Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 1: At Least the Robe Is Cool

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

"How on earth did I fall asleep in that position?" I ask out loud as my vision comes into focus. I am indeed seated at a bar, and a pretty old-timey looking one at that. The bartender gives me a disgruntled snort. He is very large, and very mustachioed.

"Hell if I know. Yeh came in as soon as I opened the place, ordered one drink, and were asleep before I could pour it," he says, his voice sounding like he gargles pebbles for fun.

I don't remember that at all. I don't know this bar, or why I would have started day-drinking. That doesn't sound like me. "Did I say anything aside from that?" I ask, a little mumbly from the lingering tiredness.

"Not a word. Well, unless you count the snoring," the bartender replies. Right. Perfect.

"Okay, next, and there's no way to ask this without shaming myself: where is this exactly?" I ask.

"Hah, you're pretty messed in the head," the bartender chuckles. "Southeast side of town, near the river."

What river? What town? I'm very confused. "I'm very confused," I admit shamefully.

The bartender sighs. "You don't look like a local. Maybe you're from out of town. You're in Southtown."

"Southtown...where?"

"What?"

"I've never heard of Southtown. What state are we in?" Did I really go that far from home? My head hurts.

"State? Well, I'm in pretty good shape, but I'm not so sure about you," he replies. Oh ha ha. A comedian. Nice.

"Fine, you don't wanna help, I'll just-" I stop mid-sentence, as I reach down and find my phone isn't in my pocket. Also, these pants feel weird. I look down at myself. "Waaaah!"

"What? What? Did you get sick in your lap or something?" the bartender asks.

"When did I change into goddamn Renfest clothes?" I ask nobody in particular.

"What's a Renfest?" he asks, cocking his head slightly. I spring out of my seat, turning around a few times to get a better look at myself. Something is definitely up.

I am not supposed to be this tall. I won't complain, of course, but I am definitely like four or five inches taller than I'm meant to be. And holy hell, but I seem to have lost a strange amount of weight. I'd say my waist looks downright average, which is a marked improvement. Is this just lingering drunken confidence?

My clothes are also quite different than anything I remember owning. I am wearing robes, honest to god robes, and they're honestly pretty fancy. Black for a base, with dark blue trim and accents. There's a small shoulder shroud, also black with blue trim. The black leather belt matches my boots. I'm not gonna lie; this getup looks pretty sweet.

Not that it wasn't raising dozens of questions by the minute. I shoved as many into the back of my head as I could. "So, uh, did I come in with anything else?" I finally settle on asking. Maybe my phone is in my bag or something and I can get a grip on what's going on.

"Yeah, here," he says, disappearing below the bar for a moment and returning with a canvas sack and what appears to be a staff. Like, a full-size staff, a much better-looking prop than I'd ever pay for sober. Was I drunk cosplaying or something? I look through the sack and find, weirdly, a bunch of camping supplies. Am I on a trip or something? That doesn't sound right. I repack the sack and sling it over my shoulder for now.

"So, I didn't say anything to you as I came in?" I ask once more. He shakes his head as I pick up the staff. It's heavier than I thought it would be. Is this made of actual metal? It also feels kinda like it's vibrating in my hand as I hold it, but so faintly that it's more like a vague tingling sensation. Also, the orb-looking thing on top of it had a small light shining in it. This really was an expensive prop. "I think I'm gonna try and get my bearings outside a little bit. Thanks," I say. He grunts a farewell as I open the door and step outside.

Oh.

I think I'm starting to get it.

"So when he said Southtown, he meant…" I say to myself as I take in the scene before me. True to his word, we are near a babbling river, on the other side of which are a multitude of townsfolk. But these weren't the kind of folk I'm used to. This is an honest-to-god medieval town, with horse-drawn carriages and a big well and everything. "But that would…" My brain moves in so many directions that it simply cancels out for a while, and I stand there stupidly while my psyche catches up.

The question of "why?" comes up a few times, but gets quickly dismissed on the grounds that I have no way of figuring that out. I eventually decide to settle on what I know before getting into anything I don't.

This really does look like Southtown as I remember it, which suggests this really is Ylisse.

