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 Eleven: Absolution

     Ranma stood in the performance room, shifting his weight 
from one foot to another. He looked down at his clothes, an 
ornate set of Eldar garb that echoed the red and black colors 
he normally favored. He would have scratched his nose, but he 
was given a mask to wear, one of the metamorphic ones that 
the Harlequins used, and echoed the expressions of the 
wearer. 

     One of the Harlequins glided up next to him. "Mon-Keigh, 
just remember. You yourself said the movements were almost 
instinctive for you. You should have no difficulties."

     "Yeah, I know," he muttered. "I'm just kinda freaked out 
that it's based on the Anything-Goes katas."

     He watched the performance onstage from his vantage 
point to one side, as the story slowly unfolded. Several 
Troupers, playing the role of the Old Eldar, danced a dance 
of carefree frivolity. Their holo-suits shifted slowly to a 
more corrupt sequence, simulating garb that slowly changed 
from graceful and demure, to daring and revealing. Four 
Troupers danced slowly away from the rest, cycling back to 
the demure garb of before.

     Slowly, the dances of the slowly corrupting Troupers 
grew wilder, and more debauched, so much so that Ranma was 
glad the mask concealed his small nosebleed. The four who 
stepped aside, however, retained the original steps of the 
dance. The contrast was mild, at first, but now was 
positively 
striking.

     With a scream that was heard both physically and with 
the mind, the corrupt dancers dropped to the ground. From 
above, the Solitaire dropped down. His holofield gave him a 
shifting, corrupted image, cycling from male to female, and 
leering in both forms. He touched the fallen dancers, and 
they rose up, fully corrupted, and neither male nor female. 
With shrieks of unholy glee, They turned their gaze on the 
four that were uncorrupted, and the four huddled against each 
other. Slowly, their twisted brethren danced their way 
closer.

     From the opposite side of the stage, the High Avatar 
appeared. The music rose in a heroic crescendo, as he danced 
around the Solitaire, and the fallen dancers, confusing them, 
and allowing the four dancers to leave the stage. He then led 
the corrupted dancers to the edge of the stage, where they 
left. For now, the High Avatar was alone on the stage.

     It was at this point that Ranma realized it was his 
turn. He still felt self-conscious, and embarrassed. Most of 
the dancing had been acrobatic, but it reminded him of the 
bits and pieces he had seen of ballet, combined with dazzling 
displays of acrobatics. Nervously, he strode out onstage, to 
confront the High Avatar. 

     The dance was not so much a dance, but a pattern of 
forms. He began with the most basic of the katas of his 
school, as the Avatar mirrored his actions. Moving with more 
confidence, he stepped into the next movement, a more 
advanced kata that displayed the aerial supremacy of the 
Saotome school of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. Again, the 
Avatar repeated what was shown to him. Finally, the end of 
the movement came, and he began a test of forms. They faced 
each other, and a slight nod began the form. Punches flew in 
a prescribed pattern, and parries flowed in direct response 
to their partner. Forgetting about the audience, and even 
where he was, Ranma lost himself in the form. The moves 
flowed out of the core of who and what he was, streaming from 
the seat of his soul, throughout his heart and mind, 
expressed in the rhythm of the form.

     At last, the form was over, and he bowed to the High 
Avatar. He leapt away, landing to the side of the stage, 
facing the Harlequins who waited there. They nodded at him, 
and he turned to watch the end. The Solitaire had returned, 
leading his forces, but the Avatar was ready. He displayed 
the skills he had 'learned' at Ranma's hands, and led the 
four dancers in a pattern of movement that baffled the 
corrupted ones. The remainder of the dance told the story of 
how the four led by the High Avatar found other Eldar who 
were uncorrupted, and helped them to achieve freedom from the 
doomed who walked among them.

     Soon, the dance was over. The pigtailed martial artist 
reached up, and removed the mask that had covered his face 
for the last two hours. Even though he had only been onstage 
for a few short moments, his heart was hammering as strongly 
as if he had finished a full bout with Ryouga. His mind 
drifted back to his part in the dance, and he thought he 
could almost understand why they needed him. But, it slipped 
from his mind.

