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Well, for some reason, I've finished writing the introductions for most of the characters in my Western version of Fire Emblem... Now, writing the rest of the story is going to be the hard part... -_-;
As usual, these are only excerpts... (Nag me to finish them. ^_~) Oh, and I updated Chapter 1, which is why I reposted it...
(As the Fire Emblem theme plays in the background, a glowing iron brand burns the title of the story onto an aging map, which eventually dissolves into ash:)
*****
"Fire Emblem: The Burning Brand"
by Avi
***
Chapter 1: Rescued by the Cavalry
***
Lyn beamed and swept an arm in front of her.
"Well, Mark... Welcome to Burning Gulch outpost, the largest town in the Sacramento Plains!"
Mark didn't have the heart to tell her that the cities back East could encompass this town many times over... Still, the place was impressive-looking; obviously intended to be a military outpost, the entire town was encompassed by wooden palisades, made out of sharpened logs.
Yet Mark was in for a bigger surprise when he stepped inside the town... As soon as he entered, he was amazed to see both natives and settlers calmly going about their business; trading, hawking their wares, or just walking around town.
"Amazing..." mused Mark, aloud. "An outpost where both natives and settlers alike can work side-by-side together, in peace..."
Lyn smiled at him affably. "Yes, it is nice, isn't it?" Her gaze then moved up towards the soldiers patrolling atop the wooden palisades, and her expression darkened slightly. "I kind of wish the cavalry didn't have to occupy the town, though..."
Mark shifted uncomfortably at this. As a student of history, he knew that the relationship between Lyn's people and the cavalry hadn't always been so peaceful.
After a moment, Lyn seemed to shake off her dark mood. "Well, we should probably be able to buy all the supplies we need, right here... Shall we split up, to find what we're looking for?"
Mark nodded. They had agreed earlier that Lyn should purchase most of the supplies, since she knew the going price of most items; Mark had even given her some of his cash, to supplement her own funds.
Still, there were a few things that Mark knew he needed to buy... A map of the area, for instance. Lyn might know her way around, but he still didn't want to be caught lost in the desert again...
He found what he was looking for in the local general store. Although the map looked rather worn, it did seem pretty accurate... Mark could find upon it the city of Burnt, where the train station he arrived at was located; the Sacramento Plains, where they currently were, and even the town he was in.
Satisfied, he paid the store owner for the map. As he turned around, Mark saw Lyn in the distance, weighed down with various goods, so he headed towards her... While he did so, he inspected the map a little further.
Upon closer examination, the map seemed to be one of the entire El Libre area... The city of Burnt was located to the north, within the heart of the Burnt Wastelands; to its south, was the aforementioned Sacramento Plains. To the west of that, was a series of canyons called Atlas Ridge; to the south of there, lay the area called Las Sienna, which appeared to have many major cities marked off in stars: Austin City, Phoenix Rise, Sierra...
He was currently looking at a village at the base of a place called Wind Serpent Peak, when he heard a cheerful voice ahead of him.
"Well, shoot! Ain't you the prettiest li'l thing that I ever did see?"
Mark looked up, to see a cavalryman on horseback addressing Lyn. He might've been impressed at this, his first glimpse of a cavalryman up close, if the latter hadn't been hitting on Lyn.
Lyn didn't seem particularly impressed, either. "Excuse me?" she replied coolly.
The cavalryman just grinned at her and tipped his hat. "I don't suppose you could offer me your name, li'l missy? Or the pleasure of your company?"
Lyn tossed her head haughtily. "Shouldn't a soldier have a little more self-control? Where do you come from anyways, that they'd teach you such manners?"
Despite Lyn's frosty demeanor, it didn't seem to deter the soldier one bit.
"Thought you'd never ask, ma'am! I came here all the way from the plains of Las Sienna; the town of Sierra, to be exact. Home of the rootin'est, tootin'est cowpokes around!"
Lyn arched an eyebrow, in reply. "Don't you mean 'pigs in a poke?'"
At this, the cavalryman looked sheepish. "Aw, don't be like that, li'l darlin'..."
Ignoring him, Lyn spun on her heel, just in time to meet Mark's gaze. "Come on, Mark," she addressed him, under clenched teeth. "I have nothing more to say to this... This... So-called soldier."
"Wait!" cried out the cavalrymen, in dismay. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I..."
"Sain! What's going on here?" asked a severe voice.
Mark found himself looking back, to see another mounted cavalryman join his fellow soldier... Because of their identical navy uniforms, there wasn't much to identify one from the other, except the new soldier's red hair and red scarf tied around his shoulders; his companion, on the other hand, wore a green scarf.
"Ah, Kent, my ol' pardner!" greeted the green-scarfed soldier, in a pleasant drawl. "What's with the long face? You look more ornery than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs!"
"And why do you reckon that's so, Sain?" answered the other soldier hotly. "Gallivanting around again... You know we have our orders!"
"Sorry, Kent... I'm just a sucker for a pretty face, that's all."
"I know. And it's going to be the death of me..."
Lyn placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, you two..." As both soldiers looked down at her, she glared at each one, in turn. "I hate to interrupt your friendly conversation, but it seems you're blocking the road. If you two could kindly move your horses?"
"Certainly, ma'am. My apologies," replied the red-headed soldier politely. Both soldiers moved their horses then, allowing Lyn and Mark to them pass by.
Lyn then gave a curt nod to the cavalryman who had addressed her. "Thank you, sir... You, at least, seem to have some manners."
As she said this, the cavalryman gave her a long, hard stare. "Pardon me, ma'am," he began slowly, "but haven't I met you somewhere before?"
Lyn raised her eyebrows again. "Excuse me?"
At this remark, the other soldier couldn't seem to resist butting in. "Hey! C'mon, Kent, I saw her first!"
"Well!" Lyn sniffed to herself. "It seems no one in the cavalry can be trusted, can they? Come on, Mark... I've just about had my fill of these two!" She stormed off, with a reluctant Mark trailing behind her.
"Wait!" protested the soldier called Kent. "That's not what I meant!"
As the two civilians walked out of earshot, Kent found himself turning on his fellow soldier, in anger. "Now, look what you've done!"
Sain stared back at him. "What did I do? I was just sayin' I saw her first..."
"That's not the point! That's not what I meant when I said that... I reckon that... She might be the one we're looking for."
Sain's eyes widened. "What, her? Kent, you ain't serious, are ya?"
"Come on, we have to trail her!" Kent quickly clicked his heels to his horse's sides, and started to ride out of town.
"Say, are you sure about this?" asked Sain. It was then that he noticed his fellow soldier riding away.
"Hey, hold up there, pardner!" he cried out, as Sain urged his horse forward to catch up to Kent's lead.
***
"Honestly! Can you believe the nerve of those two!" stormed Lyn, as they rode away from Burning Gulch. "It's just like I've always said; you can never trust the cavalry!"
"I don't know," replied Mark, in a sceptical tone. "I don't think that other soldier was actually hitting on you... It was almost like..." He paused in thought. "He recognized you, or something."
Lyn snorted in disgust. "How would he recognize me? I've lived with the Lorca all my life!" She shook her head. "Come on, let's just get away from here, in case they follow us."
"Uh..." began Mark slowly. "I think there might be already somebody doing that..."
He turned his head. As Lyn followed his gaze, she could see a distinct cloud of dust trailing them, like that of a bunch of men on horseback riding behind them.
