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 red-hot branding iron burns the title of the story onto an aging map, which eventually dissolves into ash:) *** "Fire Emblem: The Burning Brand" by Avi Chapter 2: Communing with the Spirits And so, Mark found himself now riding in the company of a plainswoman and as well as two cavalry soldiers... It was a strange yet exhilarating feeling, as he was now living out one of his cherished childhood fantasies. He looked over their new companions with an assessing eye. If there was anybody who had the word "cowboy" written all over him, Sain Steele would be that person, thought Mark. With his charming drawl and easy-going nature, he was the very definition of the Wild West in Mark's mind; in fact, it was a bit of a mystery to him why such a free spirit would join the cavalry in the first place. Then again, Mark thought wryly, he probably figured he could impress the ladies with his uniform. Kent Morgan, on the other hand, was as steadfast a soldier as one could ever hope for. There was no doubt in Mark's mind that Kent would be marked for promotion someday, probably in the near future. With his dedication to duty, it was quite obvious that he was officer material. The two cavalrymen together made an odd contrast; Mark idly wondered why they had been partnered with each other, considering their conflicting natures... Then again, the two probably balanced each other out. He then found himself turning to Lyn... Er, Miss Lynette, he hastily corrected himself. Who would've dreamed that she would be a Mayor's long-lost daughter? It was like a story straight out of one of his dime store novels... Except that he was actually in it. Mark's train of thought was suddenly cut off, as Lyn reined in her horse; this caused the other three to stop in their tracks, as well. "Could we stop for a moment, please?" she asked her companions. "There are ruins sacred to my people just east of here... Traditionally, those from my tribe head there at the start of a long journey, to pray for safe passage." "What a darlin' li'l custom!" exclaimed Sain. "You know, there are many in El Libre that worship St. Elimine," commented Kent. "But I'm glad to hear that your people still keep up with their own ancient traditions, as well." Lyn blinked. "I'm surprised to see that you two are so understanding about this..." "And why wouldn't they be?" asked Mark. "Because they're in the cavalry..." She trailed off, as she saw curious expressions on the soldiers' faces; Mark leaned over, to whisper to Lyn. "Isn't that rather unkind?" he pointed out. "Just because they're in the cavalry, doesn't mean they wouldn't respect your people and their customs... That may have been true with the cavalry of the past, but certainly not with those two." At this, Lyn flushed. "You're right..." she replied, sheepishly. The plainswoman turned. "I'm sorry for my rude behaviour," she apologized, as she bowed her head to the astonished cavalrymen. "Let's just... Keep heading towards the sacred ruins, all right?" She then urged her horse ahead of the others, causing them to watch her ride ahead, in dismay. "Was it something we said?" asked Kent, his brow furrowing. "No, it's my fault," sighed Mark, mentally cursing himself for his lack of tact. "I'll have a word with her." *** The plainswoman didn't have too much of a head start; it didn't take long before Mark had caught up to her on his horse. "Lyn! Slow down!" he called out to her retreating back. She stopped her horse then, but didn't turn around, as Mark rode up beside her. He tried to catch his breath for a moment, then began to speak. "Look, I'm sorry if I sounded harsh, back there... I was way out of line. You have every right to resent the cavalry, considering the atrocities they did to your people, years ago..." He trailed off, as Lyn remained silent. Then she said softly, "That isn't the reason why I resent them." Mark blinked. "It isn't?" Lyn continued, in a steady tone. "I don't despise the cavalry for what they've done in the past... I hate them because of what they did in the present." "The present?" asked Mark. Then his eyes widened. "You don't mean... They're still persecuting your people?" Lyn shook her head. "No! It's not that. It's just..." She paused, then went on in a quiet voice. "My entire tribe was slaughtered by bandits... My family, friends, everyone I had ever known, gone in the blink of an eye." She took a deep breath. "So, where was the cavalry when my tribe needed them most? Why didn't they come to our rescue? Why weren't they saved...?" As Lyn trailed off, there were tears in her eyes... There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Mark reached out tentatively, to pat Lyn on the back. "I... I see." Even Mark felt awkward, as he said those words aloud. Lyn wiped the tears from her eyes, and managed to compose herself. "Still... You were right, Mark. I shouldn't blame the cavalry for what happened to the Lorca; it was the bandits