     Taking one last look at the stage, Ranma left to change 
back into his own clothes.

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

     Kuno Tatewaki raised his sword, dropping it on the now 
defenseless head of one of the demons. The thing dissipated 
into mist, but its brethren pressed the attack, slowly 
driving him towards the lunchroom. As the storm of blades 
lashed out, the kendoist found himself slipping deeper and 
deeper into a state he once thought he achieved regularly. 
Now, as his body moved in total harmony with the blade. He 
was falling into Zanshen, the state of No Mind.

     Three chaos-forged blades snaked forwards, diverted by a 
careless flick of his wrists. A half-formed thought, and two 
of the demons were cast back into the warp. Another half-
formed thought, and his consciousness submerged so deep into 
the way of the sword, that everything achieved a stark 
clarity.

     In that moment, everything that had ever eluded him, he 
understood. He knew, now, why the pigtailed girl rejected 
him. He knew, as well, why Saotome could not be at fault 
here. In his mind, images flashed of every moment he had seen 
where Ranma had placed himself in the path of danger to 
protect Tendou Akane. The first time, at the pool, when Ranma 
fell into the pool, but the pigtailed girl climbed out. 
Saotome and the pigtailed girl... were the same person?

     The thought was so shocking, that it snapped him out of 
the state of No Mind. Feeling the change, he hopped back, 
ready for any attackers. However, there were none left. 
"Verily, these beasts did fear my blade so much, that they 
ran away! Surely I didn't slay all twenty so swiftly? Wait, 
but of course I did! Am I not Kuno Tatewaki, the Black Reaver 
of Furinkan High? Now, what was I thinking about?"

     All he could remember, was the thought that his nemesis 
could not have summoned the demons. As he raced off to find 
more foes, something laughed beneath the school.

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

     Nabiki could only stare in horror at the pile of blue 
demons that were smothering her little sister. If she had 
only learned more than a little martial arts, herself, maybe 
she could have been able to help Akane...

     A faint red glow began to seep through the pile of 
demons. In just a few moments, the blue horrors flew apart, 
most of them striking some form of rigid obstacle, and fading 
back to the Warp. Standing, as enraged as she had ever found 
herself, was Tendou Akane. Her breath came in snorts, and she 
swung wide, sweeping blows that collided with several of the 
creatures at once. Soon, they had all cleared away, or had 
run back into the schoolhouse.

     Shampoo, on the other hand, did her level best to keep 
her temper. As a trained warrior, she knew her anger could 
only weaken her. She didn't have the massive surges of 
adrenaline the Kitchen Destroyer did, and she would only end 
up making fatal mistakes. A snap of the bonbori from her 
guard position, and the huge maces met on either side of the 
head of one of her opponents. Twisting her wrists in opposite 
directions, and she slapped aside incoming claws with the 
hafts of the weapons. She was winning, but she wouldn't be 
worth much after... she threw such thoughts aside, as her 
chin was clipped by a glancing blow. Time to think only of 
the fight.

     Mousse saw the horror behind him as he spun to deflect a 
bloodletter's hellblade. The walls of the school had begun to 
ooze blood from the damage they had sustained in the ongoing 
battle, and that blood was beginning to congeal into bizarre, 
fleshy tentacles. Dodging left, and leaping over the crush of 
demons, he saw one of the tentacles flail about on the roof, 
trying to reach the screaming students. He couldn't help them 
without leaving himself wide open, and Shampoo was pretty 
hard pressed, but Akane... Akane couldn't leap that high. It 
looked hopeless. He mentally saluted them, sorry he could not 
do more for them, and lashed out, ripping out the throat of 
one of the monsters.

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

     "Where in the world am I now?" moaned Hibiki Ryouga, the 
eternal lost boy. Looking around, he saw that he was in the 
baseball field outside Furinkan High School. "Hey! 
Waitaminute! I actually know where I am!'

     A cry of, "help," came whispering through the wind.