Lyn's eyes widened. "Is it those two cavalrymen?"
Mark squinted as he looked behind him. "I don't think so... There's too much dust being kicked up for it to be just two of them... And I don't think we've done anything to warrant the entire cavalry after us!"
His companion's expression hardened. "I wouldn't be too sure of that..." She then risked another glance over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
"No, I'm afraid it's worse... Bandits!" She had just spotted the bandanas pulled over their mouths, and the murderous gleams in their eyes.
Immediately, Lyn clicked her heels to her horse's side; Mark quickly followed her lead.
"Faster, Mark! They're gaining on us!" she cried out.
But it was no use; it was too late. In no time at all, the group of bandits had both of them surrounded.
Suddenly, the blaring of a trumpet call filled the desert air, catching both parties off-guard, and distracting the bandits momentarily.
"It's the cavalry come after us!" quaked one of the bandits, fearfully. Another, obviously the leader, smacked his companion on the shoulder in disgust.
"Don't be such a fool! There are only two of them; we can take 'em!" he snarled.
Mark and Lyn looked up, and recognized the cavalrymen they had run into earlier in Burning Gulch; the one in the green scarf was playing a charge in his bugle as he rode, with his redheaded companion hot on his heels.
Quickly, both cavalrymen manoevered their horses in front of the civilians in a protective fashion.
"Picking on a lady?" snapped the green-scarfed soldier to the bandits. "You're just a bunch of lily-livered cowards!"
Lyn stared at the cavalrymen in surprise. "You two again? But why--"
"No time to explain that now, ma'am," replied the redheaded soldier briskly. "Stand back! We can take care of these men for you."
"No! This is my fight!" protested Lyn, drawing her sword. "I won't be indebted to any cavalryman!"
"Listen, li'l missy," reasoned the other soldier, "we can't just stand by and do nothin', ya hear? We're the cavalry! We're supposed to come to people's rescue!"
As the plainswoman stubbornly set her jaw, Mark gave her sleeve a tenatative tug. "Uh, we could use the help, you know," he told her. "We are greatly outnumbered, and they do seem to know the territory better than we do..."
The redheaded soldier seemed to overhear this exchange. "Well, if you won't listen to us, then would you listen to your friend?" he queried, turning his attention to Mark.
"Huh?" said Mark, rather caught off guard.
"I reckon you have the look of a learned man," observed the soldier. He then glanced back at Lyn. "We will willingly follow orders from both of you, to the letter. Would you accept our aid, now, ma'am?"
"All right... You two follow our lead, then," replied Lyn, ignoring Mark's look of dismay. "Now, let's get those bandits!"
"Hmph!" sneered the leader of the bandits, causing everyone to turn to look at him. "You'll have to find us, first!" Immediately, all of the bandits scattered.
*****
"Whew, I can't believe we got out of that alive," gasped Mark.
"Sorry, we didn't get to introduce ourselves properly before," began Kent. "Like I said, my name is Kent Morgan, and my partner here is Sain Steele... As you can plainly see, we're both cavalrymen, but we actually come from a military outpost in Sierra."
"Sierra?" asked Mark. "But that's several miles away from where we are now... What are you two doing way out here?"
"We were sent on a mission to find someone," explained Sain.
"Find someone...?" began Lyn slowly.
Kent nodded. "We're looking for a Miss Madeline, who ran off with a plainsman several years ago."
Mark noticed Lyn's eyes widen, as Kent continued his explanation.
Apparently, both cavalrymen were sent by the Mayor of Sierra himself, in search of his daughter, Madeline. Since Madeline was the Mayor's only daughter, he had been so heartbroken at her departure long ago, that he eventually declared that he had no child.
According to Kent, the Mayor had just recently recieved a letter from Madeline, saying that she, her husband and her daughter were living happily on the Sacramento Plains.
"You should've seen the look on his face, ma'am, when he found out he was a grandfather," interrupted Sain, with a grin. "I've never seen the Mayor look so happy before..."
Kent nodded again, then fixed Lyn with a penetrating gaze. "His granddaughter's name is Lynette... This also happened to be the name of the Mayor's late wife, who died at an early age."
"Lynette..." said Lyn softly.
"It was his granddaughter's name that let the Mayor forgive his daughter," explained Sain. "He was hopin' that he could meet his daughter's family just once, but..."
The soldier trailed off, as Kent shook his head, sadly.
"We only learned shortly after we arrived at Burning Gulch that Miss Madeline died just after she wrote that letter..."
"But we also heard that her daughter was still alive, and livin' all by her lonesome on the plains," added Sain.
Kent continued to stare at Lyn, who had been avoiding his gaze.
"I reckoned I knew you the moment I saw you... You're Lynette Windrider, right?"
Lyn looked up, to meet his eyes. "Wha... What makes you say that?"
"Let's just say that you look a lot like your mother, ma'am..." explained Kent.
"What? You've met my mother?" asked Lyn.
Kent tugged at his hat sheepishly. "'Fraid not, ma'am... But I have seen photographs of her in the Mayor's office."
Chapter 3: Rounding Up the Posse
Despite the acquisition of Lyn's powerful new blade, and her obvious ability to defend herself, Kent insisted that they travel in formation, in order to protect her.
Fortunately (or so Mark thought), Lyn decided not to argue with him... So, now they travelled with Sain riding in front (he insisted on "taking point", as he put it), with Lyn and Mark riding side-by-side in the middle, and Kent bringing up the rear, where he could keep a watchful eye on them all.
Actually, Mark was somewhat grateful for the cavalryman's overprotectiveness, considering what happened to them so far... Also, he appreciated a little time alone with Lyn; there was something he had been meaning to ask her about...
"Excuse me, Miss Lynette..." he began.
"Please don't call me that," pleaded Lyn. "I get that enough from those two; I don't need it from you, as well."
"But you're a Mayor's daughter; it seem inappropriate to address you just as Lyn..."
"But when you first met me, I was still Lyn, and not a Mayor's daughter... Couldn't we just go back to that? Please?"
Mark paused for a moment. "Very well, then... Lyn," he conceded, a tad reluctantly. Shaking his head, he then pulled out his map from one of his saddlebags.
"Anyways... I've been meaning to ask you about this place..." As Mark unfolded the map, he pointed out a certain area on it. "This village, at the base of Wind Serpent Peak... Is it true what they say about it?"
Lyn craned her neck, to examine the map. "About El Rhea? Yeah, it's true," she said airily.
"You mean... About the tribe of fierce Amazonian warrior women who live there?" continued Mark eagerly. "I've heard that their steeds are as pure as the driven snow, and are as fleet as the wind..." He then trailed off.
"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I must sound like an enthusiastic young schoolboy to you, don't I...?"
"No, no, I find your enthusiasm kind of refreshing, actually," replied Lyn, as she tried to hold back her laughter. At this, Mark fought back a blush.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you," apologized Lyn. "It's just that... The El Rheans happen to be more like mercenaries, rather than warriors; they tend to form posses and hire themselves out as bounty hunters, more than anything else," she explained.
"Oh, okay," replied Mark, still embarassed about his misinformation.
Lyn seemed to sense this. "You were right about the El Rhean horses, though," she told him reassuringly. "I've seen one up close, and their speed and beauty rival any horse from the plains."
Mark seemed to perk up at this. "So, you've actually seen one before?"
