Fire Emblem Fanfiction

hooves — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 00:02:16 GMT

Hey guys! Sorry to return so soon, but starlitlady and I have joined forces to start up (and run!) a Fire Emblem Contest Community.

I'm sure you've seen others like it across LJ, but the basic idea is this: we run writing challenges with a specific deadline and specific (or not-so-specific!) rules. At the end of the deadline, the entries are voted on, and the winner gets a banner. (sain has volunteered to be our banner-maker. If anyone else would like to volunteer to help, we'd appreciate it!)

Our first challenge runs through the 31st of this month, and we'd love to have some writers come and join us for the fun!

fe_contest!

X-Posted.

hooves — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 19:20:45 GMT

I hope this is okay to post here. :]

Hello everyone! Sorry to those that will see this more than once ((cross-posted to fireemblem)), but I have started a community for Fire Emblem-related art/fic swaps, and to start things off, we're doing a holiday exchange...Secret Santa-style!

fe_exchange

You can do art or fanfiction, so please join if you have time and the mood strikes you. Everyone is welcome!

Thank you for your time and patience.

qwertumz — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 03:29:49 GMT

Joy to be had!

Fanfiction.net is finally going to be adding the different continents with a 'world' feature in the Fire Emblem section in its next update. Just a heads up. ;)

heaven is only in my head - oneshot

faces_sunward — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 04:39:59 GMT

Title: Heaven Is Only In My Head
Author: faces_sunward (Phantom Thief Zel)
Fandom: Fire Emblem
Genre: Drama/Gen/Horror (kind of)
Rating: PG-13 / T
Characters: Karel & Karla
Warning: Contains mild violence, blood, etc. I mean, c'mon. This is Karel.
X-posted to: faces_sunward, fireemblem, FFnet

Summary: Karel promises himself he will never touch the blade again. He breaks this promise the very next day.

A/N: Dang, this was fun to write. Is it weird that Karel (and here I mean Sword Demon Karel, not Sword Saint) is my favorite FE character? o-o;;

-x-

i. a voice calling from down inside the well

Sacae is a harsh land. Everything about it is sharp as knives, from the endlessly swaying grasses that prick ones feet to the crooked trees bent and twisted by the cold north wind. The soil is hard and rocky. The streams flow swiftly like the biting edge of a silver blade. The mountains in the distance, visible for miles across the flat, flat plains, impale the sky like spears on an empty battlefield.

It is in this unforgiving place that the nomads roam. The land may be empty, but they are not. They are a close-knit people, expert storytellers and keepers of the old customs, breathing life into traditions that the rest of the world has long since forgotten. While the southern kings build their magnificent castles of white stone, the nomads of Sacae remember the beauty of simpler times. While the politicians plot and scheme and backstab in their gilded courtrooms, the children of Sacae learn to honor and respect nature, their families, and even their enemies.

Yes, Sacae is a harsh land. But it is also beautiful.

The rains have come often this year, and flowers are blooming in the fields – hundreds of wildflowers in every imaginable shade dot the landscape like flecks of paint on a wide, green canvas. The animals that dwell on the plains – rabbits, mostly, and small herds of deer – have emerged in greater numbers, and the hunt proves plentiful.

It is at this time that a boy, a boy no different from the other nomad children (though perhaps a little wiser), is given a magnificent gift. A sword. Every child of Sacae must learn to fight, whether with a bow or a blade or a halberd or some weapon in between. But this sword… This sword is truly magnificent. The boy has noticed it before, wrapped inconspicuously amongst his family’s belongings, and has felt the strange, almost magnetic pull that radiates from it.

“The Wo Dao,” the boy’s father says solemnly, running an expert hand along the sword’s edge, “is a true work of art. It was crafted by a master swordsman – your great-grandfather – nearly a hundred years ago. And since that time it has been passed down through our family from generation to generation. However…” At this, his dark eyes grow stormy with some unrecognizable emotion. “The Wo Dao chooses its master, my son. No one in our family has yet to have wielded it to its full potential.”

“The sword is… waiting for its master?” Karel murmurs, staring at the gleaming sword in disbelief.

His father nods. “Out of all my children, you, Karel, show the most promise with a blade. And that is why I am giving the Wo Dao to you. I feel that you may be the destined master that the Wo Dao has been longing for.” He places the sword in the hands of his awestruck son. “Use it well, my son.”

Karel cannot respond – emotion has overcome him, yes, but that is not all. For as soon as the sword hilt is within his grasp he feels a strange, frightening presence in the back of his mind. It is there and yet not, like a ghostly spirit or a flicker of movement in the corner of one’s eye. He begins to feel cold all over – his body is freezing, and there is a prickling sensation on the back of his neck that refuses to go away.

“Karel?” his father asks, lips curled into a frown, but his voice sounds so far away. Karel is drowning in shadow, immersed in the pulsating evil that radiates from this sword. It has a mind of its own, the boy realizes, and his eyes widen in fear. This blade can think and feel and desire and oh, the desire is so strong that Karel can feel himself losing this battle of the wills. The sword wishes to command him. It wishes to invade his mind with its killer intent. It wishes to use him and overtake him, to savor the feel of its metal edge slicing through skin and bone once more…

Karel drops the sword on the ground with a clatter.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” his father is demanding, but he’s not listening. Instead, he’s running away, out of the tent and across the flower-speckled fields, farther and farther until he can no longer feel the malevolence creeping through his consciousness.

He promises himself he will never touch the blade again.

He breaks this promise the very next day.

--

ii. so down i fell, down into the water black

The butterflies are numerous this year. They flutter lazily amongst the pastel wildflowers, alighting gently on soft petals and extending their brittle wings to the sun. The nomad children – though many are far too old for such nonsense, but care not anyhow – challenge each other to butterfly-catching contests. They capture the delicate creatures within their cupped hands, then hurry to display them before they fly away.

Butterflies are impermanent things, you see, fleeting yet lovely.

The adults know this. And so although there are horseshoes to be fitted and water pails to be hauled and fires to be tended, on this day the adults allow the children to enjoy what they can and take what they may.

After all, it will soon be summer, a time of unbearable heat and perennial droughts across the plains of Sacae. This time of happiness, they know, will not last forever.

Karla, much to the awe and chagrin of her peers, has brought a pitcher of sugar water out into the fields. She beams with pride as the butterflies flock to her, landing on her shoulders and hands, eager to sip the sweet nectar in the pitcher she holds. Her friends pout at her childishly, wishing they had been so clever.

Karla spots her brother standing apart from the crowd. She has other brothers, yes, but Karel is the only one with interest in her. He is the only one who speaks to her like an equal, and who includes her whenever she wishes to be included. They share a bond, herself and her brother. He was the one who first began to teach her of swordplay, who taught her how to handle her horse with expert precision, who showed her how to be “one of the boys” when no one else would.

Karla loves Karel, for he is her light.

She hands the pitcher to another girl, and immediately the butterflies’ affections shift away from her. She runs over to her brother, grinning from ear to ear.

“Karel,” she says, “are you catching butterflies too…?”

The question dies in her throat.

There is a boy in front of her, a boy with long dark hair tied back in a messy braid and onyx eyes that glint and stab like needles. His mouth is contorted into a sharp, sickly smile, and there are bruise-like circles beneath his eyes. Karla does not know this boy. He is not Karel, the Karel she adores above all else. The Karel she loves would grin at her, offer her his hand, show her something pretty to make her laugh with delight. This boy simply stares and smiles, stares and smiles, stares and smiles with his razor-sharp eyes and twisted mouth.