who slaughtered them." She hung her head. "I guess I just wanted somebody else to blame for their deaths, other than myself..." Mark looked sympathetic. "I understand now. But you shouldn't blame yourself, either." He gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned, weakly. "I'm sorry you had to see me act like that," apologized Lyn. "That's all right," Mark reassured her. "At least now I know the reason why you didn't seem to like the cavalry..." Lyn nodded slowly. "Yes... But I think I'm past that, now. Acting that way made me just as bad as those who resent my own people, didn't it...? And I should know better, because I have felt that same resentment towards myself." Mark then looked thoughtful for a moment. "And look at it this way..." he began. "The cavalry did save you, after all; if it wasn't for Kent and Sain, we probably would've been killed by those bandits that attacked us outside of Burning Gulch." "That's true..." she admitted. Just then, they heard the pounding of hooves behind them. Lyn and Mark turned, to see said cavalrymen behind them, gazing at them in concern. "Everything all right with you folks?" asked Sain. Lyn nodded. "We're fine. Don't worry about it." She gave them both a warm smile. "We'll be riding back here if you need us, then," said Kent, politely. The two cavalrymen hung back for a moment, as Lyn and Mark started walking their horses again; then they both followed, at a respectful distance. Lyn and Mark rode in silence for some time, until the plainswoman decided to speak up again. "Did I ever tell you that my father was in the cavalry?" she said, suddenly. Mark shook his head. "No... But now that you mention it, it would explain a lot..." Lyn raised her eyebrows. "Really? What do you mean?" Mark pointed to her weapon. "Your sword. It's a cavalry sabre. It even has the stamp of the cavalry on the hilt-- See the two crossed swords?" Lyn glanced down at her weapon, and then smiled. "I should've known you'd notice that, Mark." She then nodded. "Yes, this was my father's sword. He was the one who taught me how to use it." "I was wondering where you learned the art of the sword," commented Mark. "It didn't strike me as a common weapon among your people." "My father learned how to wield a sword in the cavalry," she explained. He used to be a plains scout for them; not long after that, he was recruited into military service." "He was an actual soldier?" asked Mark, looking surprised. "Would that mean... He was stationed in Sierra?" "I'm not sure..." replied Lyn. "But now that you mention it, he must've been; that's where he said he met my mother." She then looked thoughtful. "I remember my father telling me that there was a big fuss about him joining the cavalry as a soldier," she said slowly, "but he said he didn't care, and neither did his regiment... He was valued for his skills and for his character, not because of his race." Lyn hung her head. "My father never had anything bad to say about the cavalry... I should've remembered that." There was an uneasy pause... Mark tactfully decided to change the subject. "So, these ruins we're heading to..." he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "What's so special about them?" Lyn seemed grateful at his interest. "There is a sacred artifact enshrined there," she told him. "A sword, in fact. It is that item that bestows blessings on my people, upon their journeys." Mark raised an eyebrow. "Another sword? Out here on the plains? I thought the people of the plains usually use bows, or spears." "That's true... But this sword is special. It was brought out here hundreds of years ago." Mark's eyes widened. "It's that old?" Lyn nodded and began to explain. "You see, long ago, when the first explorers came to El Libre, they stumbled upon that ancient site. It is said that they were so overwhelmed by the holiness of the place, that all thoughts of conquest left their mind, and they laid down their weapons, peacefully." "Their leader presented his sword to the head priest at the time, as an offering to the sacred place. That sword has rested there ever since. It's been said that that sword, nicknamed the Man- Cutter by my people, has been blessed by the spirits themselves." Mark looked impressed. "Wow, that's a pretty amazing story, Lyn." He then paused in thought for a moment. "Strange that such a peaceful weapon should be called the Man-Cutter, though..." "It is said that that sword had shed much of my people's blood before its owner begged for forgiveness," Lyn told him. "But yes, it is indeed a sword of peace, now." As they rode past some fields, she continued to speak in a thoughtful tone of voice. "There are stories that say someone will wield the Man-Cutter for the greater good some day, but they're just that... Stories." The plainswoman shrugged. Just then, Lyn and her companions were flagged down by a farmhand, who had been tilling the soil nearby. The group stopped in their tracks, as the old farmer walked up to