Disclaimer: Nintendo and its subsidiaries (including Intelligent Systems) own Fire Emblem. I only own a copy of the game. And a poster. And some stickers. And the game manual. And the terrible anime film that was released.
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SPOILERS ABOUND!!!!!
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The following is a retort containing spoilers against a flamer on "How to Obtain Eliwood/Ninian Pairing"
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`
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Hm, I got some mail!
*checks mail*
Good, good, good, good, ah-hah! A flamer!
To: Mewlon
From: Yours Truly
Subject: Why I chose Eliwood/Ninian
In case ya never even finished all 6 modes of play and got every single support conversation, I'd shut my trap (or in your case, kill your PC). In fact I'll go into a deep detail on how to obtain the special CG you can get in order to get a Eliwood/Ninian pairing.
Step 1: Obtain "Fire Emblem: The Blazing Sword" or "Rekka no Ken" (betcha figured that out)
Step 2: Play "Eliwood's Campaign"
Step 3: Play until you obtain Ninian
Step 4: Keep both Eliwood and Ninian together until they reach A Class Support
Step 5: Kill Nergal and the Fire Dragon (I've already marked spoilers)
Step 6: Enjoy the ending and the CG with Nils leaving for the Dragonlands BY HIMSELF!!!
HA HA!! SO I'M RIGHT!!
*burns Mewlon's ISP address after... doing things... within legal bounds*
Next letter...
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`
To: DarkLink313
Subject: Coming Chapters...
Thanks for reviewing and *ahem* your "Ladies' Main: Sain Succeeds" fic is very *_interesting_*. I thank you for your review and I salute you.
Mark doesn't know Fiora is Fiora because he's intoxicated. I'm not advocating this but try drinking several glasses of wine in a row and try to talk to somebody who knows you but you can't exactly place where the heck who they are.
You get it?
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Now where was I? Ah yes! The 3rd Chapter!
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Lost Hearts
~~~~~~~~~~~
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`
Gavin's eyelids were drooping heavily as he flipped the next page in the tome he was currently reading. The crisp manuscript was so yellow that it reminded Gavin of odd and obscure objects.
It reminded him of the sun, flowers, and tea...
Gavin's eyes suddenly shot open. Tea! His master! Now it made sense!
His master had been staring at a faint figure that was similar to a winged horse in the sky. Mark must be wishing he was back with one of those Pegasi Sisters of Ilia he had been telling him about!
Gavin quickly scrabbled for the last tome he had been reading about the human psych. His aquamarine eyes quickly darted from leaf to leaf of yellowed parchment, searching and searching for the proof that his mind was telling him the truth.
His master, Mark Sunfire of Etruria, must be in love!
"How could I have missed these signs!" Gavin muttered to himself as he flipped past a section telling extrenuating details about the composition of the mind.
Then it hit him. Gavin dropped the tome and slouched into his chair. The mass of knowledge that flowed through his mind was loose within him like a once dammed lake flowing freely.
Master Tactician Mark was not merely just a superior tactician. Mark Sunfire was of the Sunfire clan, a clan of people who are known for their ability of concealing their feelings extremely well.
Why had Gavin not known about his master's emotions?
"Why did he bother to conceal his emotions?" Gavin grumbled as he poured himself some more cold coffee. "I'm his apprentice and I should know what to expect from him."
Glancing out the window, Gavin saw a shadowy figure that looked like a horse with wings fall out of the sky and land on the ground near the "Soaring Pegasus" inn. Gavin just picked up the tome and placed it back on the desk.
Gavin knew that his master had been lying to him for the last year but he never thought that Mark would lie about his own emotions.
The apprentice took another sip of the icy coffee. Staring out into the falling snow, Gavin shut his eyes. Such arduous searching had cost him only one thing.
Sleep.
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`
~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
The pounding headache of chugging a whole jug of wine was slamming through Mark's head like a insane Warrior with a Basilisko.
Mark swore as he carried his burden through the snow. For what seemed forever, he had been trying carefully to keep the stranger in a comfortable position. Of course, carrying a maiden wearing Ilian colors might cost him something apart from money.
"Darn snow," Mark swore as he nearly slipped on a patch of ice. "Darn cold, darn weather, darn it all!"
