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Fire Emblem: Rebirth

Ylisse (continent)

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a part of Fire Emblem: Rebirth, by Flexar.

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Flexar holds sovereignty over Ylisse (continent), giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

https://fireemblem.nintendo.com/

Setting

Default Location for Fire Emblem: Rebirth
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Minimap

Ylisse (continent) is a part of Fire Emblem: Rebirth.

2 Characters Here

Skeld [2] "What makes you think that I ever wanted to be the Fellblood?"
Anrien [1] "For Ylisse! I'll do my best! Watch me, brother!"

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1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skeld
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#, as written by Flexar
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A horse-drawn carriage clacked along the cobbled, Plegian roads that led to the western border with Ylisse. Around the carriage rode a squadron of cavaliers, all with swords sheathed at their hips and lances gripped tightly in their hands. Their horses were clearly weary, but they had no choice but to press onwards. The cavaliers themselves were in much better condition, and seemed ready to fend off any approaching threats at once. They appeared rather intimidating to anyone who might consider robbing the carriage; the evening sunlight glinted off their well polished, crimson armour as if it were a jewel. Of course, there could be nothing worse for the king and his son: the Fellblood.

The inside of the carriage was not quite so spectacular. The canvas kept out the winter's cold; not that it ever got very cold in Plegia, but the closer to Ylisse they drew, the colder it became. Sat on the two benches were a young man in his late teens, and a tall, dark skinned man in his late forties. The younger of the two was slumped forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. He appeared utterly lost in thought, as if his mind was in a different dimension.
"You seem nervous, Skeld." the older man commented; far from nervous himself.
"I am." Skeld replied bluntly, I've barely ever left the castle before, and going straight to the front lines is rather nerve-wracking." Skeld paused for a moment to ponder, but quickly spoke again, "Have you ever fought, father?"
"Not in a war, but I dare say I shall." the king smiled, "I'll be leading our forces into Ylisstol, and you, Skeld, will be at my side."
"Yeah..." Skeld mumbled enthusiastically.
"Did you say something, Skeld?" the king inquired.
"No, just clearing my throat." Skeld lied.
His father looked skeptical, but said nothing. He could never get anything out of Skeld when he was like this. His nervousness was understandable, but he need to harden up if he was to play any role at all in this war. Perhaps he would understand better once it was won.



Less than an hour later, the carriage finally arrived at the border. The king exited the carriage first, with Skeld following closely behind him, his katana swaying by his hip as he moved. The Plegians had advanced slightly into Ylissean territory, and were beginning to redraw the borders with their onslaught. The vanguard were currently housed in an Ylissean fort that had been taken only a couple of days earlier. The corpses of a few Ylissean soldiers still lay on the ground, some in dried-up pools of their own blood. The sight made Skeld feel nauseous, but had no such effect on his father, who simply ignored the bodies and progressed straight to the fort. Skeld was appalled by how little his father cared, it was as if the Ylisseans weren't even animals to him. However, Skeld had no choice but to hurry after him. He didn't comment on his father's apathy, because commenting would only make his father see him as weak.

The guards at the gate immediately saluted and allowed Skeld and his father entry. There was nothing particularly special about the interior of the fort; it was all stone and wood in a rather dull arrangement. Soldiers were milling around the fort, and all who noticed the king and Skeld stopped to give a lengthy salute and to give their praise. The king would reply with something lauding their work, and then continue through the fort. Skeld couldn't notice that everyone was in high spirits; how could they be so happy when they could die the next day? They seemed to believe that they were fighting the good fight, whereas Skeld could never take pride in being a professional killer. His father was in an even better mood than his soldiers, but he didn't have to risk his life, only tell others to go and die for him. The whole affair was disgusting, and Skeld wanted nothing to do with it.

Skeld and his father were shown to their rooms by a rather clumsy, young soldier. He gave them each a key and hurried back to his post. Skeld was quick to lock himself away. The room was nothing compared to his rook in Plegia Castle, but it wasn't bad. He doubted that the soldiers got to sleep in conditions this good. Unfortunately, there were no books in the room to read, and he had left his lute in the castle. Perhaps he could pass the time by practicing his dark magic, swordplay and singing.



The hours passed slowly, but after a light supper, night finally fell. Skeld didn't feel tired though, and found himself unable to sleep. Perhaps a walk outside would clear his head. However, there was no way that Skeld would be allowed outside at this time, so he would have to sneak out. Fortunately, his room was on the ground floor, so he could just climb out of the window to leave. He made sure that he had his bracelet and katana with him, lest he was ambushed.

