude Ulin was displaying. The group dismounted, allowing Shandri and Viet to lead the horses to a picket line nearby.

"May I offer you and your men refreshments?" Usagi motioned Faim and Marcus forward to a table of saplings that had been lashed together and propped on four, short but thick, stumps. It was a very traditional Japanese set up, having a number of thick pillows that Ulin had conjured surrounding the short table. A tea service and a meager lunch of fish, berries and nuts were laid out for their guests.

The setup didn't seem to impress the majority of the delegation from Hemmerling, but the group settled themselves without comment. Tea was served and small talk was quickly exhausted. Usagi could feel the conversation taking a more serious turn, and she felt anxiety well up within her – moreso when Raelin Thistlebuck fully turned his attention to her. He, along with a number of his party, had been stealing glances at her throughout the small meal, but tried not to make too much of them. She knew he was sizing her up, and she didn't like the feel of it at all. On the other hand, his attentions were preferable to others.

One of Raelin's company, a fat man by the name of Rodbury Hearthman, did little to hide the lust in his eyes every time he glanced her way. There was also another man that set her nerves on edge for an entirely different reason. Olin Breambur's eyes never left Usagi throughout the initial pleasantries, and whenever she looked in them, she could feel a malevolence hidden just beneath the surface. For not the first time, Usagi wondered at the wisdom of continuing these negotiations.

"Lady Tsukino…" Usagi lifted her gaze from her plate in response to Raelin Thistlebuck's voice.

"Please, call me Usagi." She smiled brightly, trying not to shiver.

"Mistress Usagi…in light of the time, I think it best that we move on to matters of business. The road home is long for some us, and I'd feel better if these men were back before dark."

"I completely understand." Usagi set aside her teacup and folded her hands at the edge of the table. "I assume, from the look on Ulin's face, that you will be unable or unwilling to give us leave to settle our group in Hemmerling."

This humble, yet blunt tactic derailed Raelin's thoughts completely. He simply nodded.

"I can understand your hesitation. I think my family would feel uneasy if a large group of strangers suddenly showed up on our doorstep. We will just have to look else where."

Raelin looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Please don't think us unkindly…"

Usagi waved her hands. Ulin had explained that this would be the most likely outcome, and it had given Usagi more than enough time to formulate a response.

"Not at all! We don't want to upset your community any more than we have." Usagi paused thoughtfully and then smiled sweetly, turning on the charm full tilt. "Could we possibly trouble you for some supplies and permission to pass through your town?"

Rodbury Hearthman spoke up before Raelin could answer. "Supplies don't come free, Mistress Usagi. I'm certain that you can appreciate that everyone's got to make a living." Heb, who had been standing discreetly at the edge of the gathering, began to fidget. Usagi noted that his eyes were narrowed and that his hands kept reaching into his sleeves.

"Of course Master Rodbury. We wouldn't dream of looking for charity." Usagi strained to remember this part of Ulin's coaching. "We don't have much in the way of currency, but we do have skills and labor to trade."

"I'm sure you do." Rodbury licked his lips hungrily, looking Usagi's body up and down. Raelin opened his mouth to call the man on his offensive behavior, but Heb beat him to it. A well-balanced throwing knife imbedded itself into the table in front of the fat merchant, drawing everyone's eyes momentarily. The distraction was enough to allow Heb to slip through Rodbury's strongmen and place the blade of his second dagger at the man's throat.

"HEB! NO!" Usagi was on her feet instantly, eyes wide with panic. Ulin was already preparing a spell that would hopefully paralyze Heb before he could finish his stroke. It proved unnecessary though. The moment Usagi spoke Heb's knives disappeared up his sleeve and he backed off. His eyes never left Rodbury, even though four large men bearing steel now encircled him.

"I'm so sorry, Master Rodbury!" Usagi was panicking, but the fat merchant seemed even more shaken. He kept dabbing his throat, and Usagi noted that his fingers came away red. She looked to Ulin frantically, uncertain what to do. "I can heal Master Rodbury's wound…"

"There is no need for an apology, Mistress Usagi." All eyes turned to Raelin. "Rodbury was out of line and your man called him on it. I think the prick he received was duely earned. Perhaps now, he will learn his place."

"I hope this won't hurt our friendship, Master Raelin."

"A man protects the honor of a Lady. It only shows that you are well loved by your people. On the contrary, it should be us begging your forgiveness." Raelin glared at Rodbury darkly, but the man was still in shock and took no note of the Mayor's words.

"That's not necessary…" Usagi kept stealing glances at Ulin, looking for guidance, but the Genasi's attention was pinned on Heb. The poor man looked torn between running away and driving his dagger into Rodbury's back. She motioned for the man to come to her and was surprised to see that he obeyed her summons. The growing tensions relaxed immediately.

"It is necessary, Mistress Usagi. Rodbury's comportment was inexcusable and he will find a way to make amends." This statement finally broke through the merchant's addled brain.

"You've no right Raelin!" Raelin ignored Rodbury's outburst.

"You will make amends, Hearthman – a formal apology here and now, as well as personally seeing to Lady Tsukino's needs. If you cannot swallow your pride, then the town council will seize your store and your lands as payment for your offense." Raelin looked around to the other men in his party and all nodded as one.

"I will not apologize to this little girl when I've done nothing wrong!" Rodbury protested.

"Hold your tongue, Hearthman! Your offensive comportment and innuendos have jeopardized the safety of our community!"

"We wouldn't have…" Ulin squeezed Usagi's knee and shook her head, cutting off further comment.

"I refuse!" It was obvious that Rodbury thought Raelin was bluffing.

"That saddens me, Master Hearthman." Raelin motioned to the men guarding Rodbury's back, who in turn seized his arms and drug him away from the table. The fat man kicked, screamed, and threatened. Raelin turned his attention back to Usagi and calmly continued as if nothing had happened. Usagi felt sick inside.

"Please forgive the people of Hemmerling, Lady Tsukino. I extend my humblest apologies on behalf of Rodbury Hearthman, and offer up his holdings as restitution for his gross breach of etiquette." Usagi immediately started to decline the offer, but Ulin beat her to the punch.

"On behalf of Lady Tsukino, we humbly accept your apology Lord Mayor and extend our own apology for the unfortunate events that have happened here. We will aid in the coming harvest of summer wheat and present our services to anyone else who stands in need of our skills before moving on."

Raelin nodded and extended his hand to Usagi. She accepted the gesture, but glared at Ulin discretely when Raelin and the rest of his company stood to leave. Ulin brushed the look aside, motioning Usagi to stand as well.

"We thank you for your generosity, Mistress Usagi. It would please me greatly if you and your retainers would join us for a feast later in the week."

Ulin had to nudge Usagi to focus her attention back to the Mayor and his retinue.

"That would be wonderful, Master Raelin." Usagi bowed to the group again.

"Excellent. I will leave Marcus here to show you to your new estates." Usagi tried very hard not to frown. "We can finalize plans for the feast tomorrow perhaps."

Usagi nodded as the group took their leave then, with Rodbury Hearthman under close guard. Conner took Marcus in hand, leading him to a small campfire nearby to talk while the word about the move was quickly spread among the camp. When they were safely out of sight, Usagi spun on Ulin before she could escape.

"What the heck was that about Ulin?"

"We'll discuss it later, Usagi." She started to turn away, but Usagi pulled her up short.