Lyn nodded. "In fact, I happen to know one of those 'warrior women' personally," she added.
"Really?" asked Mark, sounding eager once again. "What's she like?"
"Ah, well..." began Lyn slowly, "She's not as fierce as you might think..."
***
"Hold it right there, li'l missy! Where do you think you're going?"
In the burnt-out husk of a town just recently razed to the ground, a petite figure gripped the reins of her pure white horse protectively, as she was menaced by two bandits.
"Please, senor..." said the young girl timidly. "It was an accident, si?"
"Such a sweet little thing," leered the other bandit. "Shame to let her go to waste..."
"Well, she ran me over with her horse," growled the thug. "And I'm gonna take it out of her hide!"
The other outlaw then turned his attention to the girl's impressive-looking mount.
"So what should we do with her horse?" he asked.
At this, the girl's eyes flared. "Do not lay a finger on him, senor!"
"You watch your tongue, girlie!" snapped the first bandit.
The girl clasped her hands in front of her, and gave the outlaws an imploring look.
"Please, I beg of you... Do not harm him! You can do anything you want to me!"
The first bandit, obviously the leader, gave a short bark of laughter. "Nice try, missy, but everyone knows that El Rhean horses are incredibly rare, and incredibly expensive... Even more than your worthless hide! Now, give me that horse!"
He made a grab for the reins in the girl's hands, but the young woman just managed to elude his grasp.
Chapter 5: Across the Border
***
The gunman known as Erk Horn rode silently, letting his horse plod slowly through the wilderness. He was a stoic man by nature, but he was even more so now than usual... Though that might have been due to the nature of his travelling companion.
"I do declare, you are the worst escort it has ever been my misfortune to encounter... Are we lost again?" said a petulant female voice behind him.
Erk sighed heavily to himself. "Ma'am, you chose this path," he pointed out.
"My dear sir, I'm sure I would've picked the correct path, and not have misled us..."
The gunman found himself once again cursing the fate that had brought him to this time and place... He would still have been in Atlas Ridge, probably continuing his own studies, had not the Marshall of that county taken him aside, to have a word with him.
"Listen, Erk..." the Marshall had told him, frankly. "You have a gift; that of incredible marksmanship. You can't let it go to waste around here; you've got to go out there and use it, to protect the weak and the innocent... Do you understand me?"
Erk owed a lot to the Marshall and his wife, so he respected the man's words, and set off into world... But Erk highly suspected that when the man had told him to 'protect the weak and innocent', he would not have counted on meeting Sister Serra.
The aforementioned nun rode on a mule a few paces behind Erk, a choice of mount that the sister had not been pleased about; however, it was the only mount with an even enough temper to put up with its rider. Erk found it rather appropriate for her, actually... Though he would normally never say so aloud.
However, after several seemingly-neverending days of riding in the company of the nun, the gunman's temper was wearing thin... And he now felt that he had held his tongue long enough.
"Look, lady..." began Erk, behind gritted teeth, "When I took this job, they didn't tell me nothin' about you..."
Serra's eyes narrowed. "What do mean by that, sir?"
"I was told that I was hired to protect a sister of St. Elimine," he explained.
"And I am that sister," sniffed the nun, fanning herself haughtily with her prayerbook. "And as you well know, I am nothing but a helpless Southern belle..."
"Helpless? You?" Erk snorted. "Lady, you don't need no protection from me... Any outlaw who'd spend five minutes in your company would gladly turn himself in for the reward money!"
The gunman's voice then softened, and turned pleading. "Listen, ma'am... We ain't that far from Austin City, now... Couldn't you just ride there the rest of the way, by yourself? I'll even give you back the money you paid me!"
The nun set her jaw. "My dear sir, I'll have you know that I am a Hollingsworth... And no Hollingsworth lady would be caught dead without a male escort! Besides, you just happen to be presentable enough to be a suitable travelling companion, Mr. Horn, despite how boorish and ill-mannered you truly are..."
"Hmph. I could say the same thing about you, lady," grumbled Erk under his breath.
"What was that, Mr. Horn?" asked Serra archly.
"Nothin'." He heaved another sigh. "I can't believe you're making me take you all the way to Austin City..."
"What are you going on about? Honestly, perhaps I could've found an escort with a sunnier disposition..." The sister then cocked her head to one side.
"Hmmm? I do believe I hear something amiss... Come, Mr. Erk, we should go check it out!" She quickly clicked her heels to the side of her mount, and rode off.
Erk groaned and followed her, muttering, "What a surprise, she goes looking for trouble. Sweet Elimine, I don't get paid enough to do this..."
***
The gunman managed to catch up with Serra, to find her and her mule standing near the edge of a small cliff, watching as some sort of fight went on down below.
"Is that a gunfight?" The nun placed a hand over her chest, as if she might swoon. "I do declare, that makes my heart go all a-flutter!"
Disgusted, Erk moved his horse in front of Serra, effectively blocking the young woman's view of the fight.
"How dare you, sir!"
"Would you hush up, lady?" he snapped. "Do you want those bandits to hear us?"
"But look at that girl fighting all those outlaws!" she told him, pointing down below. The nun then placed her hands on her hips.
"You aren't afraid a few old bandits, are you, Mr. Erk? And you call yourself a hired gun... Do you even know how to use those six-shooters you wear?"
The gunman was just about to make a cutting remark, when one of the outlaws happened to overhear their argument.
"Hey! You two!"
Erk placed a hand to his head. "Oh, great..."
For the first time in his life, Erk seriously considered turning his guns on a clergyman, despite the fact he was certain that St. Elimine would not appreciate him shooting one of her followers... No matter how irritating he found them.
However, this was a probably a bad time to be contemplating that course of action, as the bandit that had spotted them had just began to charge... Causing Serra to let out a piercing shriek.
Erk clapped a hand over his ear. "Gah! If I protect you from that man, would you stop screaming? Honestly!" Quickly, the gunman dismounted his horse, pulled out his trusty six-shooters and prepared to fight for his life.
***
Lyn looked up, from the bandit she just defeated. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" asked Mark, who was hanging back uneasily behind her.
"A woman's scream... It came from over there!" said the plainswoman, pointing.
Mark furrowed his brow, in uncertainty. "We'd better check it out..."
The two ran over to the source of the disturbance, just in time to hear a couple of gunshots pierce the air, and causing both of them to quicken their pace.
As the pair finally reached their destination, they overheard a disgruntled female voice murmur, "Huh. I guess your reputation as a gunfighter isn't completely unfounded, Mr. Erk..."
Mark and Lyn found themselves face-to-face with an odd couple indeed; a pink-haired nun dressed in white robes (that would've been pristine had she not been travelling for days) trying to look dignified as she sat on a mule... In front of her, stood a violet-haired young man dressed in a long brown trenchcoat, holding a pair of smoking six-shooters. At his feet, lay one of the bandits, quite obviously dead.
Lyn found herself coughing politely. "Uh, excuse me..."
Both strangers looked up at this; the gunman in particular twirled his guns and placed them back in his holsters.
"Yes, madam?" replied the nun, as she tried to compose herself.
"Why were you fighting this outlaw?" enquired Lyn.
"It just... Happened that way," answered the gunfighter.
"It most certainly did not!" protested his companion hotly. "That... Vicious brute thought we were a part of your gang! How dare you drag us into this position, as well!"
