Information


Robin has a minion!

Grima the Allruin




Robin
Legacy Name: Tactician


The Reborn Rreign
Owner: Majesty

Age: 13 years, 2 days

Born: March 26th, 2011

Adopted: 13 years, 2 days ago

Adopted: March 26th, 2011


Pet Spotlight Winner
December 15th, 2018

Statistics


  • Level: 2
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


Once upon a time, there was a prince. This prince lived in his kingdom, ruled by his elder sister. He was a kind-hearted prince, who worked hard for justice and goodness within his kingdom. He fought hard against evil in all of its forms, alongside his many friends that he gathered from all walks of life.

One day, this prince found a girl lying in a field. She knew nothing about herself, except her name. The prince was kind to her, and took her in so she could be cared for. That's when the prince noticed that this girl was very good at strategy. She was able to take strangers that she knew nothing about, and guide their moves on the battlefield in such a way that they became far more successful in their endeavors.

This girl became the tactician of the prince's little band of fighters. She seemed to fit in well--she was friendly, and although many did not trust her at first, her intelligence, both on and off the battlefield, and her amiable demeanor drew many to her.

The prince soon found himself wrapped up in a political crisis between his kingdom and the neighboring kingdom. He fought to save his sister, but she was captured and swept away to the enemy kingdom. He desperately sought to save her, but in a foolish hope that she would make a difference, she sacrificed her life.

During that tragedy, the tactician met a mage of the opposing army. This mage had a great deal of interest in her, and began to linger closeby. The tactician kept her at arm's length at first, but soon started to welcome her closer once she realized this dark mage was not a threat. They began to talk of magic, a common ground that they shared. The tactician was not versed in dark magic, but something about her presence made the dark mage believe that the gift was there within her, lying dormant and just waiting to be tapped.

As the war drew to a close, the prince called the tactician to him, as he often did before a battle. They spoke, just as they always did, but then the prince did something unexpected. He asked for the tactician's hand in marriage.

She was dumbfounded. Why would he ask such a question? Though she regarded him fondly, she did not love him. She did not wish to be with him in such a way. She was lost for words as she fled the scene, many bearing witness to the rejection. Whispers began to echo through the ranks, questions emerging on why the tactician would have ever rejected such a proposal. The dark mage understood, however, and took the tactician under her wing, providing comfort as the tactician fumed over her anger and frustration over being mortified in such a way. She understood the reasons why she had been so aghast by the proposal. And silently, she was glad the tactician had not accepted.

They continued to talk, even as the years progressed and peace settled upon the kingdom and they went their separate ways. Eventually, stirs of unrest began to rouse the prince and his kingdom from their peaceful quiet. They were mobilized once again, and she and the dark mage were in close quarters once more. They began to revive their conversations about magic, and the tactician was reminded of the great potential that lay within her. It took time, but eventually the tactician agreed to give dark magic a try. It was impossibly complex, far more intricate in detail compared to the elemental magic she grew up with. But she took to it slowly, using the long campaign through the distant kingdom of Valm to practice and become familiar with the odd language and chaotic energy. Along the way, the prince, the tactician, and the army gained many new allies, who claimed to be children of soldiers in the army, but from many long years in the future, seeking to reverse some unpleasant fate.

As she and the dark mage grew closer, the tactician began to grow distant from those that had taken her in. Revelations spoken by the king of Plegia had placed her at arm's length from those who had once called her dear friends. Even the prince's trust wavered, especially at the words of the young woman who claimed to be his daughter from a future age, but he never allowed it to show. The tactician never gave him reason to lose faith in her. She was still as kind as ever despite knowing the truth, and her tactics were indispensable at this point.
Perhaps if he had known of her secret practice, his mind would have changed.

The longer she worked with this magic, the more she and the dark mage spoke. They talked of themselves, of their dreams, of their beliefs. The tactician was not a strong believer in anything, though she acknowledged the historical presence of the great dragons. The dark mage, however, was a devout follower of Grima, the so-called Fell Dragon. The name was oft met with fear, or hatred, or a mixture of both. But the dark mage knew better. She knew Grima was not one to be feared. Grima was not what the Ylisseans or any of the others made it appear to be. Grima was not all wanton destruction and boundless chaos unless its power fell into the wrong hands.

She watched the rituals, though she never quite had the stomach for them. She saw the blood spill, heard the ancient words chanted, felt the presence descend upon the dwelling. She could have sworn she heard words. Gentle words. Words of praise. Words of encouragement. Words asking to better the world, bring change, not cause destruction and upheaval. She mentioned this to the dark mage, and her eyes lit up. She urged the tactician try it herself, insisting that there was something truly special about her.

So the tactician tried. She did not lay out the spread--she allowed the mage to make the sacrifice on her behalf, and she read the ancient incantations from a paper, but she felt the same effects. They were far more stifling. The words far clearer. But they revealed to her things she never would have expected. She was given instructions, very simple and straightforward instructions. She imparted the knowledge she had gained to the dark mage, and together, they descended into more intense research than ever. They dug up ancient texts, words long unspoken by human tongues. The tactician read them over, and began to memorize them. The longer they worked together in their research and endeavors into dark magic and Grima, the closer they grew, in more than just military, scholarly, and spiritual camaraderie.

