Disclaimer: The trolls in Great Britain at Games Workshop 
own Warhammer 40,000; I don't. I don't own the Ranma 
characters, either.
 
                 The Emperor's Hand
                Chapter Ten: Invasion

     The Solitaire stood there, weapons sheathed at his belt, 
motioning to one of the other Harlequins present. The 
colorful Eldar bounded up to him, and accepted the offer of 
the weapons the Solitaire presented. Now unarmed, he 
approached Ranma. "This room shall be cleared of all present. 
Only the High Avatar, and the Farseer Ailunavaren, may remain 
behind."

     Ardallan leaned over and whispered to Ranma. "My friend, 
beware. Not only does he retain his flip belt, which enables 
him to spin in the air, he also retains his Dathedi, or holo-
suit. Do not let your eyes deceive you." Straightening, and 
nodding at Ranma, he left the room. In the space of ten 
heartbeats, the gathered dignitaries of Valdur-Avendel had 
left, and the furniture arranged for them placed against the 
wall, once more. Two more, and the Harlequins had left the 
room, striding with a dignified grace through the door, to 
the Craftworld beyond.

     The ancient Farseer looked at the two Harlequins, then 
at Ranma. "Anial Gorwydd, do you understand what is expected 
of you here?"

     The pigtailed martial artist nodded confidently. "O' 
course. It's a challenge o' some kind. I fight him, an' if I 
win, then I'm the one he's got the message for."

     "And if you don't win," began the High Avatar, "you die. 
Do not forget this."

     "Yeah, yeah, the old 'Ranma, prepare to die!' nonsense. 
Don't worry." He smiled broadly, and thrust out his chest. 
"I'm the best!"

     "You had better be, Mon-Keigh." The High Avatar turned 
to the Farseer, and they retired to the rear wall of the 
room. Ranma also realized that, coming from this one, the 
phrase 'Mon-Keigh' did not carry its usual hateful overtones. 
He shrugged, and turned his attention to his opponent.

     There was no signal, only a moment when each simply knew 
the other was ready. Leaping into the air, they lashed out 
with fists and feet as they passed in mid-jump. Neither one 
touched home, however, and they landed opposite, facing each 
other once more. 

     "Not bad, boy. However, this is no easy test." With a 
flick of his wrist, he suddenly shattered into a cloud of 
thousands of shards of color, cycling and rotating where he 
used to be.

     "Oh, great," muttered Ranma. "That must be the holo-suit 
Ardallan warned me about." Keeping his distance from the 
amorphous rainbow cloud, he found himself bouncing from wall 
to wall, as the cloud moved as fast as the Solitaire had. In 
fact, as he moved faster, the cloud grew, and cycled much 
faster.

     Eventually, the human grew tired of playing the living 
ping-pong ball, and gathered his confidence. "Kiai!" he 
yelled, launching off a Moko Takabisha towards the center of 
the cloud. The nearly invisible blast impacted against 
something, sending it across the room as it crackled out of 
existence, and back into the form of the Solitaire. "Hah! 
Gotcha!"

     Another flick of his wrist, and the Eldar warrior was 
disgruntled to find he did not phase out again. "Very well. 
But the test is not over until I am beaten, hidden weapons or 
not!"

     As the two clashed in the center of the room, the 
Farseer leaned over to the High Avatar. "That was no hidden 
weapon. Somehow, the boy is able to generate pure force, and 
some heat, by the strength of his confidence, alone."

     The Avatar's dramatic mask frowned slightly. "Could it 
be the 'Chai' that the legends tell of? Or is he a psyker?"

     "He is no psyker," said the Farseer, as he turned his 
attention back to the battle.

     So far, neither fighter could land a blow. Every move 
was countered, and every technique was dodged. A rising 
thrust kick was avoided by a drop into a crouch, and the 
sweep in reply was deftly leapt over. A twin tiger punch was 
met halfway with a dual inside to outside block, and the 
follow-up monkey throw left the flying fighter on his feet, 
half a room away.

     "Not bad," sniffed Ranma, as he dropped his stance, and 
stood, relaxed, yet confident.

     "Please, Mon-Keigh. The fight is not yet won." Leaping 
forward with one foot out, the Solitaire engaged once more. 
Ranma responded by leaning only slightly to the side, and 
lashing out with an open hand, grabbing the Solitaire's 
ankle. Whipping around, he tossed his foe at the wall. As 
fast as thought, the Eldar placed his feet between himself 
and the wall, rebounding back to deliver a punishing blow 
against the chin of the pigtailed martial artist, dropping 
him to one knee.