Moments after swearing, Mark was worried about something. Looking up the forbidding stairs that led to the bedrooms, Mark gave a heavy sigh.
How the heck is he going to lug this mystery woman with green hair up those stairs?
Mark laid the maiden on a nearby couch and slumped against the stairs. As he did, Mark's unfamiliar alcohol problem kicked in. His thoughts became random.
Why is the sky blue? Is there a god? Why do followers of St. Elimine wear light colored robes? Why did Nergal create Morphs? Why did Ninian refuse to return to the Dragonlands?
But one question kept repeating itself in Mark's mind.
"Who is this girl?" the stupified Mark muttered as he ran his hand through his dark hair. "She looks familiar but who is she?"
The green hair looks familiar but the length of it much longer. There's a new-looking headband but it is now red rather than green. And there's a dagger at her side instead of a sword.
Who the heck is she?
His eyes glanced upward at the ceiling. Why is his memory so good at remembering tactics and strategy but why is it atrociusly moronic when is comes to remembering unfamiliar faces?
Mark got up from the bottom of the stairs and started to lift the still unconscious maiden into his arms. With one arm under her back and the other under her knees, Mark took the first step up the stairs.
Looking back up the long staircase, one thought burned itself into his mind.
It's gonna be a long way...
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`
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
By the time Mark and his unknown guest reached the top of the staircase, Gavin gave a long and almost inaudible yawn in the downstairs library. Almost immediately, the inhaled dust caused Gavin to let loose a powerful sneeze. A column of dust rose as the brief blast of wind flipped several pages in a nearby open tome.
Glancing outside the window, Gavin welcomed the darkness out there. Standing up and leaning against the glass, the apprentice saw his breathe condense against the clear material. The moon's beams were scattered here and there was it began to snow once more.
Silence is so far his only ally. Apart from his master and his friends in town, silence was his only ally when he is alone. Silence and loneliness had been with him ever since he was orphaned by a band of bandits.
Raising a finger, he scribbled his initials into the condensation that was created by his warm breathe against cold glass. A curved "G" then a "F" that looked like a saber was smeared onto the window.
Looking out at the sleeping town, apart from the inn which was still somewhat lively, Gavin heaved a sigh. It had been almost a month since he'd last seen Mark with a smile on his face.
Perhaps he, Gavin Firewind, can persuade his master to journey to Lycia for a while. After all, a journey to see the Great Lord (Hector), the Blade Lord (Lyndis), and the Knight Lord (Eliwood) of Lycia is a journey that Mark hasn't even found the time for.
Well, now Mark has some time on his hands. Maybe Gavin's conviction may be strong enough to persuade Mark to take his apprentice and go visit his friends.
Gavin turned and blew out the candle on the table. It went out in a small poof as it went out. The apprentice went to the door and proceeded up the stairs to his room, which was the first on the left side of the hallway.
Shutting the door, Gavin was sure that he would never leave his room for quite a while.
It was just so comfortable sleeping on one's back...
`
`
~~~~~~~
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`
By the time Gavin had fallen asleep, Mark sitting in a chair next to the bed he laid the unknown maiden's prone body in. It was quite a labor bringing her up those treacherously long stairs. In the Master Tactician's right hand was a decanteur of brandy that he found in the cabinet of that room.
As Mark sipped the alcoholic drink directly while watching the sleeping figure, who was still in riding gear, Mark's mind spoke to him.
(Why do you have one in the guest room, Mark?) a dark male voice spoke. Mark quickly whipped around to look at the door.
There was nobody.
Mark then wrinkled his nose at such a notion. Why was his own mind arguing with him? Lifting the dark liquid to eye-level, Mark regarded the brandy with suspicion.
Did Gavin slip something in it?
Mark took another sip and quickly scattered the notion. It still tasted alright.
(Indeed, Mark, why did even think about placing alcohol in a room reserved for honored guests?) the Master Tactician's own mind spoke. (Perhaps you are, how should I put it, wishing and hoping for some lucky maiden to fall into your arms?) There was a lewd and lascivicious edge.
(Shut up!) Mark mentally screamed at that annoying voice in his head. (Who are you and why are you torturing me so?)
That voice in his mind cackled. (Who am I?) the voice boomed within Mark's head. (I'll tell you who I am. Ever heard of a darkened side?)