"No. I don't think so. We'll discuss it now! Why did you accept his offer?"

"It was restitution, Usagi."

"Because Hearthman was being a pervert? That's not a crime! Sure he was a creepy little jerk, but that didn't mean he had to be punished so severely." Ulin sighed and shook her head.

"You miss the point, Usagi. Hearthman was punished because he jeopardized the community with his offense."

"What do you mean 'jeopardized' – did they really think that a bunch of men, women, and children were going to come in and wipe them out? That's just stupid!"

Ulin shook her head again.

"I think that there is a history here that we are unaware of. Be that as it may, Raelin knew that we didn't look like a threat, but your fame has somehow out paced us. The 'Silver Princess' is known to these people and some of the rumors being whispered among the townsfolk have obviously reached Raelin's ears."

Usagi blinked. Rumors?

"What are they saying about me?"

Ulin grinned impishly.

"Each story is wilder than the first, but it is certain that Raelin is being cautious for the sake of his community. To some you are a goddess or the child of a goddess. Others believe you are one of the Seven Sisters and that this camp is an enchanted army marching north to join with Alustriel and Silverymoon to secure the Silver Marches. I heard one boy whispering to his sister that you were a beautiful witch, come to steal all the little girls away from the town to feed to your pet dragon."

Faim and Marcus snickered, as did Shandri and Viet. Usagi stuck her tongue out at them.

"You mean that they're scared…of me?" Usagi tried to wrap her mind around the concept.

"I wouldn't say that, Usagi. Raelin is erring on the side of caution. From what I gather, he was an adventurer prior to settling in Hemmerling. He's seen his share of oddities, and rather than endanger those he's sworn to protect he's doing what he thinks is best for the community. He eliminated a powerful rival of questionable morals, placated your honor and need for charity by giving us Hearthman's lands, and resolved the situation so that his people aren't in any danger."

"I still don't like it, Ulin. It doesn't feel right. We wouldn't have done anything to the people of Hemmerling."

"Perhaps you wouldn't, but can you honestly speak for the rest of the camp? If Heb felt compelled to act, what would some of the others done? No, I think Raelin was right in dealing with Hearthman as he did. The man was positively vile."

"What do you think will happen to Mister Hearthman? I don't like the idea that he doesn't have a home or a way to feed himself."

"Something tells me that he will be fine, Usagi. Men like Hearthman are resourceful."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I still don't like this. What are we going to do with an estate?"

"Not 'we' Usagi, you. Raelin gave the estate to you. Do whatever you want with it. Depending on the size, we have a place for the rest of these people to live now. If that's not what you want, sell it to someone, give it away, burn it to the ground. It doesn't really matter."

Usagi sighed and shook her head. The pair started walking back to the camp.

"I can't deal with this."

"Welcome to life, Dear Heart. It only gets harder from here on out."

"Promise me something?"

"I'll do my best."

"Talk to me before you go accepting any more apologies for me."

Ulin laughed and nodded.

"As you say, my Princess."

"That's not funny, Ulin." Usagi glowered. "I'm not your ruler."

"As you say your majesty."

"I mean it, Ulin." Usagi groused.

"Am I to be fed to your dragon then?"

"I can't." Usagi matched Ulin's impish grin.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"You're my dragon!" Usagi gave the jade skinned sorceress the red-eye before hiking her skirts and running, Ulin hot on her heels. The busy camp was filled with a great deal of laughter as children immediately joined in the fun.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Highden

Keiichi and Duncan jabbered excitedly with Bertrold as they wheeled the Iron Horse into the shop. The afternoon sun was hot and the shadows were growing long. Ruthart, who had been the last to receive a ride in the sidecar, had a dazed look on his face. Every once in a while he would steel glances at Keiichi, before looking back at the Horse in awe.

Everyone that had been a part of the project had gotten a chance to ride in the sidecar, and only Sister Maerdith seemed less than enthused with the innovative contraption. Duncan had been so excited that he'd demanded that Keiichi tour the town until they had drained the fuel tank dry. Sam had ridden double with her husband, relishing in the freedom his dream gave. Overall Keiichi felt pleased with their achievement, but he also felt that the speed could be improved. They'd barely reached and sustained thirty kilometers an hour after the initial run, which meant that the fuel mixture could stand to be tweaked. He had little to no experience with fuel chemistry outside of the auto club, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to learn. In the mean time, Keiichi was trying to talk Bertrold into funding a utility vehicle.

"Well, met Builder Steelwater." The smooth voice jarred the group from their thoughts. Keiichi immediately recognized the well-dressed gnome from earlier. He wore official saffron-colored robes, with cogs and gears decorating the hem and sleeves. His face sported a neatly trimmed and oiled, black goatee and mustache that curled back on themselves. Keiichi was immediately reminded of Sayoko's snobbish accomplice, Aoshima Toshiyuki.

"I believe congratulations are in order."

"Evening to you too, Artificer Mostana. What can we do fer you?"

"I simply came to pay my respects and to get a closer look at the wondrous machine you've crafted."

"My thanks fer your respects Artificer, but I can't be takin' all the credit here." Duncan patted Keiichi and Ruthart on the shoulders warmly. "Master Keiichi and young Ruthart here are just as worthy of your praise, and Master Bendlebranch financed our efforts."

"Is there no room for Gond in your praise, Builder?" More than one face scowled at the implication made, but beyond a slight frown Duncan didn't seem all that phased by the dig.

"Gond is the heart of every creation I make, Artificer. I give him every glory and all the honor. He gave me the inspiration, and the means ta bring it ta life."

"As you say. All praise to Gond." Mostana's smile became, if possible, even more oily than before.

"All praise to Gond." Duncan, Sam, and Ruthart echoed.

Mostana approached the Iron Horse, gently nudging Ruthart out of the way in order to gain a better view of the engine. His eyes drifted between Keiichi and Sister Maerdith, causing Keiichi's skin to crawl. He immediately knew that this priest was going to make life difficult for Duncan.

"I must confess that I am a bit confused, Steelwater. This curious design was not submitted to the Patent Office, nor do I see any documentation for the project or official offering. Pray tell, where are the symbols of your praise?"

"The symbols of me praise are in me heart Artificer. The project's been documented from the start, and me plans for the Horse are secured in a safe place. As fer filin' the patent, we ain't had the time. When Gond's spirit falls on you, you don't pause to play with the bureaucracy. You act." Duncan's face became harder and harder with each word, and by the end Keiichi could see Duncan's fists trembling.

"As you say." Mostana said smoothly. "However, that does bring up the issue of the offering. I cannot believe that you were too busy to completely ignore tradition."

"We were working on two projects at the same time!" Ruthart exclaimed. Keiichi was surprised at the young gnome's sudden display of backbone. It was clear from the look on Duncan's face that the boy had put his foot in it.

"Two projects you say?"

"Aye." Duncan growled. "Young master Keiichi developed the Handless Seamtress, and I was helping him along."

"Ah, yes." Mostana's eyes swiveled to Keiichi, who immediately squared his shoulders. "A brilliant display of primitive craftsmanship. I've heard great things coming out of Waterdeep about this…Handless Seamstress of yours. I am puzzled though, Builder Steelwater, where are the plans, patents, and offering for this creation?"

"Master Keiichi ain't a Gondar, Artificer."

