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I've been bit by the writing bug again... I actually haven't finished this chapter yet, but I'm posting it so it will encourage me to write more. -_-;
Yep, it's an old story... But at least I've finally started on the first chapter. :P (I went back and fixed the formatting, too.)
It's Fire Emblem like you've never seen it before... Set in a Western!
*****
(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
Prologue: Lost in the Wilderness
The sun's rays shone down upon the vast dustbowl of the Sacramento Plains, far below. From this distance, it seemed barren; but as the view drew closer, a tiny figure could be seen traversing the plains, kicking up a trail of dust behind it. As it drew even closer, a larger cloud of dust could be seen following it, in an almost ominous manner...
***
Mark's breath came in harsh gasps, as he urged his horse to go faster. The outlaws on his tail were almost upon him now; it was only his riding ability which had not allowed them to catch him, thus far.
They had not been expecting him to be such a good horseman, being the mere city slicker that he was; however, they actually knew the layout of the land, while Mark had no clue where he was going. He sensed that they were just chasing him into the heart of the desert, where he would finally tire, surround him and... The young man shuddered.
As the sun beat down upon him, he could only curse his own foolishness for bringing him to this time and place...
***
For as long as he could remember, Mark Alexander had been fascinated with the concept of the Wild West. When he was younger, he used to hide dime store novels detailing adventures of the wild frontier from his parents, who thought his obsession to be childish. But he never grew out of it, as his parents hoped; in fact, his major in university was current history, with a specific focus on the vast state of El Libre, way out west.
For the Wild West was still alive in his world, and he had always wanted to see it; the plainmen living peacefully in their teepees, the cavalry riding in to save townspeople from a band of outlaws, showdowns between gunslingers in abandoned ghost towns... In his imagination, he could see and almost taste these adventures... Adventures he would never see here, in the the big city, way back east.
So, he had formulated a plan... For months now, Mark had been tutoring fellow students, to save up enough money so he could buy a train ticket that would take him out West (although his parents were wealthy, and could certainly afford such a thing, he knew they would never allow it). He honed his riding skills so that we would be able to traverse the vast plains of El Libre with ease (riding was one of the few lessons his parents insisted upon, yet he actually enjoyed, as it gave him a sense of freedom he felt he lacked elsewhere).
And now, Mark had enough money to buy the ticket. Although he was not the type who would defy his parents by nature (quite the opposite, actually), the lure of the Wild West was too great... With a twinge of guilt, he bought the ticket, then went home and packed some of his belongings into a single carpetbag. Then, writing an apologetic note to his parents that bid them a fond farewell, he left his home and went out to board a train that would take him out west... And towards adventure.
***
So, here he was.
Mark had just stepped off the train... He had set aside enough money to take him to the stop that was just across the border of the state of El Libre, and that was here, in the town of Burnt.
There wasn't much to look at here, truth be told, apart from the train station itself. It merely contained the ticket booth, a wooden front to keep the sun off waiting passengers, and an old codger drowsing on a bench nearby. Past that, was a vast amount of dusty desert, cacti, and the sun beating down relentlessly from above. Standing in his drab olive suit, and clutching his carpetbag, Mark felt like a bit of a fool.
He sighed, adjusted the brown bowler hat upon his head, and stepped out. Behind him, the whistle blew as the engine chugged off into the distance.
Mark approached the napping old man with trepidation.
"Excuse me... Sir?"
The old man awoke with a bunch of unpleasant snorts.
"Wha? What it is, young whippersnapper?" he answered grumpily.
"I'm sorry to disturb your nap," replied Mark politely, "but I was wondering... Do you know where I can buy a horse around here?"
The old man's eyes widened. "A horse? A horse would be doing you no good around these parts, young whippersnapper... You'll be wanting to take the coach."
"No, I think I'd prefer a horse," said Mark firmly. He came all this way to explore the West, he thought, not the watch the scenery from a coach.
The old man gave him a penetrating gaze that made the younger man uncomfortable, then sighed.
"Suit yourself, young'un," he replied, finally. "There's a horse dealer just down the road, here; mind you, don't let 'em hornswaggle ya. Tell 'em ol' Zeke sent ya."
"Thank you, sir," answered Mark gratefully, tipping his hat.
"Mmph." The old man pulled his hat over his eyes; snores soon emanated from beneath it.
As Mark walked off, the old man lifted his hat to watch the young man go, and shook his head sadly.
***
Mark managed to purchase a horse from the dealer the old man mentioned, and actually paid a reasonable price for it. He knew he'd be tagged as a "city slicker", and indeed, was charged an outrageous price at first, but Mark knew how to judge horseflesh, and the dealer, an honest man at heart, lowered the price when he realized the young man knew what he was looking for.
"So where are you headed to, stranger?" asked the horse dealer, as he helped Mark pack the provisions that he also purchased.
"I'm not sure yet," mused the young man, as he adjusted a couple of straps on the saddle. "What's the nearest town I can ride to?"