The gunman rolled his eyes. "Sister Serra," he began impatiently, "this never would've have happened in the first place, if you didn't decide to stick your nose in other people's business!"
He tipped his hat politely to Lyn, as Serra turned away in a huff. "My apologies, ma'am... We'll be on our way, now."
"But... Won't those men be after you two, as well?" asked Mark.
"I can't help but feel partly responsible for what happened to you," added Lyn, with a twinge of guilt. "Why not join our group? We could use your help in getting rid of these bandits."
The nun seemed to mull this over. "Yes, that does sound like a good idea..." She waved a hand airily at the gunfighter. "Erk, be a l'il darlin' and help these two out, won't you?"
"What?" he protested. Then, the gunman looked resigned. "Oh, fine, then... But I'm not doing this because you're telling me to, lady."
"Believe whatever you want, honeysuckle..."
At this, Mark and Lyn couldn't help exchanging a uneasy glance at each other... What kind of characters had they invited to join them, now?
Chapter 6: Pride of the Plains
***
Inside one of the houses, one of the townspeople studiously ignored commotion outside. It was probably safer that way... Besides, she was just a tired, old woman.
Suddenly, there was a knock on her door... Reluctantly, the old woman got up from her comfortable seat by the fireplace to go answer it.
She opened the door, to come face-to-face of a grinning young man, dressed in the gaudy suit of a travelling salesman.
"Hello there, ma'am!" he beamed. "The name is Matthew Sharper, and I've come here today to sell you this magic Elixir!" He brandished a blue bottle before him. "Good for curing those aches and pains, or whatever else should ail you!"
The old woman shook her head. "I'm sorry young man, but I'm just not interested in your wares today-- Hey, what are you doing?"
The young man had just shoved his way inside the house, and was now taking a peek out her window.
"You can't come in here!" she protested. "That's it, I'm going to call going to call the Sheriff on you, young man!"
The salesman held up his hands. "Peace, old lady... I'm sorry I had to deceive you, but I just wanted a safe view of what was happening outside... I'll even pay you for it!"
"Pay me, huh...?" asked the woman. "Hmph, suit yourself... I'm going down to the cellar, where it's nice and quiet." She started heading towards the back room, muttering, "Children these days... No respect for their elders..."
Matthew watched her leave. "Now that she's gone..." He opened the satchel he had brought with him, and began rummaging around in it.
"I'd better change into my working clothes," he murmured to himself. "I have a feeling that my other skills might be needed here, shortly..."
Chapter 7: The Drifters
Castle Rock was a relatively quiet town on the plains of Las Sierra, though it was occasionally enlivened by the presence of the Burning Brand saloon, in the heart of town.
As the image of a blazing iron brand hung over its swinging doors, a melancholy melody spilled out of the darkened saloon, and into the dusty streets.
"I'm just a lonesome, little girl,
All alone in this great, big world..."
A pale girl with long, flowing hair currently stood upon the saloon's stage, slowly belting out a old country song... However, despite the sad tune, the men in the bar still hooted and and hollered after the young woman's singing performance.
As the young woman curtseyed, the owner of the saloon, who was standing in the wings, slowly shook his head.... He then motioned to a young boy sitting on a stool nearby.
"All right, Nils, you're up next!"
The young man, who was in the process of tuning his fiddle, quickly nodded and slid off his seat. As he headed towards the stage, he happened to pass by the other performer.
"Nice performance, as usual, sis," he told her, with a smile.
"Thanks you, Nils," she replied demurely. "Good luck out there!"
She caught his hand in a quick, firm grip, before retiring to the wings.
As the singer headed past the saloon owner, the man gestured impatiently at her... Reluctantly, the young woman walked up to him.
"Listen, Ninian," the owner began. "I'll admit that you're a great singer, but... Geez, girl! Must you always sing such sad songs? You know, the men like a little more variety in their music every now and then!"
The young woman looked downcast. "I'm afraid those are all the songs I know, sir..."
The saloon owner shook his head. "Well, at least your brother understands how to liven up the crowd," he said grumpily.
Ninian looked up towards the stage, where her brother was playing a catchy tune with his fiddle... Though the men in the saloon were happily stomping and clapping to the music, the light-hearted tone of Nils's music didn't match the worried expression on the fiddler's face.
The young woman could understand his concern... Still, no one had come looking for them for days, now... Perhaps they were safe here.
As she continued to stand in the wings and watch her brother perform, Ninian caught an odd movement out of the corner of her eye. As she glanced in that direction, she noticed with some dismay that a few rough-looking men had just entered the bar, and had pointed directly at Nils.
"Run, Nils!" she yelled to him, just before the first shot rang out.
Fortunately, her brother managed to dive for the opposite wing of the stage, in the nick of time... Just as the saloon's toughs began a shoving match with the men who attacked Nils.
Ninian breathed a sigh of relief, but only momentarily... She and Nils had to get out of this place; it was no longer safe here!
She turned to leave, only to run into something solid; as she looked up, she realized with a sinking feeling that she had ran straight into one of the men who was looking for them.
The young woman had just enough time to register the man's fist aimed towards her head, before darkness overcame her.
***
Nils lay flat on the floor of the stage's wing, grateful for his sister's warning; he was concentrating so hard on his music, that he had neglected to look out for trouble.
He had just picked himself off the floor and turned around, only to see an unnamed ruffian sling an unconscious Ninian over his shoulder, and run into the shadows of the opposite wing.
"Ninian!" screamed Nils. He made to run after his sister, but was stopped as someone grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.
"Let me go! Let me go! I have to save my sister!" he yelled. Nils managed to drag his assailant halfway across the stage before they suddenly released him, causing the fiddler to lose his balance and fall to the ground again.
Nils managed to roll himself over, a bit dazed, only to confront the angry gaze of the saloon owner glaring down at him.
"How dare you bring trouble into my place! Get out!" bellowed the owner.
"But... My sister!" protested Nils.
"If I had known that you and your sister would bring those kind of men around here, I would never have let you work here in the first place! Now, get out of my saloon!"
Dejectedly, the fiddler picked himself off the floor, along with his instrument, which had miraculously survived all the excitement... He then slowly walked out the swinging doors of the saloon, as the other people in the bar pointedly ignored him.
However, little did Nils realize he was still being observed; by a figure sitting in the far corner of the bar, who was dressed in long, black robes, and a flat, wide-brimmed hat.
"Hmmm..."
The bartender, seemly unperturbed by the commotion (as it happened every day), politely wiped the counter in front of the solitary figure.
"Top off your tonic water, Padre?" asked the bartender respectfully.
The dark-robed priest shook his head. "No, that's okay." He placed a couple of dollars on the counter. "This should cover my tab, barkeep... And your trouble."
The young man then politely tipped his hat to the bartender, smiled, and walked out of the saloon.
As the priest left, the bartender stood stock-still for a moment, blinking... He had a caught a glimpse of the priest's face as he tipped his hat, and the man found himself thinking that was the prettiest young man he had ever seen...
The bartender shook his head, and dismissed the thought from his mind. He was a religious person at heart, and it definitely wasn't right, thinking about a holy man like that...
*****
I should not enjoy rewriting the Fire Emblem script so much, but I do... ^_^;
As usual, these are only excerpts... (Nag me to finish them. ^_~) Oh, and I updated Chapter 1, which is why I reposted it...