"But you are, Builder Steelwater."

"That doesn't mean that I'm going to steal his thunder!" Duncan growled. "It was Keiichi's innovation, I just prettied it up some."

"The fact that you were involved in the creation of the project is grounds for submitting the creation to the church." Mostana said smoothly, looking all the while at Keiichi. "Any friend of the faith, regardless of their…beliefs or affiliations, would happily help a friend honor his god."

"Keiichi's helped me honor me god just fine, Artificer. I'm not going to pressure him or rob him of his creation."

"It seems that your priorities have been misplaced, Builder Steelwater. You haven't even made the second offering. Does this mean you've completely forsaken tradition in the heat of Creation?"

"Me priorities ain't your concern, Mostana. When the project's perfected, then I'll make a second. Anything more's a waste of time and materials."

"Some would say that it is a sign of the truly devoted."

"Others say it's a sign of the truly stupid." Duncan growled.

"Are you questioning my faith, Builder Steelwater?"

"Are ye questionin' mine, Artificer?" The two squared off for a moment, neither giving ground until Keiichi started to step forward. Haroun looked the young man over critically and pursed his lips.

"I expect to see the plans in the Patent Office by the end of the week Master Steelwater."

"You'll get what I give ya, when I give it, Artificer. Not a moment before." Duncan growled.

"See here!"

Keiichi and the others gathered in the shop shifted uncomfortably.

"NO! You 'see here', Haroun Mostana!" The black haired gnome's curly mustache bristled as Duncan drove his stout finger into the priest's chest. "I ain't one o' yer toadies ta be orderin' around! Ye done run'd me outta th' temple fer being a dwarf. Ye took me ideas half-baked fer yerself an' ruined 'em afore I had th' chance ta perfect 'em like they should'a been. Ya come an' insult me guest and friends with yer prattle. Ya even tried tellin' me how ta worship me god!" Each point was driven home roughly, leaving Haroun massaging his chest. "Now get yerself from me shop! I got more important things ta occupy me time than listenin' ta the likes o' yerself spoutin' hot air."

When Haroun didn't immediately move, Duncan veritably exploded.

"Ya fool peacock, are ye deaf as well as dumb? I SAID GET!"

The oily gnome squeaked as the dwarf lunged at him bodily. He scampered back a few steps awkwardly and fell flat on his bottom, much to the enjoyment of those gathered. Keiichi reflexively snorted a laugh at the sight, but quickly turned away and pretended to study the seat of the Iron Horse. He could easily feel the blistering gaze that Haroun pinned him with, but didn't acknowledge it in the least.

"You'll regret this, Steelwater!" Haroun growled. "I promise you that!"

"The only thing that I'm ta be regrettin' is not kickin' yer teeth in, Mostana. Ye made me say it twice, but if I have ta say it a third time," Duncan brandished his fists. "…I ain't gonna waste th' air ta be getting' me point across!"

Haroun scrambled from the workshop as fast as his puny legs would carry him. Keiichi laughed when he was certain that the gnome was gone.

"You made him run like a rabbit!" The young man skipped his palms across one another quickly, imitating Haroun's rapid departure.

"Aye lad. That I did." Duncan said heavily as he slumped down on to a stool at a workbench. But at what cost?" Sam drifted over and rubbed her hands up and down Duncan's arms. The dwarf let his face fall in his hands tiredly and then ran his fingers through his hair.

"This is…how do you say…? No good?" Keiichi asked, pulling another, shorter stool up beside Duncan.

"No, lad. No good at all." Duncan wasn't sure how he could explain to the boy what he was feeling at the moment, let alone the complexity of life within the Temples of Gond. He had, after years of segregation and abuse, finally said what needed to be said. Sadly, he'd said the words in anger and to the wrong person no less! The gnome that needed to hear his speech wasn't Haroun Mostana. If anyone needed to hear the words, it was the First Artificer Flindel Gullywarden. Now, Duncan wasn't certain he'd ever get the chance. There might be a chance at the Festival of Creation, but he'd have a hard time getting Gullywarden alone.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Myth Drannor was a place of conflict. The trapped forces of the Infernal armies made certain that the once beautiful lands remained deadly for any who dared trespass. A being needed a great deal of power and luck to survive here, but for many the rewards outweighed the numerous dangers. The Phaerimm were one such group. Unfortunately, the luck of one of their number had apparently run out. The fact that it was being hunted by one of its own mattered little. More often not, greater threats and treachery came from a being's own peers, rather than from the land round about Myth Drannor.

X'Xili'Shick, twisted its body away from its opponent's spell, barely avoiding the chain lightning that danced through the small alley it had flown into. X'Xili'Shick had underestimated Thuruolep's preparedness and was now paying the full price for it's misjudgment.

To describe X'Xili'Shick and its opponent, Thuruolep, one only had to imagine a large green cone shaped body and a sea anemone for a head. Four spindly arms protruded at four cardinal points beneath a maw of needle like teeth. Its tail ended in a wicked, poisonous barb and a palpable aura of magic and evil intent surrounded them. Even to the most jaded of eyes these creatures would look alien and fearful. Most people in the Realms had no idea of the existence of the Phaerimm, which was exactly as it should be. As a race, the Phaerimm weren't ready for their existence to be common knowledge yet. Had the rest of the Realms any clue that these creatures still existed, there would be little effort wasted in seeking them out and destroying them with immense prejudice.

Thus X'Xili'Shick and the other Phaerimm within the boundaries of Myth Drannor had taken great care to keep their presence a secret. But considering the number of combating interests within the dead city, that secret was certainly a well-known fact by now. Such was the key cause for this conflict between X'Xili'Shick and Thuruolep.

X'Xili'Shick had told the rest of the Phaerimm in their company that it was time to strike against the Sharn, their sworn enemies, and free the rest of their kind from their prison beneath the Anaurach. It had put forth its reasons, saying that surely the surface races knew of their presence now, and if they were to succeed, they needed to move quickly before they lost the element of surprise completely. After all, the small group of eight had gathered more than enough magic to accomplish this feat.

While X'Xili'Shick's position was sound, the others in the conclave had accused him of cowardice and sedition. Thuruolep had been the chief voice among X'Xili'Shick's enemies and as such was given the honor of putting the upstart in his place. X'Xili'Shick on the other hand, was not intent on backing down or being chastised by the others. He knew he was right, and he was committed to winning this confrontation to prove it.

Luck, it seemed, was on the side of the insubordinate Phaerimm – appearing in the form of a naked, red-haired elfmaid leading a small handful of Infernals, drow, and a few Dragon Cultists into the midst of their duel. Magic flew with chaotic abandon and destructive spells tore into the ruined surroundings of the plaza that X'Xili'Shick had drawn his opponent to. The Palace of the Coronal stood menacingly above the conflict, shrouded in mists and looking for all world to be an ancient judge, waiting to pass a heavy sentence upon those desecrating its land. To the surprise of the Phaerimm, the agent of that verdict seemed to be the fiery elfmaid that was viciously tearing into the remnant of the Infernal war party.

A Vrock was literally split in twain and a Zovvut's pale, three-eyed head was sheared from its shoulders and fell to the ground in a number of bloody sections. The lone Baatezu left among the remaining mixed Infernal band, a large black armored Malebranche, charged forward with it's wickedly barbed trident held ready to run its opponent through. The elf leaped incredibly high and landed lightly on Thuruolep, using X'Xili'Shick's opponent as a shield and a perch.