Karla takes a step backwards, feeling something akin to fear in the back of her mind. She has noticed small changes in her brother over the past month, but her mother had simply patted her arm and told her he was growing up.

Karla may be young, but she knows what growing up is supposed to be like.

It is nothing like this.

She notices for the first time the elegant red-gold butterfly that is perched in the palm of this strange boy’s hand (he is Karel and yet not, for appearance is only a mere fragment of a person’s true being). The doppelganger smiles and stares, smiles and stares at the lovely creature in his hand. He holds it down with his thumb, ever so gently, then reaches across…

And pulls off its right wing in one deft movement.

His sickly smile grows wider as he watches the creature thrash around in the palm of his hand, trying and failing to escape, the ragged ends of its right wing unable to lift its weight. Karla feels bile rising to her throat, and she cannot help but fall to her knees amongst the flowers. Her world is spinning around her, as if someone has knocked everything off its axis. This cannot be real. This… monster in front of her cannot be her brother. It is a sick joke, that’s what it is. A sick, sick joke that isn’t funny in slightest…

The monster is reaching for the other wing with a maniacal gleam in its eye.

Karla makes a strangled noise of protest, eyes beginning to blur with tears. “St-stop!” she screams. “You’re killing it!”

The monster pauses, and then turns its poisonous gaze upon her. It appraises her for a few moments, a sincerely inquisitive expression forming on its face, and for a moment Karla thinks she might have her brother back.

“Please stop,” she begs.

The Karel-monster tilts its head to the side quizzically.

“Why?” it asks, and tears the left wing off without hesitation.

And Karla cries, knowing that her brother is gone.

--

iii. i weighed the cost and chose my crime

Lifeless, glassy eyes stare at him through the gloom, clouded with the pall of death. Slack, gaping mouths are caught in silent, eternal screams. The air smells sharp and metallic, like fear and rust and blood.

Blood. So much of it.

There is blood pooling at his feet, and blood staining his hands, and blood dripping steadily from the tip of his sword, but it is not enough. It will never be enough. The hunger of the Wo Dao is incomparable to anything he has ever felt before – a yearning so strong that it threatens to consume every human sensibility he has left.

The human boy known as Karel is dead, you see. He lies battered and bloodied next to the bodies of his family, cast aside like all weak creatures should be. The Demon is in control now. And what the Demon wants, it always receives. More blood. More pain. More carnage.

More, more, more.

And he knows (for his common sense is all that remains of the dead boy Karel) that the Demon will never be satisfied. It will continue to lust for the feel of metal piercing flesh. He will continue to kill to appease the Demon’s desire. And its power over him will continue to grow until he becomes nothing more than a puppet, the killing sword in human form, a mindless vassal to his master’s whims. Murder will become his purpose, his reason for being. Soon enough, the meager, flickering flame of Karel’s soul will be extinguished – for good.

And though his common sense protests this, trying to make his body see reason, there is no use. For Karel is dead, and he will never return.

A soft whimpering echoes through the darkened tent. He turns to see the girl – Karla – standing at the entrance. Her expression is that of utmost horror as she surveys the scene of murder and madness in front of her. She cannot tear her gaze away from the gruesome sight, and her eyes grow more distraught by the second as she sees the tangled, mangled bodies of her parents and siblings, sees the blood that forms puddles on the ground, sees the crazed smirk on her “brother’s” face.

“No,” she whispers, and tries to back away, but her trembling legs give out underneath her. “No, this is all a nightmare, all a nightmare, just a nightmare…”

But it’s obvious that she doesn’t really believe it.

He turns toward her, and the blade of the Wo Dao catches and reflects a sliver of moonlight, illuminating his bloodstained face. Karla gasps, a choked, painful sound, and tries to crawl away, dragging herself across the rough earth, desperate to get away. As the Demon approaches, Karla begins to sob. She feels like the butterfly, with its wings so cruelly ripped from its body. She doesn’t want to die tonight. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to die…

But he walks right past her without a second glance. The blade is not interested in her. She is but a foolish, weak little child, without the means to defend herself. And it’s not as if the Demon has any honor, no. It simply craves the struggle, the battle, the euphoric feeling of victory over another being, and the girl would offer it none of that. Paralyzed by fear, she would be unable to do anything but beg for her pathetic life to be spared.

And so the Demon ignores Karla. It leaves her alone in the tomb of her dear family. It tells Karel – or what’s left of him – to get away from the harsh plains of Sacae, to seek the best and the strongest so that it may test its mettle against each and every one.

As the Sword Demon rides away from the butterfly fields, away from the twisted trees and the quicksilver streams, away from the life of a boy whose name it shall take and whose name it shall taint, it knows that finally the time has come. Finally, it will taste the blood of the land’s strongest warriors. Finally, it will know the true meaning of destruction.

Finally, the Wo Dao has found its “master.”

--

iv. only the moon was shining back

He is standing amidst the wreckage of a battlefield when she finds him. The battle was just recently won, and the bloated bodies of the dead lie prone beneath his feet. He sees her then, and his razor-sharp eyes alight with recognition and interest.

“Sword Demon!” she declares, eyes narrowed with hatred buried deep. “I have searched for years and years to find you! Now fight me; an honorable duel between two masters of the blade! And if I prove victorious, then you must give my brother back.”

The Demon’s lips curl into a smirk as he withdraws the Wo Dao, a metallic ring resonating through the air.

“Your brother died a long time ago,” he hisses, kissing the blade as if it were a lover.

Her dark eyes narrow further. Her foot slides an inch to the right, preparing for the assault.

“I don’t believe that,” she whispers.

And the sound of steel on steel is all that can be heard.

Next three chapters of Mountain Sage and Desert Tiger [FE8]

crossoverqueen — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 18:38:06 GMT

I've actually been updating fairly steadily--I just forgot that I'd, you know, joined THIS community as well. The first five chapters are here.

Title: Mountain Sage and Desert Tiger
Characters/Pairing: Gerik/Saleh

They've been walking in the desert for about a week.

Saleh doesn't like it much; there is too much sand and too little wind. He's never been in Jehanna before, and he hopes he'll never go this far into the desert again.

"Try not to wander too far," Seth advises the unit (not that they could disobey even if they wanted). "We won't be able to track you down if you get lost."

-
Saleh marks the camp's location in his head--there are a few shrubs and they are close to a sand dune--and walks a short distance to meditate.

It is annoyingly hard to walk a short distance in sand. But after several minutes, with the camp at his back so he knows where to return, he stops near a surprisingly green tree (an acacia?) and sits down.

-
The heat may have spurred him to focus more quickly, or he's just fallen asleep--but either way it has gotten dark.

And there is something pulling at his limbs, so he feels like he is submerged in a lake. It is decidedly not like sand, as there is no stubborn sinking that makes him want to pull his legs out from wherever they got stuck. But he can breathe...

Saleh isn't sure if he likes it better than the desert, because there is no one here.

There is a string in his hand, and the pressure of someone holding the other end, so he follows it--through dark water and fish-like movements and a presence lurking behind him. Or beside him; he cannot tell much of anything here.

But he keeps going because there is someone else at the other end, and he would rather not stay with the presence. He gives up on coiling the string neatly, wrapping it around his wrist once in a while, and continues walking.

And walking.

Yet the pressure never ceases.

I'm still here, says the person. Hurry up!