(As the Fire Emblem theme plays in the background, a glowing iron brand burns the title of the story onto an aging map, which eventually dissolves into ash:)
*****
"Fire Emblem: The Burning Brand"
by Avi
***
Chapter 1: Rescued by the Cavalry
***
Lyn beamed and swept an arm in front of her.
"Well, Mark... Welcome to Burning Gulch outpost, the largest town in the Sacramento Plains!"
Mark didn't have the heart to tell her that the cities back East could encompass this town many times over... Still, the place was impressive-looking; obviously intended to be a military outpost, the entire town was encompassed by wooden palisades, made out of sharpened logs.
Yet Mark was in for a bigger surprise when he stepped inside the town... As soon as he entered, he was amazed to see both natives and settlers calmly going about their business; trading, hawking their wares, or just walking around town.
"Amazing..." mused Mark, aloud. "An outpost where both natives and settlers alike can work side-by-side together, in peace..."
Lyn smiled at him affably. "Yes, it is nice, isn't it?" Her gaze then moved up towards the soldiers patrolling atop the wooden palisades, and her expression darkened slightly. "I kind of wish the cavalry didn't have to occupy the town, though..."
Mark shifted uncomfortably at this. As a student of history, he knew that the relationship between Lyn's people and the cavalry hadn't always been so peaceful.
After a moment, Lyn seemed to shake off her dark mood. "Well, we should probably be able to buy all the supplies we need, right here... Shall we split up, to find what we're looking for?"
Mark nodded. They had agreed earlier that Lyn should purchase most of the supplies, since she knew the going price of most items; Mark had even given her some of his cash, to supplement her own funds.
Still, there were a few things that Mark knew he needed to buy... A map of the area, for instance. Lyn might know her way around, but he still didn't want to be caught lost in the desert again...
He found what he was looking for in the local general store. Although the map looked rather worn, it did seem pretty accurate... Mark could find upon it the city of Burnt, where the train station he arrived at was located; the Sacramento Plains, where they currently were, and even the town he was in.
Satisfied, he paid the store owner for the map. As he turned around, Mark saw Lyn in the distance, weighed down with various goods, so he headed towards her... While he did so, he inspected the map a little further.
Upon closer examination, the map seemed to be one of the entire El Libre area... The city of Burnt was located to the north, within the heart of the Burnt Wastelands; to its south, was the aforementioned Sacramento Plains. To the west of that, was a series of canyons called Atlas Ridge; to the south of there, lay the area called Las Sienna, which appeared to have many major cities marked off in stars: Austin City, Phoenix Rise, Sierra...
He was currently looking at a village at the base of a place called Wind Serpent Peak, when he heard a cheerful voice ahead of him.
"Well, shoot! Ain't you the prettiest li'l thing that I ever did see?"
Mark looked up, to see a cavalryman on horseback addressing Lyn. He might've been impressed at this, his first glimpse of a cavalryman up close, if the latter hadn't been hitting on Lyn.
Lyn didn't seem particularly impressed, either. "Excuse me?" she replied coolly.
The cavalryman just grinned at her and tipped his hat. "I don't suppose you could offer me your name, li'l missy? Or the pleasure of your company?"
Lyn tossed her head haughtily. "Shouldn't a soldier have a little more self-control? Where do you come from anyways, that they'd teach you such manners?"
Despite Lyn's frosty demeanor, it didn't seem to deter the soldier one bit.
"Thought you'd never ask, ma'am! I came here all the way from the plains of Las Sienna; the town of Sierra, to be exact. Home of the rootin'est, tootin'est cowpokes around!"
Lyn arched an eyebrow, in reply. "Don't you mean 'pigs in a poke?'"
At this, the cavalryman looked sheepish. "Aw, don't be like that, li'l darlin'..."
Ignoring him, Lyn spun on her heel, just in time to meet Mark's gaze. "Come on, Mark," she addressed him, under clenched teeth. "I have nothing more to say to this... This... So-called soldier."
"Wait!" cried out the cavalrymen, in dismay. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I..."
"Sain! What's going on here?" asked a severe voice.
Mark found himself looking back, to see another mounted cavalryman join his fellow soldier... Because of their identical navy uniforms, there wasn't much to identify one from the other, except the new soldier's red hair and red scarf tied around his shoulders; his companion, on the other hand, wore a green scarf.
"Ah, Kent, my ol' pardner!" greeted the green-scarfed soldier, in a pleasant drawl. "What's with the long face? You look more ornery than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs!"
"And why do you reckon that's so, Sain?" answered the other soldier hotly. "Gallivanting around again... You know we have our orders!"
"Sorry, Kent... I'm just a sucker for a pretty face, that's all."
"I know. And it's going to be the death of me..."
Lyn placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, you two..." As both soldiers looked down at her, she glared at each one, in turn. "I hate to interrupt your friendly conversation, but it seems you're blocking the road. If you two could kindly move your horses?"
"Certainly, ma'am. My apologies," replied the red-headed soldier politely. Both soldiers moved their horses then, allowing Lyn and Mark to them pass by.
Lyn then gave a curt nod to the cavalryman who had addressed her. "Thank you, sir... You, at least, seem to have some manners."
As she said this, the cavalryman gave her a long, hard stare. "Pardon me, ma'am," he began slowly, "but haven't I met you somewhere before?"
Lyn raised her eyebrows again. "Excuse me?"
At this remark, the other soldier couldn't seem to resist butting in. "Hey! C'mon, Kent, I saw her first!"
"Well!" Lyn sniffed to herself. "It seems no one in the cavalry can be trusted, can they? Come on, Mark... I've just about had my fill of these two!" She stormed off, with a reluctant Mark trailing behind her.
"Wait!" protested the soldier called Kent. "That's not what I meant!"
As the two civilians walked out of earshot, Kent found himself turning on his fellow soldier, in anger. "Now, look what you've done!"
Sain stared back at him. "What did I do? I was just sayin' I saw her first..."
"That's not the point! That's not what I meant when I said that... I reckon that... She might be the one we're looking for."
Sain's eyes widened. "What, her? Kent, you ain't serious, are ya?"
"Come on, we have to trail her!" Kent quickly clicked his heels to his horse's sides, and started to ride out of town.
"Say, are you sure about this?" asked Sain. It was then that he noticed his fellow soldier riding away.
"Hey, hold up there, pardner!" he cried out, as Sain urged his horse forward to catch up to Kent's lead.
***
"Honestly! Can you believe the nerve of those two!" stormed Lyn, as they rode away from Burning Gulch. "It's just like I've always said; you can never trust the cavalry!"
"I don't know," replied Mark, in a sceptical tone. "I don't think that other soldier was actually hitting on you... It was almost like..." He paused in thought. "He recognized you, or something."
Lyn snorted in disgust. "How would he recognize me? I've lived with the Lorca all my life!" She shook her head. "Come on, let's just get away from here, in case they follow us."
"Uh..." began Mark slowly. "I think there might be already somebody doing that..."
He turned his head. As Lyn followed his gaze, she could see a distinct cloud of dust trailing them, like that of a bunch of men on horseback riding behind them.
Lyn's eyes widened. "Is it those two cavalrymen?"
Mark squinted as he looked behind him. "I don't think so... There's too much dust being kicked up for it to be just two of them... And I don't think we've done anything to warrant the entire cavalry after us!"