Mark immediately stared at the brandy very hard before putting it on the carpeted floor. The quiet thud resonated through the room while Mark's eyes roamed along the maiden's body.
(Go on,) that nagging voice urged within him. (You know you want her don't you? She'll never know.)
A burning feeling awakened within Mark's heart. His eyes roamed the length of the sleeping maiden. That lustful feeling was quickly rolling through his body like a tsunami against a lone boat.
Mark continued to struggle against his dark side. Looking at the prone green-haired maiden's body, he felt something awaken within him.
(Do not do such things, Mark,) a new feminine tone spoke. (Resist, Mark, resist and desist!) Mark felt a calming feeling wash over him. That fire of lust that had been lit within him was slowly being quenched.
(You again!) that evil voice yelled at the newcomer. (I told you not to meddle with me! Go back to your temple, Elimine!)
Mark's eyes widened. St. Elimine, in his mind?
"You are just drinking _WAY_ too much, Mark," the Master Tactician mumbled to himself while the two voice within his mind continued to battle with words. "Just quit drinking and get rid of all those hidden sources of brandy."
(Who you calling callous!) an indignant demonic voice retorted against a scathing remark that was made by Elimine. (Look at you! Your numerous followers call upon your power but do you reply to every single call?)
(Take that back, Nergal Blackheart!) an equally indignant St. Elimine countered. (You created beings made of pure quintessence but did you grant them meaning to their lives?)
Mark just couldn't stand it anymore. Nergal was in his mind!
The Master Tactician quickly exited the room, almost forgetting the decanteur of brandy. He spun around and snagged the glass bottle by the neck and then dashed out into the grand hall.
Speeding past several paintings of other Master Tacticians, Mark muttered an oath to himself.
"If I'm gonna marry Fiora one day," Mark said while he continued to run down the hallway while those voices continue to battle it out in his mind. "I'd better give up alcohol and find a remedy for voices in my head."
He nearly passed a statue of Master Tactician Hervis Frostbind before he spun around and entered the room next to it. Shutting the door behind him, Mark was relieved to find that the voices in his head was leaving.
Mark considered his room to be rather spartan in comparison with the study but it was still well furnished. By the left wall was the bed, which was rather large. It was almost twice as long as Mark was tall but it was wide enough to accomodate several people. By the windows were the balcony but the door was shut since it was winter. Just mere feet away from the balcony was a table and four chairs. The table was all made of ashwood and the chairs were made of cherrywood. In the center of the room was a great desk that rivaled the size of Mark's other desk in the study. But this one was made of oak and had twice as many drawers.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Mark removed his cloak and sword and stored them within the closet that was next to the bed.
Maybe staying in his room would be the cure of insanity.
"Then again," Mark remarked as he traced the designs of the decanteur. "Drinking might be alright for certain occassions."
Stepping over to the desk and slumping into the chair, Mark promptly found a wine-glass and poured himself what he called "a nice serving", which went to the halfway point.
Sipping quietly while looking out the window, Mark began to enjoy the silence and the beams of the moon.
It was a good night indeed.
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`
~~~~~~~~~~
`
Ha ha! Mark's got a drinking problem, Fiora's still out like a broken lightbulb, and Gavin's figured out what's wrong with Mark!
Sairn: (@_@) What a consipracy...
ACK! My stupid muse is back from the dead! ACK!
Sairn: (V_V) Loser...
About the thing at the top about Mewlon's ISP address, I didn't find it but I sure burned something. Guess what it was?
Sairn: (^_^) Me using "Forblaze" on your hair?
Come on, Sairn, my hair isn't that bad.
Sairn: (_) Oh yes it is! It's a friggin' mohawk!
Okay. What's wrong with that? *pulls out "Ereshkigal" and waves it at Sairn*
Sairn: (^_^;) Absolutely... *sees Dark Magic Book*...... nothing.
Ah well, anyways, I burned another batch of cookies. Again.
Sairn: Don't be looking at me! I only wanted to burn your hair! *eats a cookie* Tastes alright to me...
(T_T;) BUT THEY WERE PEANUT-BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE!! Wo shi huan da bin gan! (translates from Chinese: "My favorite cookies!")
Sairn: Uh, I thought we agreed not to speak in Chinese!