Now they are close enough that the string can be tugged impatiently if he slows down too much, but there is still a long way to go if he wants to see anything.

We can't both wait, you know.

He is coming to the end of the string. And there, past the swimming fish and glowing string, is someone at the edge of his vision.

You're getting closer, says the person, with the tone of voice that sounds like a smile. But, both of them realize, so is the--

-
"--leh? Saleh! Wake up!"

"But wait, I almost--" He grabs at something in a panic, but succeeds only at falling over. "I was about to find them!"

"Find who?" Comes the familiar voice of Moulder. "Whatever you were dreaming about, you're in no shape to find people right now."

"I meant just one..." he looks around; Moulder is sitting next to him, waiting patiently for Saleh to come to his senses.

Gerik stands a slight distance back, in the shade near the acacia's trunk. Compared to the sunlight, the mercenary is in deep shadow; something gleams in his hand (you are close now)--but it is only Gerik's sword being put back in its scabbard.

"It's not an ideal condition, Master Saleh, but it's certainly not as bad as heat stroke," the priest informs him. "The most you'll need is water and rest."

Gerik tosses a canteen to him, and they head back to the rest of the unit. Saleh, despite not being sure of his footing, doesn't need help and doesn't ask for it.

"Figures you wouldn't ask for help," Gerik smiles, though the rest is less cheerful. "But we couldn't wait forever, you know."
-

Note: The web-comic that inspired this was the gorgeously-drawn HERO.

------

At Castle Renais, they fight to defeat Orson and reach the Sacred Stone.

Things have gone much better than the battle to get out of Jehanna; the unit is well-rested for the first time in weeks, their supplies and weapons are replenished, and it is much easier to fight with neither a blinding sun in their eyes nor shifting sand under their feet.

But then an enemy priest--too far to see clearly and too careful to get in striking distance--raises a staff and sends a spell towards Gerik as the mercenary finishes off one of the remnant soldiers. The ominous red mist puts everyone on edge, waiting either mentally or physically to see what happens. Gerik has never been hit with a Berserk spell before, but he isn’t the fastest among them either.

Instead of dissipating the mist absorbs into his skin like water into sand, and Saleh checks to make sure the Restore staff is there.

“Everyone fall back!” Seth orders immediately, sweeping the area to make sure everyone is out of Gerik’s line of sight. “Master Saleh, do you still have the Restore staff?”

“Yes.” He grips it and takes a look at Gerik--his attacks on the enemy have gained a disturbing rage, underlined by the sudden speed and harshness of his sword swings.

Despite what the name implies, Berserk does not turn someone into a mindless killing machine--instead the person is sent into an indiscriminate rage, with the magic fueling their emotions until the spell wears off or they get killed. But the results are the same, and equally devastating.

With Gerik, it’s unclear which would have shocked everyone more.

He tries to be inconspicuous once he gets within the mercenary’s line of vision; if Gerik saw him, he’d attack before Saleh could even try restoring him. Two soldiers have other ideas, and Saleh kills them as quickly as possible--if nothing else, the noise at least disguises his movement.

But as Gerik runs to kill a few more soldiers in his sight, he spots Saleh and changes course. “You!” He charges over, sword raised and aimed at Saleh’s neck--and Saleh cannot go anywhere but backwards, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

The blade sears past his neck as he dodges. Disarming him makes decapitation harder, he realizes, and aims a fire attack just above Gerik’s shoulder.

Gerik dodges contemptuously, but drops the melted sword as it blisters his hand and is too startled to move for a moment. Saleh takes the Restore staff out, but the rage resurfaces and Saleh has to run again.

“You’re not getting away that fast, you stupid mage!”

Get back here! You killed him and I am going to slaughter you!

“I--I didn’t--” Saleh scans the area for enemies--that was how he stayed alive last time.

But they have all fallen back and Saleh doesn’t run fast enough and suddenly he’s held by his throat in a crushing grip.

“Ger…” He struggles in vain to break loose. Wrong, this is all wrong, where’s the bandit trying to attack?

He can’t breathe--

L’Arachel brings her staff down on Gerik’s skull. He crumples, stunned but not quite unconscious as the sage in turn falls back down to earth. Saleh can only breathe raggedly in the first few moments of his release, terrified and unfocused as he struggles to stay in control.

“Master Saleh, are you all right?” She asks, signaling her horse to kneel as she hauls the mercenary onto the back of her saddle. “Master Saleh? Oh dear, you must have had quite a--”

He shoves himself up and runs.

He cannot answer anyone’s startled questions or let them come too close, because if they do he’s going to lose control and he’s already killed one person by accident and everybody is too close--please don’t get too close, I have no control and I don’t want to kill anyone else and I can’t focus, I can’t--

“I can’t--” he stumbles into silence as his panicky speech loses speed, chin locked to his collarbone and shrinking into his cape while something hot runs down his face. “I-I can’t…”

He can’t breathe.

-
Gerik wakes up in his tent, drained and vaguely unsettled; the kind of feelings people get after losing their temper and getting themselves exhausted. And his head feels like it got run over by a maelduin.

Someone’s shadow is near the tent entrance--standing guard?

“What happened?” he croaks out to Seth as he lurches out, the sudden burst of light drowning out most of the colors and making his head feel worse until his eyes adjust.

“You got hit with Berserk in the most recent battle,” the general tells him carefully. “Master Saleh attempted to restore you, but…”

“But what? He’s okay, right?” Saleh’s not as frail as the other mages--but since it was him attacking Saleh, even if he was under a spell, it’s an entirely different thing and Gerik’s not sure whether to dread the answer or not.

Seth pauses, and that can’t be good. “He wasn’t badly injured. But he hasn’t been himself, and he won’t talk to anyone about what happened.”

-
It is far too quiet as he walks through the camp. People don’t avoid him, but they meet his gaze briefly and then look away like he’s done something particularly unsettling.

Well, it is pretty rare for anyone in the unit to get hit with a berserk spell--least of all Gerik, the too-friendly mercenary leader who hardly gets more than annoyed.

“Hey, Myrrh--you seen Saleh anywhere?” He asks her, and she nods.

“He’s with the healers,” she responds, “But he won’t let them do anything. He says he might hurt them if he loses control of his magic.”

“What about anyone else?” He knows the answer, but asks it mostly for the benefit of everyone who’s listening.

She shakes her head. “No. Even if he wanted to talk to someone, the healers don’t advise it.”

“Did anyone see what I did?” He asks more loudly, but notices the weird feeling in his hands as most of them respond in the negative--they feel stiff, but not from using a sword for hours like they usually do.

L’Arachel answers, though. “While you were berserk, Master Saleh destroyed your sword to keep you from stabbing him, but unfortunately he failed to restore you in time--”

“Obviously,” Innes remarks.

“--and when I arrived… you were trying to strangle him.” Her voice shakes the slightest bit as she finishes, and her subsequent cheer is a little too forced. “Thus I was forced to hit you with my staff in order to subdue you, and I apologize most profusely for the headache you may have experienced upon wakening.”

“No problem, L’Arachel,” Gerik tries to smile in the ensuing silence and heads over to the healers’ tent, to the troubadour’s surprise.

“And where are you going?”

“I don’t know--to apologize for trying to kill him, maybe?”

“You can’t!” she insists, blocking his way firmly.

“I know the healers don’t want anyone to stress him out, but--”

“No, Gerik, it’s not just the healers who want people to keep their distance!” she explains, with a strange desperation that strips her usual verbosity away. “Master Saleh thinks he’s going to kill whoever so much as blinks in his direction--regardless of whether he wants to--and someone of his power certainly could! He would be even more opposed to having you there!”