X'Xili'Shick watched gleefully as the devil took flight in response to its prey's dodge. Unfortunately, Thuruolep was able to get a spell off before the Baatezu impaled it. The flood of acid pouring from the Phaerimm's wounds and the point blank explosion of the fireball consumed the devil's upper body, leaving it little more than a molten slag of twisted black metal. Its wings were pitted so badly that there was little hope that it could have remained aloft even if it had survived the initial attack. Thuruolep, while badly wounded, was not dead…curse the luck.

The elfmaid wasted little time in waiting for her living shield to recover from the Baatezu's attack. She tore into the abomination with mystical talons, eviscerating X'Xili'Shick's enemy with vicious abandon. The doomed Phaerimm's telepathic scream echoed throughout the heart of Myth Drannor, alerting a number of other entities of its demise. The commotion drew the rest of the Phaerimm company from the safety of the sidelines forcing them to commit to the battle in order to destroy this new threat to their sovereignty. Demon, drow, and dragon-sworn all fell into the bloody bedlam centered on an elf-witch who fought with such power and ferocity, that any who dared approach fell dead at her feet.

The magic that she wielded was more powerful than anything X'Xili'Shick had ever experienced. She seemed to absorb spells directed at her and any physical attack was either dodged or swatted away with little effort at all. More troubling still were the conflicting energies that arced up and down her lithe form. There was no mistaking the telltale signs of both the Shadow Weave and Mystra's Silverfire. The true mystery was how this elf had come by these abilities. Even as X'Xili'Shick pondered this odd paradox, the subject of his speculation blazed into being before his mind's eye. For the barest of instants, the Phaerimm's mind touched hers and was swallowed by a sea of stars. Unlike his enemy, X'Xili'Shick did not have an opportunity to cry out as Ranma's shadow covered hand literally shredded his body and spirit.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Khindristryx watched the battle from the safety of the pool chamber, as she had so very often over the last few weeks. The waters of the pool itself served as a focus for her scrying. Once she had learned of the elfmaid's presence from her priests, she immediately settled in to watch this being and weigh her potential threat. At first, she thought the red haired menace to be a wild elf Beast Channeler; intent on revenging herself on those that had tainted this once beautiful land.

Upon further examination and as the current battle had progressed onward, the dracolich had watched in awe and horror as the elfmaid decimated any opponent that dared approach. An idea of just who…or rather what this small being was, settled home and left the former green dragon nervously clawing at the stone along the edge of the pool. Had the skeletal monstrosity still had a stomach, it would have quivered in fear. The petite elf's body was wreathed in silver flames and black lightning danced around her eyes and mouth. The Phaerimm's numbers had been whittled from eight strong to three, before she allowed them to retreat in order to focus on the Death Slaad that one of the Tanar'ri had summoned.

The elf raked her fist across the air, leaving a trail of silver flames in the wake of her motion, and across the field of battle the Death Slaad exploded in a pillar of hoary fire. The Tanar'ri that had gated in the beast broke from the battle and started running towards the Coronal's Palace. It had taken all of four steps before the maiden had pounced on its back and unleashed a storm of black and purple fire. The gore dredged up by her assault sent black blood flying like rain across the flagstones of the plaza. Wherever the blood fell, the ground hissed and popped under the potent corruption of the acidic demonic blood.

Khindristryx watched in fascination at the ferocity of the moment, and then it was over. She urged the magic of the pool to get a closer look at the naked elf. The image blurred and soon re-established itself on the face and torso of the comely figure, revealing the oddity of the symbols of three goddesses branded over her heart: Shar, Mystra, and Selune. It was one more mystery to add to the over all enigma of the elf, and one that the dracolich didn't have time to ponder at the moment.

The feral warrior lifted her head to the remaining combatants, her eyes glowing with a very familiar light. The dracolich hissed fearfully as she was once again faced with a pair of stormy eyes that threatened to consume her. The look was unmistakable. Had she still retained her lungs the dracolich would have gasped in fear and surprise; as it was, a tremor of terror rattling through her bones.

The elf turned her head just so, and Khindristryx knew that this goddess made flesh was aware of her scrying. The former dragon reflexively backed away from the pool at the toothy smile that split the elf maid's face. There was a flash of silver and the dracolich roared in pain. Four burning lines of argent fire flared across her snout and right eye, scorching the hardened bones painfully. The tainted Pool of Radiance roiled below her, consuming the scryed images and filling the room with a rotten, sulphuric smell.

Khindristryx growled and scored the stone floor of the poolroom with her great claws angrily. She had heard of the powers of spellfire and the whisperings of the even more potent silverfire, but never in her long life had she thought that such power could challenge her undead might. Regardless of what the tales said. She roared and let loose her breath weapon in her rage. A group of priests rushed into the chamber to investigate the disturbance and were unlucky enough to fall prey to the dracolich's noxious, acidic cloud. The corrosive gas literally ate away at her minions, leaving little in its wake save the echoes of the priests' screams.

Her anger and fear were consumed in the haze of fiery pain, and the undead dragon thrashed throughout the room attempting to ease the lingering agony of the elf-witch's attack. The suffering of the wound finally subsided, but left Khindristryx dazed for a number of minutes more. She hissed hatefully at the pool and immediately surveyed the damage to her skull. Four parallel, blackened gouges reached from the base of the right jaw and climbed the entire length of the skull.

The palace shook beneath an incredible blow and Khindristryx returned her gaze to the pool, noting that the magical water had suddenly become unnaturally smooth and silent. The mirror like surface once again became a window into the battle-frenzied courtyard. Dust and debris fell like a curtain over the plaza, obscuring the sight of what had caused the destruction of the eastern most tower of the palace. The still bodies of the dead littered the fitted stone courtyard and pools of black, red, and green blood collected a fine sheen of grit and white stone powder. A flash of red hair leapt from one of the billowing clouds of smoke and dirt to engage a Phaerimm that had retreated to a higher, and obviously to its mind, a safer altitude.

In an amazing display of power and agility, the elfmaid bounded from toppled stone to tree limb to broken wall – rapidly closing the distance between her and her opponent. Khindristryx stared at the odious form of the elf and growled. There was no doubt in her terribly warped mind that she would eventually have to face off against this goddess made flesh. The only questions were how soon the confrontation would come and how to defeat her. There was no time to develop a cunning plan and from the looks of things, even less time to lay any suitable traps. It would be a battle of power, brutal and destructive. From the way that the stones shook, the conflict would happen sooner than later. The dracolich needed an immediate source of power. Something that would overwhelm her opponent the instant she set foot into the palace.

The Pool of Radiance once again went unnaturally still and smooth, drawing the undead dragon's thoughts back to it. Khindristryx marshaled her will and began to submerge her mind in the magic of the pool. The limitless depths of the pool immediately began assaulting the dracolich's blighted soul.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Elsewhere in Myth Drannor

Elminster and Valor had ridden on the switch back trail, zig-zagging back and forth in a dizzying, if not wholly frustrating series of loopy circles for the entire five and a half tendays that they had been following this young, Ranma Saotome.

