In a war that turns on the whims of gods and dragons, where spears that cleave countries and mages who bend the heavens to their will are fielded like footsoldiers... somebody still has to find the whetstones that work on blades made of shadows and source the hardtack that the werewolves and noblemen will both be willing to eat. Unfortunately, that's you.
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Cold Open 1
Lord Oleander looked down at the weapon in his hands, a brutal thing of bone and shadows, an awful thing built only for war. He hated even having to hold it, much less use it. Not on people who had once been his countrymen. Who would have once been his friends. But he would. He would grip it tight and call upon all the power it possessed. One look at the maiden behind him told him all he needed to know about its necessity. Her dance compelled him onwards. Her voice soothed his heart and called him to action. With the goddess' blessing, maybe one day they would
*THWACK*
A mop hit him over the head for a third time, held by the angry commoner currently giving him a dressing down.
You.
"Hey moron! Questions have answers! I asked how in the name of all seven gods did you manage to BREAK A WEAPON OF LEGEND IN A SINGLE BATTLE!" You thwack him a fourth time, beating him out of the flashback that every soldier these days seems to think is a substitute for using their words.
"Well, erm, our foe was very vicious, so I had to call upon its secret art multiple times," he answers, rubbing the back of his head with an armor clad arm. Although whether it's contrition or if he just has a headache after so many hits you can't quite tell.
You hit him again to confirm.
"The battle barely had enough time for the enemy to take 2 steps, try again."
"No! Honestly, I just... I thought I was tired after using the secret art the first time, but one look at my beloved's eyes as she danced for me and I was ready again, ready to... even so much as kill again..." he gulped, looking horrified at himself for the violence he committed.
He was not contrite about the correct part, as far as you were concerned. "Okay, milord, I respect that the battle is both dangerous and a great time to get maudlin, but I need you to understand. These weapons have been around for thousands of years. Most people -freak out- when they even see them. Some of them move on their own or even have a corruptive aura that drives lesser men to madness. Does that sound like something you should wear to shrapnel over the course of a single battle?"
"...But, you can fix them, right? The tactician assured me you could fix them," the lord honestly looked a little lost, like a confused puppy.
It made it much harder to kick him out. "Just... give me the stupid spear. And try to stop taking it for granted."
You sigh, accepting the damaged remains of the legendary artifact you had been pretty sure had been made up as a teenager, riiiight up until the point it turned out your job was fixing it every bloody week as an adult.
Sometimes you hated your job.
You definitely hated your boss.
"Ho, Quartermaster! Replenish our batallions," they say, like it's just one button you push. You're not even sure they've differentiated between the casualties who need medical care and the fatalities who need a whole ass recruitment drive.
"Ho, Quartermaster! See to it that these weapons are ready for battle by next month at the latest," they say, handing you the stolen wealth of several nations with wildly different forging traditions and a bag of "steel" that occasionally tries to bite you.
"Ho, Quartermaster! Run to the store and purchase a few tomes that call meteors from the very heavens, we only have about ten minutes before battle starts so you'll need to be quite quick about it."
Fucker.
But you do it, every time. The proverbial stomach the army marches on. That's you.
The so-called tactician who gets all the glory, though, that's…
[ ] Some no-name freak in a sheet
A.K.A. A the Speedrunner
They don't have a gender, they don't have a name, they don't have any connection to reality, and you could probably kick their ass. Only problem is they're fucking insane and their strategies appear to break reality. Stuff like betting on a 3/10 chance five times a day, fielding exclusively cavalry even when trying to hold a single indoor point, or warping into the enemy stronghold just kinda hoping that assassinating the general will let you get off scot free even when surrounded entirely by all his most loyal troops. The only problem is -it keeps working!- No matter how asinine their strategy, it seems to get them through perfectly, to the point that everybody else seems awed by their 'speed over all' mindset. You agree that being on a battlefield kind of sucks but you feel like there has to be a better answer than… whatever the fuck it is they're doing that lets them get away with this.
[ ] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
A.K.A. Rylean the Dragon-Child
Oh they have no memories, oh they came out of nowhere with their amazing sword skills, weird ass superpowers, impossibly perfect body and REALLY stupid hair. Nevermind they coincide with like, nine prophecies, yeah, nothing suspicious going on there at all. Totally qualified to lead an army for reasons other than magic. Just check all the… nothing… they know about day to day running an army or all the… nothing… they're aware of about how the peasantry operates.