The implications slow him down, but he still doesn't feel like giving it up. “But--”

“Once he managed to say something substantial, it was very clear that Master Saleh was experiencing battle fatigue,” she adds, and that silences Gerik’s protests almost instantly. “I don’t know why it took until now for us to see it, but…”

“He doesn’t talk about it much,” Gerik tells her. “It happened before we met any of you, so you didn’t even know there was something to look for. It’s not your fault.”

“‘We,’ Chief?” Tethys asks.

“Yeah.” He forces a sheepish smile as Innes looks at him.

-
Saleh flinches back into normal life a few days later. There is a not-quite-faded bruise just under his jaw--it’s mostly hidden by his collar, but even the sliver that Gerik can see makes him feel bad.

“Hey there, Saleh.”

The sage jumps, and when he looks at Gerik there is a raw vulnerability in his eyes that Gerik hasn’t seen for a while. Ewan’s teacher is still there; so are the Sage of Caer Pelyn and Myrrh’s guardian. But Gerik’s friend who tries too hard is not--in his place is the kid he met on the battlefield, who lost control in the wrong place and came uncomfortably close to dying.

-----

They’re stranded.

At some point during their run-in with a group of monsters in Renais, Gerik and Saleh got lost in the nearby forest. Gerik’s all right--nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own in a day or two--but Saleh’s more than a little worse for wear.

Which means that he nearly got his arm chopped off by a maelduin. It still looks as bad as it sounds, even after Gerik helped him dump his entire vulnerary on it. He hates it when those things manage to land a hit, because it will never be just a nice, clean, painful gash; those things can break bones without even trying. The darkening roof of the trees above them doesn’t make Gerik feel good. If the flying units are scouting, they might have already breezed right over them.

“We’ll just have to wait it out, then.” His voice echoes in the stillness. Saleh attempts to nod, then winces as something doesn’t move right.

-
The night brings new and even less appealing possibilities: Saleh’s got an open wound, at least a few broken bones, and they’re in a damp and dusty forest. If he doesn’t get an infection, all the blood he’s losing might be letting predators track them right now. Or more monsters.

“See, this is why I hate letting healers get hurt. If I were in your spot, you’d have taken care of it and the most you’d need to worry about is a good night’s sleep.”

“…What about you?” He sounds like he’s just sleepy, but there’s the tell-tale shallow breathing of blood loss.

“I’d be all healed up, remember?”

“Right.” It’s forced out on his exhale like a cough, and Gerik hopes he just imagined the specks of red accompanying it.

“You know, I’ve still got a full vulnerary on me.” He knows Saleh won’t use it; they both know that if Gerik gets too badly hurt and they’ve used everything up, they’re as good as dead. But he offers anyway because something isn’t right--even with half his blood gone Saleh shouldn’t be breathing like he’s afraid to take up space, and his movements are of pain beyond limping.

Gerik’s not a healer, though, and knowing what’s wrong won’t do anything now. “Come on, Saleh--it’ll be faster if I carry you.” The sage nods and winces again, and Gerik tries not to shake him up too much when he picks him up. It’s late enough for the stars to have faded, but he has no choice except to keep going.

-
“Someone’s following us,” Saleh rasps into his neck, and Gerik turns his head to find a light-haired man ambling along a few feet behind them.

His spine prickles--Gerik didn’t see or hear anything before Saleh said so, and now he can feel the power radiating from him. He looks like Saleh; the same gray hair, but longer and unkempt. Lights weave in and out of it, and Gerik doesn’t know if they’re pieces of lightning or fireflies or stars. His eyes are sand-colored, too, and that can only mean one person.

The storm god gives no warning…

But even though he keeps walking and pretends not to be freaked out, the storm god meanders in front of them and the recognition in Saleh’s face is clear as day.

“My boy.” His voice sounds like distant thunder as he smiles, and Gerik can’t tell why he’s getting so defensive.

“Saleh is not Jehannan--”

He puts a hand on Saleh’s wound, and something jolts before Gerik’s body seizes up. He can’t help but drop Saleh with all the magic forced into his veins, but even before he does the sage gives a choking yell and clutches the spot near his wound. Through the magic, Gerik sees the storm god waver like a heat mirage.

“Wait--wait! What did you do to him?!” His skin is burning like the dunes and now they’re both out of action and they’re going to die, they’re going to die because the storm god thinks it’s funny to mess with people and Saleh’s still screaming like someone’s hacking his arm off the rest of the way--

Somehow Gerik manages to pick him up again and run, and all the magic and screaming makes him forget to wonder why Saleh recognizes a Jehannan god.

-
They’ve been found.

It’s been a while later; the sun is halfway over the horizon and Gerik’s legs have given out from so much running. Saleh’s bones have healed up, and everyone’s a little shocked that his “only” problems are blood loss and a really bad gash. Gerik mentions something about vulneraries and good luck, but he’s not letting go of Saleh because the storm god might come again and he won’t give any more warning than he did the first time--

The healers are perplexed that he’s showing the confusion of heat stroke when he was in a forest at night: Even running while carrying someone would overheat him in an entirely different and less malicious way. They chalk it up to a rough night and heal the worst of his burning skin, but the Jehannans are suspicious because Gerik’s not the type to piss off his own country’s main god.

“I think you are confused, Gerik,” Saleh says. “You were tired, and I was injured; those conditions are hardly the best for rational thought. I, for one, mistook that man for my father--”

Oh Stones help him, the storm god was messing even deeper with his head. “He’s a god, Saleh, there’s no other way he could have gotten through both our resistance at the same time!”

“What?” The sudden disbelief stops Gerik as much as the actual interruption, and Saleh speaks like a mentor with a really dense student. “Gerik. That man… looked very much like my father. But he has been dead… for fifteen years.”

The Jehannans nearby shoot him a glance, and suddenly everything makes sense to Gerik. Cloud-gray hair and the stars went out and Saleh recognized him--

-
“What Gerik is trying to say,” Joshua sits the two of them down in a ring of Jehannans (and interested non-Jehannans) sometime after dinner, “is that Saleh happens to look a lot like Jehanna’s most powerful god.”

“Aren’t they immortal, though?” Eirika inquires. “Master Saleh said his father died.”

“For Jehanna? Technically,” Joshua ponders on what to say next, flipping a coin and watching it spin before he catches it. “They can die if someone tries hard enough; they just come back after a while. It’s bad when the storm god dies--the rains were erratic when I was about ten, and it was that much harder for Mother to keep everyone alive and happy. People said it was because the storm god went missing.”

“I would think no rain at all would be worse,” Natasha remarks, to shakes of the head from Joshua and Tethys. (They aren’t letting Gerik talk yet because of the heat-stroke and all.)

“Nope, Sister--as unpredictable as they are, we need the floods. Only a flood would be enough to loosen up a desert’s soil, and that’s why your average Grado drizzle won’t cut it,” Tethys tells her. The conversation goes off on a tangent about the nuances of Jehanna, and Saleh isn’t looking at the others anymore. Instead he stares into the space between Gerik and the forest, as if he can call up the storm god to make him explain things in person.

“Saleh? You listening?” The sage sighs vaguely and he hopes it’s affirmative. “He wasn’t… he didn’t get himself killed so he could pack up and leave guilt-free. He’s a god and all, but he’s not heartless.”