I am in what I have been led to believe is a fictional town.

It is very much not a fictional town anymore, as I am standing in it.

Holy shit! I'm in a Fire Emblem town!

I don't look like I normally do, and my clothes have definitely changed.

However, I maintain the self-awareness to know I don't normally belong here.

This is starting to feel a little bit cliched. I hope the feeling doesn't last.

I have what I have now decided is a real healing staff.

I woke up a healer? Lame.

Whenever I thought about what I would wanna do as an FE character, I always figured I'd be a merc. Good all-around stats, some of the game's best skills, and they get swords. Sign me the hell up.

I let myself get distracted for a while, thinking on that, when a new thought hits me. When is this? The town looks intact, which means we aren't under attack yet. But is that because this is early, or much later after rebuilding?

My question is answered when I hear a scream from somewhere on the other side of the river. A building starts to smoke and within moments is up in open flames. My legs don't know what to do. About a minute later, I see a few men with axes storming up the street, chasing a small crowd of townsfolk to the north side of town. Before I have time to process what's going on, I hear another crash to my left as more bandits enter from the southeast.

My legs decide what to do. I run as quickly as I can up the road, crossing the bridge and trying to draw as little attention as possible. As I do so, I start to realize what their idea seems to be. They're funneling everyone into the large church on the north side of town, probably to keep them-

My thoughts were interrupted by a villager in front of my being shredded with wind magic. Crap, I forgot they have mages. That's also a lot more blood than I was expecting. The same mage sends a blast at me. Before I can move, it hits me. However, I'm surprised to find that although I stagger a little, and my face gets a small cut or two, it doesn't really hurt that much. Certainly not enough to slice and dice me like this poor guy in front of me.

"Haha, that's right! Healers get super resistance!" I cheer, more to myself than anyone. Annoyed, he levels another wind blade in my direction. It too catches me, stinging a little but not putting me in real danger. Without thinking, I stalk over to him as he prepares another blast and, turning my staff over in my hands, hit him upside the head with the bottom end. Ooo, right in the temple. Yeah, he's down. Probably alive, but not feeling too good. I didn't know that was allowed, though. Did I break some rule by hitting him back? I don't think healers are supposed to hit back.

Shrugging, I decide it's probably best to hide until the Shepherds arrive. Aaaah, am I going to meet the Shepherds? I take refuge behind a small retaining wall and watch cautiously as the overrunning of the town progresses. I consider trying to help the townsfolk, but decide I'm not much of a match for a large band of thieves just yet.

By the time the Shepherds arrive, the streets are mostly empty, with most of the townsfolk having been forced into the church to be presumably held hostage or sold or something. But arrive they do, and quickly make it clear they're a force to be reckoned with. Seconds after Chrom comes into view, he relieves an unwary bandit of his head and continues to charge in.

"Oh," I say out loud. "That's not rated T at all." The Shepherds fan out, with Frederick expertly corralling the bandits with his formidable lance into the central square, while Chrom stands ready to receive them with his gleaming blade and Robin provides covering fire with her Thunder tome. She looks pretty much like the default female model, far as I can tell. Wow, that hair is white.

I realize that this strategy puts a lot of faith in Chrom's ability to take them down as they come to avoid getting overwhelmed. However, whenever Chrom doesn't take one down right away, Robin is waiting in the wings to finish the job (no doubt hogging all the exp while she does so. I know I'm guilty of overpowering my Robin in the early game). I imagine that's what a pair-up looks like in real life.

I reflect for a second on the use of the phrase 'real life' in describing what's going on before me. My head still kind of hurts when I do that.

It looks like the fight is going well without me, but then a bandit slips past Frederick's horse and moves to charge at Lissa, waiting in the wings to provide healing. I realize too late that he is going to get her before the others can stop him. I start running toward her, but he's already getting ready to swing.

"Lissa, look out!" I cry as I sprint toward her. She turns toward me for a moment, searching for the source of the shout, but seeing me pointing behind her, turns just in time to raise her staff and almost block the strike. His axe is slowed but far from stopped, and she still receives a glancing blow on her shoulder. She cries out in pain, but in an instant Robin is there, stabbing the man through the abdomen.