The tactician and the prince's army were swept from one war to another, being brought from Valm to Plegia once more. The revelation that the king of Plegia sought to revive Grima and bring an end to the world sent shockwaves of fear and anger through the army, and they marched with haste to the ancient temple where the great ritual was set to take place.

The tactician and the prince volunteered to bring a stop to the ritual while the rest of the army sought to hold off the army of misguided zealots. They came face to face with the king, who sought to revive Grima for his own selfish purposes. They came face-to-face with the tactician of another time, the mindless puppet of the king and of Grima, whose only purpose in life was to sow chaos and ruin in the name of her king and god. Side by side, they killed the enemies that stood before them, but the moment the puppet tactician drew her last breath, a suffocating dark energy shook the temple, causing the great stone pillars to groan and the ancient tiles to crack under their feet. The prince feared for his life and suggested they flee, but the tactician knew what needed to be done. She approached the altar, raising her hands over her head and spoke.

"Hail to thee, ruler of the dusk and the dawn. Hail to thee, lord of the winter and the spring. Hail to thee, master of death and birth. Hail to thee, bringer of the end and the beginning. I call upon thy spirit to take precedence over mine own. I offer to thee mine own body to fill with thy power to use as thou deems fit. I open heart and mind alike to thy word and thine action, and I give unto thee mine own free will if that is thy desire."

The prince grabbed her arm, jarring her from the invocation. He demanded that she stop, begged her to change her mind, pleaded with her, for the sake of everyone. He then threatened to strike her down should she refuse to comply.

That was the all the tactician needed to hear. The prince never noticed the bolt of lightning magic until it tore through his abdomen.

"Why should I? You hold no power over me," the tactician spoke, her voice now joined by thousands of others not her own. "You were a dear friend--I will never deny that--but you were a fool trying to find love within me. But I suppose I should thank you; your foolishness opened my eyes to the wonders of a world I had been taught to fear. A world all of the poor Ylissean souls had been taught to fear." The tactician grit her teeth before she spoke again, though she was not sure if the prince could even hear her anymore. "You were misguided then, and you are misguided now. And now, you will never get to bear witness to the true awakening of Grima..." She threw the prince off to the side with ease, flicking the blood from her hand and turning back to the altar. Raising her hands, the tactician took a deep breath and finished the incantation.

"I welcome thee, Grima, to take my body as thy vessel! Let it be done, let it be done, let it be done, let it be done!"

Shockwaves of dark energy seized the tactician's body, causing her to drop to her knees as she screamed in ten thousand tongues. Great silver horns tore from her skull, staining her white hair red with blood. Her eyes began to glow, a faint red light taking residence within them. Slowly, the darkness faded, and everything went silent.

Slowly, the tactician opened her eyes, looking down at her hands, at the claws that were once her nails. She acknowledged the throbbing pain in her head, and reached up, feeling ridged bone jutting forth from her skull, and healed skin all around it.

Was that it? Was that all there was to it? What had happened?

Heed my words, for I am the bringer of chaos. I am the harbinger of upheaval, the messenger of change. I am the destroyer of empires and the bringer of new eras. I am Grima.

The words echoed through the tactician's head, but they were not her own. They rumbled, they crashed, they shook her to her very core. She remained frozen in shock, staring at her hands as if they were the ones speaking to her.

It has been many a century since I have been awakened. Time and time again mankind has tried to fight me, tried to seal me away, and yet still mankind seeks me out when they wish to bring everything to an end. But they do not realize that with an end comes a beginning. Everything is cyclical. When the winter frost kills the wildflower, the spring's first warmth awakens the seed hidden within the earth. When the she-wolf tears apart the doe, it nourishes her body so, in turn, she can feed her cubs. When the earthquake turns the king's castle to rubble, he builds on its foundation a new, stronger fortification than before.

Destruction is just part of the cycle of being. Your kind fail to realize that. But you have willingly awakened me and welcomed me into your own body, not sought to harness my powers through a puppet. I do not feel the same ulterior motives within you, the same malice, the same dissatisfaction with the world, the same desire to bring it all to an end for your own personal gains. I feel curiosity, I feel a thirst for knowledge, I feel a budding satisfaction...
But do I feel fear?


The tactician felt a shiver race up her spine as she heard a laugh echoing in her mind.

There is no reason to fear. You have passed my test. You are worthy, the first to be worthy that I can ever recall. I will not destroy you. I feel that you are of sound mind. You are intelligent. You know what is right and what is wrong. I will advise you, and only should you steer me wrong will I destroy you. Right now, my mind is yours. My spirit is yours. My existence is yours. I will speak to you at times, I will be silent at times. So, tell me, what should I call you?

The tactician took a breath, only realizing she had been spoken to after several moments. She did not stumble over her words. She did not find herself without voice. She did not fear.

"Robin."

Well, Robin, the voice echoed, the time has come. Go now, and face your destiny.

The tactician nodded, and, rising to her feet, she turned around, stepped over the corpse of the prince, and began the walk to the doors of the ancient temple.


Tactician art done by eurene on tumblr.
Overlay and story done by Majesty.
Profile made by Majesty and coded by Marine.
Robin, Tharja, Chrom, Grima, and all elements of the game Fire Emblem Awakening (including the map of Ylisse and images of Grima and the Mark of Grima) belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

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