Okay, so, I'm not quite sure where, or when, I am. One moment, I'm at college, getting blind drunk because I bombed a term paper and am likely to fail out, and the next, I am waking up in a field in the middle of nowhere with only a t-shirt, a windbreaker, jeans, combat boots, and a rusty hatchet. I'm not even sure where the heck I got the combat boots or the hatchet, because I know for a fact that I don't own any, much less how I got into a field in the middle of nowhere. For that matter, I don't even think I'm in the same state; otherwise, I'd be freezing my buns off right now. Seriously, autumn in the mountains is cold. For real.

Standing up, I think I see a town, over there. Just one problem: the architecture is…am I in Europe? How the hell am I in Europe? I don't even have a passport! Well, I do, but it's in the safe at home. How the…? You know what, I'm just going to go find a bar and get a drink. Hopefully someone speaks English. Heck, I'd settle for German.

I finally reach the town, only to discover that everyone is dressed in linens and leathers. Did I go back in time or something? Fortunately, they all speak English. Eventually, I managed to find a tavern and went in for a drink.

So, somehow, I had the money to pay for my beer, finding these weird gold coins in my pocket. I still haven't worked up the courage to ask anybody where I am. It's just too embarrassing, to say that I went out, got drunk, and now have no clue as to where I am. Even if it's true.

Anyways, I'm sitting there, nursing my bottle, when this guy comes bursting in. "Bandits!"

Guy then falls over with an ax in his back. Ew. So, there everyone in the bar is, staring dumbly at the poor dead schmuck, when one of said bandits strides in. Everyone bolts. All but me, no, I'm too busy gawking like an idiot at the man in bearskins with a skull on his head. It looks familiar…

Oh GOD, I am in Fire Freaking Emblem! Ohgodohgodohgod, what am I going to do!? I can't use a sword, can't use a lance, I sure as hell can't do magic! I can throw my hatchet, but that's about it, and I know how to shoot a bow, but only at stationary targets! Oh God I'm so screwed!

Of course, this whole time, I've been staring at the bandit in front of me, gawking like an idiot. Oh dear God, he's seen me! He's coming over! What do I do?

"Oy, youse thinks you're a tough guy, doncha?" Oh God he's talking to me! He sneers and brandishes his ax menacingly. "Lemme show yas what we does to tough guys around here."

OHGOD, he's going to kill me. What do I do? I have a hatchet! No, that won't work; look at the size of the thing he's carrying! It's bigger than my head! Oh look, there's a poker in the fire. Okay, um, smash bottle over head and hit him with red-hot poker. That can work!

I carry out my plan, smashing the bottle on his face, sending him staggering back. I lunge for the fire poker. I pick it up and turn around. Oh, geez he looks mad!

"I'm gonna gut chew fer that!" Oh no, please don't!

Panicking, I lash out with the red hot poker. Oh, look he's on fire.

…

HOLY SHIT HE'S ON FIRE!

Oh yeah, alcohol's flammable, isn't it? Wait, holy shit I just lit someone on fire! I…don't really feel that bad about it. Does that make me a bad person? Actually, now that I come to think of it, I haven't killed a person, I killed a lowlife who would kill without a single second thought. Maybe I have underlying sociopathic tendencies or something. I don't know, I'm not a psychologist. Oh boy, my head is seriously messed up.

Oh, wait, there are people screaming outside. Ok, I could run now, or I could go and help people. I look to the backdoor.

"Mommy!"

Ah shit, little kid. Gah, I'm going to get myself killed aren't I? Okay, think, what to do, what to do? I look at the bar. Lots of bottles. Lots of alcohol. Hmmm. Molotov Cocktails anybody? Well, I suppose I could let my inner pyromaniac go nuts, just this once.

I stuff my pockets with as many bottles as I can, a rag stuffed into the mouth of each bottle. Now, I just need something to light them with. I look around.

There is a cigar in the ashtray. I did not know they had those here in Fire Emblem. I pick it up and look at it distastefully. I still remember accidentally pulling on a friend's old pipe for a Sherlock Holmes impression. Why am I doing this again? Oh, right, little kids, screaming, bandits, town, got it. I put the cigar between my teeth.

Ooh, peppermint!

I take stock of my little arsenal. Twelve Molotov Cocktails, with two in hand. One rusty hatchet that will probably just piss them off if I use it. Okay, just got to hope the bandits clump up. I step over the smoking corpse of the bandit I fried (who finally stopped thrashing and screaming) and step out the door. I am immediately met by a group of about five to six bandits.

One of them steps forward. "Hey look boys, here comes the serving boy to take our orders." The bandits guffaw.

Really. That's the best he could come up with? Well, let's see how they like this then. I light the Cocktail in my right hand on the cigar. "Yeah you guys looked thirsty. Here, have a drink." Oh God that was lame.

I throw the bottle like a baseball pitcher. It arcs beautifully and lands right before the leader's feet, spraying the group with burning alcohol. The only problem is, it's alcohol. It doesn't burn very hot, so it doesn't really bother them.