     The Eldar could not let Ranma recover from the blow, and 
snapped back with a foot to the other side of the human's 
face. The impact sent him across the room, to crash heavily 
against the wall. Shaking his head, the young man 
straightened, then dove to one side to avoid the follow-up 
attack. As the fist of the Solitaire impacted against the 
wall, Ranma thrust forward with a side kick to his opponent's 
ribs, sending him skidding ten feet across the floor.

     Less than half a second later, the slender Eldar raced 
forward, leading with a fist, but dropping into a kick that 
narrowly missed the young man's knee. A hammer fist dropped 
down, but only struck the floor as the Solitaire flipped 
backwards. A touch of his foot to the floor, and the 
Solitaire began to spin in mid-air, feet rising and falling 
in a veritable storm of kicks. Ranma was only able to fall 
back, as his hovering foe drifted closer.

     "So that's the way you want to play, huh?" Ranma hopped 
back a bit, then lashed forward, his fist blurring into 
Chestnut Fist speed. Every kick was blocked, but every punch 
was countered, as the air crackled with the sound of hundreds 
of small sonic booms. Pushing himself to the limit, Ranma 
accelerated his fist, until one punch finally slipped 
through.

     The Solitaire, hovering and unable to plant himself, was 
sent careening back into the far wall, narrowly missing the 
awestruck Farseer and High Avatar. Cursing in his native 
tongue, the Eldar dashed forwards once again, in an effort to 
regain the initiative. 

     'Gotta put an end to this, quick,' thought the pigtailed 
martial artist. Dropping into the defense, he began his 
familiar spiral pattern. The strong passion of his opponent 
would surely end in a spectacular Hiryuu Shoten Ha. As the 
spiral wound to its inevitable conclusion, Ranma drifted his 
thoughts into the state known as the Heart of Ice. In 
seconds, the moment had arrived, and he threw the uppercut of 
cold chi that would spark the tornado.

     A tornado that never came. Blinking, he noticed the 
Solitaire had stopped a step early, and wasn't close enough 
for the interaction of their Chi. "I am no fool, boy. The 
legend of that attack makes clear how to avoid it."

     "Okay. Well, to heck with it. Kiai!" Another Moko 
Takabisha blasted out, impacting with the taunting Eldar. It 
was one of his strongest, and the Solitaire actually left a 
crater in the wall. The multi-colored warrior dragged himself 
to his feet, wobbling slightly, and then with more strength.

     "Impressive. But I am not defeated yet." Gliding 
forward, he slipped into a new stance and style, one Ranma 
recognized. In fact, it looked almost exactly like the 
variant of Wu-Shu practiced by the Chinese Amazons.

     A quick flurry of strikes and parries sent a tattoo of 
flesh on flesh echoing through the room. First one, then the 
other, would land a blow, only to lose the advantage seconds 
later. Eventually, one would make a mistake. This time, it 
was Ranma.

     It was perhaps a half inch too much follow-through, but 
it was enough for the Solitaire. He tugged the Human's arm 
around, exaggerating the overcompensation. Two quick knees 
landed on Ranma's kidneys, and a powerful palm-heel strike 
sent him across the floor. Before he could recover himself, 
the Eldar was on him.

     A snap kick to the crouching young man flipped him over, 
and a knee drop pinned him to the ground by his neck. "How 
unfortunate. It appears that you must die now."

     Three images flashed before Ranma's eyes. First, Ryouga 
and his constant threats - but his assistance when the chips 
were down. Second, his mother, and all the lost chances to 
actually tell her who he was. Finally, and most strongly, a 
smiling face framed by short, black hair. "NOOO!"

     The Solitaire gaped in shock, as he found himself flying 
through the air once more. His flip belt automatically 
activated, and he caught himself before he hit the wall. As 
he glanced up, he saw a red and black juggernaut bearing down 
on him, and barely had time to drop into a defensive stance 
before the human was on top of him.

     Blows that would have shattered cinderblock landed on 
the Eldar, who managed to roll with them enough to save his 
own life. The assault was almost inhuman, and he could not 
break free long enough to catch his breath. With one final 
punch, Ranma knocked him off his feet, skidding once more 
across the floor. Breathing heavily, the martial artist 
watched as his foe slowly pulled himself to his feet.