them. "Pardon me, y'all... You folks headin' to the old ruins?" he asked, as he leaned heavily on his hoe. "That's right," replied Lyn. "Is there something the matter?" The farmer nodded. "I saw a band of outlaws headin' that way. My ol' bones tell me that trouble's a'brewin'; I reckon they plan on robbin' the place." Lyn's eyes widened. "Not the sacred sword!" The old man nodded again. "I reckon so." He glaced over at Kent and Sain. "I see you got some cavalry with ya; I hope you folks can help 'em out." With that, the old man slung his hoe over his shoulder, and slowly walked back to the field. Lyn turned to her friends. "Come on! Let's get over there right away!" *** With a bit of hard riding, it wasn't long before Lyn and her companions had reached the sacred site. "Is this it?" asked Mark, looking straight ahead. They were close to the base of a sheer cliff, surrounded by trees. Lyn nodded. Mark pulled out his trusty telescope and pointed it at the top. Sure enough, he could see some ancient ruins up there, crumbling with age... As well a band of bandits, climbing upwards. Lyn glanced over at Kent, who looked preoccupied, at the moment. "Something wrong, Kent?" Kent nodded, his expression grim. "I don't think we can ride our horses up that cliff, Miss Lynette. It's too steep. They might slip and break a leg; or worse, we could break our own necks, doing so." "Well, there is a path that leads to the front entrance," replied Lyn. "Won't the bandits see us coming, though?" asked Mark, looking worried. Lyn frowned. "Hmm, good point. What do you think we should do then, Mark?" Mark looked thoughtful. Just then, Sain pointed into the distance. "Looks like there's few farmhouses to the south," he said. "I reckon we could ask them for some advice, since they know their way around these parts." "Great idea, Sain!" exclaimed Lyn, causing Sain to beam in pleasure. Mark tried not to feel too hurt that he didn't think up that idea first, especially since it made Sain so happy... He then scouted the area to the south with his telescope. "Looks like there's three houses over there," he added. "Two close by, and one further south." "All right, then. Let's split up and each head to a house," said Lyn. "Mark and I can head to the southwest one; Sain, you take the one southeast. Kent, you can go to the one furthest south. Then we'll meet up back here. That sound good to everyone?" When they all nodded, Lyn exclaimed, "Let's go!" *** They regrouped a few minutes later, at their original position. Kent and Sain were the first to return. "Hear anything useful?" Kent asked his fellow soldier. "Nothin'," said Sain, sadly. "And you?" Kent shook his head. Just then, Mark and Lyn returned. "Did you two find out anything?" Kent asked them. Lyn nodded, looking pleased. "We sure did. We were told that there's an old side entrance to the ruins not far from here." "The people living nearby said they stopped using it because there was a rockslide that blocked it off," added Mark. "But I'm hoping that you two can help us get through." He looked embarassed as he said this. Kent and Sain exchanged a glance, then looked back at Mark and Lyn. Kent tipped his hat to them both. "We'll see what we can do," he said politely, as Sain grinned. *** It was several minutes later, when all four of them were near the top of the cliff, hiding behind some trees. They had decided to leave their horses well-hidden, at the bottom of the hill. It had been quite a climb, especially for Mark, who wasn't used to such exertion; still, it wasn't as bad as the sheer cliff face near the main entrance. They even managed to take care of a couple of bandits who had been patrolling the perimeter of the ruins. "So... Is this it?" asked Kent, staring at the section of ruins where the other entrance supposedly was. "I... Think so," answered Mark. He sounded worried, and rightly so. There was a huge boulder where the side entrance should be. Sain let out a long whistle. "That's a mighty big rockslide, all right." Lyn gave the two soldiers a concerned look. "You sure you boys can move that? I don't want you two to strain yourselves." "We'll do what we can, ma'am," replied Kent, drawing his lance. Sain did the same. With Lyn watching out for patrolling bandits, Kent and Sain began to attempt to lever out the rock with the tips of their spears. After some time (far quicker than Mark thought it would take), Kent walked up to Lyn, as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Well, we managed to make a opening just wide enough for all of us to sneak in sideways," Kent told her, breathing heavily. "Just don't breathe out all sudden-like, if you don't want to get stuck," joked Sain, leaning against his spear. Kent and Sain entered the opening first, followed by Lyn and Mark. After Sain's joke, Mark was worried that he would indeed get stuck, but he soon realized that the soldiers had made the crack just wide enough for both of them to pass through; since he and Lyn had