Whatever, REVIEW OR I KILL SAIRN!! MWAHAHAHA!!!
Sairn: Eeeeeep!
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`
SPOILERS ABOUND!!!!!
`
`
The following is a retort containing spoilers against a flamer on "How to Obtain Eliwood/Ninian Pairing"
`
`
`
Hm, I got some mail!
*checks mail*
Good, good, good, good, ah-hah! A flamer!
To: Mewlon
From: Yours Truly
Subject: Why I chose Eliwood/Ninian
In case ya never even finished all 6 modes of play and got every single support conversation, I'd shut my trap (or in your case, kill your PC). In fact I'll go into a deep detail on how to obtain the special CG you can get in order to get a Eliwood/Ninian pairing.
Step 1: Obtain "Fire Emblem: The Blazing Sword" or "Rekka no Ken" (betcha figured that out)
Step 2: Play "Eliwood's Campaign"
Step 3: Play until you obtain Ninian
Step 4: Keep both Eliwood and Ninian together until they reach A Class Support
Step 5: Kill Nergal and the Fire Dragon (I've already marked spoilers)
Step 6: Enjoy the ending and the CG with Nils leaving for the Dragonlands BY HIMSELF!!!
HA HA!! SO I'M RIGHT!!
*burns Mewlon's ISP address after... doing things... within legal bounds*
Next letter...
`
`
To: DarkLink313
Subject: Coming Chapters...
Thanks for reviewing and *ahem* your "Ladies' Main: Sain Succeeds" fic is very *_interesting_*. I thank you for your review and I salute you.
Mark doesn't know Fiora is Fiora because he's intoxicated. I'm not advocating this but try drinking several glasses of wine in a row and try to talk to somebody who knows you but you can't exactly place where the heck who they are.
You get it?
`
`
Now where was I? Ah yes! The 3rd Chapter!
`
`
`
`
`
Lost Hearts
~~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
Gavin's eyelids were drooping heavily as he flipped the next page in the tome he was currently reading. The crisp manuscript was so yellow that it reminded Gavin of odd and obscure objects.
It reminded him of the sun, flowers, and tea...
Gavin's eyes suddenly shot open. Tea! His master! Now it made sense!
His master had been staring at a faint figure that was similar to a winged horse in the sky. Mark must be wishing he was back with one of those Pegasi Sisters of Ilia he had been telling him about!
Gavin quickly scrabbled for the last tome he had been reading about the human psych. His aquamarine eyes quickly darted from leaf to leaf of yellowed parchment, searching and searching for the proof that his mind was telling him the truth.
His master, Mark Sunfire of Etruria, must be in love!
"How could I have missed these signs!" Gavin muttered to himself as he flipped past a section telling extrenuating details about the composition of the mind.
Then it hit him. Gavin dropped the tome and slouched into his chair. The mass of knowledge that flowed through his mind was loose within him like a once dammed lake flowing freely.
Master Tactician Mark was not merely just a superior tactician. Mark Sunfire was of the Sunfire clan, a clan of people who are known for their ability of concealing their feelings extremely well.
Why had Gavin not known about his master's emotions?
"Why did he bother to conceal his emotions?" Gavin grumbled as he poured himself some more cold coffee. "I'm his apprentice and I should know what to expect from him."
Glancing out the window, Gavin saw a shadowy figure that looked like a horse with wings fall out of the sky and land on the ground near the "Soaring Pegasus" inn. Gavin just picked up the tome and placed it back on the desk.
Gavin knew that his master had been lying to him for the last year but he never thought that Mark would lie about his own emotions.
The apprentice took another sip of the icy coffee. Staring out into the falling snow, Gavin shut his eyes. Such arduous searching had cost him only one thing.
Sleep.
`
`
~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
The pounding headache of chugging a whole jug of wine was slamming through Mark's head like a insane Warrior with a Basilisko.
Mark swore as he carried his burden through the snow. For what seemed forever, he had been trying carefully to keep the stranger in a comfortable position. Of course, carrying a maiden wearing Ilian colors might cost him something apart from money.
"Darn snow," Mark swore as he nearly slipped on a patch of ice. "Darn cold, darn weather, darn it all!"
Moments after swearing, Mark was worried about something. Looking up the forbidding stairs that led to the bedrooms, Mark gave a heavy sigh.