"It ends, now," said the Solitaire. Almost glowing with 
anger, but with no actual battle aura, he slowly strode 
forward. Ranma, unsure of what to expect, balanced himself on 
the balls of his feet, legs slightly spread, and ready to 
jump in any direction needed to avoid whatever came at him. 
The Eldar came to within ten feet, and knelt. 

	"Huh?" asked Ranma.

     Calming himself with visible effort, the Eldar looked up 
at him. "I cannot fight much longer, and to do so would 
likely kill me, something that must not happen yet. You have 
beaten me, and proven yourself, Saotome Ranma."

     "Waitaminute, how do ya know my name?" he demanded.

     "That is part of the message. Listen close, Mon-
Keigh..."

     ***********************************************

     School that day had an almost electric feel to the air. 
Something was going to happen, and it was going to happen 
soon. The students had developed a sense for that sort of 
thing after the past several months. In fact, so had most of 
the teachers, who seemed a little jumpy. For example, in 
first period alone, Miss Hinako drained seven students, not 
counting the unfortunates who were caught in the backwash. 
Lunch found Ukyou, Akane, Nabiki, Hiroshi, and Daisuke 
sitting beneath a tree, eating lunch, and making nervous 
chit-chat. Since Ranma's disappearance, Ukyou had finally 
broken down, and began to dress as her proper gender at 
school.

     "So, umm, Ukyou, how is the Ucchan's doing lately?" 
asked Daisuke.

     "Okay." The young entrepreneur just brushed off the 
boy's question, and hadn't stopped scanning the horizon since 
she left the building. 

     Hiroshi and Daisuke glanced at each other, and back at 
her. Hiroshi piped up. "So, how are you doing?"

     "Okay," responded Ukyou in an offhand way.

     The two young men glanced at each other, and smiled. 
"So, Ukyou, wanna go out Saturday?" asked Daisuke.

     "Okay," muttered Ukyou.

     The other two girls stared at her. "Ukyou, do you know 
what you've just done?" asked Akane.

     "Hm? Um, no, what?"

     "Five thousand yen," blurted Nabiki. After a quick elbow 
jab from Akane, she grumbled, "Sorry, knee-jerk reaction."

     Daisuke was all smiles. "You just agreed to go out with 
me on Saturday!"

     She bopped him on the head. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever 
do that."

     "Um," began Akane, "you just did that."

     "I did?" blinked Ukyou. Four nods confirmed one of her 
worst fears. Slowly, she turned to face the grinning boy. "I 
did?"

     "Yup," chorused Hiroshi and Daisuke.

     "Daisuke no baka!" she yelled, nailing him into the 
ground with her giant spatula.

     Since it was a pleasant day, most of the students were 
spending their lunch outside. Some laughed at Ukyou's 
treatment of Daisuke, others simply >tsked<, and walked away. 
But, soon, the gentle murmuring of gossip and idle chatter 
gave way to screams.

     "Wha?" blurted Hiroshi, with uncommon intelligence. 
Looking up, the small group saw bizarre creatures pouring out 
of the doors to the school building, and dangling from its 
windows. Some resembled huge, muscle-bound men, with red 
skin, triple-jointed legs, long heads, and massive bull 
horns, carrying red swords that screamed and chortled. Others 
were little more than hideous, pink walking heads, with long 
arms that ended in huge hands. And the last type resembled 
sensuous women - if those women had only one breast, long 
snakelike tongues, and had lobster-like claws on their 
forearms in place of hands, wearing leather strips that did 
very little to conceal anything.

     "What the heck are those things?" asked Daisuke.

     "I don't know," said Akane, "but I wish either Ranma or 
Ryouga were here. Heck, I'd even settle for the China crew!"

     "Hiroshi, Daisuke, Nabiki, stay behind Akane and me! 
We'll protect you from them." Ukyou yanked her spatula out of 
the ground next to the recumbent Daisuke, and took a battle 
stance.

     Daisuke, meanwhile, had staggered to his feet, staring 
at the schoolyard, and the hideous things that were chasing 
down the Furinkan population. Hiroshi sidled up next to his 
friend, then his jaw dropped. "Dai-kun! Yuki and Sayuri were 
in there!" Not even realizing what they were doing, the two 
boys dashed past the okonomiyaki cook, and through the throng 
of creatures into the building.

     "You idiots! Get back here, you'll get yourself killed! 
Baka, baka, baka, baka!" Ukyou turned to Akane. "Stay with 
your sister. I'm gonna get those two hentai out of the 
building if I have to throw them through the roof!" Clearing 
her path with a few thrown spatulas, she dashed in after 
them.