slimmer bodies, they slipped in with room to spare. As soon as the two of them had joined the cavalrymen in the passage, Kent placed a finger to his lips, indicating that they should all keep quiet. Lyn nodded in understanding. Carefully picking their way forward in the dim passageway, Mark took the opportunity to look around him. These ruins did looked pretty old... And by the carvings on the walls, Mark had to guess that the place might be Aztec in origin; indeed, he recalled that when he first saw the building from the outside, it had appeared to be shaped like an ancient pyramid. Mark was startled out of his reverie, as sounds began to echo throughout the ruins... As he started to pay attention to them, he realized that he was listening to an argument; it sounded like it was getting closer. The passageway then led out into what looked like the central chamber of the ruin, and the source of the noise. Still in the lead, Kent motioned to the pillars surrounding the room; realizing what he meant, Lyn and Mark hid behind the pillar to their left, while Kent and Sain headed to the one on their right. From those positions, all four were able to observe what was going on, unnoticed. There was a single bandit standing in the middle of the chamber, watching what was happening at the back of the room; Mark and Lyn couldn't quite see what was going on from where they were standing, though they could hear everything quite clearly. "Get out of my way, old timer!" growled a rough, unseen voice. "You can threaten me all you like," replied another voice, frightened but steady, "but I'd never give up the Man-Cutter to the likes of you. It is a sacred sword, blessed by the spirits themselves. I cannot allow it to be moved from this place!" Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Mark noticed Kent signalling to them again; he tugged at Lyn's sleeve, to get her attention. As soon as both Lyn and Mark turned towards him, Kent held up two fingers, indicating that there were still two bandits outside. Lyn nodded again. Lyn and Mark then shifted to look around the other side of their pillar, to get a better view of what was happening at the back of the room. Back there, lay a stone altar... Behind it, stood a scruffy bandit in a faded cavalry uniform, menacing a elderly priest in grey robes; Mark could just barely make out the sacred sword, hanging upon the stone wall behind them. "Old fool! What good is a weapon, if you can't use it?" yelled the bandit. The old man's eyes widened. "Use it in combat? What sacrilege!" "I'll do whatever I want, old man! I'm Gus Glass! And if I want that sword, then I'm gonna take it!" Shoving the elderly priest roughly aside, the outlaw snatched up the Man-Cutter from its resting place on the wall. "It's magnificent..." he breathed, as he held the sheathed sword in his hands. "This should fetch me a pretty penny, for sure!" The bandit then tried to draw the sword from the sheath. Realizing that he could not do so, he grabbed the old priest by the collar. "What kind of trick is this, old man?" The priest struggled in his grasp. "The Man-Cutter only obeys one master," he gasped. "Not just anybody can draw it. And it would never obey the likes of you!" "Bah!" The bandit tossed the priest into the wall. The old man slid down it, unconscious. "I'll tear down this miserable place stone by stone for this!" he yelled, as he overturned the altar. "We can't let him desecrate this place any longer!" whispered Lyn to Mark. He nodded; he couldn't help but agree. Mark stood back and watched as Lyn quickly charged forward... He also noticed Kent and Sain following her lead, by taking positions near the main entrance, to guard it from the outside patrollers. Caught off guard, the bandit standing in the middle of the room had little time to react; it was not long before Lyn cut him down with her sword. She then turned to their leader, who was staring at her in disbelief. "Who do you think you are?" he snarled at the plainswoman. "I am Lyn of the Lorca," replied Lyn calmly, "and I am the one who is going to defend this sacred place." She pointed the blade of her sword at him, with a resolute look in her eyes. The bandit sneered at her. "You, li'l girl? Don't make me laugh... You're not even worth my time!" Lyn just glared at him. Just then, a voice cut in, behind her. "Didn't your momma ever tell you that it ain't polite to make fun of girls?" Both Lyn and the bandit turned, to see Sain strolling up to them, with his lance slung over his shoulder. "Now, you don't want to be underestimatin' the li'l lady over here," said the cavalryman, in a deceptively casual voice, "but if you want to fight somebody else, then I'd be more than happy to oblige." He tipped his hat at the bandit, with a dangerous grin on his face. Lyn frowned at the cavalryman. "Sain, please... I can handle him by myself." "Oh, I know you can, li'l lady," answered Sain easily. "But I reckon that you have more important things to worry about." He