AN: Well, well, well. Here is the first chapter of my first ATLA fanfic. Fair warning: This is going to be an AU, and will be the first in a series if its popular enough. I intend to make the ending of this story to be open to either a sequel, or just end it at that point. However make no mistake, I intend to finish this even if I end up having like 10 reviews by the time its good and done with. Its going to revolve around an OC of my own design, well technically three if you want to get technical. Also, I don't really have a set name for him as of yet. Which is why this first chapter may seem a bit confusing to follow. In addition to that, he may seem somewhat too powerful in your opinions.
There is a clear reason for this however. The story is set in the years prior to the series, it begins nearly twenty years before. This chapter however, is not the beginning of my story. Rather it is set a little over two years earlier, when the main is nearly seventeen. I also took the liberty of exploring a relatively untapped piece of the war. Throughout the series we relatively little of the Northern part of the Earth Kingdom, aside from the Northern Air temple which I would assume does not count as it was once part of the Air Nomads territory. I took the liberty of writing in some of the war in that part of the Earth Kingdom, but enough about that. Back to why he may seem so powerful.
First off he is no bender, of any kind. Rather he will be a "normal" human in the Avatar world, as I felt that aside from Sokka, Mai, and Ty Lee, we didn't really get any insight into the world of your average person. The series is named the last Air-"bender", honestly how much of what we did see had nothing to do with bending in some way? Not as much as I felt could be done. But, I really liked the idea of a person traveling all over the world learning many different skills along the way. So, take the Avatar's plot line of learning the four styles of bending and reapply it towards learning how to fight, and survive by learning from all four nations. At the point this opening takes place, he's already learned a lot of what I want him to learn.
Some additional information: he has fought in the war for years already, is a prodigy at the "art of war", he knows how to lead, and also when to follow. He has a great dislike for benders of any kind, there will be few he can stand, fewer he trusts, and fewer still as friends. The why for that, is simply I think that view is more prevalent than shown in the series, I mean the city in Avatar: The Legend of Korra is anti-bender so that means it does exist. On to what I meant by technically three main OC characters. They are all one and the same, think Allelujah Haptism in Gundam 00, and his alter ego Hallelujah. Yes, he'll be a multiple personality character/characters, and like the aforementioned the two personalities will sometimes come together and form an even more powerful warrior. The two personalities reflect his heritage, the blood of a Fire Bending father, and an Earth Kingdom mother. Also, I have no names for the personalities as well so help with that please, the two co-exist at all times changing control of the body when needed. The fire persona typical fire nation, obsessed with honor, survival, combat, creativity, and winning. He will be the more 'human' of the two in that he is more emotional. The Earth side, he's more of an emotional shell and the realist, cold and uncaring as rock most of the time, blunt, always planning, and without any care for his life to the point of being suicidal.
They are the most feared and infamous mercenary, and assassin in the world, at least by the end of it. Oh yeah, prodigy of war? If weapons were a college course at a place like Harvard, then he'd be honored as its greatest student. He invented several of his own tools, and armor, and he invented his own fighting technique.
Also a warning to any readers. This story contains very dark themes. Namely, mental trauma, child soldiers, the brutality of unrestricted soldiers, and lack of respect for human life in many situations. Just in case some of you start wondering sometime during the story, I took some themes from Vathara's highly popular Embers. Chief among them, is a more realistic approach to how the humans would deal with the war, as well as its consequences.
Now the story begins, and for the most part what happens here will be towards the end of the entire story, I guess you can call everything I put up after this a flashback into his life up until we get back here, which is near the end of the story. Oh, and just a quick last minute message to you guys. If any of you guys are good artists I would really appreciate it if you'd try to come up with what you think he looks like and send me your pics. I'd love to have an actual picture of what some of my readers wind up thinking he looks like, and also since he's an OC it will be a lot harder to visualize him outside my own head, so any picture would help out other readers.
Oh yeah, in your reviews please tell me if you think the battle sequence was to overdone, just right, awesome, or just written well enough that you could clearly follow and visualize what was happening.
Oh yeah, certain chapters of this story will contain content that warrants the M rating, but for the most part the story is a T rating. Just wanted to put that out there, and why not before the name of the chapter as well eh?
Divided Minds:
The New Moon, and Blood Covered Forest (M Rating Chapter)
A single emerald green eye, which shined as brightly as a forest fire at night, stared up into the cloudless sky. The lone eye belonged to a young man, one somewhere between a child and a full-grown adult, whose face looked to be made of the earth itself. The only trace of an actual human being was in his eye. Indifference, absolute calm, cold, and yet it also showed a mind constantly moving. Something that was either sheer brilliance, or utter insanity was also visible in this man.