     ***********************************************

     The Nekohanten was just beginning to prepare for the 
lunch rush, and Shampoo had returned from her latest 
delivery. Mousse was washing dishes, and the Shaman was 
making himself useful by clearing the table. Without warning, 
the ancient young man dropped to the floor, holding his head.

     Cologne saw this. Quickly taking a pot of ramen off its 
burner, she pogo'ed over to him. "Shaman, what is wrong?"

     The psyker was wobbly, and Mousse rushed over to help 
him into a chair. "Khu Lon, it is the worst possible 
development. Mankind has finally reached the point to where I 
can no longer fully shield this world. In fact, creatures of 
the Warp have already escaped into this world."

     "Aiyah, where?" asked Shampoo.

     "I... I'm not sure. All I know is that it is close. 
Many, many lesser fiends have already entered this world, and 
one of the greater fiends may, indeed, have crossed over as 
well. It will take me only a few moments, but..." The Shaman 
closed his eyes, and he was lined in a thousand myriad 
colors. After a second, the colors faded. "Furinkan," he 
whispered hoarsely, "they are at Furinkan!" Then, the strain 
of his shields breaking catching up to him, he slumped over 
the table, and passed out.

     Cologne snapped her gaze to her two charges. "Mousse, 
you and Shampoo go to Furinkan, and do what you can to stem 
the tide. I will see to my old friend, then join you. Now, 
go! And, whatever you do, you must not get wet!"

     "Hai!" shouted the two teenagers as one. Turning, they 
darted out of the restaurant.

     Mousse immediately began to jump to the roof, but fell 
face first into the pavement when Shampoo grabbed the bottom 
of his robe. "Stupid duck boy and Shampoo get to Foo-rin-kan 
faster if take Shampoo's bike!" Dropping him unceremoniously 
into the basket on the front, she rang he bike's bell twice, 
then raced off through the streets of Nerima.

     ***********************************************

     Kuno Tatewaki was now convinced that Ranma had returned. 
Why else would this horde of demons dare assault the sacred 
halls of Furinkan High School? No matter, he thought, he 
would defeat these creatures, and prove to Akane and the Pig-
tailed girl that...

     A derisive laugh interrupted his reverie. Looking up, he 
saw one of the red-skinned, sword wielding beasts. "So, 
mortal, you would face a Bloodletter of Khorne, the Blood 
God, with only a stick in your hands? Ha, your blood shall 
flow, and feed my master's eternal thirst!"

     "Foul spawn of a thrice-cursed master, never shall I 
allow the filth of the blackest Hells to defile the purity of 
these walls! I do decry you, and the bedamned master who has 
brought you here!" shouted Kuno, dropping into his favorite 
stance.

     "Bwahaha, you are indeed pathetic, mortal," growled the 
creature as it approached.

     "I don't know," hissed a sibilant voice behind the 
kendoist, "he has some spunk, you must admit." Glancing 
behind him, he saw one of the parodies of fair maidenhood 
that likewise swarmed these halls. "He also has lusts and 
urges that feed Slaanesh, the Lord of Pleasure, quite well, 
indeed!"

     "Daemonette, you will leave me my kill, or it shall be 
you I shall slay!" roared the bloodletter.

     "Oh, I don't think you shall," purred the daemonette. 
"Perhaps, instead, you will be destroyed, and I may have my 
way with the poor, perverted mortal." She clacked her huge 
claws together to emphasize her point.

     Glancing back and forth at the two demons, Kuno felt his 
bile rising. "I am Kuno Tatewaki, the Black Reaver of 
Furinkan High! You shall not ignore me, and speak as though I 
am not there!" He lashed out with his bokken, only to see it 
deflected by the daemonette's claws.

     "Leave us alone, boy," snarled the bloodletter, 
"pleasure and pain are old enemies!"

     "And, old friends," chortled the daemonette, as the two 
otherworldly things dove at each other.

     A familiar shape appeared at Kuno's side. "Sasuke," he 
demanded, "my sword!"

     The small ninja pointed to the bokken in his hand. "But, 
master, it's already in your hand!"

     "Nay, faithful Sasuke, 'tis the family sword I require!" 
Kuno recovered enough of what little wits he had to draw 
himself upright. "For, have I not charged you to have it at 
the ready at all times?"

     Sasuke, meanwhile, was busily sorting through 
bokkenspace. After about thirty bokken, he finally withdrew 
an incredibly beautiful blade. An Edo period katana, with the 
five-leafed lotus that signified a sword of the highest 
quality, it was a masterpiece of the smith's art. Wordlessly, 
he handed it to his master.

