Hello everyone, my name is Jiro Uchiha. I do hope that you enjoy this, as I've had this planned out for a while. I already had 120 pages handwritten, but I lost the notebooks due to unforeseen circumstances. I will try to make this variant more detailed and interesting, and I hope that it's something you'll stick around for, as it will likely last for 30 chapters or more I'd think. Anyway, if you have any questions, comments and so forth, PM me, leave it in a review or hit me up on twitter Big_Boss_Flurb. Thank you for helping me reach the 60K view milestone. I thank you for all of your constant views and support, and I hope you become a fan of this fic, Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF INC.
Pain. A great, throbbing pain filled his head as he came back into consciousness. As he blinked, he noticed that a bright light filled his eyes, instinctively putting his arm over his eyes, noticing that his arm was covered in a heavy cloth, glancing down to his body allowing him to see that he was wearing a robe, a dark gray garment with purple markings that confused him. As he pushed himself up, he exhaled as the throbbing continued, glancing around his surroundings to notice that he was in a forest, the sound of chirping birds and the bright sun letting him know that it was still early in the day, perhaps not even noon. He rose to his feet, exhaling as he glanced around where he laid, noticing a small, bronze blade laying on the ground, something he thought was rather odd. He reached down and picked the blade up, looking over it before he found some runes that he realized he could read. 'B-R-I-M-I-A-Z' it read, making him wonder who it belonged to. Does this blade belong to me? Is my name Brimiaz? He wondered, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the blade as he began to hear movement in the forest, his heart rate increasing as he exhaled.
My head still hurts, and I have no idea where I am, or who I am. The fact that someone else is in this forest is rather worrying. He thought, sliding behind a tree as the sound closed in, the robed male noticing the pattern of footsteps that closed in. He began to feel vibrations in the ground coming from his left, opting to go around the tree to the right and wait, the footsteps reaching him in mere moments. He leapt from behind the tree, a high pitched scream ringing out as a young girl backed into the nearest tree, fear evident on her features as the blade lightly pressed against her throat. "W-who are you?" she asked, and the robed male frowned, realizing that he didn't even know himself. "My name is… Brimiaz. What is yours?" he asked, and she gulped, Brimiaz, as he chose to call himself, watching the flesh in her throat as she continued to breath, able to tel that all of her emotion was genuine. "L-Lissa." she said, and Brimiaz frowned slightly. "And what are you doing in this forest today, Lissa?" he asked, the girl's knees wobbling, causing Brimiaz to glance down. He could tell that the girl was wealthy, as the metal cage beneath her impressive dress was no easy, nor cheap, task to make.
His eyes still on her lower half, he noticed that there was very little meat on her legs, the male able to see the definition of bones in both her legs and arms, her small breasts the only concentration of meat he could see on her face. I have no reason to violate the girl. It wouldn't serve me. He thought, the thoughts making him question what kind of person he was for a brief moment. I'm holding her hostage and those are my first thoughts? He wondered, shaking his head as Lissa began to speak. "I was going for a walk." she said, and Brimiaz narrowed his eyes, the look on her face holding no lies. "Say I believe you. Are you alone?" he asked, and she shook her head. "No. My brother and his bodyguard are outside the forest." he said, and Brimiaz nodded. "Very well." he said, removing the blade from her throat and placing it through the belt he had to sheath it. "Escort me to them if you will." he said, bowing his head as she nodded, beginning to head back in the direction she came from.
"Lissa!" the blue haired male shouted, fearing for his sister's safety as she went off on her own once again. "Damn it Frederick, why does she keep running off on her own!? Doesn't she know that she can get hurt!?" he asked, and the larger, armored male with him placed a hand on his shoulder. "Relax My Lord. We shall wait a little longer for her to appear. If she does not, then we will assemble a search party and scour all of Ylisse for her." he said, and the blue haired male sighed. "I just hope that she's alright." he said, shaking his head as he began to hear rustling from the forest behind him. He whirled around, his hand on the hilt of his blade. "Who goes there!?" he shouted, his irritation making him rather eager to face some form of roadside bandits that would seek to steal his valuables. He saw two figures approaching, one much smaller than the other. Hi heart began to race, the sound of his blade slowly coming from it's sheath reaching his ears as the first figure emerged from the forest. "Chrom!" it said, the blue haired male dropping his blade back in the sheath as his sister ran over to him, the two hugging as the larger man beside them began to smile before the second figure emerged from the forest, the armored man stepping in front of the seemingly wealthy duo.
"Halt." he said, Brimiaz tilting his head as he examined the man, noticing that while the man was larger than him, his armor likely slowed him down. He glanced past him to the girl who brought him here, and to the male she was embracing. If that's her brother, they look nothing alike. He thought as he looked back to the original man. "My name is Brimiaz. I found Madam Lissa here wandering in the forest and requested that she brought me with her." he said, and the man glanced back to the young girl, who Brimiaz now noticed had pale blond hair and an odd cloth on her head, before looking to him. "And why would you make such a request?" he asked, and Brimiaz shrugged. "I awoke in the forest with a throbbing pain in my skull and no memory of anything. At the least I hoped that she could navigate me back to the nearest settlement or village so I could at least begin to gather my bearings." he said, and the blue haired male stepped around his larger bodyguard, and Brimiaz examined him closer, noticing that he was slightly shorter than the 'big brother' of Lissa, who he believed was named Chrom. If I come to blows with him, would my size put me at a disadvantage? He wondered as the man narrowed his eyes and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"No memory of who you are? Do you expect me to believe this farce?" he said, and Brimiaz rose a brow. "There is no reason to believe that I am a liar. I have no idea where I am or who I am. The only reason I have the name Brimiaz is because it was the name on the sword I awoke with in my possession." he said, pulling his robe to the side to reveal the blade in question. The other male narrowed his eyes. "And how do I know that you don't have foul intentions?" he asked, and Brimiaz blinked. "I was alone in a forest with your sister and she came back unharmed and untouched. Is that not enough reason to at least consider trusting me?" he asked, and Chrom turned back to Lissa. "Is he telling the truth?" he asked, and she nodded. "He didn't even try to touch me, not even to get my attention." she said, and Chrom frowned. The larger man next to him frowned. "I have heard of his condition My Lord. It is called amnesia. It is when one losses their memory. It is said that it might never be recovered, or that it could be recovered should an event connected to his past trigger his memories." he said, and Chrom narrowed his eyes again. "I see. What do you think we should do Frederick?" he asked, and the man frowned.
