As Mira and Molly continued their shouting match, Ranma gave up trying to get a word in edgewise and returned to freeing the slaves and killing goblins. At fourteen, Ranma was a very accomplished killer; he didn't like it, but sometimes it was just kill or be killed. "Kill to live," as the clerics of Tennyson had advised, "don't live to kill." He'd reluctantly learned that when someone came at him trying to kill him, they deserved to have the favor returned without hesitation.
There was always the possibility of an assassin leaping out of the shadows and they didn't always announce their intent. Unfortunately he'd made a number of deadly enemies just by being the prince of a kingdom that practiced tolerance to what were normally considered intrinsically evil races.
Thinking of which, he glanced over to check on Tarre. She was having a little trouble convincing the captives that she wasn't going to eat them, and the fact that Molly had set her Shadows to act as bodyguards wasn't really doing much to help her cause. But she was happily tearing apart any cage she could get her claws on and seemed a lot more confident since the majority of goblins had fled into the jungle.
He turned his attention back just in time to see the meanest looking goblin yet emerge from hiding right next to him. Ranma cursed his own folly at letting his guard down even as he raised his katana just in time to parry the blow from the goblin's heavy mace, then staggered in shock from the strength behind the attack. He quickly recovered his poise and smiled in genuine anticipation. The other goblins had been so helpless before him that it had been most distasteful to have to dispatch them. "You're not just an ordinary grunt, are you?" he demanded while looking for an opening. He was most please to find almost no gap in the goblin's defense. "By the quality of that armor, you're the leader of this sordid affair, I'd wager."
"You're no ordinary human skum either," Narkberk agreed with a snarl.
"That's right," Ranma agreed with a smirk, "I'm Ranma Saotome, Prince of Rangard, Monk of the Cat Fist and Paladin of Bahamut. And you are?"
"Narkberk the Iron Fist, a Disciple of Dispator," the goblin replied, unimpressed by the titles. "So, you're poncy royalty, eh? And a goody two shoes? Well, well, fancy that. I haven't had royal blood oil my sacrificial altar in a long time. Dispator will reward me handsomely when I dedicate your heart to him!"
"He'll show his displeasure at failure when I send your soul to him instead," Ranma responded with an icy calm. It wasn't anger of hatred that he felt, more like utter contempt.
"Waahh! Please don't eat us!" a wretched 'elf' named Delilah begged amid the crowd of slaves that shambled away from the iron cage the black dragon had pried open.
"I'm not going to eat anyone," Tarre repeated once more, disgusted that people kept judging her by her colour. "I'm a good dragon, honest." Then she wrinkled her nose. "Besides, your smell would ruin anyone's appetite." It was true, they really could do with a good soak in brine a few day to marinate … no, no, bad thought, bad thought!
"Ye're no bed of roses either, lizard-breath," a gnome replied automatically and wondered why the beast was beating it's head against the ground. "Er, no offense meant," he amended hastily, "I'll just be creeping away now." This was followed by the patter of little feet.
"Hey! Keep close to the ship now," Tarre advised as she moved to the last cage. "Mira sent word to the palace, so a rescue ship should arrive soon and a lot of nasty-bad goblins escaped into the jungle. If anyone's in shape to pick up a weapon and help fight them off, there's plenty left lying around. My Ranma did good work!" she added proudly.
"This is it, we're all going to die," a dwarf moaned as another batch of freed slaves mingled with the crowd.
"I'm not going to eat anyone," Tarre repeated forlornly as she tossed scrap metal aside. "Oh, come on, gi' me a break!"
Two more 'elves' emerged from the crowd and exchanged glanced with Delilah. "I'm sure she's really a nice dragon," the one named Desiree said with a quavering voice as the threesome gathered around their 'savior'.
"Oh, I am," Tarre agreed, sounding pathetically eager to please the nice elf. "I'm nice, polite, well behaved and so useful to have around."
"I'm sure you are," Deborah added as she 'bravely' huddled close. "A brave beast like you will protect us from the nasty goblins, won't you."
"Yes," Tarre agreed eagerly as she moved to loom protectively over the nice elves then added vehemently, "I hate really goblins!" Then she looked up to see her prince fighting the meanest, nastiest looking goblin she'd ever imagined, and that was saying a lot! "Oh, no. Ranma!" she roared in anguish as she prepared to charge to his aid, but her muscles locked up in terror. She didn't want to fail him, but she just couldn't make herself rush towards the horrid goblin.
"Oh, no!" one of the nice elves cried in anguish. "Please stay here and protect us!"
Tarre relaxed as her internal conflict was resolved. Yes, that would be okay; Ranma would understand that it was really, really important for her to protect the elves form the horrid little goblins sneaking around.
"Oh, my, he does look like such a good fighter," another 'elf' admired. "Who is he?"
"That's my Ranma," Tarre told her proudly and began to tell them all about her prince. Other prisoners stopped cowering to listen in various states of amazement and disbelief as Tarre unfolded the tale of a kingdom of nice monsters ruled by the boy prince.
Deborah, Desiree and Delilah listened with equal fascination and rapid thoughts flashed telepathically between them. Rumors of such a place had reached even to Dis, much to the disquiet of any devil who heard of such a gathering of creatures turned from the true way. Dispator would reward them handsomely for having located the kingdom, but only they could find their way back across the planes if anything happened to their Disciple – and it looked like something just might! They'd need a beacon to help guide them back to the material plane, and this dragon would be their unwitting instrument.
Mira and Molly screamed in anguish as they watched Ranma fight the savage goblin, but they knew he took personal challenges seriously and wouldn't brook interference. A few of the braver goblins had realized that some sort of unofficial cease-fire had been declared while the opposing leaders battled, or at least that the young woman and dragon were focused entirely on the fight, and had come out of hiding to cheer their captain to victory and hurl insults at the human upstart.
Narkberk fought savagely and Ranma was thrilled at the challenge he provided. The goblin's thews were like iron, his skin was almost as tough as his armor and he had true insight in the use of his wickedly barbed mace. Narkberk was not so pleased to note that his unarmored foe really knew how to dodge and constantly switched between his katana and powerful unarmed blows or an effective combination of both. It just wasn't right for someone to fight so well without enough steel! Also an early combination of stunning fist followed by a smite had given the boy a slight advantage.
Then it was suddenly over except for the clean up of the demoralized followers of the vanquished fighter by the victors.
(Posted Tue, 07 Jan 2003 17:00)
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