They had been in and out of so many groves and fought more than one party of drow to a stand still. Valor, coming from the city of Ched Nasad, had very little problem dealing out death and mayhem to her kin. Though she made no mention of it, Elminster's reluctance to engage her kin surprised her a great deal. She didn't voice her concerns, but they must have been apparent on her face, for she heard Elminster simply mutter something about seeing enough killing to last a hundred life times and left it at that. While she agreed with the premise of his argument, she was never one to shy away from "preventative maintenance" where her kin were concerned. Still, the times that they were faced with unavoidable confrontations, Valor could freely admit that she much preferred Elminster's way of handling things. Esaurius' Gentle Laxative was a hilarious enchantment, especially when used to break a charge of dour-faced dark elves.

The drow aside, Valor could tell that Elminster was circling wide of their goal; brushing against the borders if you will. It was as if the old wizard was trying hard to delay the inevitable. Valor didn't completely understand his reasons, but considering young Ranma's choice of hunting grounds, she could appreciate Elminster's hesitation.

Myth Drannor was not a place to be traveled lightly.

The pair had already faced off against an unhealthy number of obstacles besides the drow; and though she was loathe admitting it, there were fouler things under the heavens than her black-skinned cousins. All things considered, Valor supposed that they were making better time than had they attempted to directly cross through the cursed lands.

"All my life," Elminster's voice broke through her ponderings as he nudged his horse nearer to her own. "…I found myself wishing for a companion who knew the value of silence. I must say however, that I never imagined a female, such as thyself, to be quite so miserly when it came to conversation."

Valor smiled at the jibe, causing a wicked looking scar at her temple to pucker.

"Do not misinterpret my observations, Fair Valor. Your restraint has allowed me time to ponder this new, and unusual course that my life has taken."

The drow's smile softened, but she held her tongue – waiting for the wizard's patience to wear thin. Normally, this ploy would have had little effect on the gray-bearded wizard. However, the stress of the current circumstances had yet to abate, so it was little wonder that someone as controlled and poised as the great Elminster of Shadowdale would feel a little frayed.

"Are you not the least bit interested in what we're about?" The wizard demanded. Valor could tell that he was used to dealing with people who had little patience and a great need to know as much as they could about the situations that they found themselves in. Valor had accepted the fact that life's mysteries would reveal themselves in their own due time, regardless of how hard she tried to speed things up. Her smile held more than a twinkle of mischief when she finally looked up to the mage.

"Is it time for me to know?" She weighed him with little more than a quirked eyebrow and the perception that perhaps she already knew a little more than she was letting on.

She had perfected the art of the bluff in her one hundred and sixtieth year, thanks to her dealings with Bregan D'Arthe. Few could make you second guess the truth more than Jalaxle, and the orphaned Valor had been an apt pupil; in more things than one. Not only had he taught her to watch for the right moment, he had also taught her to see the drow for what they really were…a dying race. She credited him with planting the seeds that eventually drove her from Ched Nasad. The thought that he had been the one to sell her out to the priests of Vhaerun, had crossed her mind more than once. Valor was intent on repaying the debt a hundred fold some time in the future. She had already spent seventy years refining the plan, a little longer and she was certain that she would be ready to implement it.

Elminster coughed and knuckled his mustachioed upper lip with a quiet smile, again drawing her from her meandering thoughts.

"I cannot tell you lass, just how refreshing it is to dialogue with someone of thy wit and humor. Aye, it is times like these that I can hardly see the Drow in thee."

"Thank you, Magister. One aims to please."

The wizard coughed gruffly and snorted derisively. After another moment of silence, Elminster's countenance turned serious.

"Herein is the true question, Lass. It is not a matter of whether it is time for thee to know, but rather, art thou brave and foolish enough to want to know?"

"I have learned to fear questions of choice, master wizard."

"As well you should, my dear Valor. For it is these questions, more often than not, that force us to change the most."

"Will I change greatly in the asking then?"

"In the asking…no. It is generally what comes after the asking that is usually troubling and distasteful." The pair entered a small grove and dismounted.

"Will having knowledge of this situation lead me to great discomfort?"

"Undoubtedly." El tethered his horse to a low branch and began searching the pockets of his robe for something.

"Will my life be in danger?"

"Assuredly."

"What then are the gains to balance out the perils?"

El paused in his search to look fondly at the drow.

"Thy wisdom astounds me, Fair Valor. Would that all the poppycock fools that set out to see the wide world, stop for a moment and ponder the consequences of their actions as thou dost."

Valor shrugged and continued on, keeping her silence.

"Now then, to the gains." El scratched his beard as. "I really can't say one way or another – adventure most assuredly." The sour expression on the wizard's face made it quite plain what he thought of that notion. In turn he pulled from one of his deeper pockets a tiny, but extremely detailed, iron tower and placed it at the center of the clearing. He tapped it thrice and muttered a whispered word, then stepped back as the small carving began to rapidly grow. He and Valor waited patiently for the magical building to stabilize, having grown to some thirty feet, before leading the horses into the construct.

"Is there aught else to be had besides adventure?" The drow lead her horse into one of six stalls on the lowest floor, and set about feeding and brushing her mount. The Archmage followed her lead.

"Aye, I hope so. This Ranma fellow seems to be a very special lad with a unique destiny to fulfill. Undoubtedly, we would play some small part in that destiny. In turn, I'm sure we'll learn a thing or two ourselves along the way – maybe even see something new."

"Knowledge is always a worthy prize." The drow looked to her patron thoughtfully. "I believe I will stay the course, if it pleases you."

"I could not hope for more pleasant company, Lass." They finished bedding the horses, and closed up the tower against potential enemies before climbing the stone stairs that magically floated down from the ceiling. "Now then, if you wouldn't mind fixing us some dinner, I've a spell or three to cast. Once we've eaten, then we can see about weaving some real magic."

Valor, like so many of Elminster's female companions of the past, was uncertain just what to make of that statement. In the end, she supposed it didn't matter. Wizards were strange folk, and Elminster of Shadowdale was among the strangest she'd ever known.

(oo0/8/0oo)

On the outskirts of Hemmerling

Grrlixi was what one would call an educated gnoll. By grace of an abnormality in his vocal chords, the eight foot tall beast had come to learn languages with ease. The common trade tongue and a few of the more common languages throughout the north were rather easily picked up, thanks to his previous master.

The eccentric wizard Irnae, a native of Calmiport, had been obsessed with good form and etiquette. As such, when he came across Grrlixi, the spell caster readily saw potential in the young monster. Grrlixi didn't disappoint his master, and soon had learned to read and speak many of the human languages that his master knew.

His writing, though crude, was legible; and his table manners were exquisite. Irnae had been well pleased with his accomplishment, and had given Grrlixi the prominent place at his right hand. The gnoll was eager to pay his master back for this kindness, and thus furthered his liege's interests amongst the goblin races.

Towards the end of Irnae's life, Grrlixi had gathered a sizable army together through cunning and diplomacy; some said that it was the greatest goblinoid army ever assembled. Unfortunately, Irnae died shortly after the first skirmish with a local township, and the army fell apart soon after.

What was Grrlixi to do? For a time the gnoll lived off of the riches of his former master, that is until the Zhentarim and the Red Wizards of Thay had learned of Irnae's death. Their agents and mercenaries were sent to plunder the mage's tower, and those foolish enough to stand against the raiders lost their lives. Those that followed Grrlixi lived, but lost the comforts of their home. The Zhentarim set up an outpost in the fortress, and the goblinoid band was effectively tossed out on their tails. So, Grrlixi took up the noble, time-honored occupation of banditry. It wasn't the glorious battle that he had envisioned for his master, but it paid the bills.