[ ] Mr. Too Stoic for Real Work
A.K.A. Kelm the Swordsman
Grrr, truth is found only on the battlefield, you'll get no sympathy from me, the big sword lets -me- hold it and I've needed -something- swordlike for so long so I'm gonna go a little wild with it. He's actually not a complete embarrassment when it comes to the drudgework, but that almost makes it worse, there aren't any failings obvious enough to puncture their self-satisfied aura and they're always so happy to micromanage because of course they could have found a better blacksmith.
[ ] A Sad Baby With a Sword
A.K.A. Marika the Unproven
Okay who let the child in the army. While really good with a rapier and… going to own your ass someday because MONARCHY, this person is clearly not experienced enough with -anything- to be out here. To their credit they're impeccably moral, but only because they're naive enough to have not faced anything truly threatening to it yet. Also they have, just, the shrillest voice.
[ ] The Walking Fraternization Policy Violation
A.K.A. Sigrin the Romantic
War is not a singles mixer. This doesn't really seem like a hard concept to you, but it's certainly not something they've ever considered. The sheer amount of matchmaking and flirting going on isn't just uncomfortable, it's… well okay it's mostly uncomfortable. Especially since you're the one who has to purchase the eugenics textbooks. It seems well intentioned most of the time, you've not heard complaints from the soldiers. But you dread the day when you get appointed to 'couples duty'. And to think, you got excited when you heard you'd be working under a shipping expert.
*THWACK*
A mop hit him over the head for a third time, held by the angry commoner currently giving him a dressing down.
You.
"Hey moron! Questions have answers! I asked how in the name of all seven gods did you manage to BREAK A WEAPON OF LEGEND IN A SINGLE BATTLE!" You thwack him a fourth time, beating him out of the flashback that every soldier these days seems to think is a substitute for using their words.
"Well, erm, our foe was very vicious, so I had to call upon its secret art multiple times," he answers, rubbing the back of his head with an armor clad arm. Although whether it's contrition or if he just has a headache after so many hits you can't quite tell.
You hit him again to confirm.
"The battle barely had enough time for the enemy to take 2 steps, try again."
"No! Honestly, I just... I thought I was tired after using the secret art the first time, but one look at my beloved's eyes as she danced for me and I was ready again, ready to... even so much as kill again..." he gulped, looking horrified at himself for the violence he committed.
He was not contrite about the correct part, as far as you were concerned. "Okay, milord, I respect that the battle is both dangerous and a great time to get maudlin, but I need you to understand. These weapons have been around for thousands of years. Most people -freak out- when they even see them. Some of them move on their own or even have a corruptive aura that drives lesser men to madness. Does that sound like something you should wear to shrapnel over the course of a single battle?"
"...But, you can fix them, right? The tactician assured me you could fix them," the lord honestly looked a little lost, like a confused puppy.
It made it much harder to kick him out. "Just... give me the stupid spear. And try to stop taking it for granted."
You sigh, accepting the damaged remains of the legendary artifact you had been pretty sure had been made up as a teenager, riiiight up until the point it turned out your job was fixing it every bloody week as an adult.
Sometimes you hated your job.
You definitely hated your boss.
"Ho, Quartermaster! Replenish our batallions," they say, like it's just one button you push. You're not even sure they've differentiated between the casualties who need medical care and the fatalities who need a whole ass recruitment drive.
"Ho, Quartermaster! See to it that these weapons are ready for battle by next month at the latest," they say, handing you the stolen wealth of several nations with wildly different forging traditions and a bag of "steel" that occasionally tries to bite you.
"Ho, Quartermaster! Run to the store and purchase a few tomes that call meteors from the very heavens, we only have about ten minutes before battle starts so you'll need to be quite quick about it."
Fucker.
But you do it, every time. The proverbial stomach the army marches on. That's you.