nodded the old priest, who still lay unconscious on the floor. Lyn's eyes widened, at this; she looked torn for a moment, then hung her head. "Very well, then," she said, sounding resigned. "I'll leave him to you, Sain." "I won't let you down, ma'am," he replied, with a smile. Lyn then ran to the priest's side, in order to check on him; Mark quickly followed her. The bandit snorted, as she moved away. "It don't matter who I'm fightin'," he snarled. "You don't stand a chance against me!" He drew his sword, and pointed it at Sain. "We'll see about that, pardner." Sain then nodded at the outlaw's sabre and faded cavalry uniform. "You're former cavalry, ain't ya? Gone AWOL, have ya?" "What's it to you?" snapped the bandit. "Oh, nothin'," replied Sain. He then narrowed his eyes. "It's just that I don't care for traitors, myself... 'Specially ones that attack the weak, and wreck up holy places, like this!" With one swift movement, Sain drew his lance, and charged the bandit, who just managed to dodge the attack, in time. As he watched them fight, Mark saw that that this bandit was fast on his feet, like Lyn; but Sain had the advantage of strength on his side. Also, the cavalryman's heavy lance seemed to deflect a lot of the bandit's quick sword blows; Mark wondered if this was the real reason why Sain had insisted on fighting him. Still, the outlaw was extremely fast; despite the fact that Sain had blocked a lot of the sword attacks, there were several shallow cuts showing up on his uniform. The two fighters had just broke off to circle each other, breathing heavily as they did so... Suddenly, the bandit slashed his blade towards Sain's head; the cavalryman just managed to defend himself, with an overhead block with his spear. Unfortunately, the bandit had been expecting this... With a nasty grin, he kicked Sain in the midsection; the cavalryman fell back, the wind knocked out of him. Fortunately, the overturned stone altar was just behind him, and he managed to brace himself upon it. However, the outlaw wasn't done with him yet... Pressing his advantage, he slammed down his sword towards Sain's face again. Sain brought up his lance to block it, but just barely; the blade was now perilously close to the cavalryman's face, as he lay flat against the altar. Lyn and Mark could only watch this, in horror. "Sain!" Lyn cried out, and reached for her sword. She stopped however, when Sain caught her eye and grinned, despite his predicament. "Don't worry about me, ma'am," he managed to wheeze out. Then, narrowing his eyes at the bandit, Sain shoved the man back with his lance, as he kicked him off, at the same time. The bandit reeled away, slamming into the stone wall behind him; as he did so, the back of his head hit the wall. When looked up, dazed, the outlaw had just enough time to watch Sain charging at him with his lance, with a grim expression on his face... That was the last thing he ever saw. Mark looked away then, but that didn't drown out the bandit's scream of pain; even Lyn seemed to wince a little, at this. He turned back just in time to see Sain pull his spear out from the impaled corpse; the bandit then slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood against it. Mark felt sick. Quickly excusing himself to Lyn, he ran off into the corner, and threw up. When he had finished emptying the contents of his stomach, Mark walked back to find Sain leaning against the upturned altar, wiping the blood off his lance. The cavalryman glanced up at his pale face, with sympathy. "Sorry you had to see that, kiddo," he apologized. Sain then spat on the ground beside him. "I hate people who fight dirty," he muttered to himself. "Don't worry about me," said Mark to him, rather weakly. I guess I should get used to death, since I'm travelling with a bunch of fighters, he thought to himself. But I don't think I could ever get used to it... He then joined Lyn, who had finally managed to revive the unconscious priest; as the old man sat up and groaned, Kent walked up to the rest of them, looking relatively unharmed. "Well, I took care of both of those bandits outside," he said. "How are you folks doing?" "We're fine," replied Lyn, breathing a sigh of relief. "And the elder seems to be all right, as well." She then turned to the priest. "How are you feeling, sir?" Lyn asked, as she helped the old man to his feet. "I'm all right..." replied the priest. "Thanks to you folks, that is." His eyes suddenly widened. "The Man-Cutter!" he gasped, aloud. "Is it...?" "The sword is fine, Padre," replied Sain. The soldier handed the sheathed blade back to the priest, who accepted it gratefully. "Got it off that dirty thief's corpse." At this, Kent looked sheepish. "Sorry about the mess, Reverend..." he added, glancing at the desecrated altar. "A small price to pay for the safe return of the sword," said the priest, bowing his head. "Despite their sins, those that have died here today will be in my prayers." He then turned to Lyn. "I