     Drawing it with the utmost respect, Kuno handed the 
scabbard back to his servant. "Should I not survive the 
upcoming battle, for the treachery of the Sorcerer, Saotome, 
knows no bounds, then my blade is not to go to my sister. 
Instead, present it to Tendou Akane, or the Pigtailed girl, 
in remembrance of me." Taking a deep breath, he yelled a 
powerful "KIAI!"

     The two demons stopped in their personal fight, to see 
the young mortal had replaced his stick with a sword. "Well, 
it's about time you finally got yerself a decent weapon, 
boy!" snorted the bloodletter.

     The daemonette sniffed. "It is still a toy. There is no 
magic within. It may hurt us, but it is no sharper than 
anything else."

     Those words were the last she had the time to say. 
"Begone!" thundered Kuno, as a well placed stroke met the 
fiend in the throat, and the keen, curved edge sliced neatly 
through her neck. Her head plopped to the ground, and rolled 
for a second, before it and she vanished into a cloud of 
rapidly vanishing mist.

     Pivoting his shoulder for a few practice swings with his 
own murmuring sword, the Bloodletter smiled. "Alright boy. 
Time to bleed!"

     They clashed and fought, and Kuno slowly grew aware of 
two things. First, he outmatched this thing in skill, and the 
battle would not last much longer.

     Second, there were no less than twenty more of the 
things charging down the hallway at his unprotected back.

     ***********************************************

     "Hiroshi! Daisuke! Come on, I can't kill the two of you 
if you get yourselves killed, first!" Ukyou yelled down the 
hallway. She had seen at least three other students that had 
been trapped within the school, and guided them to the exits. 
Miss Hinako had likewise been helping, though she appeared to 
be acting strangely. For one, she was in little kid form, and 
made no motion to drain the fiends, only dodge them, and 
distract them so the students could get away.

     A flash of black school uniforms caught her attention. 
Darting in to an otherwise abandoned classroom, she saw 
something that chilled her to the bone. There, in fact, were 
Hiroshi, Daisuke, Sayuri, and Yuka, cornered by four of the 
red skinned things. Before she could even make a move, the 
things shimmered, and entered the four school-kids' mouths. A 
moment later, and they ripped through their clothes, turned 
red, and sprouted horns, fully transforming into the hideous 
bloodletters.

     The one who had once been Daisuke saw her in the 
doorway. "Well, Uc-/CHAN/, care for a date now?" He laughed, 
exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth, and a long, forked 
tongue, as a bilious drool dripped off onto the floor. "And 
don't even think about fighting us. If you hurt us, you hurt 
your friends!

     As they advanced, Ukyou found herself doing the one 
thing she never expected. Pulling a page from the Saotome 
school of Anything Goes Martial Arts, she ran away, to try 
and figure out how to help her friends.

     ***********************************************

     Things were far more quiet for Ranma. Resting after his 
intense fight with the Solitaire, he found himself in 
conversation with the High Avatar. "I don't get it. He told 
me he had a message for me, but he won't tell me what it is! 
I passed his stupid test an' everythin'!"

     The High Avatar laughed. "Don't worry. I think I know 
why he won't tell you. Have the dances been explained to 
you?"

     "Umm, kinda." Ranma shrugged. "They told me ya do these 
dances to tell the history o' the Eldar, right?"

     "Quite," said the Avatar. "One of these dances is simply 
known as the Great Dance, and it is rarely performed. Of all 
our dances, it is the only one that requires a Solitaire, and 
only under rare circumstances will a Solitaire travel with a 
Troupe for more than a handspan of days.

     "There is a version of the Great Dance, however, which 
has only been danced once before, over thirty thousand years 
ago. It is the highest form of that dance. And it is one that 
directly concerns you."

     "Me?" asked the pigtailed Martial Artist.

     "Yes, you. It is said that a Human once joined the Great 
Dance, in the role of the one who, in fact, taught the 
Laughing God the fighting style that he would, himself, teach 
to his harlequins." Looking at Ranma directly, he added, "And 
you are the only Mon-Keigh I know of, or ever knew of, that 
could perform that role. Only you have the speed, the 
strength, and the skill."

     "I'm supposed ta dance? Jeez, I ain't a dancer!" Ranma 
scratched the back of his head. "What happens if I don't do 
it?"