He opened his mouth to speak when Lissa screamed, pointing out to a village in the distance. "Chrom! That village is on fire!" she shouted, and he cursed, looking to Brimiaz and clenching his fist. "You want me to trust you? Help us save this village!" he shouted, Brimiaz narrowing his eyes and nodding as everyone leapt on horses, Brimiaz inhaling as he felt his heart began to pound, breathing out as Lissa called him over, sliding back on her horse and letting him climb into the saddle, the girl holding onto his waist as he grabbed the reigns, snapping them as the horse reared, taking off after Chrom and Frederick as they raced down the hill to the village. Brimiaz glanced back to the girl holding onto him as he felt the horse's hooves slam against the ground beneath him. Does she hold an attraction to me? Or is this payback for not harming her? He wondered, looking forward as he ducked under a low branch, inhaling. Do I possess the ability to even be of use? He wondered, the fact that he recently awoke from who knows what with no memories something that still nagged at him. Will I be able to fight off of reflex and muscle memory? He wondered, frowning as the village gates came into view. The horses all slowed down at a single, loud command from Frederick, Brimiaz and Lissa jumping from the horse as they walked up to the two other males.
"What's the situation?" Brimiaz asked, feeling an odd need to analyze the scene. "Look like a group of bandits. Likely fifty or more." Frederick said. Brimiaz narrowed his eyes. "How many do our own forces number?" he asked, and Chrom looked to him, raising a brow at his usage of 'our'. "Thirty five. Ten cavaliers, ten clerics, ten mercenaries and five archers. Us included we number nine and thirty." Chrom said, and Brimiaz hummed. "We should send our mercenaries as support for our archers. The cavaliers and Clerics should move about in a horde, both attacking enemies and caring for civilians. If they number around fifty, chances are they won't have a force equal in power or skill to ten of our cavaliers backed by ten of our clerics." he said, humming. "The three of you should move in a cohesive unit and head through the village and find the leader of the bandits. Striking him down will likely reduce enemy morale, making them easier to fend off or defeat." he said, and Frederick nodded. "A fine strategy. However, you left yourself out of the equation." he said, and Brimiaz glanced to the sword on his hip. "I will move alone. I am not aware if I can even fight, so moving alone prevents me from causing any casualties because of someone's heroics." he explained.
Chrom nodded, looking to Brimiaz. "Stay safe. You'd make a good tactician for us." he said, and Brimiaz nodded, watching Frederick shout out orders to the small band of men that he seemed to lead alone, Brimiaz going ahead on his own, Frederick and Chrom watching him head downhill towards the open gates of the village, drawing his blade with a confidence that was surprising for someone that was thrusted into the same situation he was. "Cavaliers and Clerics, move together! Overwhelm the enemy with numbers and save civilians! Archers, head to a high point and take down enemies. Mercenaries, protect the Archers! I will give a signal should the battle end. Let us go forth!" Frederick commanded, the man's loud voice swaying the men to act in his favor, the thirty seven man and one girl crew surging forth, a stern righteousness about their aura.
Brimiaz reach the village before he even saw the others begin moving, running past a burning building before turning to it and looking it up and down. He flared his nostrils, unable to smell anything besides the gaseous air and burning wood, the possibility of people being in the building far too real for him to ignore. Jogging up to the building, he took a step back when the flames spread, the front door exploding off the hinges in his direction. Shit. I can't risk going in this one. He thought, moving on when he realized that the building was far too gone for him to try and enter. He rounded a corner, closing in on another pillar of smoke. "And where do you think you are going!?" He heard, a bandit shouting from behind a building as he came around, smiling as he closed in on Brimiaz. The bandit whistled, two more bandits coming from around the building with him, making Brimiaz curse as he drew the bronze blade at his waist. I have no idea if I can even use this thing right. Should I try to plan this out or just let my instincts and reflexes take over? He wondered, watching the bandit to his left pull an oddly shaped axe as the other two drew larger single bladed axes.
They surrounded him, his grip on the blade tightening as he felt his heart beat faster, throbbing heavily in his chest. What is this feeling? He wondered, his arms and legs tingling for the chance to move, the man with the odd axe screaming as he tossed the axe at Brimiaz, who saw it coming as he took a step back, one of the other men coming at him from the right, Brimiaz's breathing starting to slow down as he swung his blade, making the bandit switch from an offensive to defensive stance, glancing behind himself at the unarmed bandit as he closed in, taking three steps back before spinning, a light swing in a wide arc making the unarmed man take a step back, giving Brimiaz enough time to register the fact that the other two men were closing in, one from behind and one from the left. He exhaled slowly, stepping to the right as the bandit from behind came down with an overhead swing, Brimiaz swinging his blade down hard, the blade tearing through his leather armor and burying itself into his right shoulder, allowing Brimiaz to release the blade and grab the man's axe.
Brimiaz swung the axe upward as he turned to his left, his axe colliding with the other bandit's own axe. Both men recoiled, Brimiaz recovering first as the man stumbled back, grabbing the axe in both hands and swinging as hard as he could, the blade tearing through his shirt and his right side, Brimiaz gauging that based off the angle of the swing, the man suffered heavy damage to his intestines and right kidney, the amnesiac very surprised at the force of the swing. Spinning around, he watched the man grip his side, axe forgotten, before collapsing to the ground as blood began to pour from his wound, the man with the blade in his shoulder struggling to recover. Brimiaz closed in quickly, not giving a chance to recover as he lifted the axe overhead and came down, burying it into the man's neck as he collapsed back to the ground, a raspy scream all Brimiaz heard before turning to the third man, who seemed rather nervous. "How the hell did you do that?" he asked, and Brimiaz glanced behind him to the two felled bandits. For some reason, the sight didn't bother him, and this was something else he found odd.