His companion's expression hardened. "I wouldn't be too sure of that..." She then risked another glance over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
"No, I'm afraid it's worse... Bandits!" She had just spotted the bandanas pulled over their mouths, and the murderous gleams in their eyes.
Immediately, Lyn clicked her heels to her horse's side; Mark quickly followed her lead.
"Faster, Mark! They're gaining on us!" she cried out.
But it was no use; it was too late. In no time at all, the group of bandits had both of them surrounded.
Suddenly, the blaring of a trumpet call filled the desert air, catching both parties off-guard, and distracting the bandits momentarily.
"It's the cavalry come after us!" quaked one of the bandits, fearfully. Another, obviously the leader, smacked his companion on the shoulder in disgust.
"Don't be such a fool! There are only two of them; we can take 'em!" he snarled.
Mark and Lyn looked up, and recognized the cavalrymen they had run into earlier in Burning Gulch; the one in the green scarf was playing a charge in his bugle as he rode, with his redheaded companion hot on his heels.
Quickly, both cavalrymen manoevered their horses in front of the civilians in a protective fashion.
"Picking on a lady?" snapped the green-scarfed soldier to the bandits. "You're just a bunch of lily-livered cowards!"
Lyn stared at the cavalrymen in surprise. "You two again? But why--"
"No time to explain that now, ma'am," replied the redheaded soldier briskly. "Stand back! We can take care of these men for you."
"No! This is my fight!" protested Lyn, drawing her sword. "I won't be indebted to any cavalryman!"
"Listen, li'l missy," reasoned the other soldier, "we can't just stand by and do nothin', ya hear? We're the cavalry! We're supposed to come to people's rescue!"
As the plainswoman stubbornly set her jaw, Mark gave her sleeve a tenatative tug. "Uh, we could use the help, you know," he told her. "We are greatly outnumbered, and they do seem to know the territory better than we do..."
The redheaded soldier seemed to overhear this exchange. "Well, if you won't listen to us, then would you listen to your friend?" he queried, turning his attention to Mark.
"Huh?" said Mark, rather caught off guard.
"I reckon you have the look of a learned man," observed the soldier. He then glanced back at Lyn. "We will willingly follow orders from both of you, to the letter. Would you accept our aid, now, ma'am?"
"All right... You two follow our lead, then," replied Lyn, ignoring Mark's look of dismay. "Now, let's get those bandits!"
"Hmph!" sneered the leader of the bandits, causing everyone to turn to look at him. "You'll have to find us, first!" Immediately, all of the bandits scattered.
*****
"Whew, I can't believe we got out of that alive," gasped Mark.
"Sorry, we didn't get to introduce ourselves properly before," began Kent. "Like I said, my name is Kent Morgan, and my partner here is Sain Steele... As you can plainly see, we're both cavalrymen, but we actually come from a military outpost in Sierra."
"Sierra?" asked Mark. "But that's several miles away from where we are now... What are you two doing way out here?"
"We were sent on a mission to find someone," explained Sain.
"Find someone...?" began Lyn slowly.
Kent nodded. "We're looking for a Miss Madeline, who ran off with a plainsman several years ago."
Mark noticed Lyn's eyes widen, as Kent continued his explanation.
Apparently, both cavalrymen were sent by the Mayor of Sierra himself, in search of his daughter, Madeline. Since Madeline was the Mayor's only daughter, he had been so heartbroken at her departure long ago, that he eventually declared that he had no child.
According to Kent, the Mayor had just recently recieved a letter from Madeline, saying that she, her husband and her daughter were living happily on the Sacramento Plains.
"You should've seen the look on his face, ma'am, when he found out he was a grandfather," interrupted Sain, with a grin. "I've never seen the Mayor look so happy before..."
Kent nodded again, then fixed Lyn with a penetrating gaze. "His granddaughter's name is Lynette... This also happened to be the name of the Mayor's late wife, who died at an early age."
"Lynette..." said Lyn softly.
"It was his granddaughter's name that let the Mayor forgive his daughter," explained Sain. "He was hopin' that he could meet his daughter's family just once, but..."
The soldier trailed off, as Kent shook his head, sadly.
"We only learned shortly after we arrived at Burning Gulch that Miss Madeline died just after she wrote that letter..."
"But we also heard that her daughter was still alive, and livin' all by her lonesome on the plains," added Sain.
Kent continued to stare at Lyn, who had been avoiding his gaze.
"I reckoned I knew you the moment I saw you... You're Lynette Windrider, right?"
Lyn looked up, to meet his eyes. "Wha... What makes you say that?"
"Let's just say that you look a lot like your mother, ma'am..." explained Kent.
"What? You've met my mother?" asked Lyn.
Kent tugged at his hat sheepishly. "'Fraid not, ma'am... But I have seen photographs of her in the Mayor's office."
Chapter 3: Rounding Up the Posse
Despite the acquisition of Lyn's powerful new blade, and her obvious ability to defend herself, Kent insisted that they travel in formation, in order to protect her.
Fortunately (or so Mark thought), Lyn decided not to argue with him... So, now they travelled with Sain riding in front (he insisted on "taking point", as he put it), with Lyn and Mark riding side-by-side in the middle, and Kent bringing up the rear, where he could keep a watchful eye on them all.
Actually, Mark was somewhat grateful for the cavalryman's overprotectiveness, considering what happened to them so far... Also, he appreciated a little time alone with Lyn; there was something he had been meaning to ask her about...
"Excuse me, Miss Lynette..." he began.
"Please don't call me that," pleaded Lyn. "I get that enough from those two; I don't need it from you, as well."
"But you're a Mayor's daughter; it seem inappropriate to address you just as Lyn..."
"But when you first met me, I was still Lyn, and not a Mayor's daughter... Couldn't we just go back to that? Please?"
Mark paused for a moment. "Very well, then... Lyn," he conceded, a tad reluctantly. Shaking his head, he then pulled out his map from one of his saddlebags.
"Anyways... I've been meaning to ask you about this place..." As Mark unfolded the map, he pointed out a certain area on it. "This village, at the base of Wind Serpent Peak... Is it true what they say about it?"
Lyn craned her neck, to examine the map. "About El Rhea? Yeah, it's true," she said airily.
"You mean... About the tribe of fierce Amazonian warrior women who live there?" continued Mark eagerly. "I've heard that their steeds are as pure as the driven snow, and are as fleet as the wind..." He then trailed off.
"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I must sound like an enthusiastic young schoolboy to you, don't I...?"
"No, no, I find your enthusiasm kind of refreshing, actually," replied Lyn, as she tried to hold back her laughter. At this, Mark fought back a blush.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you," apologized Lyn. "It's just that... The El Rheans happen to be more like mercenaries, rather than warriors; they tend to form posses and hire themselves out as bounty hunters, more than anything else," she explained.
"Oh, okay," replied Mark, still embarassed about his misinformation.
Lyn seemed to sense this. "You were right about the El Rhean horses, though," she told him reassuringly. "I've seen one up close, and their speed and beauty rival any horse from the plains."
Mark seemed to perk up at this. "So, you've actually seen one before?"
Lyn nodded. "In fact, I happen to know one of those 'warrior women' personally," she added.
"Really?" asked Mark, sounding eager once again. "What's she like?"
"Ah, well..." began Lyn slowly, "She's not as fierce as you might think..."
***
"Hold it right there, li'l missy! Where do you think you're going?"
In the burnt-out husk of a town just recently razed to the ground, a petite figure gripped the reins of her pure white horse protectively, as she was menaced by two bandits.