see by your clothing that you are of the Lorca tribe... Am I correct?" The plainswoman nodded. "That's right. I'm Lyn, the daughter of the chieftain." "You must have come here to pray for a safe journey. Come then, lay your hands upon the sword and receive the sword's blessing." He held out the sheathed blade to Lyn, who knelt down and placed a hand on the sword. Mark and everyone else in the room couldn't quite believe their eyes, at what happened next. Lyn blinked. "Did the sword... Just glow?" The priest's eyes widened. "I see... Lyn of the Lorca, the Man-Cutter has looked into your soul, and chosen you as its master." "M-m-me?" stammered Lyn. "It must be a mistake!" "There is no mistake," the priest told her. "If you wish to see further proof, then try to draw the sword out of the sheath." Reluctantly, Lyn grasped the hilt of the sword, and pulled. The blade came out easily, with no resistance, and the glow from the Man-Cutter grew even stronger. Lyn gazed at the blade in her hand, in disbelief. "I can't believe it..." she said softly. The old priest bowed his head. "I never thought that I would see the bearer of the Man-Cutter in my lifetime," he said to Lyn. "I feel privileged to have met you, Lyn of the Lorca... The sword is now yours." "What do you mean... Mine?" asked Lyn. "You are now the owner of the Man-Cutter," the priest told her, "and as such, must live up to its legend. Go forth and do good in its name." He gazed into her eyes deeply. "You have many challenges ahead of you, Lyn of the Lorca... Yet I know you can overcome them." Lyn lowered her eyes humbly. "I... Thank you, sir." *** After bidding farewell to the old priest, the group left the ruins, somewhat bemused after all that had happened. "So, that's the Man-Cutter, huh?" commented Sain, gazing at Lyn's new sword. He let out a long whistle. "That's a mighty fine blade you have there, ma'am." "I still can't believe it..." said Lyn, shaking her head. "This sword is spoken of with reverence among my people, and now, I hold it in my hands..." "I wouldn't be too surprised," said Mark, thoughtfully. "I've read ancient stories about such weapons, scattered all across El Libre... Weapons that only one person may wield." Kent nodded. "When I saw you pull out that blade, Miss Lynette... I felt something special. Like it was meant to be yours, I reckon." "Don't say that!" protested Lyn. "I'm not that special!" "Why don't you look at it this way, ma'am..." began Sain. "You know how one weapon might feel better in your hand than another one; the grip might be more comfortable, or it's better balanced for you, and suchlike?" Lyn nodded. "Well, it's kind of like that. Does that make you feel any better?" "I see what you mean, Sain..." said Lyn slowly, then shrugged. "I guess I understand." "Would you mind if I took a look at the sword, Miss Lynette?" asked Kent. Lyn nodded, and handed it to the cavalryman... Or at least, tried to. Try as he might, Kent couldn't seem to get a grip on the hilt. Sain tried to hold it as well, with similar results... It was as if there was an invisible force preventing them from touching the hilt, Mark observed. "Well, that's the darndest thing," said Sain, scratching his head in bewilderment. "I reckon that really is your sword, and only your sword, Miss Lynette." "A sword only for me..." said Lyn softly. "It seems strange... Yet right, somehow." She then displayed the sword to Mark. "This is the Man-Cutter, Mark... My sword. I have to take care of it, and live up to its legend." Mark could only gaze at the weapon in quiet awe. He shook his head, still amazed. First, I stumble across a lost heiress, he thought, now a magic sword... What's next? Flying horses? Mark then chuckled to himself. What am I thinking? Flying horses in the Wild West? Now, that's just plain silly... TO BE CONTINUED... ***** I realize that the battle scenario that I used in the story isn't exactly how it is in the game, but I hope that it is at least plausible... And if you're interested, here's the list of naming references that I've used so far: Mark Alexander - Named after Alexander the Great (the reference is directed more to his tactical genius, rather than his conquests). Lyn (Lynette) Windrunner - Inspired by the country singers Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette; Windrunner was originally "Windrider" in one of my previous drafts, but since I use that term later on in the story, it got changed. (Also a reference to my beloved World of Warcraft; after Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the former Ranger- General of Silvermoon.) Kent Morgan & Sain Steele - Morgan seems to be a common name in Westerns (it's the name of Wyatt Earp's younger brother, for example); Steele (apart from the obvious "stainless steel" pun) is a reference to a famous Canadian Mountie, Sam Steele. *** Copyright, Aviatrix8, 2007. Fire Emblem and all related characters are property of Nintendo et al., and are used without permission.