"Asides from Burnt? I guess it'd be Phoenix Rise; that's west of here, in La Sienna county."
"Further west? That sounds good," replied Mark enthusiatically. The dealer raised an eyebrow.
"A young man like yourself shouldn't be heading out into the desert alone," he warned. "There are bandits out there."
"I think I'll be okay," said Mark assuredly. "I doubt I have anything a bandit would want."
The horse dealer sighed. "Suit yourself, young'un. Can't say I didn't warn you." He helped Mark mount up, then watched as the young man rode off towards the desert.
***
It occurred to Mark now, that he really should've listened to the locals' warnings... It was foolish for him to think that bandits would ignore a horseman travelling alone, especially when he had enough money to buy a horse in the first place... It meant he was easy pickings.
He had been fortunate enough to realize what the thundering hooves behind him had meant, after he had been riding for a while; the feeling of being followed was hard to ignore, as well as the malicious intent behind it. As the realization dawned upon him, he had quickly quickened the pace of his horse to a gallop; the bandits, not expecting this from their prey, reacted too late. By then, Mark had a sizable lead on them... But he knew it couldn't last forever.
And now, Mark knew his luck was running out. His grip on the reins had slackened, his seat in the saddle was slipping, and his horse was lathered with sweat. The sun was beating on him mercilessly from above, making him delirious with heat... Mark knew it only a matter of time before he fell unconscious completely, and then the predators would move in.
He clutched his bowler hat to his head, in hopes that somehow it would block the sun's rays, if but briefly... It was then that landscape before him changed somewhat; from barren desert, wavering in the heat, to a forest of oddly pointy objects, in the distance.
They couldn't be trees, not out here, thought Mark muzzily. As they drew closer, it looked like a cluster of... Tents? The heat must really be getting to him now...
It was when he rode into the midst of these strange tents that he finally lost control completely. As he slid off the saddle into unconsciousness, he had just enough time to register a figure stepping out of one of the tents, a flash of metal, and the sound of hooves pounding to a stop around him...
***
Mark awoke to the feeling of something cold and wet being pressed to his forehead.
TO BE CONTINUED...
*****
I feel like Mark's intro is too long, but maybe that's because I'm used to writing short stories. (I also think he's being way too naive in this, but I'm not sure it can be helped. XP)
Naturally, I stopped where the game script cuts in (probably because that's where it's stops being original). I'm really gonna try and finish this first chapter ASAP, however... I've had Chapter 2 partially written for a while now, so if I finished the first one, maybe it will encourage me to finish the second.
Yep, it's an old story... But at least I've finally started on the first chapter. :P (I went back and fixed the formatting, too.)
It's Fire Emblem like you've never seen it before... Set in a Western!
*****
(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
Prologue: Lost in the Wilderness
The sun's rays shone down upon the vast dustbowl of the Sacramento Plains, far below. From this distance, it seemed barren; but as the view drew closer, a tiny figure could be seen traversing the plains, kicking up a trail of dust behind it. As it drew even closer, a larger cloud of dust could be seen following it, in an almost ominous manner...
***
Mark's breath came in harsh gasps, as he urged his horse to go faster. The outlaws on his tail were almost upon him now; it was only his riding ability which had not allowed them to catch him, thus far.
They had not been expecting him to be such a good horseman, being the mere city slicker that he was; however, they actually knew the layout of the land, while Mark had no clue where he was going. He sensed that they were just chasing him into the heart of the desert, where he would finally tire, surround him and... The young man shuddered.
As the sun beat down upon him, he could only curse his own foolishness for bringing him to this time and place...
***
For as long as he could remember, Mark Alexander had been fascinated with the concept of the Wild West. When he was younger, he used to hide dime store novels detailing adventures of the wild frontier from his parents, who thought his obsession to be childish. But he never grew out of it, as his parents hoped; in fact, his major in university was current history, with a specific focus on the vast state of El Libre, way out west.
For the Wild West was still alive in his world, and he had always wanted to see it; the plainmen living peacefully in their teepees, the cavalry riding in to save townspeople from a band of outlaws, showdowns between gunslingers in abandoned ghost towns... In his imagination, he could see and almost taste these adventures... Adventures he would never see here, in the the big city, way back east.
So, he had formulated a plan... For months now, Mark had been tutoring fellow students, to save up enough money so he could buy a train ticket that would take him out West (although his parents were wealthy, and could certainly afford such a thing, he knew they would never allow it). He honed his riding skills so that we would be able to traverse the vast plains of El Libre with ease (riding was one of the few lessons his parents insisted upon, yet he actually enjoyed, as it gave him a sense of freedom he felt he lacked elsewhere).
And now, Mark had enough money to buy the ticket. Although he was not the type who would defy his parents by nature (quite the opposite, actually), the lure of the Wild West was too great... With a twinge of guilt, he bought the ticket, then went home and packed some of his belongings into a single carpetbag. Then, writing an apologetic note to his parents that bid them a fond farewell, he left his home and went out to board a train that would take him out west... And towards adventure.