I seem to be accustomed to battlefield in some fashion. That's a development. He thought, turning back to the first man. "I am Brimiaz." he said, bowing as the man grit his teeth. He took three steps forward, Brimiaz completely relaxed, his earlier agitation completely forgotten. The man screamed, rushing in as Brimiaz stepped to his left, the man's wild tackle missing him completely. "A wild tackle? I'm unimpressed. I take it you're a rookie at this, huh?" he asked, half curious, half taunting. The man grit his teeth. "Look at the scar under my chin! The hair on my face! I have many years of experience! I will not let this insult go unpunished!" He shouted, running up to Brimiaz and stopping short. The amnesiac flung his coat open, allowing for a wider variety of movements, the man starting with a right cross, Brimiaz exhaling and leaning to his right, forming his left hand into a blade shape, jabbing the man in the armpit, the pain causing the man to wince and pull his arm back.
Brimiaz used these few seconds to evaluate his opponent. He's taller than me by a couple inches…. But I seem to be heavier than him. I also seem to have the speed advantage. He noticed, watching the bandit recover and throw a left jab, Brimiaz leaning back and looking at his fist. Callouses. He must have been a hard worker before he became a bandit. He said, exhilarated at how much info he could gauge from avoiding an attack. Stepping to his right, Brimiaz closed in and threw a heavy, straight right cross, the bandit taking two steps back as he shook his injured arm, Brimiaz able to close in before he could react, throwing a right jab at his stomach, watching the man grunt at the force before the tactician instinctively grabbed the man in a headlock, intertwining his hands as he pulled the man to the ground, wrapping his legs around the man's waist in a tight lock, the man struggling to strike Brimiaz, or at least roll around, something Brimiaz allowed him to do. Rolling with the man's struggle, Brimiaz ended up atop the man's chest, pulling back on his head as hard as he could, hearing a loud crunching noise before the man went completely limp.
Letting the man go, Brimiaz stood, looking around before heading towards the center of town. He glanced at each building as he passed it, looking for signs of life in the buildings, burning or otherwise. His ears twitched when he heard a scream, noticing that a nearby house to his right was missing the front door, likely broken in by a bandit or desperate villager. Running over, Brimiaz remember that he had no weapon on him, patting his coat to see if he carried a knife at the least. He felt something hard, and opened his coat and peered in, noticing a small book. He pulled it from his coat as he advanced on the house, opening it and noticing that there were chants and instructions for all sorts of rituals. Is this a spellbook? He wondered, entering the house and looking around. He didn't see anyone, noticing that the large room by the entrance was completely empty and untouched, as if whoever broke in knew where they were going.
Brimiaz heard a sound, something almost akin to a sob, coming from above, running over to the steps on the right of the entrance, making sure he was as quiet as possible, keeping his breathing quiet and even. Making it up to the top, he noticed that two doors were open, no sunlight coming from wither, making him wonder how they were constructed. Tip toeing over to the first room, he noticed a slightly pudgy man laying in a bed, his throat cut and his sheets stained with his blood. Brimiaz found it odd that the man was alone, assuming that the fellow would have perished with his wife or children. Brimiaz's head jerked up, the tactician narrowing his eyes as he heard a sound that sounded like water running. Although, the sound was muffled, his ears leading him from the room to a second room, where, he instantly noticed that the door was merely cracked. He inhaled quietly, leaning forward and peeking through the door to see a small boy struggling with a larger male, an older woman he assumed to be the boy's mother laying on the ground, her blouse torn asunder and skirt hanging off her knees.
Brimiaz stepped back, pulling his left leg up and throwing it forward, kicking the door open and taking two steps forward, ducking as the man turned to him and swung his fist, Brimiaz stepping forward and turning as he rose to his full height, exhaling as he kicked the man in the back, causing him to stumble from the room. Brimiaz looked back to the boy, who's eye was swollen and lip was bleeding, and the woman, whose face was coated in tear stains. He smiled to them, letting them know that he was here to do everything he could, something that deep down, he knew he wanted. Turning his attention back to the intruder, he noticed that the man pulled a knife from his side, Brimiaz analyzing his light leather armor and noticing gaps under his arms and under his biceps, giving Brimiaz a rather large area to work with, the man jabbing forward as he closed the book and using it to block, the pages being torn as the knife went halfway through the book, Brimiaz casting it aside as he jabbed hiss head forward, slamming it into his opponent's nose.
He jerked his head up, his arms catching his opponent by the temple as he turned to the stairs, another headbutt earning him an audible crunch as blood erupted from the man's broad nose, the recoil causing him to fall back, a shock expression crossing his face as he fell down the stairs, bouncing off the steps before crashing into them again, falling back as Brimiaz exhaled, leaping after him, rolling himself into a ball as he closed in, extending his body out suddenly, slamming his heavy boots into his opponent's chest, causing him to spit blood that hit Brimiaz's pants. The tactician stepped off of the man's chest, watching him struggle to stand as he opened his hand, images of the book flashing in his head as he inhaled, watching sparks fly from his hands as he dropped to his knees, the sparks increasing in force as he clenched his fist, the sparks cackling around his fist as he brought it down, slamming it into the man's forehead, hearing a sickening crack as the sparks flew through his face, his eyes bulging in their sockets.
Brimiaz pulled his fist back, shaking the blood from it as he grabbed the man's limp right arm, dragging him to the front door and sighing, walking from the house with the man's corpse, one of his allies spotting him and blinking in surprise before moving on. Brimiaz cast the man's corpse aside, adrenaline running though his veins as he headed towards the town square, his eyes peeled for any more enemies. My physical abilities are far beyond what I expected. He thought, even his speed impressing him. Although, what was that water I heard? He wondered, realizing that the sound of the water vanished as soon as he reached the door where the boy was fighting the bandit. Maybe it was a signal one of them sent? He thought to himself, his train of thought cut off by a scream, a bandit leaping from the roof of a building, brandishing an axe in his hands.