His other eye was hidden behind dark chestnut brown hair, similar to trees lightly scorched by fire. The slightly unkempt hair stuck out in several places over his head, primarily in the form of several short spikes. Three slightly longer spikes drooped over his forehead, hiding the right eye from view. They hid not just the eye but also a long and aged scar, one which stretched from just above his light brown lip passed through the area where an eye would be found.
Everything below the bridge of his nose and the bottom of his neck was covered by a red cloth mask. He wore a dark black travelers cloak with the cowl lowered to rest beneath his head. It hid muscles toned by years of fighting and training, as well as stone weights strapped to his chest and arms which doubled as unseen armor. Also hidden beneath steel lined leopard-seal leather boots were additional weights. The young man had trained in the armor weights, had fought in battle with them, and had been saved by them, more times than he could remember. The only moments he did not wear his special armor were when he had been contracted for…something more quiet. And then his protection changed, from the powerful stone which could stop the average thrust from most blades, to his incredible speed and his ability to remain unseen until he was ready to strike.
He saw the night time sky begin to slowly darken as the sun began to set behind far off mountains. However his visible eye was focused not on what was happening to the sky, but rather what was missing on this night. That night was a new moon, the sun's sister disappearing for one full night. The moment the bright light disappeared the entire forest would become as dark as the underground caves which were scattered over this part of the world.
The land on which he was resting on had once been called home by his mother, and home village. Both now long gone, had been replaced by blood red banners. By equally red armored men, and yes women as well, whom patrolled its territory. By skull helmeted killers who struck fear in all who dared to look them in the eye. By foreign steel, smoke, faces, and culture.
The Fire Nation had invaded and conquered the land, which had once been called the Northern Earth Kingdom territories, nearly seven years ago to the day and fully pacified two years later. The once proud Earth Kingdom Army having abandoned all hope of maintaining the far off land, had decided to retreat further into the center of the Earth Kingdom. The people having been left to the mercy of the bender led armies of fire.
The young man had returned to his old home mere days prior, but not to visit his mother's grave. He had returned a mercenary, hired to find and crush a smuggling operation in the area. If it bothered him in anyway that his contractor was a Fire Nation general, he did not show it.
The territory only had one large city, but its many villages sent messengers to maintain a steady and quick flow of information. His plan had been to force several of the smugglers thugs to come after him, once they had been dispatched he would divulge the man's location from them.
And then he would kill them the next moment.
The first stage had been a simple, and yet very effective, action. The mercenary had found the nearest village tavern and arrogantly brandished his coin on drinks. After making a show of appearing drunk, he had then 'accidentally' let loose his contract to the bar's patrons. Soon after a pair of powerfully build men gripped both of his arms and legs, lifted him up, and then threw him outside the tavern.
To further portray himself as an easy target he had chosen a tavern populated by poor, desperate men for the most part. After being thrown out a small gang of such men had appeared, and after beating him had stolen all of his coin. Now all he had to do was wait for the smuggling head to send out his thugs to take care of the minor problem.
He turned his eye towards his most prized possessions. Ever since his time in the Earth Kingdom army had been cut short he had traveled light, and his weapons were worth more than any sum of money to him. Deciding he had rested enough the young man pulled back both legs, and then lunged them out quickly. The motion lifted him up the ground, and by twisting his body slightly, he found himself standing firmly on the grass covered open area. Kneeling down slightly he began to collect his tools.
They were all organized on a clean, and spread out, red cloth. He picked up his set of throwing knives and wrapped them around his right thigh. Next to them he found one of his earlier creations. The folded in spear, by simply twist it the right way its full length and blade were revealed. This he placed on his lower back, where it fit into the cloaks hidden pouch.
A single gloved hand found a large, and very unique, piece of armor. Stretching out his left arm, the man slowly slid his invention towards his elbow. The black metal stretched from just past his elbow towards his wrists, where it turned into a black leather glove. Turning the hand to face his eyes the man decided to ensure it was in fine condition. Slowly in a deliberate and well practiced motion, he curled his left index finger back into a specific spot on the black leather. His focused ears barely heard a quiet click, and then a flash of steel caught his eye. The blade, forged by from black obsidian, swung silently out from its hidden location and stopped not even an inch from cutting into his green eye.
