Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ The Wild Stallion and the Drow ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 14 )

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Ranma belongs to Takahashi-sama and a whole slew of companies; Eilistraee, Forgotten Realms, and characters therein belong to TSR and Wizards of the Coast; Hornblower and Aubrey/Maturin Characters belong to their respective copyright owners. All I own are the Enterprise, Bereth, Crystina (I can always scan their character sheets for proof), and any other characters I come up with.

I'd also like to acknowledge one resource that this humble author is deeply indebted too- Patrick O'Brian's Men-of-War. Without it, I think this would have been a poorer story.

 

Chapter 13:

 

USS Enterprise
60s hours east of the Isle of Prespur

 

Bosun whistles began piping the crews up, as the ship's drummer began beating to quarters. Ranma stood on the quarterdeck, along with his officers, looking aft, through a glass. Half a mile ahead of the former American frigate was their quarry, the Acheron. On the quarterdeck of the red and black frigate was her captain and officers doing the same thing, as was a cloaked covered form.

“That's seamanship,” the master was overheard saying to one of the junior lieutenants. “To come up on their wake, after a chase of seventy two hours.”

Maya lowered her own glass. “That cloaked form would be my sister, Faeryl, Ranma.”

“Did I kill her husband, her sister, or Corellon-forbid, her daughter?”

“She's driven. Like you,” the worshiper of Eilistraee said quietly. “She knows that her cargo has significant value to you. And is working to deny you that cargo.”

“I grow weary of this chase,” Ranma growled

“Just what are you going to do,” Crystina called, as she followed the pigtailed martial artist up to the fighting tops.

“I'm going to take away their advantages,” he replied, as he continued to climb the rigging. He reached the maintop and looked around the platform, before deciding that he was still too low, and continued climbing up to the maintopgallant yard. Steadying himself against the rolling motion of the ship, quite evident almost 200 feet in the air, he could feel the ship gain headway, as she spread more sail.

“We're beginning to gain, Ranma,” Crystina called from the maintop.

“Are the guns ready?”

“Double shotted, and run out, sir.”

“Go below, and take charge. As soon as the first broadside has finished, reload with grape and canister. Sweep her decks. Colors and pennant, if you please Crystina.”

“Yes sir.”

Ranma watched the redheaded half-elf descend back to the main deck, before returning his gaze to the horizon. The Acheron was steadily getting closer, growing larger. Puffs of smoke belched from the red and black frigate's sternchasers, as columns of spray were sent up from the 9 pound shot impacting ahead of the Enterprise. He thought about the three lives buried deep in the hold, if he were to fail; lives that were to be considered forfeit if that ship were to reach Zhentil Keep, and thence to Lolth. Above him, the Enterprise's original 1814 commissioning pennant caught the wind and snapped out to its full hundred foot length, as the Stars and Stripes rose over her quarterdeck.

The mast he was on shuddered, as round shot from one of the long 9s from the Acheron hit the hull of his ship. The slaver was well within range of Enterprise's own bowchasers, but Crystina was holding the gun crews back from firing. Ranma raised his hands, and fired off a Möko Takabisha. The ball of confidence ki, growing in size and power as it tapped into the magic weave of Toril, flew the distance separating the two warships, before severing the Acheron's starboard foremast shrouds. With the cables on one side holding the mast in place severed, the tension from the larboard (port) shrouds pulled the foremast over, fouling her deck, and slowing her. Sliding down a backstay, he called to the quartermaster “Now, bring us alongside her. Guns, fire as they bear!”

In a great rolling thunder, the Enterprise's batteries fired, two 24 pound cannonballs from each gun slamming into hull of the Acheron, causing more carnage on the deck of the enemy frigate. “Boarders, stand by! Helm, bring us along side!” Pulling his longsword from stuff-space, Ranma jumped down to the waist, ready to lead his crew aboard the target. Human and elves opened fire with musket and bow from the fighting tops, as the two frigates crashed together. Another volley from the Enterprise's main deck cannon swept into the masses of crew on the Acheron's deck.

“Grapples!” Sailors with grappling hooks tossed them over the side, hooked on to the black and red frigate's gunwales, and began heaving the two ships together, before making them fast. The first of Enterprise's crew dashed across the debris and boarding planks, followed by Ranma and Crystina, leading the main boarding parties. Below, gun crews were firing with pistol and pike, bow and musket

The main deck of the Acheron was a charnel house, bodies of dead and dying slavers lying where they were cut down by the initial volleys. There was scant resistance along the gangway; several of the Acheron's officers were dead, the crew of slavers disorganized. The Enterprise crew let out a cheer. “Quiet! Silence, there,” Crystina called out, as the Corps made their way across the ruined deck.

Then from below, a rush of men, threatened to overwhelm the boarders. The fight renewed, and Enterprise's crew fought lustily, even as several 24 pounders slammed into the former American frigate's hull. Gunports were blown out on both ships, and more boarders from the Enterprise leapt aboard the slaver. Bereth charged, leading one group of gunners in a charge, his mace swinging. Kasumi and Maya, leading another group, followed, their own weapons sending slavers to meet with Kelemvor for final judgment.

 

Ranma entered the captain's great room cautiously, sword at the ready. Sheet music lay scattered about the deck; a violin smashed on top of it. “That hurts,” he muttered, looking at the shattered instrument.

“So the boy thinks he's a man.” he heard from behind him, as he walked around an overturned table. As he spun to face his taunter, her obsidian dagger plunged into the bicep of his sword arm. The sword he'd carried all throughout his childhood clattered to the deck. “Pathetic. I don't know what Eilistraee sees you,” Faeryl sneered.