Brimiaz stepped back as the man landed on the ground, any possible damage or pain from the jump eliminated, likely by adrenaline, Brimiaz gauging that the man's reach with the axe was about six feet, meaning that Brimiaz would have to out speed or outmaneuver the bandit. He shouted, a twin handed swing that came down vertically, Brimiaz sliding to his left, turning his body as he took a step forward as he swung his left leg in a wide arc at the man's skull, Brimiaz watching his foe turn the axe and his body to his right, swinging the axe at his extended leg. Brimiaz exhaled, jerking his body to face forward as he lifted his leg straight up, the man stumbling as Brimiaz came down, a whooshing sound reaching his ears as his left heel crashed into the man's left shoulder, a crack and pop ringing out as the man dropped the axe with a scream, Brimiaz's adrenaline allowing him to spin around the pained man, grabbing the axe in both hands and spinning to his right, the axe cleaving the man's head clean off.
Brimiaz kept the axe in his hands as he turned to the square, setting off as he kept tabs on his surroundings.He heard the thumping of horses moving about, grunts from a battle as he rounded a corner and reached a small bridge, a large building on the other side, Chrom and Frederick surrounded by a small group of bandits, Lissa on Frederick's horse, clutching onto him in fear. So she can't fight, huh? He thought, jogging over when one of the bandits broke away from the large scuffle and headed in his direction. How many have I defeated? At least five by now. He thought, rolling his neck as he gripped the axe by the middle of the handle, gritting his teeth as the bandit drew a sword, moving much more effectively than his comrades, Brimiaz realizing that this man was much more experienced than the rest.
The man came down when he reached Brimiaz, who turned the axe sideways to block the attack, the two rounded blades working as a shield as Brimiaz kicked his left leg out, striking the man in his right knee, pushing the sword away as he twisted the axe in his hands, rising to a vertical base as he swung down, allowing the axe to slide in his grip slightly, the man stepping back and jabbing forward, Brimiaz jerking the axe upwards to block, the underside of the axe's blade hooking and grinding against the sword, pushing the blade back as he brought the axe around, swinging it at the man's exposed stomach, the man stepping back once more, whistling as Brimiaz rose back to a vertical base. "I'm impressed. The others weren't as skilled as you." he said, and Brimiaz furrowed his brow. "What others?" he asked, and the man began to laugh. "The mercenaries! They were all so weak and pitiful! Even the archers they defended were disgusted, abandoning them as soon as I struck." he said, shaking his head.
Brimiaz frowned, looking at the axe in his hand. "So you also defeated five members of your enemy's forces." he said, bending his knees and leaning forward, gripping the axe tightly in his right hand. He felt a surge of adrenaline, the thought of being able to defeat more foes than his enemy something that oddly thrilled him. "Come on then! Let's see who can make it to six victories first!" he called, and the man laughing, obliging him as he charged forward, a right hand jab his first move. Brimiaz stepped back, aware that if he weaved around his opponent could simply swing the blade to either side with the twist of a wrist, a second jab leaving Brimiaz with a large variety of openings, his axe coming up as he aimed to cut off his opponent's arm. The man withdrew his arm, coming down with the finesse of a trained knight, the blade tearing through his robe and slicing his flesh, the pain ringing white hot through his body.
He stumbled back, the man stepping forward and pointing the blade out, bending his free arm behind his back, a pose that would look much more natural if the man wielded a rapier. Brimiaz looked to the wound on his right arm, something he gauged wouldn't affect his ability to wield a weapon. He assumably has the experience advantage. I'm fighting off of reflexes and quick thinking. Usually those two things don't work well together. He thought, his opponent taking a bold step forward, not changing his stance at all. Brimiaz clenched his axe, moving forward and coming down wildly, his opponent lifting his blade overhead, the attack hitting air as he simply brought his arm down. Brimiaz slid the axe up in his hand, grabbing the shaft near the blades as he spun the axe and turned it, the blades vertically blocking his opponent's attack, much like they did earlier.
"That won't work twice!" the man shouted, turning his own blade and spinning as he ducked down, his blade slicing the left side of Brimiaz's chest, his robes and undershirt unable to provide any assistance, the pain causing his to scream as he stumbled back. He dropped the axe, clutching the wound on the left side of his ribs. The man flicked the blood off of the blade and retook his initial stance. "Looks like you weren't so tough after all. What good is all of that skill when you use an inferior weapon?" he asked, and Brimiaz blinked. Inferior weapon, huh? I guess the sword is more dangerous when used effectively. The axe is more built for power based styles. He thought, blinking as he stepped forward and picked the axe up. That was the problem. I was trying to parry and duel a swordsman with an axe. I should fight like an axewielder instead. He said, clenching the axe in his hand and retaking his previous stance.
Brimiaz ran forward, glancing to the other side of the bridge, where Frederick and Chrom still seemed overwhelmed, an unknown number of remaining soldiers still pressuring them. His opponent jabbed forward, Brimiaz stepping to his right as he closed in, a hard right swing coming down in a diagonal arc from upper right to lower left. His opponent turned to his left and stepped back, Brimiaz turning with him and swinging down, his opponent unable to recover, only able to step back continuously as Brimiaz kept pressuring him, powerful, wild swings that covered too much space for the man to use his sword. He watched his opponent's newfound fighting style, looking for any openings, noticing that his legs were always wide open, his grip on his sword tightening as he jabbed his blade at Brimiaz's left knee. Suddenly, the amnesiac smiled, turning to his left and coming down, his axe slicing through the blade as if it were made of wood.