Saleh turns to look at him; Gerik can’t read his expression, but what he says next is scathing in its very calmness. “Well, you are all Jehannan… So I guess you would know him better than I do.”

He stands up and leaves, and his words burn like embers in the air. When they finally fade into the breeze, it’s a few minutes of concerned silence before they all remember just who they’ve been talking about.

-
The time that you may approach the god:
As stars fade into the dawning air,
Betwixt cold night and the morning.

He will appear with nary a nod
And lightning laced through his cloud-grey hair--
For the storm god gives no warning.
-

Gerik’s been kept under close watch by the healers and drinking lots of water to make sure the last of his heat-stroke is gone, so it’s late in the night when he finally gets cleared to fight again. He comes across Saleh at the base of a tree, with a contemplating look on his face--but there is no aura this time.

“What’s the matter, mountain man? Can’t sleep?”

“I was waiting…”

“For me? Aw, you didn’t have to.” They both know that he’s wrong, but he smiles anyway and sits down. Now he knows what Saleh’s looking at: The sky. “He’s not just a storm god, you know. We call him that because no one remembers his name.”

But there is one, hesitating at the tip of Saleh’s tongue. Gerik waits, but he doesn’t say it.

“I keep forgetting to ask you this,” he laughs sheepishly. “How did you grow up?”

There’s always a reason for someone to have turned into Saleh or Marisa, all pointed silences and subtle expressions. It’s hard to remember that they might have been perfectly normal when they were ten-ish or so--just a little quiet.

“He loved her,” Saleh says very, very quietly, in the tone that makes Gerik instinctively promise not to tell anyone. “I don’t know if Mother knew, but… there was always something I couldn’t place about him.”

They are quiet for a long, long time--enough for the stars to vanish into the graying velvet sky. Gerik checks around them, but the storm god isn’t there. He’s like the yearly floods of Jehanna; everyone knows which places to avoid for the first two weeks of fall, but that doesn’t mean they start right then.

“Saleh… He didn’t abandon you.” An eastern wind blows mournfully around the campsite, ruffling Saleh’s cloud-grey hair like a consoling mother. Gerik wants him to believe it, but he keeps staring into the clouds and his face is too composed to really be calm.

For once, Gerik’s glad that both his parents were mortal.

-

Notes: I always wondered why Saleh of all people has silver hair. The Renaitians have true blue/purple-colored hair, and silver is clearly a rare color; aside from Lyon and Vigarde, Knoll is the only one even close to it (very light purple). Lyon, Vigarde, and Knoll are native Grads (two of them are royalty), while our resident sage is from a secluded village in the Renais/Jehannan mountains. Those are hardly good circumstances for random silver-haired Grad nobles to meet up with Saleh's mother. So I drew off Gerik's reference in Chapter 5 about Saleh looking like "the storm god"--I figured Jehannans would hold such a deity in highest regard since they live in the desert, and there's connotations of unpredictability about a storm that you don't get with general rain.

Not to mention that Saleh starts out with a thunder tome, his affinity is wind, and he starts out with an A-rank in Anima, which makes him the most likely person to start using Excalibur after you get it. What has wind, rain, and thunder/lightning? A thunderstorm. Hence, he's the son of the storm god.

To be honest, I wanted to turn Saleh into a badass demi-god. But then I realized that people focus too much on how SUPER-SPESHUL-AWESOME demi-gods are. They never stop to think about how much it would SUCK to have your dad be absent for most of your life--and if he's a god, why couldn't he take a few minutes to explain why he left you and your mother, or how he's alive and kicking again without being an abomination of nature? It would suck even more for people to talk like they know him better than you, even if they don't mean any harm.

-----
Cross-posted to fe-yaoi.

hooves — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 04:09:10 GMT

Okay, I'm here to pimp a community. A writing one. So it's going to be X-Posted to the fireemblem comm also. (Sorry, sorry, sorry about your friend's lists being spammed with this, by the way, so I'll keep it short.)

365drabbles!

Basically, it's a challenge to write 365 drabbles. Of course. Take as long as you need. You don't have to stay in one fandom, you don't have to write about the same characters. No claims, nothing. Check it out if you feel inclined to do so.

Cheers,
-Manna

((If this isn't okay, which...I think it is, but if it's not, let me know and I'll edit it and pimp my fanfiction instead, haha.))

[FE10] Before Leaving

capella_aurigae — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 12:44:12 GMT

Just sharing a fic I wrote for the kinkmeme.

Title: Before Leaving
Characters/Pairings: Ike, Soren, Stefan (Ike/Soren in a mild way)
Rating: G
Summary: After the wars, Stefan pays a return visit to the Greil mercenaries to see if Soren may be persuaded to reconsider his invitation. Ike may not know what this is really about, but he's the crux of the issue, so he'll have to figure something out.

( A desert is a safer place to make your home than a man )

[FE7] I looked for trust and found you

runespoor7 — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 21:33:32 GMT

Title: I looked for trust and found you
Character/Pairing: Sain/Rebecca parading as gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Rebecca looks for Sain, and finds out he's not always hitting on random girls.

Notes: Written for 31_days. Also originally written to fulfill a kink meme prompt, but it turned out so gen I'm not going to post it there, only post a link to here.

Also my first time writing any of them and any FE7 fic at all. plz hit me if I massacred them. Also, it happens immediately after their A support. orz

bullseye.

[FE10] Queen And Her Knight

runespoor7 — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 22:46:01 GMT

Title: Queen And Her Knight
Character/Pairing: Elincia/Geoffrey
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Comfort doesn't have to play by the rules.

Notes: Written for 31_days and for the kink meme at ooh_shinies. Also, so, so rushed. Takes place before the endgame. Also, this wouldn't be so pwp-esque if I'd had more time to write it. ;_;

I no longer fear yesterday

[FE10] Noble As Dirt

runespoor7 — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 21:18:21 GMT

Title: Noble As Dirt
Character/Pairing: Sothe (Micaiah)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A long time before the wars broke out, Sothe was just a kid living on the streets of Nevassa.

Notes: Second person. Written for 31_days.

You didn't even know her name yet.

runespoor7 — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 15:42:16 GMT

Posting four FE10 fics that were written for the kink meme.

Moment of Crowning: based on this fanart at Hanakago. NSFW.
Micaiah/Pelleas, R.
Pelleas is Micaiah's king; she won't let him think too little of himself. Takes place between III-7 and III-12, spoilery.

Ashera would be heteronormative: in which Soren wakes up a girl.
Ike/Soren, but they're not doing it yet. Takes place after IV-3.

Long-Distance Spell: a Blizzard-wielding sage and a nervous pegasus conspire to throw a Hawk king and a beorc queen into close proximity. It works~
Tibarn/Elincia, takes place during IV-2.

Thieves: Peace meetings are frustrating.
Micaiah/Sothe post-game first-time sex, NC-17.
Original request was for sex in which one (or both) of the partners is mentruating.

hay gaiz

shimizu_hitomi — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 23:25:11 GMT

So I've been lurking for a (very long) while, but only now finally decided to join...

Primarily to put in a request for Monshou/Ankoku (FE3/1) fic recs.

I've been craving good Monshou fic ever since I finished the game back in July or so, but haven't really come across any. I know the old school fandom's relatively small (hopefully the remake release will change that!), but I've only really looked on ff.net and I realize a lot of the fandom for the older games is centered around various forums or elsewhere.

However... I have to admit to being a little forum-phobic. Wasn't always the case, but mostly, I just don't have the time or the inclination for hanging out in forum-type settings anymore.