     "Huh?" Looking towards the school building, he saw the 
effects of the grand melee. He also saw the tentacles, and 
several figures on the roof. "Just when I was thinking that 
everything around here was Ranma's fault. Wait, it has to be 
his fault, somehow! Well, okay, maybe not this time." He 
sprinted towards his foe, the building, itself. A few seconds 
later, and one huge leap, and he was standing among the 
students.

     "Hey," said one, "aren't you that guy who's always 
fighting with Ranma?"

     "Shut up about him. Hang on!" He grabbed all four of 
them, and easily leapt off the roof. Another leap took them 
outside of the immediate environs of the battle, and he set 
them down. "Stay here. Who else is left over there?"

     "Um... I saw Daisuke and Hiroshi run inside, and some 
girl that looked like Ukyou-kun's sister, complete with 
spatula, ran in after them," said a girl. "Oh, and I think I 
saw the Chinese waitress and waiter from the Nekohanten 
helping Akane out on the other side of the building."

     "Akane? Why didn't you say so?" He took off, heading 
straight through the wall of the building.

     "Well," said one student, "at least he ran in the right 
direction."

     The building barely slowed down the rampaging martial 
artist. Plowing through room after room, he startled various 
clusters of demons, and accidentally knocked several out. 
Finally, he erupted from the building, only to see Akane 
relatively safe, but Mousse hard-pressed, and Shampoo in 
trouble. The Chinese boy was doing okay, but was hard pressed 
to make headway. The purple-haired girl, on the other hand, 
was facing a horde twice the size her countryman opposed. 
Although she had apparently slain several, judging by the 
lethal blows he saw her deliver, she had several wounds, 
including a nasty one on her thigh. He wavered for a second, 
but his warrior instincts overrode any lingering feelings for 
Akane.

     Shampoo felt something race up behind her, and spun 
around with one of her bonbori. She checked the blow just in 
time, though, as she recognized the yellow tunic out of the 
corner of her eye. "About time lost boy show up," she 
groused, while crushing the skull of one of the demonetizes.

     "Well, forgive me for not knowing anything was going 
on." He dropped, avoiding a double claw slash, and poked the 
pavement with a forefinger. His own body shielded his comrade 
in arms from the explosion of the Bakusai Tenketsu, but the 
hell-spawn weren't so lucky. Several of them vanished right 
then and there, while several others were wounded, and driven 
back.

     Mousse found he had less and less time to attack, and 
spent more and more energy on dodging. He was tiring, but 
these things didn't appear to even break a sweat, if they did 
sweat. They drove him back, until he quickly felt the rough 
bark of a tree behind him. Steeling himself, he tossed the 
claws away, and ducked long enough to draw a pair of tai chi 
long swords. With what he hoped was not his last thought, he 
sent a silent prayer to the Celestial Bureaucracy to watch 
over Shampoo, and dove into the middle of them.

     Akane glanced back and forth between the two warring 
groups, and back at Nabiki. "Go ahead," said the older 
Tendou, "I'll be okay. Help them out." Akane nodded, and 
dashed towards the fray surrounding Mousse.

     Hearing the collision of bodies to his left, the male 
amazon yelled out, "Shampoo?"

     "No, >blam<, it's Akane!" she responded.

     "You're fighting these things unarmed?" A spinning twin 
parry turned aside three blades. "You can't block these 
swords, they'll drain the life out of you!"

     "Then toss me a sword, I know you have one in there 
somewhere!" yelled Akane.

     A glint of light above the fray caught her eye, and she 
avoided a strike from a demon by dodging towards the spinning 
shape. Her hand snaked out, and caught the handgrip of a 
Chinese broad sword. Grinning, she twirled it around her 
head, ending in a decapitating stroke against the nearest 
bloodletter. "Alright, let's go!"

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

     Tatewaki Kuno strode through the halls of the school, on 
occasion slashing a tentacle in half with his katana. "Truly, 
have I, the Black Reaver of Furinkan High.... no, the Grey 
Hunter of Furinkan High, now become the warden of these 
hallowed halls." 