He'd found himself some former pack members, namely his mate and some cousins from up north, and a few rather brutish human outcasts from the local barbarian tribes. Once he'd organized them into something resembling a band, they'd set out to plague a little stretch of road just west of the moderately sized trade town of Hemmerling. It was some one hundred forty miles northeast of Yartar, and consequently one of two major stopping points between Yartar and Everlund. The second stop was the town of Tradesburrow, which was another hundred and fifty miles north along the Everlund Road, just south of the Rauvin Crossing. It was a known haven to a number of Treehuggers and Rangers, which tended to make banditry a bit more hazardous to one's health. Thus, when Rodbury Hearthman had approached the gnoll bandit, Grrlixi had grinned with pleasure.

Hearthman had offered to act as a sponsor and middleman for the bandits, passing them juicy tidbits here and there in the form of competing merchants, or wealthy travelers. He'd also opened up his expansive, forested, estate to hide Grrlixi's band whenever the constable was out and about. They in turn would share a portion of their take. It had been an unpleasant surprise for Grrlixi to find Hearthman at the mouth of the abandoned mine, bruised and bleeding.

He had mobilized the band, telling them of a fat catch looking to take over his property. This of course upset the robbers quite a bit. Grrlixi didn't mind moving on, but the majority of his group wasn't quite ready to give up their hunting grounds. Which was why the group was here, patiently waiting in ambush along the stretch of road leading up to Hearthman's estate. The last lights of dusk had just passed beneath the horizon, leaving the night dark and moonless.

Hark! Was that the sound of children singing and laughing? What could more readily grace his tender ears, but the sounds of fools waiting to donate to his ready cause! It was yet another potential opportunity for wealth, and all he had to do was kill one slip of a girl. He motioned for his companions to step lively, and soon their group of fifteen split into three smaller parties of five and began loping towards the sounds of song in the distance.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Highden

"THEY DONE IT!"

Keiichi and Sam looked up from their evening tea as Duncan stomped through the kitchen door slamming it with a bang. Keiichi had seen the dwarf upset a time or two, but this…fit…was something new altogether. His dear friend was enraged.

"DAMN THAT HAROUN MOSTANA TO THE BLACK FIERY PITS THAT SPAWNED HIM! AND DAMN ME FER A FOOL AS WELL!"

Sam immediately leapt from her chair and took her husband's neatly bearded face in her hands. To Keiichi's surprise, Duncan seized up and calmed. After a moment, he noted tears beginning to leak from the stout dwarf's eyes. The intimacy of the moment combined with Duncan's emotional state made Keiichi terribly uncomfortable – so much so that he stood from his chair, intent on giving the couple their privacy.

"Sit yerself down, Lad. The sad tale I got involves both o' ye."

Duncan sighed heavily, earning him a kiss on the forehead from his wife. The dwarf trudged over to the table and settled himself heavily into his customary chair at the head of the table. His wife poured him a fresh cup of tea and added a liberal splash of brandy to the cup in turn. When Sam had freshened Keiichi's cup and finally settled herself next to her husband, Duncan shifted uncomfortably – obviously looking for the right words to broach the bad news. Keiichi felt the weight of Duncan's troubles begin to settle over him after a moment, but waited patiently for his mentor to speak.

"After our celebration, I got an itch ta go an see the head o' me order. High Builder Maverly is an honest man, mind. He was the one that introduced me to the Wonderbringer and afterwards convinced me an' Sam ta relocate ourselves here, from our hearth in the Small Teeth Mountains near Imnescar. Maverly and me, we went way back. He knew me sire and had done a lot of business with me family, buyin' ore and having special parts crafted for his creations. I'd travel down ta his small chapel in Imnescar for the Festivals and ta deliver his orders. It weren't too hard ta fall in love with all the gadgets and boobobbles that the priests built."

Duncan laughed and shook his head at some long off memory.

"I remember seein' this wild contraption, built by some fool ta dig ore from the ground. It was shortly after Sam and I had been wed, see, and I got real angry about the machine. It was like a mosquito bite smack dab in the middle o' me back. Ask Sam, I 'bout drove her mad fer two…"

"Try four Dear." Sam smiled innocently as she sipped her tea earning a snort from Duncan.

"…four weeks. I couldn't get the idea outta me head that this fool's machine was gonna go inta someone's mine and end up killin' a bunch of people 'cause o' shoddy workmanship and a gross sense of ignorance. Well, it done drove me so mad that I finally confronted Maverly over the issue." Duncan sipped his tea and brandy and shook his head.

"What did he say?"

"He told me, with a grin mind you, that if'n I didn't like the design then I should create somethin' better instead o' whinin' about it. Well, I told 'em flat out that it was a load o' rubbish and he knew what he could do with it. Then he done looked me square in the eye and laughed! Called me a coward, mewling calf, an' all sorts of unmentionables."

Keiichi's eyes grew wide.

"What happened then?"

"I broke his knee, busted his nose, and broke his jaw in three places…" Duncan's grin was irreverent, and Keiichi was surprised to note that Sam was smiling and nodding…like she fully approved the action! Keiichi wasn't entirely sure how to deal with that idea. Thankfully Duncan's story drew him away from that line of thinking.

"…and, while the old crackpot was healing up, I went out and designed me a better digger. It was so good in fact that I won the Festival of Creation, a hefty prize, and me first patron. Soon afterward, Maverly inducted me inta the priesthood and when he got called back to Lantan, he asked me an' Sam ta come with him. That was nearly twenty years ago."

Duncan sighed heavily again and swallowed the rest of his drink in one mighty gulp.

"I got meself sidetracked, but at least now you understand what type o' man the High Builder is. He honest and faithful and true – an odd sort of combination fer a human in me experience. No offense."

"None taken." Keiichi grinned.

"Well, I went ta him ta lodge a formal complaint about Mostana's conduct and pesterin'. But as I'm getting' there, who should be comin' outta Maverly's office, but the little rat himself. Well, Maverly asks the little blighter, ta wait while he an' I have a little chat…a chat that turned inta me shoutin' and hollerin' like a mad man – an all the while, Maverly's sittin' calm as you please.

"I ain't going ta go inta details about what was said, but I came ta find out that Mostana issued a complaint o' his own, claimin' that me Iron Horse is a tainted abomination that should be scrapped and slagged."

"He didn't!" Sam gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Duncan! Tell me you didn't…!"

Duncan lowered his head shamefully.

"I did. It took four of the burlier acolytes ta separate me fist from his throat."

"Oh, Duncan!"

"That ain't ta say that the little bumkisser didn't get a few of his own licks in." The dwarf pulled his collar open to reveal an ugly purple, black, and green bruise just below his collarbone. "Once the acolytes had me down on the floor, Mostana pulls one of the ornamental wrenches from the wall outside Maverly's office and nailed me good. That's when the High Builder got Jhurra involved."

"Jhurra?" Keiichi asked.