So if anyone's aware of Monshou (or Ankoku) fic on any forums or mailing lists or here on LJ or whatever, PLEASE LET ME KNOOOOW. m(_ _)m

At this point I'm willing to read pretty much anything, and I mean *anything*, as long as it's reasonably in character. And preferably the writer's actually PLAYED/understood the game(s).

(Bonus points if it's not about Marth, but that's just asking for too much now, isn't it?)

If this kind of post isn't allowed here, I'll take it down...

eta: Oh and hey, while we're at it, if you have recs for any of the games 1-5, go for it. If it's on ff.net I've probably read it, otherwise, RELEVANT TO MY INTERESTS

misheard — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 00:48:44 GMT

Finally, after many petitions and requests, FE has a character list on FF.net! And that thing is massive.

I've gone back and edited my stories, have you?

FE: 9/10

nameyourpoison_ — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 20:30:48 GMT

A character-centric piece about Volke - an attempt to give him a bit of a backstory.

Title: His Dark Mistress
Rating: PG-13/K+
Genre: Angst
Character: Volke; and to a lesser degree - Sothe

Teaser:

Many would have found it surprising, but Volke was as religious as any priest.

FE7, oneshot; oceans take you in

darkenedsakura — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 08:17:43 GMT

Last night was a bit hectic, so I forgot to crosspost here. Better late than never, though. XD

Title: oceans take you in
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7: Rekka no Ken / Blazing Sword
Rating: K/PG
Length: approx. 3,252 words, one shot
Character/Pairing: Heath/Priscilla, Raven
Prompts: Written for 31_days, February 13, 2008: That time may cease and midnight never come.
Warnings: Loaded with liberal sprinklings of their support conversations. I never said I was original. References to the Raven-Priscilla and Oswin-Priscilla ones as well. This goes up to the endgame, but there aren't any spoilers for the direct storyline.
Summary: Dear little girl, protect what you will. You can’t stop the tide.

( promises have always been emptier than words; people never seem to know how it works. )

PoR Fanfic.

nameyourpoison_ — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 07:09:37 GMT

This is a path of radiance based fanfic I've had on hold for over a year. It was attempt to improve my writing skills by converting support dialogues into a narrative.

Character list: Astrid, Sothe, Tormod, Muarim and Makalov.

Still interested?

You can find it here .

Obligatory introductory post.

nameyourpoison_ — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 04:24:49 GMT

Hello. I'm new to the fire emblem fanfic community, so I thought I'd introduce myself with fic.

Title: Quality of Mercy
Characters: Queen Elincia
Genre: Angsty Drabble
Rating: PG/K
Summary: Sometimes an act of mercy renders one crueler than the most heartless assassin...

The rest can be found here.

moontyger — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 23:11:19 GMT

Probably not the fic anyone was expecting from me. But it's what came out. Note, I have not yet finished the second game, so I apologize if I got anything wrong.

Title: The Princess in the Tower
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn
Character: Princess Leanne
Word Count: 651
Rating: PG
Warnings: mild spoilers for both games

Once upon a time, there was a princess, who (sometimes) lived in a tower. You probably think you've heard this story before. But this one is a bit different. This princess, you see, had wings, and if she sometimes felt imprisoned, it wasn't by the tower itself. The tower was merely a building and she could fly out of it whenever she wanted.

No, her prison was of a more subtle nature. For Princess Leanne of the Heron laguz, it would be more accurate to say that the current state of the world was her jailer.

In a more immediate sense, of course, it was those who cared for her who did not let her leave, and certainly not alone. Neither Tibarn nor Naesala would hear of it, much less Nealuchi or her brothers. If she craved solitude, it must be found indoors, where she could be safe.

The problem was that they were right. Whenever Leanne left the safety of tower or castle, she was in danger, likely to be taken captive and kept in a far more brutal prison, where she might never see the sky or fly in any semblance of freedom again. Those who insisted she needed an escort and better not to leave at all truly did have only her welfare in mind and she felt ungrateful when she resented it. It was not their fault that so many beorc regarded a heron princess as a valuable trophy; they were merely being realistic.

But, deep in her heart, there were times when she resented it all the same. Princess Leanne (and how bitter that title was! Princess of nothing, for the Heron tribe was gone, only the royal family remaining. A title that reflected what had been lost, not what was) sometimes thought it would have been better had she remained asleep all her days. Yes, she was grateful for those of her family that remained, for her friends. But she watched the others, all but the herons, come and go, alone or not, and her heart burned with envy.

Because she was a Heron, there was more to her bondage than even this. Leanne felt the emotions of those around her, suffered their fear and grief as the war with Begnion dragged on, their loss and rage when the Hawks were slaughtered. It pulled at her, compelled her to try to help, but what could she do? Little, in the end, beyond suffering alongside them. She moved through each day in constant pain, weighed down by the emotions of others along with her own. In times such as these, the burden was so heavy that she wondered how she could bear it. No wonder the Herons of old sought solitude in their forest!

As the world was gradually consumed by war, a new one replacing the old whenever one ended, Princess Leanne thought it was not insignificant that this time of warfare and tragedy was preceded by the destruction of the Heron tribe, keepers of peace and guardians of order. Yes, a few remained, but unless something changed, they would be dead within one generation, and they alone might be too few to stop the world's headlong slide into chaos.

She suspected the world was ending. Leanne said nothing; better to let those who did not know enjoy their ignorance while they could. Yet while she could keep silent, she could no longer stand to be passive, merely an ornament, a helpless witness to the conflagration as the world burned. Princess Leanne knew her actions probably only hastened the end, but she no longer believed in happily ever after.

So she joined her brother Reyson in his abandonment of the old ways, ways that had left them easy prey. Princess Leanne spoke, words in a language she still barely knew, words that might change the world, if not necessarily for the better. “I... will fight.”

FF.net - Petition for Fire Emblem 9 & 10

ex_elevenst — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 20:48:25 GMT

Swiped this from wonderful_words.
FF.net petition, simplified and updated for Fire Emblem 9 & 10 only.

Copy, paste, fill in your name, send to support@fanfiction.com [<--yes, it's .com for some reason]

(By all means, update me if a favorite, obscure villain of yours is missing...)

Dear FanFiction.net,

I am a writer and a reader in the video game section, for the game "Fire Emblem". Unfortunately, there are nearly 3,000 stories in the section, but there is no character search feature. As a writer, and as a reader both, I think that having the ability to search by character would get more people to write (and read) for Fire Emblem.

The following is a complete character list for Fire Emblem 9 & 10 . Please consider creating this new section in 'Games.'

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
- elevenstrikes

------

[Characters]

Games - Fire Emblem 9 & 10

Ike
Greil
Mist
Elena
Titania
Oscar
Boyd
Rolf
Shinon
Gatrie
Rhys
Soren
Mia
Ilyana
Marcia
Jill
Haar
Shiharam
Tauroneo
Brom
Meg
Nephenee
Heather
Zihark
Mordecai
Lethe
Lyre
Kyza
Ranulf
Skirmir
Giffca
Caineghis
Sothe
Micaiah
Edward
Leonardo
Nolan
Laura
Alan
Fiona
Volug
Nailah
Rafiel
Reyson
Leanne
Nealuchi
Naesala
Tibarn
Ulki
Janaff
Lotz
Elincia
Lucia
Geoffrey
Kieran
Astrid
Malakov
Marcia
Calill
Largo
Devdan
Danved
Renning
Ludbeck
Bastian
Volke
Stefan
Muarim
Tormod
Vika
Tanith
Sigrun
Sanaki
Zelgius
Sephiran
Numida
Lekain
Jarod
Alder
Zeffren
Valtome
Hetzel
Pelleas
Amrita
Rajaion
Ashnard
Black Knight
Deghinsea
Kurthnaga
Ena
Nasir
Gareth
Bryce
Petrine
Bertram
Oliver
Lorazieh
Seeker
Homasa
Muston
Aimee
Daniel
Jorge
Norris
Ramon
Dakova
Kasatai
Tomenami
Lillia
Lehran
Altina
Izuka
Yune
Ashera
Ashunera

</div>

comm needs moar love

ex_elevenst — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 03:15:36 GMT

You guys have no idea how glad I am that this community exists. Well, I've been playing Radiant Dawn and the ficbug bit me HARD.