     Sighing, the High Avatar spread his hands. "Nothing at 
all. However, you will not only be depriving the citizens of 
this Craftworld of their only chance to see the ultimate form 
of the Great Dance, you will also be depriving yourself of a 
significant part of the message the Solitaire has for you."

     "Oh. Um, couldja at least show me what I'm supposed ta 
do? An' I ain't gonna hafta wear a tutu, am I?"

     "Of course you won't. As for what you are supposed to 
do, follow me..."

     ***********************************************

Shampoo broke several land speed records in her efforts to 
get to Furinkan High as soon as possible, including 'Fastest 
Effort By A Bicycle With An Extra Passenger Along a Fence 
Top', and several even more obscure. Soon, the gates of the 
school were in sight. "Hold on, Mousse, We going in. HIYAA!"

     Had they known what to expect, their reactions would not 
have changed. As soon as the bike burst through the stone 
walls surrounding the schoolyard, they leapt off the mangled 
vehicle, diving into the nearest fray. To one side, they saw 
several students chased by hermaphroditic lobster demons, 
while red-skinned monstrosities toyed with a group of 
frightened girls. Near the center of the schoolyard, Akane 
was beset by a small horde of pink-skinned, walking heads, as 
they attempted to surround her, and her sister Nabiki.

     "Shampoo, I'm going after those red things. You take on 
the female ones. Whoever's done first helps out Akane," 
called Mousse.

     "Yes! Then we all go inside!" She leapt into the middle 
of the female caricatures, swinging back and forth with her 
twin bonbori, caving in skulls and shattering ribcages. As 
often as not, her victims faded into mist, and vanished. But 
they were not defenseless, themselves. One particularly lucky 
daemonette lashed out with a wicked pincer, and ripped away a 
small chunk of flesh from her thigh, causing her to stumble.
Cursing in Chinese, she dove at the thing, and continued her 
assault.

     Akane had problems of her own. The pink things didn't so 
much seem intent on fighting her, as they did on gaining the 
attention of Nabiki. "Come," they chortled in eerie unison, 
"join us. The power is there for you, the control, whatever 
you want!"

     "Shut up!" screamed Akane, punching one pink thing hard 
enough to send it back twenty feet. When it stopped, it did 
not turn to mist, but sprang back up as two smaller, blue-
skinned creatures, no longer laughing with glee, but snarling 
in anger. Bounding over their brethren, they immediately 
attached themselves to her, trying to slow her down.

     "Akane!" yelled her sister. "Think about Kuno's 
challenge!"

     "That's right! These aren't demons - they're BOYS! And 
I - >blam< - Hate - >crash< -BOYS!" With a mighty heave, she 
bowled over the milling demons, sending them flying back. The 
two blue things faded back to wherever they came from, but 
the rest sprang up, their numbers doubled, and their skin 
blue.

     "Mortal!" they screamed in unison. "You cannot resist 
the power of Chaos!" Bounding forward on their over-long 
hands, they buried her in a living blue pile.

     On the other side of the schoolyard, several chains 
lashed out of Mousse's sleeves, missing the demons, but 
entangling the students. A jerk and a small leap, and the 
students found themselves on the roof, safely away from their 
red-skinned tormenters. The Chinese boy, however, snapped out 
his wrist claws, and dove in the middle of the fiends. Claw 
strikes raked out, wounding but not killing the things, while 
he quickly found himself on the defensive, striving to avoid 
the shrieking swords the things carried. Horribly 
outnumbered, he realized that he may not be able to defeat 
them all. One swung a mighty overhand blow, and missed, 
digging deep into the ground. He felt, more than saw, the 
blade drink deep of the life of the grass there, and suddenly 
ducked to avoid another's blow that would have removed his 
head.

     Behind them, the walls of the school began to bleed.

     ***********************************************


     Deep in the bowels of Furinkan High, there is a very 
special room. Here, a bust of Principal Kuno rests before a 
tatami, for the most obstinate of students to kneel before. 
It is a repository of resentment and hate, mostly aimed at 
the psychotic principal. Now, one taloned hand caressed the 
icon, its bony extremities swathed in electric blue skin.

     "Yesss," hissed the shadowed creature behind it. "Thisss 
place isss ripe with hate, and with lussst, and with change. 
Thisss isss the perfect place.

     "Above me, the lesser demonsss do dance and revel in 
Chaosss. Sssoulsss have been claimed to bring before me, that 
I shall sssacrifice before my Lord.

     "Beware, Earth, for Chaosss comesss!"