At least, not until their pants and boots catch fire. I leave them screaming as they try to put out their asses, cackling manically.

…

Okay, I've officially gone insane. Eh, oh well. I've always been a bit unhinged. Better to laugh than cry I suppose.

…Maybe I should just go find some more bunches of bandits to burn.

Ooh, alliteration!

Three cocktails later, and I'm chasing after a group of panicking ruffians, cackling madly, when they run smack bang into a Great Knight in blue armor, who quickly dispatches the lot of them. Hey, I recognize that guy, it's Frederick! That means I am in Awakening.

I look to my left at the cathedral and canals. This must be Southtown. Ooh! That must mean this is the prologue!

Oh, hey Frederick's coming over here, wonder what he wants. He's coming awfully fast.

…OH GOD HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME! PANIC!

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

I dive under a convenient produce cart that hasn't been tipped over yet, somehow.

Frederick's horse stops in front of my refuge. "Come out so that I can see what color your blood is, villain!"

I yell back. "No! I'm not a bandit, damn it! I'm just a fire-happy traveler who doesn't like asshats!"

Silence. Well, sort of. There's still screaming.

"If you come out, I won't kill you."

Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?

I pop out from under the cart opposite of Frederick. I look over the top carefully like a gopher out its hole. "Promise?"

Frederick rolls his eyes. "Yes. If you are truly not a bandit, you won't mind coming out into the open."

I come out from behind the cart, carefully. He's not called Frederick the wary for nothing. He looks at my attire in bafflement.

"What on Earth are you wearing? And for that matter, what are you carrying?"

I look affronted, I think. I can't really see my face. "My clothes. And these are Molotov Cocktails."

Frederick looks even more confused. "Pardon?"

I sigh. "Makeshift incendiary devices."

"I see." He looks over down the street. "Well, I can't very well leave you here." Frederick puts out a hand. "Get on."

I take the offered hand and—holy shit Freddy's strong! He just plopped me on his horse like it was nothing. And I ain't no featherweight, though I am working on that.

I'd like to say that I helped Frederick with mopping up the rest of the bandits. Sadly, that would be a lie as I spent the rest of the skirmish holding on to Frederick for dear life. Hey, it was my first time on a horse, so sue me.

Finally, the last of the bandits had been felled, and I was able to slide off of the horse. I don't know why, but for some reason, the blood and disemboweling had gotten to me a lot worse than the whole burning people alive bit.

Um…hold that thought.

…

Fortunately there was a trashcan on the side of the street. Not going to think about the anachronisms there.

It is at that moment that a blue-haired man with an asymmetrical outfit comes up. I look at the bare right arm. Yup, there's the mark of the Exalt, the teardrop with the spiky half-circle underneath, on the shoulder. I suppose that would be Chrom. Next to him is a blonde girl with a staff in a poufy yellow dress with a white apron and her hair in two ponytails on either side of her head. Must be Lissa. Not sure how to describe the white, lacy thing on her head, so I'm not going to even try. I look over at the last person to join us. Big, oversized purple trenchcoat covered in stylized eyes, white hair, huh, default female avatar. Who is covered in blood...I'm going to go throw up again, if you don't mind.

As I'm doing so, I hear Chrom speak to Frederick. "Hey, is he alright?"

"It is quite possibility nerves, milord. I nearly ran him down earlier in the belief that he was a bandit. I don't believe that he has ever been in battle before, as his choice of weapon was very unusual."

I pull my head out of the trashcan and croak out a declaration. "First fight. So much blood." Suddenly queasy again, I stuff my head back into the trashcan.

A calming blue light engulfs me, and suddenly, I don't feel nauseous anymore. I stand up and nod in thanks to Lissa as she lowers her staff. Chrom steps forward. "Thank you for your help with dealing with the bandits. I am Chrom, and this is my delicate sister, Lissa."

"Hey, stop calling me that!"

Ignoring he cutely fuming Lissa, Chrom motions to the avatar. "This is Robin. I believe you have already met Frederick the Wary."

Frederick smiles wanly. "A title I shall carry with pride."

Chrom smiles and turns back to me. "And what may we call you by, kind sir?"

I smile. "You can call me Sparky."

Lissa giggles. "That's a funny name."

Before Chrom or Frederick can chastise her, I shrug. "Hey, it's the name I chose for myself." Hey, I might be stuck in a self insert for all I know. There's no way I'm telling complete strangers on the internet my real name.

I look behind Lissa, and my blood runs cold as I see one of the bandits getting to his feet with iron ax in hand. Okay, I may not remember the details from the game, but I know that this isn't canon. Shoving Lissa to the side, I grab the first thing to come to hand, my rusty hatchet. With no time to aim, I throw the small ax at the bandit. To my amazement, it hits him right between the eyes. Holy shit! I can't believe that just happened! I am so badass, I—why is my chest wet?

Oh, that's a lot of red.

…I think that I'm gonna stop…standing…now.

Ooh, hey, the dirt's kinda comfort…able…

…Just gonna…sleep…

AN: Well, this is my first ever attempt at a self insert. Lemme know what everyone thinks.