There aren't any real spoilers for this one. You either get it or you don't, really...

Title: Throwback
Fandom: Radiant Dawn
Pairings: None. Zihark + Volug.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for battlefield violence and mild swearing.
Word Count: 259
Summary: Zihark isn't a pet sitter. Volug isn't a dog. Language is the best mnemonic there is. Gen drabble.

Throwback

Zihark turns just in time to see Micaiah’s “dog” flying through the air, ripping into the neck of some poor soldier, felling him on the spot. Suddenly the swordmaster spots an incoming sage and an open tome. Volug is flanked by soldiers on every side. He can’t get away in time. Zihark charges in without thinking, shouting to Volug as he draws his blade.

Five seconds. That’s all it takes to make steel meet flesh and bone, and the sage goes down in an impromptu blossom of red as the final canto passes his lips. The flame-like glow recedes from the fallen body, and for a second, Zihark thinks that he’s made it in time. Until a spark shrieks overhead and he feels the heat of explosion against his back. Frantically he searches for Volug’s silhouette amid the smoke and debris.

And then a fur-lined back raises itself above the din. Zihark lets out something between a groan and a sigh. He dodged it. “Lucky ass dog,” he mutters, relaxing a gloved fist to get the blood moving again. Too damn close. Volug stands on all fours over a finished pile of three or four soldiers, and for a moment, their eyes meet.

Thank you, the swordmaster hears suddenly. In his mind? Or… But before he can process the fact that he heard something—a phrase, a string of syllables at once achingly familiar and not in Common Speech—enemy reinforcements are bearing down on them both, and his vision drowns again in flurry of red and black.

</div>

Hi! A Newbie Here!

kinnetik_ishisu — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 05:49:26 GMT

I didn't know that there was a Fire Emblem community of the sorts so I am really, really excited. I wanted to come and introduce myself and leave one just-out-of-the-oven oneshot called In the Eve of Battle. It's basically a chat between the tactician and the Archsage Athos the night before the final confrontation. It sounds a little bit boring, but I promise you'll like it. It can be a series of short stories, but only if people ask for them. So here it is:

Title:In the Eve of the Battle
Pairing: Well, none important, but there are cameo appearances of Eliwood, Hector,Lyndis and many of the characters
Rating: PG/K+
Genre: Friendship/little Angst/romance from afar
Summary:Read above...

Bye!

The List is Complete! Fic-writers and readers-- unite!

hooves — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 00:24:43 GMT

Hello everyone! You might remember me as the "annoying" one who posted a little more than a week ago, ~~begging~~ asking for help, to compile a list of Fire Emblem character names (that are of importance enough to have fanfiction written about them).

Why, you ask? Because FanFiction.net has been a serious pain in the butt lately, as far as searching for Fire Emblem fics, go. Half the people there don't put the character/pairing/game in the summary, let alone a name, and you have to just "guess" as to what characters are featured, and from which game they're writing about (out of ten games...that's more than 150 characters).

So, with the help of some awesome people here, I have completed the list, and am submitting it here. If something I said is incorrect, please, PLEASE correct me.

If it looks fine, feel free to email it to FanFiction.net at: support@fanfiction.com

We need all the help we can get! If you have the time, and you read or write Fire Emblem fanfiction, please help us out.

I'm copying the letter I wrote to FanFiction.net as well, in case you need an idea as to what you may want to write to them yourself (or you can use what I write, but be sure to change things based on who you are. If you only read fics, be sure to take out the part about writing them). And don't forget your name at the bottom.

Note: I did sign with my real last name, too, but it has been omitted for obvious reasons. =)

Note2: Again, all characters are not included in this list. Why? Because when you have a lot of characters from Fire Emblem 1-6 that nobody writes about, what would be the point of having them put up? Not to mention, the sheer length of the list now is astounding... It will be hard enough to convince FFN to give us what we want, but adding almost 100 more names to the list would give us absolutely no chance at all.

Note3: XPosted to the FE_Fiction community.

Note4: Please do not send this any more than one time per day to support@fanfiction.com. Once a day is good; it's lets them know we mean business, but any more than that, and we get really irritating. Thank You!

Dear FanFiction.net,

I am a writer and a reader in the video game section, for the game “Fire Emblem”. Unfortunately, there are nearly 3,000 stories in the section, but there is no character search feature. As a writer, and as a reader both, I think that having the ability to search by character would get more people to write (and read) for Fire Emblem.

The game “Fire Emblem” is not just one game- there are nine in all (a tenth on the way in Japan). Rather than split the section into separate game sections, the character search feature would help us pick out stories about the characters we want to read about; currently, we have to filter through 108 pages of stories to come up with what we want.

I was also hoping that, rather than split up the Fire Emblem section by game, you might be able to do what you did for the Star Wars section- give a “World” search feature (by games that are connected and take place in the same “world”). Some games are connected, while others are not. If you would do that, the games that are connected are:

-Fire Emblem 1, 2, and 3
-Fire Emblem 4 and 5
-Fire Emblem 6 and 7
-Fire Emblem 8
-Fire Emblem 9

Thank you for your time. If a character search is all that you can do at this time, I have compiled a list (with the help of many other Fire Emblem fans) below.

Sincerely,
-Manna (“Kitten Kisses”)

------

[Characters]

------

Fire Emblem 1: Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Tsurugi (The Dragon of Darkness and the Sword of Light)

Marth
Sheeda
Cain
Abel
Jaigen
Katua
Paola
Est
Misheil
Minerva
Chiki
Elis
Ogma
Navarre

------

Fire Emblem 2: Gaiden

Ziiku
Alm
Luca
Gray
Claire

------

Fire Emblem 3: Monshou no Nazo (The Mystery of the Emblem)

Niena
Camus
Cecil
Nina
Hardain
Zagalo
Wulf
Bilac

------

Fire Emblem 4: Seisen no Keifu (Genealogy of the Holy War)

Sigurd
Azel
Lex
Cuan
Ethlin
Fin
Ayra
Diadora
Lachesis
Levin
Sylvia
Fury
Tiltyu
Brigid
Alvis
Eltoshan
Celice
Yuria
Leaf
Nanna
Altena
Lakche
Oifaye
Aless
Shannan
Ishtar
Yurius
Trabant

------

Fire Emblem 5: Thracia 776

Leidrick
Reinhardt
Asvel

------

Fire Emblem 6: Fuuin no Tsurugi (Sword of Seals)

Roy
Lilina
Fa
Lugh
Rei
Hugh
Niime
Wolt
Ellen
Dieck
Thany
Chad
Clarine
Rutger
Dorothy
Sue
Wendy
Fir
Shin
Miledy