The man's hand quivered from the recoil, his hand opening as he dropped the shattered blade, Brimiaz turning back and continuing his wild attacks, his opponent only able to step back until he bumped into a wall, Brimiaz coming down as fast as he could, his opponent rolling around as the axe lodged itself into the stone wall. The man drew a knife from his side, screaming as he jabbed at Brimiaz's ribs from the left. Brimiaz noticed this, stepping back and grabbing his wrist with his right hand, twisting it in his grip. His left arm bent, his elbow coming up and crashing down on the man's elbow, a scream ringing out as his arm was broken, the amnesiac swinging the bent portion of his hand out, the back of his clenched fist striking the man in the face. The man stumbled back, Brimiaz catching the knife as he dropped it, exhaling as he closed in, slamming the knife into the man's stomach, his close proximity allowing him to strike the man in the jaw with a left elbow.
The man crashed to the ground, calling out in pain as teeth feel from his mouth, Brimiaz stepping forward calmly and grabbing the knife's handle. He twisted it, the man calling out before his cry turned into a wail of agony as Brimiaz tore the knife out, the man's blood pouring from the jagged wound. Brimiaz looked to the knife, almost compelled to keep it for himself. "Tell me, what is your name?" he asked, and the man grunted as he rolled to his back, looking to the sky as he coughed, blood sputtering from his lips and hitting him in the face. "My name… is Ralph. My mother named me after some warrior one of my ancestors met, and she hoped that I would become a knight. And I did… before my commander exiled me." he said, his breathing increasing in intensity as Brimiaz looked to the knife. He liked the unusual smithing of the blade, the silver of the blade almost blue in color, various wave like patterns across it's bloodied surface. "I… was exiled because I kept that knife." he said, another bloody cough escaping his lips. Brimiaz nodded. "Something about 'Good knights don't keep trophies like bandits and barbarians', I assume?" he asked, and the man laughed, nodding. "That's right." he said, exhaling as he looked to the sky, his eyelids slowly tarting to close.
"Since I'm going to die, will you tell me your name?" Ralph asked, and Brimiaz nodded. "I am Brimiaz. I have amnesia, so I do not know much about myself either." he said, and Ralph smiled. "Brimiaz, huh? Quite the name. Sounds…. Plegian, almost." he said, and then he closed his eyes, nodding to Brimiaz. The tactician spun the blade in his hand. "Farewell, Ralph. You were quite the opponent, and I feel honored to have fought you." he said, coming down and slamming the knife into Ralph's throat, turning it and pulling it out. He stood and turned, flicking the blood from the knife as he looked to it. This knife is beautiful. I understand why he kept it. Brimiaz said, exhaling as he looked across the bridge, the number of bandits having decreased incredibly. Brimiaz blinked as he began running over to the trio, his axe forgotten. There's no way I can pull that thing from the stone anyway. He thought to himself, noticing that a rather impressively adorned bandit emerged from the building in the center of town, shouting as another wave of bandits surged around him, Brimiaz close enough to see the visible exhaustion around the duo.
Brimiaz placed the knife in a pocket, glancing back to the fight as he reached the bridge, noticing Frederick rear up as he parried a small group of bandits, their rejuvenated numbers aiding them. He heard the Great Knight's horse called out as it reared up much farther, Lissa calling out as she fell from the horse. Brimiaz's heart throbbed as he felt as if the scene move in slow motion, his feet slamming against the wood of the bridge, his breathing at a halt as he made it across the bridge, grabbing Lissa and turning as a sword cut into his back and made him call out, spinning and grabbing his assailant by the throat, tearing the blade from his hand and lodging it in the man's chest, a look of awe and fear on his features as the blade was torn out, the injured tactician in a foul mood as he counted how many foes they had left.
"Chrom, Frederick! There's twenty five left! Guard Lissa while taking out as many as you can!" He shouted, incensed as the duo complied, Chrom helping Lissa back onto Frederick's horse as Brimiaz covered Chrom, using the blade he stole to parry a pair of bandits, shoving them both back as he moved to the left bandit, jabbing the man in the stomach as he opened his palm, concentrating as a ball of flame formed and launched itself at the second bandit, Chrom taken aback by the tactician's usage of magick. "Brimiaz, you can use magick!?" he shouted, parrying blades with another bandit. Brimiaz nodded, parrying a flurry of strikes from a pair of bandits, who he could tell had much less skill than the rest of their comrades. "It seems I can. I discovered a tome in my robes and managed to skim through it."
Chrom chuckled, coming down and defeating another bandit. "That's good to hear. I could use a mage as a tactician." he said, Brimiaz raising a brow as he parried an axe, spinning around his opponent and slashing down his back. "So you'd trust me enough to make me your tactician?" he asked, the duo coming back to back as their enemies numbered only twelve, the rest all either injured or struck down. Chrom chuckled. "You saved my sister's life and have been a huge aid in this battle. I guess I could at least give you a chance." Chrom said, grunting before parrying a heavier axe, Brimiaz spinning around the blue haired warrior and jabbing the bandit in the face, pulling his blade free with little resistance. "I could lead you to your death without a single shred of remorse. Can you really trust someone like that?" he asked, and Chrom laughed.
"I've met a lot of people, and I can tell you aren't that kind of person." he said, Brimiaz glancing back at him and raising a brow as he cut down another bandit, watching Frederick dispatch another bandit, the man's incredible skill from a horse rather impressive to Brimiaz. "For your sake, you better hope you're right." he said, and Chrom chuckled as the duo struck down a pair of bandits at the same time, only the heavily adorned leader remaining. Brimiaz rolled his neck and flicked the blood from his blade, turning to the man and smiling. He spun his sword overhead before slamming it into the ground. "Surrender now and we will spare your life! If you refuse our generosity, I will personally strike you down." he said, and the man scoffed.