The so-called tactician who gets all the glory, though, that's…
[ ] Some no-name freak in a sheet
A.K.A. A the Speedrunner
They don't have a gender, they don't have a name, they don't have any connection to reality, and you could probably kick their ass. Only problem is they're fucking insane and their strategies appear to break reality. Stuff like betting on a 3/10 chance five times a day, fielding exclusively cavalry even when trying to hold a single indoor point, or warping into the enemy stronghold just kinda hoping that assassinating the general will let you get off scot free even when surrounded entirely by all his most loyal troops. The only problem is -it keeps working!- No matter how asinine their strategy, it seems to get them through perfectly, to the point that everybody else seems awed by their 'speed over all' mindset. You agree that being on a battlefield kind of sucks but you feel like there has to be a better answer than… whatever the fuck it is they're doing that lets them get away with this.
[ ] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
A.K.A. Rylean the Dragon-Child
Oh they have no memories, oh they came out of nowhere with their amazing sword skills, weird ass superpowers, impossibly perfect body and REALLY stupid hair. Nevermind they coincide with like, nine prophecies, yeah, nothing suspicious going on there at all. Totally qualified to lead an army for reasons other than magic. Just check all the… nothing… they know about day to day running an army or all the… nothing… they're aware of about how the peasantry operates.
[ ] Mr. Too Stoic for Real Work
A.K.A. Kelm the Swordsman
Grrr, truth is found only on the battlefield, you'll get no sympathy from me, the big sword lets -me- hold it and I've needed -something- swordlike for so long so I'm gonna go a little wild with it. He's actually not a complete embarrassment when it comes to the drudgework, but that almost makes it worse, there aren't any failings obvious enough to puncture their self-satisfied aura and they're always so happy to micromanage because of course they could have found a better blacksmith.
[ ] A Sad Baby With a Sword
A.K.A. Marika the Unproven
Okay who let the child in the army. While really good with a rapier and… going to own your ass someday because MONARCHY, this person is clearly not experienced enough with -anything- to be out here. To their credit they're impeccably moral, but only because they're naive enough to have not faced anything truly threatening to it yet. Also they have, just, the shrillest voice.
[ ] The Walking Fraternization Policy Violation
A.K.A. Sigrin the Romantic
War is not a singles mixer. This doesn't really seem like a hard concept to you, but it's certainly not something they've ever considered. The sheer amount of matchmaking and flirting going on isn't just uncomfortable, it's… well okay it's mostly uncomfortable. Especially since you're the one who has to purchase the eugenics textbooks. It seems well intentioned most of the time, you've not heard complaints from the soldiers. But you dread the day when you get appointed to 'couples duty'. And to think, you got excited when you heard you'd be working under a shipping expert.
- Location
- Pittsburgh PA
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ooo fire emblem quest nice.
Bit torn between the princess and dragon archetypes though really could see any of those options working out well.
But I think I'll go with Marika.
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
Bit torn between the princess and dragon archetypes though really could see any of those options working out well.
But I think I'll go with Marika.
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
Edit: Removed approval vote.
Edit: Removed approval vote.
Last edited:
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
- Location
- Raleigh, NC
[X] Some no-name freak in a sheet
[X] Some no-name freak in a sheet
Apart from the comedy value, this is the only one mentioned as good at leading armies.
Apart from the comedy value, this is the only one mentioned as good at leading armies.
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
Need to put an "x" in the brackets, otherwise the vote won't be counted.
SolarGemX
The Crystalized Sun
- Location
- Somewhere in the Cosmos
- Pronouns
- He/Him
.......*looks at my FE games* I feel called out. Anyways...
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
A.K.A. Rylean the Dragon-Child
Is this more Alear alined or Robin alained?
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
A.K.A. Marika the Unproven
AKA Human Corrin/ Lyn / The first FE warrior game protags
Fuck it we ball (and hammer)
[X] Little Miss "totally not a goddess"
A.K.A. Rylean the Dragon-Child
Is this more Alear alined or Robin alained?
[X] A Sad Baby With a Sword
A.K.A. Marika the Unproven
AKA Human Corrin/ Lyn / The first FE warrior game protags
Fuck it we ball (and hammer)
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Wait 'till a speedrun stat requires a 'sack'
Sounds like whoever who made them tacticians want them wasted and/or groomed to their liking
No comment tho on Kelm or Sigrin