Chapter 1: Assault
"This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you on the dread isle."
Denning watched over his squadron of forces. His purpose was simple and sure. Deliver the message to all before him. Slay those that he could. For that was the will of lord Nergal.
The morphs cascaded against Ositia's surprised forces, the first wave of guardsmen caught completely by surprise. Denning mechanically drew his bow and fired, drew his bow and fired, drew his bow and fired. Every arrow found it's mark. "This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you on the dread isle."
The push continued. Onwards, no matter how many morphs fell- it did not matter. Only the task mattered.
Ahead, he could see the targets. The message had to reach them, above all. A man with a thin sword and cloak was riding around on a horse, repelling his forces. The message... "This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you on the dread isle." Denning quickly loosed an arrow.
Eliwood darted to the side, and the silver bolt harmlessly shattered on the far wall. "Mark, the commander is the archer!"
Denning eyed his forces. Over to his left, a blond woman on a wyvern was holding back his assault, laughing as she skewered his forces. A small girl in a blue robe was tearing apart his armoured units. His second task was doomed to fail. But it was simply his purpose. He would fulfil it. "This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you on the dread isle."
His front line snapped, as a blue-haired man with an axe batted aside his own warriors like they weighed nothing.
"I've got this, Eliwood! Pull back to Lyn, she needs reinforcing!" Shouted the axeman.
Denning narrowed his eyes. This one was important. This one was a target. "This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you at the dread isle."
"Do you ever shut up, rot-brained cur?!" Roared Hector. He charged, brandishing his axe. Denning shot him at point blank, with enough force that the arrow should have outright killed him. It just stuck into his armor a little, and had absolutely no effect on him at all. If anything, it made him angrier.
"This is a message from lord Nergal. I await you on the dread isle."
Hector swung his axe around with incredible force, and Denning backpedaled. He could not complete his task if destroyed. He went to draw another arrow, just as he knew to do, but... he couldn't? He was in such close quarters... that he didn't know how to perform that action. From the corner of his eye, he could see the last of his forces being cut down, blown to dust.
Denning kept moving back, trying to fire an arrow, but Hector was simply unstoppable. Eventually, he came to a window. There was nowhere to move. No way to evade.
Hector's axe swing cleaved his left arm off, the silver-inlaid bow clattering to the ground. Denning stumbled back, feeling the integrity of his body failing.
"This is a message... from... lord..." The magic animating him was failing. His purpose was to deliver the message. Did they get the message? Denning fell backwards, out of the window. He fell down for a few seconds before smacking into the hard stones of the path outside. For just a few moments, he saw a few images. Flashes of other lives, the ones that had been used to build him. And then he blacked out.
Two weeks later, a maid was going to retrieve some additional wines from the storage, in preparation for her lord's victory celebration. Feeling a little bored, she decided to take a longer route, one that lead a narrow path between the walls and the castle itself. It was often quiet and shady here, a relaxing place to walk.
She found a hooded man lying face down, and screamed briefly. Then she tentatively knelt to inspect him. His chest still moved. His eyes were half-open, unmoving... and a bright, glittering gold. Jet-black hair, soaked by rainfall crusted his face.
Carefully, she rolled him over. His left arm was gone. The sleeve was torn, and caked in some kind of ash. Suddenly, the man made a small cough.
"-Nergal. I await you at the dread isle...?"
The maid screamed again.
Denning looked at her. Why did he feel so... wrong? He felt sick. Ill to the very core of his being. So fundamentally broken. He just... couldn't feel the will of his master. He couldn't sense his purpose. He needed a purpose. He had to return to his master. But his words weren't working. The sentence just wouldn't come out. But he could feel there were a few things he could say. "I await Nergal. Lord at dread isle."
The maid knelt to look at him carefully. "Are you some kind of drunkard? But how would you get so far into the castle? Hmm. You don't look like any of the nobles... You must be one of lord Hector's guests, then. I'll have you tended to. Come." She lifted Denning to his feet, and supported him, moving towards the castle infirmary.
Author's notes: Welcome to my first Fire emblem fic, about a character that's a meme and has never seen a serious fic before. Denning, boss of the chapter in FE7 where Osita is attacked.
There will be a few pairings between characters, but they won't feature heavily.