     With a shriek that echoed in his heart as well as his 
mind, a hideous pink walking head dove at him from the 
Chemistry Club room. He turned and slashed as one motion, 
neatly bisecting the beast.  He turned, and continued on his 
way.

     "Do not ignore us, mortal," chimed twin voices behind 
him. He turned, and saw two blue creatures, identical to each 
other and the dead pink thing. He dodged their huge, grasping 
hands, and cut them down. Hearing footsteps further down the 
hall, he lowered his center of gravity, and raised his sword 
in an offensive stance.

     It was an unexpected sight for him to see the proprietor 
of the Uchhan's, dressed in a Furinkan girl's uniform, 
trotting towards him, her huge spatula in hand. He stood, and 
lowered his sword, as she met his eyes. "Hold, fair Ukyou, 
this edifice is far too dangerous for such a flower of 
womanhood as you."

     "Shut up, you jackass," growled Ukyou. "I've got to find 
out how to help four of my friends!"

     "My good lady," he began, "no matter what danger they 
may be in, little help can you do them if you are slain by 
the fiends who dwell within, at this moment. Allow me to 
escort you outside, and..."

     "Oh, Ukyou, we're he-ere!" snarled a bloodletter. 

     Kuno blinked, twice, at the sight of two of the demons 
in boys' uniforms, and two in torn girls' uniforms. "These 
wouldn't happen to be your friends, would they?"

     "They used to be, but they're possessed right now. And 
that's why we've got to go! We can't fight them without 
hurting the kids inside!"

     The four demons stood where they were. "Exactly, 
mortal!" It grinned, needle-sharp teeth clicking together in 
a sharp staccato.

     "Then we will grieve for them," said the would-be 
samurai, "once we have sent these damnable things back to the 
abyss!" He charged, only to be caught short by a strong grip 
on the back of his kimono.

     "Absolutely not, you jackass! I will not give up hope!" 
She dragged him behind her, racing through the halls, trying 
to keep one step ahead of their former friends. Down a flight 
of stairs, and through two different hallways, she noticed 
something. "Say, Kuno," she began.

     "What, >gasp<," he panted.

     "Ever notice how the Home ec room is right across the 
hall from the Shop classroom?"

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

     "So, you're telling me that this immortal psychic guy 
who brought me here, told you guys to be on the lookout for 
me?" asked Ranma.

     "Actually," said the Solitaire, "it was the Emperor's 
hand that drew you here. The request to reclaim you came from 
his earlier life, nearly thirty thousand years ago. He spoke 
to one of my predecessors, who passed the image and tales 
down through his successors, to me."

     "Oh. Um, right. So, when do we leave?"

     "In six hours, the Webway portal to the Timeless Heart 
will open in the main Webway chamber. You have time to say 
your farewells, Mon-Keigh," said the harlequin. Turning on 
his heel, he walked out of the chamber that had been the 
pigtailed martial artist's home for the past several months.

     "Okay. Well, I'd better head to Teldurin's shrine." He 
stood, stretched, and sprinted off down the halls. Soon, he 
arrived at the door of the Shrine. The Banshee standing watch 
nodded at him, and opened the door.

     After removing his shoes and clapping twice, as always, 
here, he walked up to the Exarch. "Hey, um, Teldurin, I got 
somethin' ta say to all of you."

     "Very well." She clapped her hands, twice, and addressed 
the gathered warriors. "Our adopted brother, Anial Gorwydd, 
wishes to speak to the Shrine!" she called out.

     Noting all the faces and masks looking at him, he 
shifted his weight from one foot to the other, he cleared his 
throat. "Um, well, I ain't much good at talkin' like this, 
but I wanna say that I jus' found out that I can get home. I 
ain't gonna forget ya, but I can't stay. Not when I can get 
back to A... er, back home. That is. Yeah, right."

     A cheer rose from the gathered Aspect Warriors, and 
those unmasked even shed a few tears at this announcement. 
They gathered around him, and threw him up onto their 
shoulders. "Wonderful, Anial Gorwydd! Come, time for a 
celebration!" cried Eldaveril.