How the heck is he going to lug this mystery woman with green hair up those stairs?
Mark laid the maiden on a nearby couch and slumped against the stairs. As he did, Mark's unfamiliar alcohol problem kicked in. His thoughts became random.
Why is the sky blue? Is there a god? Why do followers of St. Elimine wear light colored robes? Why did Nergal create Morphs? Why did Ninian refuse to return to the Dragonlands?
But one question kept repeating itself in Mark's mind.
"Who is this girl?" the stupified Mark muttered as he ran his hand through his dark hair. "She looks familiar but who is she?"
The green hair looks familiar but the length of it much longer. There's a new-looking headband but it is now red rather than green. And there's a dagger at her side instead of a sword.
Who the heck is she?
His eyes glanced upward at the ceiling. Why is his memory so good at remembering tactics and strategy but why is it atrociusly moronic when is comes to remembering unfamiliar faces?
Mark got up from the bottom of the stairs and started to lift the still unconscious maiden into his arms. With one arm under her back and the other under her knees, Mark took the first step up the stairs.
Looking back up the long staircase, one thought burned itself into his mind.
It's gonna be a long way...
`
`
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
By the time Mark and his unknown guest reached the top of the staircase, Gavin gave a long and almost inaudible yawn in the downstairs library. Almost immediately, the inhaled dust caused Gavin to let loose a powerful sneeze. A column of dust rose as the brief blast of wind flipped several pages in a nearby open tome.
Glancing outside the window, Gavin welcomed the darkness out there. Standing up and leaning against the glass, the apprentice saw his breathe condense against the clear material. The moon's beams were scattered here and there was it began to snow once more.
Silence is so far his only ally. Apart from his master and his friends in town, silence was his only ally when he is alone. Silence and loneliness had been with him ever since he was orphaned by a band of bandits.
Raising a finger, he scribbled his initials into the condensation that was created by his warm breathe against cold glass. A curved "G" then a "F" that looked like a saber was smeared onto the window.
Looking out at the sleeping town, apart from the inn which was still somewhat lively, Gavin heaved a sigh. It had been almost a month since he'd last seen Mark with a smile on his face.
Perhaps he, Gavin Firewind, can persuade his master to journey to Lycia for a while. After all, a journey to see the Great Lord (Hector), the Blade Lord (Lyndis), and the Knight Lord (Eliwood) of Lycia is a journey that Mark hasn't even found the time for.
Well, now Mark has some time on his hands. Maybe Gavin's conviction may be strong enough to persuade Mark to take his apprentice and go visit his friends.
Gavin turned and blew out the candle on the table. It went out in a small poof as it went out. The apprentice went to the door and proceeded up the stairs to his room, which was the first on the left side of the hallway.
Shutting the door, Gavin was sure that he would never leave his room for quite a while.
It was just so comfortable sleeping on one's back...
`
`
~~~~~~~
`
`
By the time Gavin had fallen asleep, Mark sitting in a chair next to the bed he laid the unknown maiden's prone body in. It was quite a labor bringing her up those treacherously long stairs. In the Master Tactician's right hand was a decanteur of brandy that he found in the cabinet of that room.
As Mark sipped the alcoholic drink directly while watching the sleeping figure, who was still in riding gear, Mark's mind spoke to him.
(Why do you have one in the guest room, Mark?) a dark male voice spoke. Mark quickly whipped around to look at the door.
There was nobody.
Mark then wrinkled his nose at such a notion. Why was his own mind arguing with him? Lifting the dark liquid to eye-level, Mark regarded the brandy with suspicion.
Did Gavin slip something in it?
Mark took another sip and quickly scattered the notion. It still tasted alright.
(Indeed, Mark, why did even think about placing alcohol in a room reserved for honored guests?) the Master Tactician's own mind spoke. (Perhaps you are, how should I put it, wishing and hoping for some lucky maiden to fall into your arms?) There was a lewd and lascivicious edge.
(Shut up!) Mark mentally screamed at that annoying voice in his head. (Who are you and why are you torturing me so?)
That voice in his mind cackled. (Who am I?) the voice boomed within Mark's head. (I'll tell you who I am. Ever heard of a darkened side?)
Mark immediately stared at the brandy very hard before putting it on the carpeted floor. The quiet thud resonated through the room while Mark's eyes roamed along the maiden's body.