He made an annoyed grunt before releasing his finger from its place, and the blade returned to its position. It was half a second slower than it should have been, and the release of the blade had been too audible. He mentally decided to take it apart and clean the mechanical mechanisms after he had finished his contract.
A shield was slid over and strapped into on his back, and was soon followed by a bow and arrow quiver held in place by the shields weight. A pair of short daggers were slid into their homes on each of his two boots. His fingers found yet another of his special tools. The lightweight gauntlet carried two additional knives, larger than his throwing knives, which were hidden beneath it. By simply twisting his right arm to the side, and bending the wrist, the pressure would reveal an opening in the gauntlet which would immediately launch the knives at a target.
After sliding the gauntlet into place, he found his last weapon. His eye single visible eye lingered on the sheathed saber, the most precious of all. The weapon was forged by him, and him alone. The blade hammered out by his own hand, the hilt connected to the deadly weapon with a determination for perfection. It had taken him two days and a single night to make it, longer still before he was satisfied that it was perfect.
The saber represented four long years of hard training. Of traveling the world and learning from warriors of all the living nations. It symbolized his determination, his near obsession, the reason he existed now. He had made it only a year ago, and it had been rarely used in the way he had designed it. After strapping the saber to his green sash, the man slowly and reverently drew out the weapon.
He raised it in the direction of the nearly missing sun. The last traces of light began to reflect off the silver looking blade. Quickly he moved the blade so that it faced left, then he pulled and it separated. The a quick, precise, and nearly lightning fast speed, he swung the blades through a series of katas he had invented for this particular weapon. They moved like an ocean storm, unpredictable, raised high, then lowered to the ground just as quickly. As he turned into a spin, he swung the blade next to each other before reconnecting them.
The two hilts connected into a single weapon once more, a dual bladed saber. One pointed at the sky, while the other the ground. His eyes looked over his prized weapon, he had rarely found an opponent skilled enough that he required him to use it. As such the dual blade remained his least worn out weapon. He could count the number of nicks the blade possessed with one hand.
He separated the dual blade once more, this time bringing the blades back into a single saber. Slowly he slid his prize back into the saber-moose lion leather sheath. Looking back at the mountains he could see the last few desperate rays of sunlight begin to vanish. A gentle breeze passed over him, and his trained ears brought his mind to attention. He recognized the sound of voices the wind carried over to him, not well enough to judge their number but well enough to know they were on the way.
The mercenary turned to face a rather large tree. As the wind returned and the voices grew louder, he walked towards it and began to climb once he had reached it. He stopped at one of the higher branches before fully backing up as far as he could into the tree. He tensed his body, preparing for the arrival of the smuggler's armed hired-help. He allowed a look of disgust as he waited, it was men like the ones coming for him that had turned mercenaries from honored soldiers nearly a century ago, to the hired brutes that were in the smuggler's service.
That moment of disgust was soon replaced by one of mild shock. Night had fully arrived as he heard the sound of shifting armor plates. In addition to that he could make out at least fifteen different pairs of feet. His green eye searched the forest floor for any sign of movement. That was when he noticed the slow and disciplined march of professional troops. The figures below him were not just another group of street rabble given a sharp weapon, and no training.
A Fire Nation platoon, he could make out the formation four men abreast and seven ranks deep. The mercenary could see a team of archers walking at the rear of the platoon, and the pair of fire benders leading them. The rest were all armed with the standard issue short sword given to the soldiers in this part of the Fire Nation occupied territory. That meant that the smuggler was working with the Fire Nation forces, and that said forces were more corrupt than any honest soldier would allow. While he preferred not to deal with the military forces of the Earth and Fire armies, he planned on making an exception. These men were a disgrace, they needed to be removed.
Slowly the hidden figure brought his bow out, and notched a single arrow. Throughout the entire time from when he had been thrown out of the nearby village and now he had set up a series of traps. He'd memorized their exact locations relative to his hiding spot, and all he had to do was wait for a soldier to come into one of them.
Two minutes passed while the corrupt soldiers began their search, they were missing all of his traps by just a few steps. Gritting his teeth the mercenary knew he would have to herd them into the traps. His eyes fell on a trio of Fire Nation soldier, and the trap that was laid between them and him. Pulling back the string he steadied his arms, and breathing. He absolutely had to get this first shot right, they had to be able to make a reasonable guess as to where he was.