"Maverly's Gondsman. It's an artificial man o' sorts. Like a mechanical golem ya might say…." Keiichi wasn't totally clear on the picture, but it sounded like a robot. Images of Banpei immediately drifted through his mind. "Well, Maverly was pissin' fire at that point. He sent down an official reprimand ta the High Artificer himself, namin' us both in the report while we sat there and watched him draft it. The Artificer sent back an immediate reply, givin' Maverly the authority to excommunicate us on the spot if he felt the need. That was certainly a wake up call fer the two o' us, an Maverly wasn't content to let us off with a slap on the wrist this time.

"See Keiichi, me an Mostana go way back. He's a no talent charlatan from Calimport, with more love fer gold, than fer the craft. The only reason he's made it as high in the clergy as he has, is because of the gold his contacts bring ta the church's coffers. Ever since we met, he an' I've hated one another. Well, Maverly flat out told us that he was sick of it and said that one of us was going to go this time. He said that he wasn't going to be the one ta decide, but that he was gonna let Gond be the judge. We got till the Festival of Creation to prepare an entry for special consideration. The High Artificer will present the creation to Gond on the morning of the Festival. Whoever wins favor, stays in the priesthood. The other will be excommunicated, and banned from Lantan for life."

Sam's eyes immediately began to tear up.

"How do I fit into this?" Keiichi asked quietly. Duncan's face drooped and his eyes sought out his empty cup.

"Part of the charges Mostana brought against me named you as a 'dangerous heretical influence to the Church' – one that should be driven from Lantan and branded an enemy o' the faith."

"What does that mean?" Keiichi was certain that he didn't want to know.

"By now, everyone's heard the name o' Keiichi Morisato, Beloved of Belldandy. Especially after the success o' yer sewin' machine. The fact that ye worship a foreign goddess, an' have outdone a lot of the clergy with yer first creation…well, son…it doesn't sit well with most folks. Mostana wants you judged alongside me, meanin' that yer gonna have ta create something as well."

"Me? But that's crazy!"

"I don't like it meself, Lad. Mostana's already throwin' all o' his weight behind this. There's no way around it. If we want ta keep our home, then yer gonna have ta compete too. Mostana said that if'n ye didn't, then it was a clear sign of unsavory intent. I told the little bastard that you weren't the type ta walk away from a challenge."

"DUNCAN!" Sam was thoroughly scandalized. "How could you? Keiichi is our guest, you had no right to speak for him in this matter." Duncan looked ashamed.

"Don't worry, Sam. Duncan was right to say what he said."

"No he wasn't, Keiichi! It's his damn fool pride shooting his mouth off without thinking." Sam glared at her husband and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's alright, Sam. Really." Keiichi smiled at her. "Belldandy always said, that the goddess of Luck always smiles on those who give their all. I know we'll win Gond's favor. All we have to do is come up with something suitably incredible and put our hearts into it. Besides, what type of friend would I be, if I let a little rat like Mostana to rob you of your home?"

"Yer a good lad, Keiichi Morisato. A good lad."

Keiichi blushed, but smiled all the same.

"What are friends for? Now. Tell me about the rules to this competition…."

(oo0/8/0oo)

Ranma's mind

Mystra arrived outside the gates of Ranma's soul-fortress beside Shar. The bastion was impressive, reminding her of the mighty palaces of the Jade Emperors of Kara Tur. There was an undeniable strength about the building that reflected well on the young man's potential. The goddess of magic couldn't help but be impressed with the subtlety of his weavings. It was too bad that she would probably have to destroy it in order to reclaim the power he'd taken from her. She looked to Shar's incarnation and noted a similar reluctance playing out on her adversary's face.

"You have over-stepped your bounds, Mortal!" Shar's voice echoed against the castle's walls. "Return to me what you have stolen and I will let you live to serve me!"

Mystra shook her head. After having lived the young man's life through his memories, the Lady of Mysteries knew that Shar had just tossed the challenge gauntlet at Ranma's feet. She didn't know how she was going to approach the boy, but she knew that this was not the way to do it.

"Did you not hear me boy?" Shar planted her fists on her shapely hips arrogantly. "I command you to heed me or face destruction!"

The gates of the castle opened slowly, and Ranma appeared. She could feel his confidence flowing from him in waves.

"Who couldn't hear you, with that big mouth of yours flappin' nonstop. Nag, nag, nag. You're almost as bad as Kuno."

Mystra couldn't help but laugh at the corresponding image that his comparison brought to her mind's eye. She ignored the glare that her long time foe sent her. The boy had no idea who he was facing, but the Lady of Mysteries had to admit, he'd hit the nail on the head. Petty, delusional, vengeful, insane…that was Shar all right.

"How dare you!" Shar seethed.

"Look lady, I don't know what's got your panties in a twist, but I really don't care. You got a bone ta pick with me, fine. Let's get on with it. If you're just going to flap your gums all day, I got better stuff ta do."

Shar's body erupted into a corona of purple flames. Mystra started to step in front of the boy, but Ranma simply ignored the display of power by buffing his fingernails on his shirt.

"I will make your suffering last an eternity!"

Ranma opened and closed his hand, making it repeat Shar's vow in a high-pitched squeak. Shar screamed and launched a gout of violet fire at the boy. He calmly dodged the strike, flipping over Shar's head to tap her in the back of the neck. The goddess of loss retaliated with another strike, but Ranma had somehow moved in front of her and tapped her nose.

The goddess of darkness sent thousands of tiny tendrils lashing out at her opponent, only to have them all dodged or knocked aside. Mystra could feel Shar's attempts to siphon back her power, and was surprised that her attacks were being thwarted.

"GIVE ME BACK MY POWER!"

Mystra conjured a comfortable chair for herself and began taking notes. Ranma had complete control of the battle from the very beginning, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that they were in his mind. It made a certain amount of sense. He was lord here, and thus they would always be at a disadvantage. If this was truly the case, then she was going to have to bring Ranma to Dweomorheart in order to reclaim the power he'd taken from her.

Ranma seemed to disappear and reappear behind Shar again, only this time, he smacked her shapely bottom.

"Come on! You can do better than that! You're leaving yourself wide open!" Shar screamed and flared her flaming aura, but Ranma was already moving. He landed next to another figure that had just appeared near the gates of the castle.

"Why do all the cute ones got to be so damn violent?"

"I wish I knew." Everyone looked at the new arrival and blinked.

"Laraethian? What are you doing here?" Shar demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He grinned impishly.

"Actually, I would." Mystra conjured a table complete with tea service and snacks, and settled herself back into her chair. Ranma appeared almost instantly at her side with puppy dog eyes and a pleading smile. Mystra giggled and nodded, letting Ranma attack the snacks.

Shar's aura boiled.

"Mystra, Darling! How are you, Dear?" Corellon Laraethian, Lord of the Seldarine, patted Ranma on the shoulder as he passed, conjuring a chair for himself as well.

"I've been worse. And you?"

"Same old stuff really. Kicking Gruumsh's arse every so often, trying to convince Ellistraee to settle down, pushing for divorce from Loth, etc. etc." Mystra nodded politely.

"What brings you here of all places?" Mystra noted that Ranma's eyebrow quirked at the question.

"A little business actually." He patted Ranma on the shoulder. "This young warrior has been cleaning up Myth Drannor, and I just wanted to say thank you."

Ranma looked up from his feast long enough to raise an eyebrow before shrugging and going back to eating. Mystra rolled her eyes and looked back to the elf god across from her.

"Pull the other one Laraethian. You're scheming. I can tell." Ranma frowned as he bit into another chicken salad sandwich. "Are you looking to add a little more power to your portfolio?"