"Please, senor..." said the young girl timidly. "It was an accident, si?"
"Such a sweet little thing," leered the other bandit. "Shame to let her go to waste..."
"Well, she ran me over with her horse," growled the thug. "And I'm gonna take it out of her hide!"
The other outlaw then turned his attention to the girl's impressive-looking mount.
"So what should we do with her horse?" he asked.
At this, the girl's eyes flared. "Do not lay a finger on him, senor!"
"You watch your tongue, girlie!" snapped the first bandit.
The girl clasped her hands in front of her, and gave the outlaws an imploring look.
"Please, I beg of you... Do not harm him! You can do anything you want to me!"
The first bandit, obviously the leader, gave a short bark of laughter. "Nice try, missy, but everyone knows that El Rhean horses are incredibly rare, and incredibly expensive... Even more than your worthless hide! Now, give me that horse!"
He made a grab for the reins in the girl's hands, but the young woman just managed to elude his grasp.
Chapter 5: Across the Border
***
The gunman known as Erk Horn rode silently, letting his horse plod slowly through the wilderness. He was a stoic man by nature, but he was even more so now than usual... Though that might have been due to the nature of his travelling companion.
"I do declare, you are the worst escort it has ever been my misfortune to encounter... Are we lost again?" said a petulant female voice behind him.
Erk sighed heavily to himself. "Ma'am, you chose this path," he pointed out.
"My dear sir, I'm sure I would've picked the correct path, and not have misled us..."
The gunman found himself once again cursing the fate that had brought him to this time and place... He would still have been in Atlas Ridge, probably continuing his own studies, had not the Marshall of that county taken him aside, to have a word with him.
"Listen, Erk..." the Marshall had told him, frankly. "You have a gift; that of incredible marksmanship. You can't let it go to waste around here; you've got to go out there and use it, to protect the weak and the innocent... Do you understand me?"
Erk owed a lot to the Marshall and his wife, so he respected the man's words, and set off into world... But Erk highly suspected that when the man had told him to 'protect the weak and innocent', he would not have counted on meeting Sister Serra.
The aforementioned nun rode on a mule a few paces behind Erk, a choice of mount that the sister had not been pleased about; however, it was the only mount with an even enough temper to put up with its rider. Erk found it rather appropriate for her, actually... Though he would normally never say so aloud.
However, after several seemingly-neverending days of riding in the company of the nun, the gunman's temper was wearing thin... And he now felt that he had held his tongue long enough.
"Look, lady..." began Erk, behind gritted teeth, "When I took this job, they didn't tell me nothin' about you..."
Serra's eyes narrowed. "What do mean by that, sir?"
"I was told that I was hired to protect a sister of St. Elimine," he explained.
"And I am that sister," sniffed the nun, fanning herself haughtily with her prayerbook. "And as you well know, I am nothing but a helpless Southern belle..."
"Helpless? You?" Erk snorted. "Lady, you don't need no protection from me... Any outlaw who'd spend five minutes in your company would gladly turn himself in for the reward money!"
The gunman's voice then softened, and turned pleading. "Listen, ma'am... We ain't that far from Austin City, now... Couldn't you just ride there the rest of the way, by yourself? I'll even give you back the money you paid me!"
The nun set her jaw. "My dear sir, I'll have you know that I am a Hollingsworth... And no Hollingsworth lady would be caught dead without a male escort! Besides, you just happen to be presentable enough to be a suitable travelling companion, Mr. Horn, despite how boorish and ill-mannered you truly are..."
"Hmph. I could say the same thing about you, lady," grumbled Erk under his breath.
"What was that, Mr. Horn?" asked Serra archly.
"Nothin'." He heaved another sigh. "I can't believe you're making me take you all the way to Austin City..."
"What are you going on about? Honestly, perhaps I could've found an escort with a sunnier disposition..." The sister then cocked her head to one side.
"Hmmm? I do believe I hear something amiss... Come, Mr. Erk, we should go check it out!" She quickly clicked her heels to the side of her mount, and rode off.
Erk groaned and followed her, muttering, "What a surprise, she goes looking for trouble. Sweet Elimine, I don't get paid enough to do this..."
***
The gunman managed to catch up with Serra, to find her and her mule standing near the edge of a small cliff, watching as some sort of fight went on down below.
"Is that a gunfight?" The nun placed a hand over her chest, as if she might swoon. "I do declare, that makes my heart go all a-flutter!"
Disgusted, Erk moved his horse in front of Serra, effectively blocking the young woman's view of the fight.
"How dare you, sir!"
"Would you hush up, lady?" he snapped. "Do you want those bandits to hear us?"
"But look at that girl fighting all those outlaws!" she told him, pointing down below. The nun then placed her hands on her hips.
"You aren't afraid a few old bandits, are you, Mr. Erk? And you call yourself a hired gun... Do you even know how to use those six-shooters you wear?"
The gunman was just about to make a cutting remark, when one of the outlaws happened to overhear their argument.
"Hey! You two!"
Erk placed a hand to his head. "Oh, great..."
For the first time in his life, Erk seriously considered turning his guns on a clergyman, despite the fact he was certain that St. Elimine would not appreciate him shooting one of her followers... No matter how irritating he found them.
However, this was a probably a bad time to be contemplating that course of action, as the bandit that had spotted them had just began to charge... Causing Serra to let out a piercing shriek.
Erk clapped a hand over his ear. "Gah! If I protect you from that man, would you stop screaming? Honestly!" Quickly, the gunman dismounted his horse, pulled out his trusty six-shooters and prepared to fight for his life.
***
Lyn looked up, from the bandit she just defeated. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" asked Mark, who was hanging back uneasily behind her.
"A woman's scream... It came from over there!" said the plainswoman, pointing.
Mark furrowed his brow, in uncertainty. "We'd better check it out..."
The two ran over to the source of the disturbance, just in time to hear a couple of gunshots pierce the air, and causing both of them to quicken their pace.
As the pair finally reached their destination, they overheard a disgruntled female voice murmur, "Huh. I guess your reputation as a gunfighter isn't completely unfounded, Mr. Erk..."
Mark and Lyn found themselves face-to-face with an odd couple indeed; a pink-haired nun dressed in white robes (that would've been pristine had she not been travelling for days) trying to look dignified as she sat on a mule... In front of her, stood a violet-haired young man dressed in a long brown trenchcoat, holding a pair of smoking six-shooters. At his feet, lay one of the bandits, quite obviously dead.
Lyn found herself coughing politely. "Uh, excuse me..."
Both strangers looked up at this; the gunman in particular twirled his guns and placed them back in his holsters.
"Yes, madam?" replied the nun, as she tried to compose herself.
"Why were you fighting this outlaw?" enquired Lyn.
"It just... Happened that way," answered the gunfighter.
"It most certainly did not!" protested his companion hotly. "That... Vicious brute thought we were a part of your gang! How dare you drag us into this position, as well!"
The gunman rolled his eyes. "Sister Serra," he began impatiently, "this never would've have happened in the first place, if you didn't decide to stick your nose in other people's business!"
He tipped his hat politely to Lyn, as Serra turned away in a huff. "My apologies, ma'am... We'll be on our way, now."
"But... Won't those men be after you two, as well?" asked Mark.
"I can't help but feel partly responsible for what happened to you," added Lyn, with a twinge of guilt. "Why not join our group? We could use your help in getting rid of these bandits."