Robin turns to me. "Who are you?" she asks.

I ponder for a moment. "A friend," I eventually say. "Let me see her." Lissa turns to me, and taking a closer look, her eyes light up.

"Oh, good. Another healer. It's pretty stressful doing this on my own," she says, wincing every few seconds at the pain of her shoulder wound but taking it generally like a trooper. She looks from me to the wound and back to me, an expectant look on her face.

I realize I don't know how staves work. I hope it just kind of comes naturally. I hold the staff aloft, like I remember healers doing in-game, and mentally ask the staff to obey my commands, please. By a massive stroke of luck, it seems to react, with the orb shining and a soft ringing sound emitting from it. The faint tingling vibration intensifies, and somehow I know to point the staff at Lissa's shoulder. I feel almost as though I am pushing the light out of the staff somehow; it's pretty hard to explain. The light from the staff bounds out of the orb and encircles her, and after a few seconds it dissipates.

She grins at me. "Thanks!" she says, and we return to battle. Robin and Chrom seem totally unperturbed by my joining. I wonder if Robin thinks I know the rest of them. Now that there are two healers with the Shepherds, the battle becomes much easier. Each of us focuses on healing one of the pair, with Lissa handling Chrom's wounds and me handling Robin's. Frederick needs no help. He's Frederick. With everyone at full fighting strength, no more of the enemy's fighters break through the ranks until we reach the massive bridge at the center of town.

A large group of bandits stand together on the bridge, bracing for the Shepherds to meet them. A few myrmidons, a few fighters, and is that-

"Mage!" Robin calls too late as a blade of wind blasts toward us from behind the wall of bandits. I've only got a fraction of a second to act, but I manage just barely to jump headlong into the blast, allowing it to hit me and throw me backwards. Chrom and Lissa yell in surprise and alarm, but I quickly get up, with only a couple tiny cuts to show for it. High resistance is awesome.

Upon establishing I am okay, the group swiftly springs into action. Robin starts laying down lightning bolts across the line to throw the group in disarray and force them to break ranks, while Chrom and Frederick take advantage of the chaos by picking them off, one by one as they break away from the pack. Soon, we are down to the leader.

He proves a great deal tougher than his lackeys, dodging back and forth between both Frederick's lunges and Chrom's heavy swiping attacks. Wherever there's an opening, Robin throws a Thunder bolt into the mix, but this guy proves surprisingly tough. I wonder faintly if we are in a Lunatic playthrough.

Suddenly, he rears back and flings his axe at Robin. I remember too late that he's packing handaxes, and before I can react, it's burrowed into her collarbone. My mind goes into overdrive, and I automatically sprint over to her, wrench out the axe, and point my staff at the wound. I'm lucky that healing comes naturally to me apparently, because even though I heal her quickly, that is still a lot of blood.

"Are you alright?" I ask, a little bit panicked.

She smirks. "Been better." I decide that if she has the strength to snark, she'll be fine. While she carefully gets to her feet, my arms are outstretched in case she falls from dizziness; she looks a little pale from here. As she steadies herself, she flashes a brief, grateful smile. She turns back to the fight, readying her tome. I watch her eyes widen-

"Look out!"

I cannot describe to you what it sounds like to me. To everyone else, it probably sounds like a THWACK or a guttural GHRACK. To me, it goes beyond sound. I could swear I feel my brain squelch a little as it parts to make way for the axe now buried in it. It doesn't hurt as much as I figured it might.

My left hand drifts up to the side of my head, gingerly touching the handle of the axe, probing to see how deeply it dug in. I realize my eyes aren't doing what I want them to do anymore. I think one of them has shut off. My remaining eye tries to focus on Robin, but she's moving too much.

"W-what…?" my mouth asks as my limbs stop obeying and I crumple to the ground. I always assumed a headshot meant instant death, but this is taking a while. I hear what I'm pretty sure are voices, but I can't tell anymore. I decide to close the eye that I still control, maybe if I sleep a little bit this will all make sense.

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

"How on earth did I…?"

Wait. Wait wait wait.