The cold night air was refreshing, and helped Skeld to calm down slightly. He hurried over into a nearby wood; it would be easier to hide there. Sure enough, there were no soldiers and plenty of cover. Skeld slumped down against a tree, inhaled deeply, and watched his breath condense as he exhaled. What a strange sight it was. Skeld's peace was quickly broken by the sound of rustling and a snapping twig. He shot up and instantly drew his sword, fearing an approaching Ylissean soldier.
"Who's there?" Skeld called out as he looked around, "By the order of Skeld, Crown Prince of Plegia, show yourself!"

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Character Portrait: Anrien
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Well, wasn't this harrowing? Sat on the footsteps of some house, a diminutive sized girl sat, swinging her legs upon the terrace. To be honest, she was waiting for news from her brother. She'd finished an examination of skill and performance just yesterday - a test to determine if they'd allow her into her brother's unit or not. He was the head of the 113th Regiment, or according to the nickname amongst the higher ups, "The Red Lions of Ylisse". Apparently the nickname came about during the battle for Thanis, those years back, when her brother returned to camp, bathed in the blood of his enemies, with his sister -the girl swinging her legs - in his arms. And now, years after, that same girl was hoping she could join. She owed it to Ylisse, as well as to Aldan. And the siblings together would make for a good team, would it not?

"Anrien!"

The girl, Anrien, turned to the voice. It wasn't her brother, but it was his best friend. Sethis, the second in command of the Red Lions, and an expert sniper. They'd grown up together - and, well, they were really close. All of them were really close. Even though Bregnen lost his leg, he was still close to the others. Right now he was asleep, or perhaps awake and thinking - he and Anrien lived together since moving into Ylisstol, after all - but yeah. All of their little circle of friends were still alive. And that was a miracle.

"Hello." Anrien smirked over to the archer. "Why are you here so early?"

"Aw, shucks." The archer went and sat next to Anrien, patting her head. She grinned - wishing he didn't have to actually touch her, but otherwise didn't make any protest- "You really hate me, don'tcha?"

The girl playfully brought her dutiful sword up to the archer's throat; a teasing sparkle in her eye.

"I'll stab ya."

With that, they both broke down into fits of laughter, chortles and snickers together. Anrien felt light. Really. Light-hearted; as if things had always been like this. As if the Thanis Disaster had never happened. As if none of that had ever happened. But no matter how much she played with her brother's - and by extension, her own - friends, it wouldn't erase the past. Nothing really could, unless those rumors of time travel were actually true. Finally though, they settled down.

"Yeah." Sethis started, with a grim frown on his face. "So. Aldan. Arguing again with old Thrias over stupid stuff. Politics. Things like that." The archer let out a weary sigh, casting a wanton look nowhere in particular. "Swear to god, half the time we're just tussling with other Units over what to do. Shit's gonna be the end of Ylisse, I'm tellin' ya."

Anrien looked at him sympathetically. The Red Lions have been particularly targeted by Thrias' troupe for quite some time, or so it seemed. Both units kept running into each other, finding themselves taking the same missions, the same patrols. It was as if they were trying to outshine the Red Lions and keep the newer unit in check. Thrias and his team had been around for a long time, after all; considered to be part of the old guard. What good was a young, upstart team to them?

That pissed Anrien off. A brief moment flashed where she considered just killing him, but that passed.

"Whatever." Anrien made to get up, quickly fastening on her breast plate, and hooking the scabbard of her sword into her belt. "I'm heading over. Wanna come with?"

"I'm fine." Sethis offered the girl a wan grin. "Gotta say hello to our one-legged buddy. Had enough politics for one day."




It wasn't long until the girl made it to the ornate halls of Ylisstol palace, hearing her brother's voice tumbling against an older, gruffer voice. They were still at it, Anrien sighed.

"We're better equipped. We've been at it for much longer than you whelps. We should be the ones at the front lines!" Thrias barked out. "Your unit's still young. Should just stay in mainland patrol."

"Most of my team lived around the border their whole lives, Thrias!" Aldan shot back. "We know the terrain better, and we can travel faster to respond to threats!"

Both men glared at each other, seething. Anrien, in a fit of impulsiveness, smacked her scabbard against Thrias's heavy armor, making a resounding clang.

"Brother!" She nearly shouted. "While you were arguing over useless things, I was waiting all day! Will they let me join?"

Thrias let out a 'harrumph.' and left the scene, muttering something about 'Fine, let's watch you get killed out there as Plegia or other bandits strike', seemingly out of steam. Aldan made a triumphant little gesture in hugging his little sister. The siblings exchanged a significant mutual smile before going into business.