     Teldurin snorted. "I will leave that to you. Such 
matters are nothing to me, anymore." She walked up to where 
he sat atop the cluster of warrior-women. "Anial G... Ranma, 
you are a powerful fighter. You may even be a champion. But 
take pride that you are not a warrior, and that you have no 
true malice in your heart towards your foe. Hate is a bitter 
pill, one that has trapped me upon the Path of the Warrior. 
Congratulations on your impending return home, and may your 
life at home be peaceful."

     "I don't know about peaceful, but I will be home. I 
can't wait to see 'em all. Well, maybe not the Kuno's." He 
glanced down at Eldaveril. "So, is it jus' gonna be you guys, 
or are Hanuril, Evanor, an' the rest gonna be there?"

     "Of course," she replied. "We'll get the whole 
Craftworld there, if we can!"

     Two hours later found a rather large number of Aspect 
Warriors, Warlocks, and even a couple of Farseers gathered in 
a room usually set aside for celebrations. It was as large as 
the entire campus of Furinkan, and was packed with everyone 
who had been lucky enough to have their lives touched by him, 
and almost as many who had not, and hoped to see the Human. 
Ranma, himself, was beginning to get embarrassed at the 
attention, and in fact was feeling just a little crowded.

     Ardallan walked up to the pigtailed martial artist. "My 
boy, these last several months have been an experience I will 
not soon forget. The memories may dim in ten thousand years, 
but they will never fade."

     "Yeah, I feel the same. Um, not that I'm gonna live ten 
thousand years, but I ain't gonna forget it anytime soon." 
Ranma scratched the back of his neck. "I guess when I go 
back, then you guys might have a funeral, huh?"

     The Warlock was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

     Ranma allowed a small, half-hearted grin to slip onto 
his face. "I mean, that when I go back, I'll have, well, died 
thousands of years before you were born."

     Ardallan's back stiffened a little. "Please, Ranma, this 
is a celebration in your honor. Such topics are... difficult 
to discuss at the best of times."

     "Hey, Ranma," yelled Eldaveril, "come on over here and 
meet Tynerimar!"

     The Warlock smiled. "It seems my daughter wants to make 
sure the rest of the Craftworld has a chance to meet you 
before you go."

     The human nodded. "Yeah, I'd better go and meet this 
guy... er, girl... whatever Tynerimar is, I can't see 'em." 
He bowed to his friend, and hopped over to the anxious 
cluster of Eldar at the far end of the room.

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

     Cologne pogoed down the street at her fastest pace, and 
could still barely keep up with the levitating Shaman. "Old 
friend," she asked, "when we arrive, will you be able to 
pinpoint the heart of the breach?"

     He nodded, as the scintillating colors of his aura 
carried him through the Nerima skies. "If I can find the 
breach, I can seal it."

     Moments later, and the school came into sight. The 
afternoon sun illuminated the scene better than could be 
hoped, and showed the scattered demons fighting the 
youngsters in their most hideous light. It also showed the 
blood red tentacles as they writhed through the gaping wounds 
at the heart of the school. Most horribly, it threw a stark 
relief on the gaping maw that once served as the main 
entrance, now transformed into an obscene, fanged mouth.

     The Shaman slowed, then gently dropped to the sidewalk. 
"It is below the school, perhaps in a basement. And it is not 
alone."

     Cologne glanced up at him. "More than one breach? Or is 
there a guardian?"

     "A guardian, Khu Lon. A demon so powerful that its kind 
were worshipped as gods by some primitive tribes when I was a 
boy. It is a Changer of Ways, a winged monstrosity with an 
absolute mastery of magic, and a cunning unmatched among the 
greater demons." The ancient young man breathed deeply. "I 
cannot face it. I am stronger, but to use my powers so close 
to the rift will only open it further. You, and your students 
and their friends, must face the thing, while I close the 
rift."

     "How will we defeat this ancient demon?" asked the 
matriarch.

     "A miracle, perhaps," was her answer. "And I assure you, 
I will be praying for one, myself."