"How on earth did you what?" the bartender asks, cleaning a glass absently.

"I've…been here before…" I say slowly. I get up, and my spine pops and cracks as it stretches out.

"Have you? First time I've seen you in here, I'm fairly sure. You don't look local," the bartender replies. "Feeling better after your little snooze?"

What the hell? "Uh, yeah I guess. I came here with some supplies, didn't I?" I ask. He nods, and ducks below the bar to hand me my supplies for the second time. "Thanks. I think I'm gonna...step out for a minute," I say a little robotically.

I step outside and take a look around. Everything as it was. No overturned or destroyed stands. No burning buildings. No bandits. My hand drifts again to the side of my head. No wound.

Am I back in time? That seems to be the most reasonable solution. Which means…

Oh, shit. The bandits are still coming. Like, soon.

I sprint off toward the south, thinking I can hopefully get ahold of the Shepherds a little bit earlier and mitigate some of the damage I witnessed before. I remember the poor guy that got lacerated by the wind mage's spell. If I can play a role in stopping that, I want to try.

I've passed by a few buildings, running as fast as this robe and my frankly-pretty-heavy pack allow, when I hear a voice call out after me.

"Hold up, there!" I try to ignore it and keep going, but as I round the corner of a building I suddenly find myself face-to-face with a massive, twitchy wall of a man. He pushes me backwards, and I trip on an uneven cobblestone and fall on my ass. "I said, hold up. Didn'tcha hear me?" the voice says. I turn my head to face him and find myself looking at the point of a myrmidon's sword. "I asked you a question."

"W-well, to be honest, I didn't think you meant me," I say. "I don't know you, so I figured-" the blade shifts an inch closer to my face and I stop talking.

"And here I was hoping we could be friends. Don'tcha wanna be friends?" the myrmidon asks, and the four or so bandits with him all chuckle.

I consider for a moment. There's not really a way out either way. I think briefly about the axe. What I felt before as I…

I don't wanna do that again. I really don't. That was awful. "Sure!" I say a little too loudly. "I mean, what do your friends do?"

The myrmidon squats, getting his face right up in mine. "They drop all their gods-damned valuables and do what they're told," he says quietly.

My stomach drops a little, I am ashamed to admit. This guy's like what, level 1? Maybe 2? And I'm getting schooled here. "I don't know that I have much in the way of value," I say.

"The staff will do," he replies, standing up again. I feel the faint tingling of the staff in my hand. It's my lifeline here. This is how I am going to get in with the Shepherds, I can tell. Without this, I don't have much going for me right now. I can't lose this staff.

But if I don't give it up, I'm going to die. Again. The seconds I spend considering it feel like an eternity.

"...I think I'd rather bump uglies with an anthill," I say, looking him in the eye and starting to get up. I don't make it very far before I am shoved back down by Big n' Twitchy. The myrmidon is startled; I can tell he isn't used to being contradicted. Putting on the bravest grin I can manage, I flick up the back end of the staff and give a whack to the big guy's groin. As he doubles over in pain, the other three are on me instantly, kicking and stomping.

Holy hell this is so much worse than the first time. This isn't quick. This hurts more than I figured it would. One of them stomps on my hand and I feel my fingers give way under his boot. My ribs and legs take kick after kick, and it's coming from so many directions at once that I can't even register where they are. Especially after one of them kicks the back of my head so hard that my vision mostly cuts out. Soon I lose track of time. The only thing that's real is feeling my limbs and torso get crushed with blow after blow.

After some amount of time (was it a minute? 5? 20?), they stop. It almost gets worse when they stop, because my brain can't help but start cataloguing the damage, and hoo boy does it find a lot to take note of.

"See you in hell, pal," a voice says, and I feel my throat get opened up by a quick slice. Everything starts fading pretty fast after that.

When I wake up, I am unsurprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

I slowly stand up, stretch a little, and sigh.

"This is gonna be my whole day, isn't it?" I ask the bartender, who looks at me like I'm crazy. Eh, I probably will be soon enough.

My first attempt at a self-insert, hoping it holds up despite the perhaps played-out genre. I've got some ideas in mind to make this a fun one. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!