"You're fast." Aldan stated simply. "They noticed that too. You're really, really fast. You know how to make up for being small by using your speed. But on the other hand, that's your only advantage. Speed. You get what I'm saying, sis?"

Anrien's face fell, just a tad.

"But if I wear any more armor, I'll-"

"They want to see how you do with real combat experience. And they think I'm the best one to supervise you." Aldan's smile grew wider. "You're in, sis. You're a Red Lion."

With a squeal of glee, Anrien let out a goofy grin. She had trained so damn long for this. Suffered so much for this. And it had finally paid off. She could stand alongside her dear beloved brother now.

"We're heading to the Plegian Border by nightfall." Anrien scratched at his head. "Don't forget. I'll tell the others, too."

And thus, Anrien was one step closer to realizing her dreams.

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Character Portrait: Skeld
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A javelin whistled past Skeld's head and stuck into the tree behind him with a thud. Skeld's ear suddenly felt wet, so he reached up to wipe off whatever liquid was on his ear, still maintaining a tight grip on his katana with his right hand. When he withdrew his hand, there was a small streak of red over his fingertips. He had been lucky, the javelin had nicked his ear when it could have impaled him. Skeld's heart began to pound, the thrower had almost certainly been an Ylissean soldier. Sure enough, a man in Ylissean armour stepped out from behind his cover, drawing his sword from its scabbard at his hip. He wasn't alone, about five other soldiers joined him, all wielding lances of their own.
"Crown Prince of Plegia, eh?" their leader grinned, "You'll make a fine bargaining tool. Now, be a good boy and come with us." Skeld said nothing, but stood his ground, "So that's how it's gonna be? Fine with me."
He lunged towards Skeld with his sword, but Skeld was quick to step to the side. He swung again, and missed again. Skeld made no effort to fight back against the man.
"Leave." Skeld ordered, albeit rather shakily.
"You're adorable." the soldier sneered and swung again.
This time Skeld didn't have the opportunity to dodge, so he instead raised his katana to block the blow. However, the soldier pushed down on him with all his weight, and Skeld simply wasn't strong enough to force him back. Skeld was pushed to the ground, giving the soldier a chance to lunge at him. Skeld rolled to the side just in the nick of time, losing a strand of hair in the process. While the soldier was recovering from the recoil, Skeld laid the sharp edge of his katana across the back of the man's neck.
"I told you to leave." Skeld iterated with the little nerve he could muster, "Drop your sword and I'll let you live."
The soldier didn't have much of a choice, so he dropped his sword, allowing Skeld to kick it away. Skeld removed his sword from the back of the soldier's neck, only to have one of his men charge at him, lance poised to impale Skeld. Skeld spun round immediately and drove his katana through the wooden shaft of the soldier's lance, snapping it in twain. However, he persisted in his endeavour and thrust repeatedly at Skeld with the half of the lance he still had left. Being left no choice, Skeld reached out with his left hand and grabbed the soldier's wrist. The jewel on his bracelet began to glow, and he yanked on the man's arm. The soldier's wrist glowed grey as Skeld tore his hand from his arm; his lifeless hand released its grip on the half of the lance it was holding. The soldier stared, wide-eyed in terror, first at the bleeding stub where his hand had been, then at Skeld, who had dropped the gauntlet and its contents.
"What are you standing there for?!" the commander snapped, "Get him, you buffoons!"
The commander had recovered his javelin, and had Skeld sandwiched between him and the other troops. Skeld could take them one on one, but he wouldn't be able to fight them all at once. The only way he could go was forward, through the commander. Mustering all his willpower, he drew Flux energy to his sword and charged. The commander had taken up a defensive stance, but it did him no good. Skeld swung his sword with all his might and discharged the Flux spell, tearing through his torso and rending his lungs. Skeld continued running, and could only hear the thud of the man's lifeless body; he couldn't look back.

Skeld eventually lost his pursuers, but by that time he was deep in the woods with no idea of how to get back to the fort. He was almost completely out of breath, so he slumped down against a tree to take a moment to recover. As he slumped the adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling sick; he had torn off someone's hand and killed someone! Despite his best efforts, he burst into tears, unable to process what had just happened. To make things worse, he was probably in enemy territory, and had no idea how to get back. Surely a search party would be sent out for him, but it was unlikely that anyone would notice until morning. He continued to cry unable to stop the constant flow of tears. He was seventeen, he was too old to cry! He was also the Fellblood, and obviously not a very good one. Putting himself down just made him cry even more, until his lap was soaked with tears. His head was beginning to hurt from the crying and his tiredness, and he prayed to Grima that he would be found and taken back to Plegia Castle. Perhaps freedom wasn't worth it after all.