"You think a pretty boy like you can kill me!? Please! I've raped women that can fight better than you!" he shouted, and Brimiaz rose a brow at the insult. "Your forces numbered roughly seventy five with the second wave included. I personally struck down nearly a third of your forces myself. Truly you jest." he said, the man gritting his teeth as he brandished a pair of two bladed axes, something that made Brimiaz worry ever so slightly. Chrom walked over to him, handing him another blade, this one likely silver in make, much stronger and sturdier than his bronze blade. "I'm sure you can beat him by yourself. If not, just give me or Frederick a call. Surprising as it is to say, I think we'll need you in the future." he said, and Brimiaz nodded, stepping forward and clanging the blades together, grinding them together as he spread his arms and crouched slightly, unsure where he learned this stance.
The two men charged forward, Brimiaz jabbing forward with the silver sword in his right hand, watching the man step to his left, swinging in a broad inward arc with his right axe. Brimiaz flipped the bronze sword in his grip, bringing his arm up to block the man's swing. The two blades collided with an audible clang, pain shooting through Brimiaz's arm from the force, the tactician pulling his right arm back before lifting it up, coming down in a diagonal arc from right to left, his blade striking the man's shoulder and sliding off, causing Brimiaz to realize that the man's armor was covered in oil, the tactician backing up and creating space to think about the situation calmly. If he's covered in oil, then my only choice is to strike the unarmored parts of his body. He thought, taking a step back to get a better look at his opponent.
Glancing him over, he noted that his opponent's head, feet, ankles and armpits were the only unarmored parts of his body, all places that would be difficult to focus on without being discovered. I can't wildly target his face or armpits with the strength of those axes. He thought, charging forward and inhaling. So I guess I'll target his feet and ankles. He finished, stopping short and spinning, swinging with both of his blade from left to right, the man blocking by striking his swords with both of his axes, Brimiaz predicting this and spinning with the force, adding to his momentum as he came around from the other direction, the bronze sword in his left hand striking the man's left ankle, causing him to grunt and stumble slightly. Brimiaz came down on the man's left shoulder with his right sword, striking it stiffly as his blade slid off, the man groaning in pain as he recovered.
He came up with his left axe, the blade tearing into the flesh of Brimiaz's right shoulder as he took a few steps back, inhaling as he continued to think, watching his opponent retake his standard stance before charging forward, clearly angered by Brimiaz's ankle attack. The tactician inhaled, feeling the blood begin to run down his right arm, watching his foe lift both of his axes as he approached, Brimiaz flipping his swords into a reverse grip as he ran forward, weaving to the right and ducking under his foe's arms before spinning and throwing his right arm back, his blade slamming into the back of the man's ankle, causing him to scream in pain as he stumbled forward, Brimiaz leaving the blade in his flesh as he spun around him, coming down hard on the man's back with his Bronze blade, stepping back as the man swung his left axe wildly.
Even if I can't pierce or dent that oiled garb, I can still cause pain by striking it. He thought as he spun to his right again, switching his Bronze sword from his left hand to his right, tearing the silver blade from the man's flesh, coming down hard on his right thigh as hard as he could, hearing a pain shout as the man scrambled to his feet, his right leg weakened by the repeated ankle attack and the strike to the thigh, Brimiaz rolling the blades in his grip as he took a step back, distance itself an ally of his, forcing his opponent to exert more energy and put more pressure on his injured leg to close in.
"Will you surrender?" Brimiaz asked, and the man grit his teeth, both of his axes in a tighter grip as he roared in anger, charging Brimiaz, the pain in his leg completely forgotten, Brimiaz able to see a small trail of blood coming from his leg. The man came down with his right axe, Brimiaz steeping to his right and turning to his left. Brimiaz drove his slightly injured shoulder into the man's chest, shoving him back. Brimiaz grit his teeth at the pain, the injury and the odd sting of an oily substance in his wound causing his grip on the bronze blade to waver. He stepped back and turned to face the man, making a mental note to not attempt any more right shoulder strikes as the man's left axe swung in a horizontal arc, Brimiaz stepping back before jabbing forward with his left blade, striking the man's collarbone, his blade sliding up and resting on his shoulder. Brimiaz immediately thought about dragging the blade along his foe's neck to end the fight, but his opponent had other plans.
Brimiaz noticed that his opponent began to pull his left axe back in the opposite direction, and Brimiaz cursed, immediately stepping back to avoid a strike that would surely leave his entrails across the ground. The man followed up with a diagonal overhead swing from his right axe, not giving Brimiaz any time to close in, something that agitated him with the amount of blood secreting from his right shoulder. Brimiaz spun in a counter clockwise quart circle as he stepped forward, avoiding the right axe and jabbing out with his right blade, aiming for his foe's armpit, something that was easily picked up on, the man leaning down and causing Brimiaz's blade to strike his shoulder and slide off, the force jarring the tactician's injured arm and causing him to drop his Bronze blade. He cursed, glancing to the dropped weapon as his mind shifted focus.
Brimiaz immediately began to regroup, taking a few steps back and rolling the silver blade in his left hand as he allowed his right arm to simply hang, trying to reduce the amount of damage it took. Since my arm is useless now, this'll be a lot harder. He thought, part of him wondering why he didn't just use some form of magick to his advantage. He stepped back from a dual axed swing, rolling to the man's right and swinging at his ankle, another light strike that caused the man to grimace as Brimiaz rolled around to the opposite side, striking his other ankle from behind, slowly weakening his posture. I have to get him off his feet and them strike at his skull. He thought, realizing that he was having a hard time with just his left hand, the fact that he was primarily right handed rather apparent to him now.
Brimiaz moved forward, jabbing forward randomly, the man stepping back and laughing, swinging his right axe at Brimiaz's blade, the tactician cursing and spinning in a clockwise circle to avoid losing his blade. I honestly don't understand left handed swordsmen. It just feels so much more open than right handed swordsmanship. He thought to himself as he took a step, the two, beginning to stalk around each other. "Looks like you can't back up your bold claims, Kid!" the man shouted, and Brimiaz gripped his blade tighter, itching for a chance to make the man eat his words, glancing down to his ankles, noticing that his right leg was rather bloodied, his right ankle and foot visibly bloodstained. Left leg should be my primary target. The tactician thought as he jabbed forward to attempt to cause damage, not caring that he missed, noticing that his opponent attempted to move forward, but hesitated as his right leg wobbled.
