Genma straightened his silks as he contemplated the view from his window.
Three years had passed since coming to this land. Three very eventful and productive years.
A bottle of the local brew was in the usual place in his cupboard, and Genma quickly found a clean goblet in which to pour the murky drink. He would have preferred sake - but a martial artist had to make do with what was available! Using the goblet he raised it in a toast to the city below.
Ranma's city. The city of Rangard.
When they had come here, it had been jungle out there! Errr. Rainforest. Whatever.
That jungle had disgorged dinosaurs! Or close enough. Even as little time as he'd spent with scholastic studies, Genma was pretty sure that having that many limbs was just plain wrong. And those were just some of the native beasts, the things that occasionally washed up through those purple mists were far worse.
Various misfits had continued to arrive as well.
Over there - that large building of stone and colored glass, lit from within by strange fires. The Academie f Magick. A rowdy bunch if ever there was. You could just see it over the outer walls that kept it seperated from the rest of the city.
And over there - that glimmering light on the hill. That was the Monastery Of The Righteous Fist. What they called monks here - martial artists. He himself was one, but not of that order - of course. Still, it did him good to be addressed respectfully as sensei by the young ones. Ah.
As for his usual habits, there were no need of them here. Thievery? All he had to do was request a bottle of the local brew and it would be his within the hour. Food? As easily given. As long as he followed the advice given him by that dragon-genie - he kept his mouth mainly shut and kept out of trouble - he had everything he wanted and more! Gold? He had several pounds of it here in his quarters. His quarters were fairly soft, but he could go down the hall and enjoy a more spartan room if he deigned.
Genma saw the lights of some pixies or other faerie darting among the buildings and allowed himself a smile. To him, the martial arts had been mistress and lover. Here he could go out and use his skills, and improve them, on a daily basis. He did this often. Though sometimes it was nice just to sit back and relax and reflect that he had at last found his niche.
The city itself was lit by various torches or spells or whatever else was available to the individual doing the lighting.
Hmmph. Over there was the somber lighting of the Road Of A Thousand Gods. Mind you, there were only twelve deities honored there by temples, maybe another dozen little shrines where incense could be burned and prayers offered. He'd never had much truck with the gods - but then they seemed a bit more vocal and active hereabouts. He'd adopted one as a patron - not as a follower but just in case. Just in case.
The temple of Eilistraee was, suitably, dark. The drow goddess of good and swordcraft was one of the more popular deities here. There had been talk of her showing up during the dances, but as Genma had never been allowed there during their sacred rites and he'd nearly died of nosebleed the one time he had snuck in, he wasn't convinced of that.
The temple of Tennyson was a ruin. Those who followed the philosophy of that particular faith found the ruins comforting. Genma had met some of the beholders, once, and had decided that if ever the Master's path crossed his again - he'd have to tell the old lech those beings had some treasure hidden in there. One look at those creatures and the Master's appetites should be soured for quite a long time.
The other temples were rather more impressive. Lathander, a faith from a world known as Toril, the deity of new beginnings. Bast - a cat goddess who also dabbled in marriage and a few other things from a variety of systems. The Skysaber - a new god of excellence in combat and of things which had crossed over. It had seemed auspicious and so Genma had adopted that one as his patron deity.
Paladine - worshipped by those who came from the world known as Krynn. Athena - another goddess of excellence and of fighting. Corellon Larethian - god of elves. Moradin - god of dwarves. Tyr- god of justice and war from Toril, though apparently also found elsewhere. Ashur - Venakian god of long voyages and safe harbors.
Finally the temple of Marduk - god of cities from a world known as Rhian.
The factories, the warehouses, the spelljammer ports. All this laid out in glimmering lights in the time between sunset and moonrise.
And his son was the prince of all this, beloved by his people.
The halflings considered him almost as one of their own number - Ranma had acquited himself well at an eating contest.
As for the other groups, it might have just been some magic, but they were all fond of their prince. They joked about him, yes, but they were never cruel about it.
And the girls! Ranma had no clue, but if his mother could only see how young ladies would turn their head and watch him pass. Ah, one hint that Ranma wasn't sufficiently manly and there would be enough volunteers to prove his manliness that even Nodoka would have to admit that Ranma had turned out well indeed.
Genma shuddered, feeling a sudden chill, and wondering what it was that could be bothering him on his son's fourteenth birthday?
(Posted Fri, 06 Dec 2002 11:54)
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