(Go on,) that nagging voice urged within him. (You know you want her don't you? She'll never know.)
A burning feeling awakened within Mark's heart. His eyes roamed the length of the sleeping maiden. That lustful feeling was quickly rolling through his body like a tsunami against a lone boat.
Mark continued to struggle against his dark side. Looking at the prone green-haired maiden's body, he felt something awaken within him.
(Do not do such things, Mark,) a new feminine tone spoke. (Resist, Mark, resist and desist!) Mark felt a calming feeling wash over him. That fire of lust that had been lit within him was slowly being quenched.
(You again!) that evil voice yelled at the newcomer. (I told you not to meddle with me! Go back to your temple, Elimine!)
Mark's eyes widened. St. Elimine, in his mind?
"You are just drinking _WAY_ too much, Mark," the Master Tactician mumbled to himself while the two voice within his mind continued to battle with words. "Just quit drinking and get rid of all those hidden sources of brandy."
(Who you calling callous!) an indignant demonic voice retorted against a scathing remark that was made by Elimine. (Look at you! Your numerous followers call upon your power but do you reply to every single call?)
(Take that back, Nergal Blackheart!) an equally indignant St. Elimine countered. (You created beings made of pure quintessence but did you grant them meaning to their lives?)
Mark just couldn't stand it anymore. Nergal was in his mind!
The Master Tactician quickly exited the room, almost forgetting the decanteur of brandy. He spun around and snagged the glass bottle by the neck and then dashed out into the grand hall.
Speeding past several paintings of other Master Tacticians, Mark muttered an oath to himself.
"If I'm gonna marry Fiora one day," Mark said while he continued to run down the hallway while those voices continue to battle it out in his mind. "I'd better give up alcohol and find a remedy for voices in my head."
He nearly passed a statue of Master Tactician Hervis Frostbind before he spun around and entered the room next to it. Shutting the door behind him, Mark was relieved to find that the voices in his head was leaving.
Mark considered his room to be rather spartan in comparison with the study but it was still well furnished. By the left wall was the bed, which was rather large. It was almost twice as long as Mark was tall but it was wide enough to accomodate several people. By the windows were the balcony but the door was shut since it was winter. Just mere feet away from the balcony was a table and four chairs. The table was all made of ashwood and the chairs were made of cherrywood. In the center of the room was a great desk that rivaled the size of Mark's other desk in the study. But this one was made of oak and had twice as many drawers.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Mark removed his cloak and sword and stored them within the closet that was next to the bed.
Maybe staying in his room would be the cure of insanity.
"Then again," Mark remarked as he traced the designs of the decanteur. "Drinking might be alright for certain occassions."
Stepping over to the desk and slumping into the chair, Mark promptly found a wine-glass and poured himself what he called "a nice serving", which went to the halfway point.
Sipping quietly while looking out the window, Mark began to enjoy the silence and the beams of the moon.
It was a good night indeed.
`
`
~~~~~~~~~~
`
Ha ha! Mark's got a drinking problem, Fiora's still out like a broken lightbulb, and Gavin's figured out what's wrong with Mark!
Sairn: (@_@) What a consipracy...
ACK! My stupid muse is back from the dead! ACK!
Sairn: (V_V) Loser...
About the thing at the top about Mewlon's ISP address, I didn't find it but I sure burned something. Guess what it was?
Sairn: (^_^) Me using "Forblaze" on your hair?
Come on, Sairn, my hair isn't that bad.
Sairn: (_) Oh yes it is! It's a friggin' mohawk!
Okay. What's wrong with that? *pulls out "Ereshkigal" and waves it at Sairn*
Sairn: (^_^;) Absolutely... *sees Dark Magic Book*...... nothing.
Ah well, anyways, I burned another batch of cookies. Again.
Sairn: Don't be looking at me! I only wanted to burn your hair! *eats a cookie* Tastes alright to me...
(T_T;) BUT THEY WERE PEANUT-BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE!! Wo shi huan da bin gan! (translates from Chinese: "My favorite cookies!")
Sairn: Uh, I thought we agreed not to speak in Chinese!
Whatever, REVIEW OR I KILL SAIRN!! MWAHAHAHA!!!
Sairn: Eeeeeep!