------

Fire Emblem 7: Rekka no Ken (Blazing Sword)

Lyndis
Sain
Kent
Florina
Wil
Dorcas
Natalie
Serra
Erk
Rath
Matthew
Nils
Lucius
Wallace
Eliwood
Marcus
Lowen
Rebecca
Bartre
Hector
Oswin
Guy
Merlinus
Priscilla
Raven
Canas
Dart
Fiora
Legault
Ninian
Isadora
Heath
Hawkeye
Geitz
Pent
Louise
Karel
Harken
Nino
Jaffar
Vaida
Renault
Athos
Farina
Karla
Eleanora
Leila
Kishuna
Elbert
Uther
Lloyd
Linus
Ursula
Brendan
Sonia
Limstella
Ephidel
Nergal
Zephiel
Uhai
Madelyn

------

Fire Emblem 8: Seima no Kouseki (The Sacred Stones)

Eirika
Seth
Franz
Amelia
Natasha
Joshua
Moulder
Vanessa
Gilliam
Ross
Garcia
Lute
Neimi
Colm
Artur
Myrrh
Innes
Gerik
Tethys
Marisa
Ewan
Tana
Kyle
Forde
Ephraim
Saleh
L'Arachel
Duessel
Dozla
Rennac
Cormag
Knoll
Syrene
Lyon
Orson
Glen
Selena
Reiv
Caellach
Fado
Ismaire
Hayden
Valter

------

Fire Emblem 9: Souen no Kiseki (Path of Radiance)

Ike
Greil
Mist
Elena
Titania
Oscar
Boyd
Rolf
Shinon
Gatrie
Rhys
Soren
Mia
Ilyana
Marcia
Jill Fizzart
Zihark
Mordecai
Lethe
Ranulf
Caineghis
Elincia Ridell Crimea
Renning
Giffca
Brom
Nephenee
Kieran
Volke
Sothe
Astrid Demiell
Makalov
Stefan
Muarim
Tormod
Tanith
Reyson
Leanne
Lotz
Tibarn
Janaff
Ulki
Calill
Haar
Largo
Geoffrey
Lucia
Bastian
Ena
Nasir
Rajaion
Ashnard Daein
Black Knight
Zelgius
Sephiran
Sanaki
Sigrun
Deghinsea
Kurthnaga
Gareth
Devdan
Tauroneo
Bryce
Petrine
Bertram
Shiharam Fizzart
Oliver
Lorazieh,
Seeker
Homasa
Muston
Aimee
Daniel
Jorge
Norris
Lyre
Ramon
Dakova
Naesala
Nealuchi
Kasatai
Tomenami
Lillia
Lehran
Altina
Izuka

Necessities

erinilliana — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 03:20:17 GMT

First time posting (since this community needed a bit of activity!)... I just finished this after constant interruptions like school and work, so the overall mood might change every now and then...? I blame time, hahah. Enjoy~

Title: Necessities
Fandom: Souen no Kiseki (Path of Radiance)
Rating: PG/K+
Genre: Friendship/General
Characters: Shinon, Titania, Gatrie, and Rhys
Summary: [Fighting bandits without a staff? Not smart.] Shinon and Gatrie couldn't have agreed more with Titania.

(Must've been the drinks.)

HELLO OUT THERE

hooves — Fri, 05 Oct 2007 23:34:08 GMT

Dear Fire Emblem Fic Writers,

Yes. I know this is in bold, and is therefore obnoxious. This isn't a fic. This is a plea for help from those of you with knowledge of the older Fire Emblem games. (Fire Emblem 1 through 6.)

A group of us are ATTEMPTING to convince Fanfiction.net that the Fire Emblem category is too crowded with 10 different games in it, and no character search feature.

We're compiling a list of characters from each Fire Emblem game. We have someone to do 7, 8 (I think), and 9. These games are the most popular there at the moment, and we are doing long lists of characters (including important NPCs and bosses).

We need characters from 1-6 (that will most likely have fics written about them hanging around on the internet). Just their names. That's all I need! (I will organize them alphabetically when I get them.)

Please be sure to put from what game they're from, in case FFN does us a good turn and splits the FE section into separate parts! (Like they did for the various "Tales" series'.)

We'd appreciate any help we can get with this endeavor.

Thank you for your help!

-Manna (Kitten Kisses)

[May XPost to the FE community.]

Next chapter of MSDT.

crossoverqueen — Sat, 09 Jun 2007 20:14:39 GMT

Previous chapters here.

-but i can only give-

"...This is it," Gerik says, out of the blue and to no one in particular.

"What's 'it,' Gerik?" Innes asks.

"The Demon King. We've all got our sacred weapons--all we have to do is get across the room and then fight him."

Weapons don't make everything, is what he doesn't say. They've all been training for this, to the point where Amelia is used to fighting on horseback and on foot, where Ewan can wield light magic and staves as well as anima, where Ross can kill a run-of-the-mill gargoyle in two blows (one if he's lucky), and where Gerik has taken up axes.

A silver one gleams in his hand.

And they start.

-
This battle is harder than it looks. Sure, the monsters aren't exactly bounty hunters--even the dragon zombies are surprisingly slow once you get over that fearful sort of jolt in your stomach--but they're everywhere, and the unit's getting worn out.

And even if they're fine, their weapons aren't because there's only so many times you can hit things before something breaks.

The second dragon zombie is Gerik's last victim before the silver axe reaches its limit, so he throws the splintered shaft away and gets a tomahawk out. A wight advances on him, fleshless bones clicking like beads as it raises its lance to strike.

He dodges the first blow, but a gorgon's stare catches his eye even as he smashes the wight's skull.

So he stops and tries to look away (they can't do anything if you don't look back) but already there's dark magic seeping into his skin and muscle and bone--

And thunder comes from the temple's clear stone sky. The gorgon shrieks as it dies, burning in one single absolute strike.

Saleh.

-
"I was lucky," Saleh tells him after coming over from... where? "Bolting is hard to pinpoint."

It sounds like what it is: bulky, and unwieldy like regret.

"Thanks, Saleh."

-
After the first spectacular hit, Saleh uses a normal thunder tome and Gerik notices something.

Is his hair lighter than normal? He doesn't know how it's possible, being in an old stone temple with average to dim light; but there they are, bits of light weaving in and out through Saleh's cloud-grey hair like fireflies.

He looks like the storm god.

"Y'know Saleh, there's sparks in your hair from all the thunder."

A stifled noise; was that a laugh?

"No one's... bothered to tell me before."

He reaches out to ruffle Saleh's hair; would that shake the sparks out?

Strike.

"Ow--!" White heat bursts up his arm and something jolts in his chest, and if it weren't for his fair magic resistance he'd probably have fried like a pine in the desert.

"Gerik?" Saleh asks, and he is not a storm god anymore.

"I'm fine--just got shocked." He looks at his hand and sees a blistered, reddened palm. "It stings a little, but it's too small to waste my elixir on."

But Saleh looks at him, and it's that look so Gerik waits.

Saleh doesn't get his staff ready, though. Just reaches out with two fingers and heals him, like the healers do when someone gets a scrape or dislocates something.

These are the things that the others don't see.

-
Note: The sparks bit was from Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic. One of the characters, Tris, is a weather-witch and she can literally throw lightning around like spears. I found it interesting that sparks gathered in her hair after a while, and it tended to scare people, so I lightened it a bit for Saleh and Gerik.

Crossposted to fe_yaoi.