The nun seemed to mull this over. "Yes, that does sound like a good idea..." She waved a hand airily at the gunfighter. "Erk, be a l'il darlin' and help these two out, won't you?"
"What?" he protested. Then, the gunman looked resigned. "Oh, fine, then... But I'm not doing this because you're telling me to, lady."
"Believe whatever you want, honeysuckle..."
At this, Mark and Lyn couldn't help exchanging a uneasy glance at each other... What kind of characters had they invited to join them, now?
Chapter 6: Pride of the Plains
***
Inside one of the houses, one of the townspeople studiously ignored commotion outside. It was probably safer that way... Besides, she was just a tired, old woman.
Suddenly, there was a knock on her door... Reluctantly, the old woman got up from her comfortable seat by the fireplace to go answer it.
She opened the door, to come face-to-face of a grinning young man, dressed in the gaudy suit of a travelling salesman.
"Hello there, ma'am!" he beamed. "The name is Matthew Sharper, and I've come here today to sell you this magic Elixir!" He brandished a blue bottle before him. "Good for curing those aches and pains, or whatever else should ail you!"
The old woman shook her head. "I'm sorry young man, but I'm just not interested in your wares today-- Hey, what are you doing?"
The young man had just shoved his way inside the house, and was now taking a peek out her window.
"You can't come in here!" she protested. "That's it, I'm going to call going to call the Sheriff on you, young man!"
The salesman held up his hands. "Peace, old lady... I'm sorry I had to deceive you, but I just wanted a safe view of what was happening outside... I'll even pay you for it!"
"Pay me, huh...?" asked the woman. "Hmph, suit yourself... I'm going down to the cellar, where it's nice and quiet." She started heading towards the back room, muttering, "Children these days... No respect for their elders..."
Matthew watched her leave. "Now that she's gone..." He opened the satchel he had brought with him, and began rummaging around in it.
"I'd better change into my working clothes," he murmured to himself. "I have a feeling that my other skills might be needed here, shortly..."
Chapter 7: The Drifters
Castle Rock was a relatively quiet town on the plains of Las Sierra, though it was occasionally enlivened by the presence of the Burning Brand saloon, in the heart of town.
As the image of a blazing iron brand hung over its swinging doors, a melancholy melody spilled out of the darkened saloon, and into the dusty streets.
"I'm just a lonesome, little girl,
All alone in this great, big world..."
A pale girl with long, flowing hair currently stood upon the saloon's stage, slowly belting out a old country song... However, despite the sad tune, the men in the bar still hooted and and hollered after the young woman's singing performance.
As the young woman curtseyed, the owner of the saloon, who was standing in the wings, slowly shook his head.... He then motioned to a young boy sitting on a stool nearby.
"All right, Nils, you're up next!"
The young man, who was in the process of tuning his fiddle, quickly nodded and slid off his seat. As he headed towards the stage, he happened to pass by the other performer.
"Nice performance, as usual, sis," he told her, with a smile.
"Thanks you, Nils," she replied demurely. "Good luck out there!"
She caught his hand in a quick, firm grip, before retiring to the wings.
As the singer headed past the saloon owner, the man gestured impatiently at her... Reluctantly, the young woman walked up to him.
"Listen, Ninian," the owner began. "I'll admit that you're a great singer, but... Geez, girl! Must you always sing such sad songs? You know, the men like a little more variety in their music every now and then!"
The young woman looked downcast. "I'm afraid those are all the songs I know, sir..."
The saloon owner shook his head. "Well, at least your brother understands how to liven up the crowd," he said grumpily.
Ninian looked up towards the stage, where her brother was playing a catchy tune with his fiddle... Though the men in the saloon were happily stomping and clapping to the music, the light-hearted tone of Nils's music didn't match the worried expression on the fiddler's face.
The young woman could understand his concern... Still, no one had come looking for them for days, now... Perhaps they were safe here.
As she continued to stand in the wings and watch her brother perform, Ninian caught an odd movement out of the corner of her eye. As she glanced in that direction, she noticed with some dismay that a few rough-looking men had just entered the bar, and had pointed directly at Nils.
"Run, Nils!" she yelled to him, just before the first shot rang out.
Fortunately, her brother managed to dive for the opposite wing of the stage, in the nick of time... Just as the saloon's toughs began a shoving match with the men who attacked Nils.
Ninian breathed a sigh of relief, but only momentarily... She and Nils had to get out of this place; it was no longer safe here!
She turned to leave, only to run into something solid; as she looked up, she realized with a sinking feeling that she had ran straight into one of the men who was looking for them.
The young woman had just enough time to register the man's fist aimed towards her head, before darkness overcame her.
***
Nils lay flat on the floor of the stage's wing, grateful for his sister's warning; he was concentrating so hard on his music, that he had neglected to look out for trouble.
He had just picked himself off the floor and turned around, only to see an unnamed ruffian sling an unconscious Ninian over his shoulder, and run into the shadows of the opposite wing.
"Ninian!" screamed Nils. He made to run after his sister, but was stopped as someone grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.
"Let me go! Let me go! I have to save my sister!" he yelled. Nils managed to drag his assailant halfway across the stage before they suddenly released him, causing the fiddler to lose his balance and fall to the ground again.
Nils managed to roll himself over, a bit dazed, only to confront the angry gaze of the saloon owner glaring down at him.
"How dare you bring trouble into my place! Get out!" bellowed the owner.
"But... My sister!" protested Nils.
"If I had known that you and your sister would bring those kind of men around here, I would never have let you work here in the first place! Now, get out of my saloon!"
Dejectedly, the fiddler picked himself off the floor, along with his instrument, which had miraculously survived all the excitement... He then slowly walked out the swinging doors of the saloon, as the other people in the bar pointedly ignored him.
However, little did Nils realize he was still being observed; by a figure sitting in the far corner of the bar, who was dressed in long, black robes, and a flat, wide-brimmed hat.
"Hmmm..."
The bartender, seemly unperturbed by the commotion (as it happened every day), politely wiped the counter in front of the solitary figure.
"Top off your tonic water, Padre?" asked the bartender respectfully.
The dark-robed priest shook his head. "No, that's okay." He placed a couple of dollars on the counter. "This should cover my tab, barkeep... And your trouble."
The young man then politely tipped his hat to the bartender, smiled, and walked out of the saloon.
As the priest left, the bartender stood stock-still for a moment, blinking... He had a caught a glimpse of the priest's face as he tipped his hat, and the man found himself thinking that was the prettiest young man he had ever seen...
The bartender shook his head, and dismissed the thought from his mind. He was a religious person at heart, and it definitely wasn't right, thinking about a holy man like that...
*****
I should not enjoy rewriting the Fire Emblem script so much, but I do... ^_^;
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I think I liked Ninian and Nilus' apperances because while the scene was very suited for the game, it didn't actually appear within the game, so it wasn't like I was reading something I already knew, I guess? Or something?
(I read through it 3 times and I can't find the spoilered RAWR)
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(You just have to keep up with Mexican!Florina, seriously, I love it. Maybe ask in
(Any word on what you're doing pairing-wise yet?)
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Sadly, I don't intend on putting in any pairings yet, as I plan on focusing only on Lyn's story, so far (and that will be a daunting enough task, considering the usual length of my stories @_@). Curse my short attention span...
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