“Perhaps it's more than you'll ever know. Hell, your own sister believes in her, and in me,” Ranma replied, holding pressure on his right arm.

“Foolish male! Now die!” Faeryl slashed and swung with her dagger, while Ranma danced and weaved out of her reach.

“You know, every one I meet eventually tells me to do that. From Kuno, to Ryoga, to Saffron to your Goddess. Somehow, I always seem to ignore their advice and keep living.”

“This time you will…”

“Because the dagger is poisoned, right? I've had it up to my eyeballs with poisons, potions, and food poisoning. And I have had enough of you.” Ranma leapt on to a dismounted 12 pounder, then made a flying leap at Faeryl. With Amaguriken-speed, his feet hit the Drow priestess, along her chest, face and arms. The force of the blows was such that her sternum shattered and her black heart was pulped within her chest cavity. The dagger dropped from her limp hands, as she collapsed in a heap on the deck. “This wasn't a fight,” he muttered, tearing a piece of tablecloth and fashioning a bandage out of it.

“Ranma,” Crystina said, as she and Maya entered the great room, “I give you joy of victory. They've surrendered.”

“Good. Let's go find my wife,” he growled, picking up his sword with his good arm.

00000

 

Eilistraee looked up at the deck above them. All she could tell was that there was had been a furious battle, but she couldn't tell who had won. At least until the chains rattled of the hatch that led to the hold of the frigate. Expecting to see their captor, she was pleasantly surprised to see her husband descend the ladder. “Ranma,” she shouted, and went to go hug him. That was before the chain confining her pulled tight against the oak timber, and pulled the drow goddess short. Nabiki chuckled at the sight, like it was something out of an old American short comedy. Eilistraee came up, and spat out a mouth full of foul bilge water.

Ranma chuckled, before entering the cold, dark water and activating his curse. “Let's get you out of here and up on deck.” The redhead waded over to where her wife's chains were attached, and, with nary a battle cry, attacked the solid oak timber. The wood weakened enough, the cast iron eyebolt pulled free from its restraint and splashed harmlessly into the water.

Free enough from her restraints; Eilistraee wrapped her arms around her currently female, and sawdust covered, husband and hugged him as best as possible. “Thank you beloved,” she purred into Ranma's ear.

“Maybe I should just keep you chained up, Eil-chan,” the goddess redheaded wife replied.

“Um, hey, Saotome,” the only other Drow chained in the hold called, “would you mind releasing me too?”

Ranma looked at her wife, who nodded. “Fine,” and with a mighty yank pulled the chain free.

“Always a flair for the dramatic, eh Saotome,” Nabiki quipped.

“Hey, who knew what Eil-chan's manacles would do to the surrounding timber. If they're strong enough magic to prevent them from allowing a goddess access to her powers, then they'll probably reinforce their hold on whatever they're chained too.

“Now, how to get you free?”

“If you would bring Eilistraee up on deck,” Bereth called from the hatchway, “I believe I might have a means.”

Ranma motioned towards the ladder. “After you, milady Goddess.”

“Thank you,” Eilistraee said before taking one step before stepping on the chain underwater, and dunking herself. As she came up with a sputter, she glared at her husband. “Perhaps you should take the chains and lead me, dear.”

Ranma smiled and replied, “Gladly.”

 

On deck, Bereth motioned for the Drow goddess to place her manacles on one of the few mounted guns still on the deck. Unhooking his mace, the elderly priest of Corellon Larethian began taking a few practice swings like the Sultan of Swat. Eilistraee patiently cleared her throat. “If you're ready, Bambino, I hope you won't mind taking a swing my chains.”

“Of course Eilistraee.” With a mighty swing, Bereth swung the mace down on the interconnecting chains. The resulting combination of divine and infernal magics threw Bereth back into several of the sailors who'd gathered to watch, cracked the cannon through the carriage, and blew a hole in the deck into which the now unsecured gun fell through…and through the deck below that, and through the hold, to the bottom of the Sea of Fallen Stars. The Acheron began to list, as water flooded into the hole.

“To the Enterprise,” Ranma and Crystina shouted at the same time. “Abandon ship!” There was a mad dash for the gangplanks as the deck of the red and black frigate began to shift closer towards the sea.

Once on the safety of their ship, Crystina looked at Ranma. “Well, milord, now what?”

“We meet up with our mounted detachment, hire another ship, and sail back to Suzail.”

00000
Ched Nasad

 

The Matron Mother of House Zauvir ran, actually ran, to the summoning chamber. Talabrina, the youngest daughter, had brought word that a yochlol was in the chamber. As the eldest Zauvir hit a puddle of spilt wine and skidded into chamber, she saw the Handmaiden of Lolth irately tapping a pseudopod on the finely carved altar. “Matron Xune, your chosen agent, Faeryl, has failed. Lolth is not impressed with this second failure of your family to capture or kill the Goddess's wayward daughter and bastard of a husband.”

“I…” Xune started to say. That is until a pseudopod hit her across the face, sending the Matron Mother hurtling against the far wall.

“Lolth doesn't except excuses, Xune. She demands actions. And you were given one last chance.” The yochlol closed the distance on Xune, and the Matron gave a blood-curdling scream as the Handmaiden assumed a gaseous form and enveloped her.

Guards, led by the last surviving eldest daughter, came rushing into the chamber, only to see the skeletal remains of the Matron Mother on the floor of the chambers. Another guard came rushing in. “Mistress Laele, House Seerear is attacking!” Magical explosions could be heard in the background, amid the sudden din of armsmen clashing in the courtyard.

“Defend the House,” Laele, the new Matron Mother, called. She drew her wand. “For House Zauvir, and glory!”