"Mystra! You wound me! I'm here with a pure motive. Young Ranma has been doing us a great service. He deserves a reward!" Mystra looked at the elf god askance, but grinned knowingly.

"What's the catch?" Ranma growled, blocking another bolt of power from Shar with the reflective surface of the platinum tea tray. There was a great explosion and everyone turned to see Shar's smoking body laid out in a rather large crater. Ranma shrugged and looked back to Corellon expectantly.

"That's a very good question, Ranma."

Mystra shivered at the sound of the new voice. She looked up to see Kihon'i appear behind Ranma. She handed him and Corellon small cards and offered Mystra a predatory smile. "Mystra dear, you and Shar left so suddenly that we didn't get a chance to conclude our business."

The young man and the elf god blinked, looking up at the new goddess with more than a little bit of trepidation.

"There was an emergency and…" The goddess of magic stammered. Kihon'i waved Mystra's excuse aside.

"I know. I know. Ranma here, represents a terrible threat to the Weave and you are here to set things straight. Shar's pissed because Ranma's influencing the Shadow Weave, and Corellon here wants to fill a long overdue vacancy in the pantheon."

"Ha! I knew it!" Mystra crowed, pointing an accusing finger at the elf god. Shar took this moment to stumble up to the table, a little charred around the edges, but for the most part intact. She pulled two very deadly looking short swords from somewhere and began swinging. Her movements were rather clumsy, or at least that's the way Ranma made her look – something that surprised both Mystra and Corellon. He dodged and batted away her strikes absently as he drank his tea. He blocked another flurry of blows and then finally disarmed her with a twist of his wrist. She blinked incredulously and then just as suddenly found herself flat on her stomach with Ranma sitting in the middle of her back eating another sandwich. Mystra was certain this wasn't meant to add to Shar's humiliation, but she made a note to frame a poster-sized print of this for Selune.

Kihon'i cleared her throat. Shar paused in her rant about what she was going to do to Ranma's entrails over the next couple of millennia and looked up. Her eyes bugged and her black, starry skin seemed to polarize, becoming a white with tiny black stars.

"…oh, crap…."

"Indeed." Kihon'i smiled in a way that looked very much like a shark. "As fun as this has been to watch, we've got business to finish up."

Shar whimpered.

"Now then. We'll start with you Shar, since I've got your attention. For the number of infractions and abuses of your power and station, I'm afraid the penalties are going to be rather stiff. First and foremost among your infractions, concerns Mister Saotome here."

"WHAT!" Shar bucked and kicked, trying to displace Ranma, but was unable to get any leverage. "If anyone should be punished, it should be this little maggot!"

"Hey! What did I do?"

"You know the rules and you were warned from the outset, Shar."

"He stole from me!" Shar protested.

"How the hell do you figure that, you crazy psycho?" Ranma countered. "I don't even know you! How the hell could I steal anything from you?"

"Mister Saotome, please." Kihon'i paused and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The infraction of which you speak was not theft. It was an improvisation on the natural laws governing the Weave and Shadow Weave. The fact that Ranma absorbed a portion of your essence was an unintentional accident. However, the fact that you and Mystra took advantage of the situation to perpetuate your little dispute was not. Your continued aggressions against Mister Saotome, with the intent to destroy him, have further condemned you. As such, you will forfeit control of the power Ranma has absorbed as compensation."

Shar literally exploded, throwing Ranma into the outer wall of his castle. Her body reformed, taking on a more menacing avatar. She stood some twenty feet tall, and her lithe, feminine form was covered in black, razor-plated armor. In one fist she gripped a whip of black flames, and in the other a wicked looking khopesh. She towered over Kihon'i, radiating enough power to cause the mindscape to boil beneath her feet.

The sword rose and fell with a blinding swiftness that Mystra could hardly follow. To her surprise though, the sword shattered the moment it came in contact with the goddess. Kihon'i looked up at the goddess of loss and shook her head. She pulled a small pendant from her dress and tapped it, causing the stone to grow. Mystra paled and swallowed hard upon reading the decree on the tablet. Ranma arrived and picked up another sandwich, scratching his head in confusion. Corellon whistled and shook his head.

"What's that?"

"Her badge, Ranma." Mystra whispered.

"You mean she's a cop?"

"After a fashion." Kihon'i smiled.

"Reap what you've sown, Shar. Understand though, that the price you're going to be paying just went up and you've no one to blame but yourself." She paused and tapped the tablet for emphasis. "Maybe you'll learn not to go against official agents of the head office next time."

The Hand of Ao looked over at the confused Ranma and smiled.

"Shar's been a bad girl and broken a few laws, Ranma. Because of that, she's going to have to make amends. If she doesn't…well…it's not something that we like to think about."

"Ouch. So what's she got to do? Go to jail?"

"No. She's going to be giving up control of something very close to her heart." Shar looked up in panic at the declaration.

Shar fell to her knees.

"You can't!"

"By your own hand and Ao's word, I already have. The Shadow Weave is no longer yours." She gestured to Ranma and the boy's body was wreathed in black lightning. Ranma looked like he was about to scream, but he held it in. When the transfer passed, the young man fell to his knees opposite Shar.

"What the hell was that?" He panted.

"We'll go over everything after we're done here." Kihon'i patted his shoulder and looked up to Mystra. "Are you going to fight Justice too, or will you walk the same path as your predecessor?"

The goddess of magic shook her head and motioned for Kihon'i to continue.

"Good. As with my initial ruling for Shar, you will forfeit the power that Ranma accidentally absorbed. How you fit him into the scheme of things is up to you, but understand that Lord Ao's decree is still in play. I've taken steps to have someone start his education, but from here on out he's going to be on his own."

"And when he leaves?" Mystra was uncertain how she felt about this turn of events.

"Lord Ao made it very clear that it would be his choice. The mantle can go with him, or he can pass it off to someone else."

Mystra looked at Ranma again and sighed as she felt the loss of power become permanent. The boy was glowing a light silver now, and looking very uncomfortable. Lord Ao had taken some drastic measures here, and she had to wonder if it would balance the scales or tip them in her favor. In the end Mystra knew that it was going to take a great deal of time to sort the whole mess out, and she couldn't fault anyone but herself for the loss. Her only hope was that she could make friends with Ranma. The last thing she needed was to make an enemy of someone that had suddenly been elevated to become her near equal.

"Now then, we're running low on time, so we're going to have to wrap this up quickly. Corellon, you're up." Mystra looked up as the elf god pulled a silver torque from his cloak and moved in front of Ranma.

"Ranma Saotome, for services to the elves I offer you this gift. Will you accept our gratitude for saving so many lost souls from the clutches of Myth Drannor?" Ranma blinked and shrugged.

"Uh…sure…whatever." The Lord of Elves gently placed the torque around Ranma's neck and smiled. Ranma smiled back uncertainly. "Man, this is one whacked dream."

"It's no dream, Ranma." Corellon patted Ranma on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

"Huh?"

Mystra shook her head in awe and amusement. She started to explain things, but the sky above the gathering was torn asunder. Everyone looked up to see a pitched battle being fought, and then Ranma screamed. The last thing that Mystra saw before being thrown from the mindscape, was the body of a Phaerimm tearing something from Ranma's soul.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Continued in Chapter 6c