His green eye locked on the cone helmet worn by the one in the middle. A part of him felt that there was no honor in this. These men did not know anything about him, they were not prepared to fight him and thus any victory would be worthless. Frowning the young man forced that away, he was the one in control of the body. Not his brother.
As his target turned to face his direction he loosed his arrow. His stance was perfect, his direction dead on. The moment the arrow left the bow, while the sound reverberated in his ears, he knew the man would not survive. And a moment later, the soldier was struck by an arrow to his left eye. The man's fellow soldiers all turned to face him when he made a short but pained cry. The man slowly raised a hand towards his eye, and then fell to the ground dead.
The attack had surprised the Fire Nation platoon, but it also brought the reality back towards their minds. Almost instantly the young mercenary could see the shift in their movements, from arrogance to the professional soldiers they were. He saw them spread themselves out further into many two man teams. The archers ran for the nearest cover they could find while the benders threw up two fire flares, lighting the night time forest.
Perfect. The soldiers were by accident, actually helping him to kill them. He watched as a pair of soldiers marched in his direction. He counted the number of paces they took, counting down till they were right where his trap was. Notching another arrow he took aim a tree bearing several blade marks. In the center was a carved out circle, his latest target. Once again he fired an arrow and was satisfied it had struck.
He had cut off a pair of branches from the forest, and sharpened them into long spears. He'd set them up in another tree, pulled back ready to launch by a single rope. When his arrowhead buried itself in the carved circle he heard the rope snap. The pair of soldiers heard it as well, one slightly farther up from his partner. He was the first to be hit by a spear, the weapon passing through his center. His partner somehow noticed the rapidly approaching spear and had attempted to avoid it by jumping to the side. This succeeded somewhat but only in the fact that spear did not kill him, rather it had taken a piece of his leg off. The man cried out in sheer agony as the ground around him was pooled with red blood. His partner had been dead the moment the spear buried itself in the ground, his body held upright by the weapon which had killed him.
One of the non-benders began to bellow out orders in full sight of their unseen opponent. The young mercenary had no idea whether to respect the man's bravery, or to sigh at his insanity. Perhaps a bit of both were in order. Regardless he could make out the phoenix mark on the man's breast plate. His respect for this man's experience grew sharply, the Phoenix Mark was an honor bestowed upon soldiers who had risked their lives in order to recon and relay Earth Kingdom army positions back to the main army, and survived. His disgust at the fact that he had become little more than a hired sword however, grew much more.
He notched yet another arrow and took aim at the Phoenix painted on his left breast plate. This time when he fired the arrow he gripped onto the tree and slid down, after placing his bow back on his back. He heard the man shout out through what sounded like clenched teeth, and shout out where he had seen the arrow come from. The moment his feet touched the grown to fire balls struck the top of the tree, feet away from where he had been just minutes ago.
He sprinted as fast as he could to his next position. As the mercenary began to cover the distance he felt his instincts yell out at him to drop to the ground. As he fell to the ground he heard the sound of arrows whizzing over his head. Quickly he pushed himself back up and began running again, alert to where the arrows had been fired from. He spotted a pair of archers that had come out from behind a large rock, both placing another arrow into their bows.
The mercenary turned to run in their direction, keeping himself as close to the ground as he could. As the archers looked up to stare at him, he began to perform a simple fire bending form. He had learned how to perform the movements for several of the bending form in order to obtain this result. As the archers saw what he was doing they immediately turned their backs to him, attempting to get back behind their original cover. They would never make it.
As he closed the distance to no more than twenty meters he swung his right arm forward. In a reflex his arm twisted to the side while his wrist bent downwards, the gauntlet opened up and fired its two knives. One found its way to the back of the lead archer's skull, the other in his friends spine. As both men collapsed the ground the mercenary jumped over them, still attempting to reach his destination.
Suddenly he stopped in his run, his momentum still carrying him several inches more before he fully stopped himself. Regaining his balance, the man turned to face the direction where the other soldiers were. He took several steps towards them before turning around again. He took off running in the same direction he had stopped, only he jumped off from the same spot he had halted several seconds earlier. As he landed he rolled forward several feet before ending it. As he stood back up he faced the direction of the soldiers yet again.
He reached for the hidden pouch in the back of his cloak. The flare was beginning to dissipate, he needed to see where the soldiers were before he threw. If he startled a fire bender while they were about to make a flare, then their concentration would be shot and the chi they were building up to release would either blow up in their faces, or be directed in the direction of a comrade.