Brimiaz immediately capitalized, running to the man's left and swinging hard, the silver blade crashing into the outside of his ankle, the man screaming as Brimiaz pulled back and rolled, the blade coming down on his left shoulder, Brimiaz striking hard enough for his blade to bounce off the man's oiled armor instead of slipping and sliding. He stepped back as the man fell to his knees, Brimiaz exhaling as he noticed his vision begin to grow hazy, his right arm starting to lose it's feeling. Brimiaz took this as a signal to end the battle as fast as he could, immediately stepping back before throwing his left leg forward, kicking the man in the side and knocking him to his back, the injured male jabbing his blade down at the man's face, a wild shout and swing of his left axe blocking his attack and knocking the other blade from his hand.
The force made Brimiaz wobble, the man pushing himself up and rolling, his right axe coming down in a wide arc. Brimiaz could tell that if he didn't do something, the axe would crash directly into the center of his ribcage and likely shatter it completely when combined with the force of his body hitting the ground. His only choice was to lean into the fall even more, the axe instead striking him in his already injured shoulder, causing him to call out in agony as the man landed face down next to Brimiaz, the pain causing Brimiaz to discard all of his strategy and throw a wild left elbow into the side of the man's skull, making his head come off the ground long enough for Brimiaz to catch him in a headlock, pulling tight enough to allow him to hook his hands together, the guillotine locked in firmly.
The man began to shout, wildly shaking the axe and grinding into the flesh of Brimiaz's right shoulder. Brimiaz unhooked his hands and, somehow, rolled his right arm underneath his foe's, hooking him in a triangle choke that caused him to lose hold of his axe, the weapon tearing Brimiaz's flesh ass it clattered off his arm and hit the ground. The man struggled wildly, Brimiaz holding on as hard as he could, regardless of the blood spurting from his arm. "Let me go!" The man wailed, the tone of his voice belying fear and panic. Brimiaz laughed as he rolled his shoulders to crank the man's neck as his legs stopped flailing. "If you've raped women stronger than me, it must've been a very odd scene!" He shouted as the man released his other axe as his struggle slowly ceased, his body going limp as the life was squeezed out of him.
Brimiaz held on for thirty seconds after the man's struggle ceased for good measure, releasing the hold as he rolled to his right before struggling to his own feet, his right arm hanging limp as he looked to the massive wound on his right shoulder. I might never use this arm the same again with the way he tore into it. He thought as he walked back to Chrom and Frederick, who seemed rather impressed by his display, Chrom moreso. "That was incredible." he said, and Brimiaz chuckled. "Thank you. Although, don't expect me to do anything like that for a while because of this." he said, and the blue haired male nodded. "I understand. I'll see what our clerics can do about that wound." he said, something Brimiaz thanked him for. "By the way," Brimiaz began as he began walking slowly from the scene. "You never told me what you guys called yourselves. You don't seem like a random group of mercenaries." he said, and Chrom nodded.
"We call ourselves the Shepherds, and we fight for the freedom and safety of all innocent people in Ylisse." he said, and Brimiaz chuckled. "Well that sounds like something straight from a fairy tale." he said with a chuckle as he reached an empty horse, petting the creature briefly before struggling onto it's back. He slid his robe off, wrapping it around his right arm tightly to avoid bleeding on the poor horse as much as he could. "Well, Chrom of the Shepherds, I do hope that you'd accept an odd fellow like me into your ranks, regardless of who I turn out to be in the end." he said, and the man chuckled as he climbed onto his own horse. "Of course. You're a tactician the likes of which aren't seen very often. We'd be honored to have you." he said, and Brimiaz bowed his head in thank as the took off, Brimiaz choosing to leave both the dead man and all of the weapons involved in their fight in the center of the town.
That night, Brimiaz leaned against a tree, his wound having been properly treated by Clerics and bandaged. His mind was rampant with many thoughts, a good chunk of which were questions about himself. He didn't even know what he looked like, the only hint was that he had bronze skin, something that earned him a few cross glances from the remaining Shepherds, the elder males especially. Of course, a few of the younger female clerics tended to him with a care that belied their odd desire. I don't even remember what my preferences in females are. He said, shaking his head as he sighed. He looked to his right shoulder and rolled it, gritting his teeth at the pain. He looked forward, noticing that the Shepherds were gathering around a small group of fires, all eating and seeming rather happy despite the number of allies they lost.
Is death really such a part of their every day lives that they ignore it? He wondered, choosing to ignore it as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, honestly rather comfortable where he was. "Comfortable, are we?" he heard, the tactician opening his eyes and glancing up to see Chrom standing near him. He chuckled, glancing past him to Lissa, who was rather attached to Frederick. "I am actually. Something tells me that the person I am, or was, wasn't the best people person." he said, something that made Chrom chuckle. "You should come over and get some food. If you don't remember anything, than you can just pretend you don't know anything. Maybe you'll like things you never did before, like different foods." he said, and Brimiaz nodded. "You could be right, honestly. I'll be over soon." he said, adjusting his posture to make it more convenient to stand.
Chrom smiled, turning and heading back towards the fires, Brimiaz watching him walk away, a few things sticking out to him. Why is his hair blue? That seems so… unusual. He noticed, noting that everyone else's hair, including his sister's, was a more believable group of shades, ranging from black and brown to orange and blonde, much different from the other male's blue. And of course, the other thing Brimiaz noticed was that he was watching the other male walk away, something that confused him more than anything. I really don't remember anything about myself. I'd hope that I can find out soon before I end up doing something…. Odd. He thought, choosing to close his look up to the oak tree he sat under before closing his eyes.