***
So, here he was.
Mark had just stepped off the train... He had set aside enough money to take him to the stop that was just across the border of the state of El Libre, and that was here, in the town of Burnt.
There wasn't much to look at here, truth be told, apart from the train station itself. It merely contained the ticket booth, a wooden front to keep the sun off waiting passengers, and an old codger drowsing on a bench nearby. Past that, was a vast amount of dusty desert, cacti, and the sun beating down relentlessly from above. Standing in his drab olive suit, and clutching his carpetbag, Mark felt like a bit of a fool.
He sighed, adjusted the brown bowler hat upon his head, and stepped out. Behind him, the whistle blew as the engine chugged off into the distance.
Mark approached the napping old man with trepidation.
"Excuse me... Sir?"
The old man awoke with a bunch of unpleasant snorts.
"Wha? What it is, young whippersnapper?" he answered grumpily.
"I'm sorry to disturb your nap," replied Mark politely, "but I was wondering... Do you know where I can buy a horse around here?"
The old man's eyes widened. "A horse? A horse would be doing you no good around these parts, young whippersnapper... You'll be wanting to take the coach."
"No, I think I'd prefer a horse," said Mark firmly. He came all this way to explore the West, he thought, not the watch the scenery from a coach.
The old man gave him a penetrating gaze that made the younger man uncomfortable, then sighed.
"Suit yourself, young'un," he replied, finally. "There's a horse dealer just down the road, here; mind you, don't let 'em hornswaggle ya. Tell 'em ol' Zeke sent ya."
"Thank you, sir," answered Mark gratefully, tipping his hat.
"Mmph." The old man pulled his hat over his eyes; snores soon emanated from beneath it.
As Mark walked off, the old man lifted his hat to watch the young man go, and shook his head sadly.
***
Mark managed to purchase a horse from the dealer the old man mentioned, and actually paid a reasonable price for it. He knew he'd be tagged as a "city slicker", and indeed, was charged an outrageous price at first, but Mark knew how to judge horseflesh, and the dealer, an honest man at heart, lowered the price when he realized the young man knew what he was looking for.
"So where are you headed to, stranger?" asked the horse dealer, as he helped Mark pack the provisions that he also purchased.
"I'm not sure yet," mused the young man, as he adjusted a couple of straps on the saddle. "What's the nearest town I can ride to?"
"Asides from Burnt? I guess it'd be Phoenix Rise; that's west of here, in La Sienna county."
"Further west? That sounds good," replied Mark enthusiatically. The dealer raised an eyebrow.
"A young man like yourself shouldn't be heading out into the desert alone," he warned. "There are bandits out there."
"I think I'll be okay," said Mark assuredly. "I doubt I have anything a bandit would want."
The horse dealer sighed. "Suit yourself, young'un. Can't say I didn't warn you." He helped Mark mount up, then watched as the young man rode off towards the desert.
***
It occurred to Mark now, that he really should've listened to the locals' warnings... It was foolish for him to think that bandits would ignore a horseman travelling alone, especially when he had enough money to buy a horse in the first place... It meant he was easy pickings.
He had been fortunate enough to realize what the thundering hooves behind him had meant, after he had been riding for a while; the feeling of being followed was hard to ignore, as well as the malicious intent behind it. As the realization dawned upon him, he had quickly quickened the pace of his horse to a gallop; the bandits, not expecting this from their prey, reacted too late. By then, Mark had a sizable lead on them... But he knew it couldn't last forever.
And now, Mark knew his luck was running out. His grip on the reins had slackened, his seat in the saddle was slipping, and his horse was lathered with sweat. The sun was beating on him mercilessly from above, making him delirious with heat... Mark knew it only a matter of time before he fell unconscious completely, and then the predators would move in.
He clutched his bowler hat to his head, in hopes that somehow it would block the sun's rays, if but briefly... It was then that landscape before him changed somewhat; from barren desert, wavering in the heat, to a forest of oddly pointy objects, in the distance.
They couldn't be trees, not out here, thought Mark muzzily. As they drew closer, it looked like a cluster of... Tents? The heat must really be getting to him now...
It was when he rode into the midst of these strange tents that he finally lost control completely. As he slid off the saddle into unconsciousness, he had just enough time to register a figure stepping out of one of the tents, a flash of metal, and the sound of hooves pounding to a stop around him...
***
Mark awoke to the feeling of something cold and wet being pressed to his forehead.
TO BE CONTINUED...
*****
I feel like Mark's intro is too long, but maybe that's because I'm used to writing short stories. (I also think he's being way too naive in this, but I'm not sure it can be helped. XP)
Naturally, I stopped where the game script cuts in (probably because that's where it's stops being original). I'm really gonna try and finish this first chapter ASAP, however... I've had Chapter 2 partially written for a while now, so if I finished the first one, maybe it will encourage me to finish the second.
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I remmeber this. XD
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