His eyes spotted one of them, attempting to cauterize the soldier whose leg was bleeding out by placing his fire lighted hands dangerously close to the wound. The mercenary drew out his own spear and twisted. As the weapon extended outwards he spun it in his hand, pointing the spear tip in the direction of the bender. He did not have to hit the man, just startle him.
Soon the flares had entirely dissipated and the forest was black as the night sky yet again. Still staring in the direction of the bender, he noticed what appeared to be movement. A figure begging to get up. He lifted the spear several centimeters higher than it was at the moment, and then he ran forward. After several short seconds he threw the spear in the direction of the bender.
His aim spear missed skewering the man, but only by several short feet. It did have the desired effect on the bender however. The man's concentration was disrupted, and instead of launching the flare into the sky, the flare exploded mere meters from his face. The man howled in pain as the heat blinded the eyes hidden behind the skull mask.
A smirk formed behind his face covering red cloth mask. This was what he lived for. The thrill of combat, of out thinking and out maneuvering his opponents. Of using their own tactics against them, of turning their own feeling of superiority into a weapon. The young man watched as the blinded fire bender began attacking in every possible direction, unable to control his own bending due to the immense pain from the flare.
The bender struck one of the two remaining archers, the man's shrill shrieks of pain echoing throughout the forest as his winter cloth uniform was lit ablaze. While the benders comrades attempted to restrain him, and therefore prevent further injuries, the burning archer was strangely forgotten. Frowning, the mercenary pulled out his bow once again. He felt for one of his six remaining arrows, and began to pull the string back. He focused all his attention directly at his target, his heart beating loudly in his ears.
He let go of the string, and let the red and green fletched arrow sailed through the barely lightened forest. He judged the distance between him and the burning archer to be more or less four hundred meters. Silently he counted down from three, watching as his target continued to twist his body left and right, attempting to pat out the fires over his body. The archer's suffering was ended the moment the arrow imbedded itself in his heart, his cries finally stopping.
As the man dropped to the floor dead, the mercenary narrowed his eyes. He disliked benders immensely, especially fire benders. They were typically the ones who were given any form of command in the Fire Military, regardless of how suited they were for the job. If he had been the commanding officer of these men, he would have had the benders remove their skull masks and dress as ordinary soldiers. If your enemy had no idea who was a bender, then your most powerful tools could be used to surprise them. A simple idea really, one most logical commanders would have ordered in these conditions. However the platoons leaders obviously were not, not even considering or even attempted to try and put out the fire killing one of their own.
Nevertheless, it was not his job to question Fire Nation Military leadership. He was merely a tool that had been directed to eliminate them. Mentally he began to remember the men he had all ready taken out of the fight. Considering that a Fire Nation platoon was made up of twenty eight men, and led by two benders and a pair of decade veterans, he came to the conclusion that he now faced twenty armed men.
The young mercenary allowed a blood thirsty grin to appear. He still had several traps left in place, and he was confident he could best perhaps fourteen of them in a head on fight. So long as the benders were not a problem that is.
Notching another arrow, the man turned to aim at the blinded fire bender. The man had his face in his hands and was being restrained by a pair of men. Surrounding them were three additional men, looking in all directions for their foe. The fools had unwittingly given him a large target to look for, packed close enough that he could easily ruin a few soldiers days. He fired three arrows in as quick succession as he could, and was rewarded with two different shouts. One the cry of a man who now found an arrow sticking out from him, the other of a man who had felt an arrow strike his helmet with enough force to remove it.
His latest action did however, have one unintended additional result. One of the two soldiers, who had ceased to restrain their bending superior, had looked in the direction the arrows had come from. That man gave out a shout at the top of his lungs, pointing his sword in the mercenary's direction.
As one the small teams of Fire Nation Army separated into two forces, one that would stay back, and another which was now running towards him. The mercenary aimed and let loose his two final arrows, discarding the bow when he heard of single cry of pain. He lowered his right hand and pulled out several of his throwing knives.
As the soldiers drew closer he began to picture another battle, one that happened long ago. His head suddenly exploded in a flash of pain that forced him down to one knee, while both hands gripped his head, eyes shut in an attempt to push it away from his thoughts. As more images flashed through his mind, the young mercenary was no longer focused on the advancing soldiers.
AN: AND FIN, THAT'S IT FOR MY FIRST ATLA FIC. PLEASE REVIEW, CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORY NOBLE LIFE, AND PM ME SOME NAMES FOR THIS GUY.