Frederick looked to Chrom as he sat back down, glancing past him to the tactician who laid sleeping against the tree. "My Lord, was it really appropriate to take in this odd fellow?" he asked, and Chrom nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem Frederick. He's rather strong and a lot smarter than any of our older tacticians." he said, and Frederick nodded, unable to disagree with that. "He is a rather strange looking individual though." he said, and Chrom nodded, looking over to Brimiaz, able to see his bronze skin and odd, sky blue hair that appeared green in the right light. "Are you saying that blue hair is strange, Frederick?" he asked with a smirk, his trusted guard blinking and shaking his head. "Not at all. Forgive me if I offended you, My Lord." he said, bowing his head slightly Chrom laughed, shaking his head.
"Of course not. I was just jesting." he said. He exhaled as he tore a loaf of bread, passing half of it to Lissa, who was happily chatting with a few of the female Clerics, Chrom swearing he heard one of them mention Brimiaz's name before a chain of giggles rang out. "I will agree that he looks strange. I've never seen anyone with orange eyes before." he said, turning to the tree as he noticed that Brimiaz was standing, rolling his injured shoulder before grimacing as he headed in their direction. "Couldn't sleep?" Chrom asked, and Brimiaz shook his head. "I tried, but I must be too strung from both the recent battle and my agitation at my amnesia." he said, and Frederick frowned. "I had heard that amnesia is a wildly varying ailment. There is a possibility that one might never recover." he said.
Brimiaz blinked before humming. "So there's a chance that everything before today might never come back to me?" he asked, more to himself than anything. He shrugged, sighing. "I guess it couldn't be helped then. I will make it one of my goals to try and remember, but in the event I never recover, I trust that you will be good enough friends of mine that it won't ail me at all." he said, Chrom laughing as he nodded. "Of course. We Shepherds are a jolly lot." he said, Brimiaz smiling and nodding, knowing full well that Frederick was rather suspicious of him. Perhaps he wishes to have Chrom all to himself? He wondered, blinking when he realized how many meaning that statement could have depending on the context.
"Hey Brimiaz, are you alright?" he heard, turning and glancing to Lissa before nodding. "Of course. Despite all of the damage I took, the Clerics managed to do enough to save my arm. If all goes well, I should be fully recovered within a few weeks at most." he explained, and Lissa smiled. "That's great! It'd be pretty lame if your first fight with us was the only one you could have at a hundred percent." she said, and Brimiaz chuckled. "When I heal, I plan on training to get stronger. I'll need it, especially for my right arm." he said, glancing to the bandaged limb. "Would you be using swords?" Chrom asked, and Brimiaz shrugged. "I'll try out everything and see what clicks with me. Swords and axes are both nice, but I'd like to try out varying form of spears, lances and so on. And most importantly, I'd like to work on my bare handed combat skills." he said, an Chrom whistled.
"Not many would try that with how many weapons are being made every day." he said, and Brimiaz nodded. "I understand that, but at the same time, your own body is the best close range weapon you could ask for, should you be trained decently." he said, and Lissa smiled broadly. "If you ever want to do any training as a Cleric, I'd be happy to help you out!" she said happily, and Brimiaz nodded in thanks. "I would greatly appreciate it if one as enthusiastic as you were to be my teacher." he said, and Chrom laughed, slapping Brimiaz on his good shoulder. "You really think about these things outside of battle. Incredible." he said, and Brimiaz shrugged with his left shoulder. "Someone should. What is our next destination?" he asked, and Frederick narrowed his eyes. "The Ylissean Capital. You should be able to learn something about yourself there." he said, and Brimiaz nodded. "If people don't like the sight of me in the Capital it'd mean that I was a ne'er do well of some sort." he said, and Chrom shook his head, as if disregarding that statement.
"Even if you were some kind of criminal, as long as you weren't a murderer or a rapist, I'm sure I could have your crimes forgiven." he said, and Brimiaz nodded. "I would greatly appreciate it, should that be the case." he said. "Would that be a wise decision?" Frederick asked almost immediately, Brimiaz able to tell that Frederick wasn't his biggest fan. I'll have to figure out why eventually, but for now I'll continue making things as easy as possible for me. He said, rolling his injured shoulder. "And should it come out that I am some dastardly criminal I will willingly accept any punishment necessary, since I currently have no place to run to." he said, and Chrom smiled. He glanced to Frederick, folding his arms. "See, Frederick? He's a good guy after all." he said, and the man only closed his eyes. "I wouldn't doubt your judgment, My Lord."
Much later, when most of the soldiers were asleep and everyone was in their tents, Brimiaz remained by the fire, staring into the cackling flames as he allowed his mind to remain blank, as if waiting for something to come to his mind. If I never remembered anything, would I really be able to accept that? He wondered, the possibility that he had a family wondering where he was on his mind as well. Did he have parents? Siblings? A lover? Or much worse, was there a chance that he had children he didn't know about? He shook his head, sighing as he leaned back, hearing an unusual noise coming from one of the tents. He stood, remaining as silent as possible as he headed towards the sound, hearing it again, the sound like a mewling groan, something that Brimiaz could picture a lost, baby animal releasing, a sound that he could associate with one searching for their mother.
He hesitated, hearing the noise again, this one sounding more like a person saying something. He turned to the right, noticing a single tent that seemed to be slightly open. Approaching slowly, he heard the noise again, this time much more clearly. "Chrom..." Brimiaz blinked. Chrom? He wondered, closing in on the tent and peering in, crouching down and reaching up to his chin, rubbing his jaw, which he now knew was nearly hairless. Well, this is rather interesting. He thought, standing and turning, chuckling to himself as he found something to do while he stayed with the Shepherds.
Finally finished! This is much different than my initial draft, but then again, that draft was written by hand 2-3 years ago lol. I do hope you enjoyed this, as it will be one of the slower fics I write, since I have to come up with everything and possibly replay Awakening to remember the exact flow of events and how I can restructure them. Thanks for everything, and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing Jiro 'The Ghetto Shaman' Uchiha, OTF Inc.