Live to be Remembered (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)

[soul_momentum]

Man always kills the things he loves, and so we the pioneers, have killed our
wilderness. Some say we had to. Be that as it may. I am glad I shall never be
young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms
without a blank spot on the map?​

- Aldo Leopold,
A Sand County Almanac, 1949
​

One night in November, in the one thousand eight hundred and thirty third Year of the Lord, the stars fell. The Tsétsėhéstȧhese - more commonly known among settlers as the Cheyenne tribe - stood stockstill in their open prairies watching hundreds of stars fall to their death in fearful awe.

The men donned their wargear and fineries and began to sing their death songs, for it had only been a few months since the keystone of their tribe and culture - the Sacred Arrows - were captured by Pawnee warriors.

Their world was surely ending, and the time of reckoning had arrived.

The Cheyenne elder White Thunder - then in the seventieth year of his life - watched the skies with bewilderment one would only expect from an ignoramus. Struck with terror and driven by a need to understand this alien sight, he decided to head out.

"I must convene with the chiefs," White Thunder said to his wife Tall Woman as he rose onto his haunches and stood up, wincing from the injuries that hadn't quite healed since the Pawnee attack. The Pawnee braves had left him for dead, one arm broken in the struggle to safeguard the arrows. The painful remainder of his failure as keeper of the arrows had to be set aside in the face of this new terror.

Stepping out of the lodge, he spotted his daughters running back from the river side. His eldest - Owl Woman - called out to them, "Ného'e! Náhko'e! What is this?" She was obviously scared, but putting on a brave face for her sister. White Thunder nodded, and gestured to the Bent Fort, which looked magnificent in the twilight and the falling stars.

"You can come along and find out."

He set off to the gathering in the middle of the lodges. Yellow Wolf of the Hairy Rope band was already present, while White Antelope of the Ridge People was approaching with a few of the other chiefs. Yellow Wolf spotted White Thunder from the corner of his eye, and greeted him with respect. "White Thunder, you have come." The others looked down from the skies at the wizened elder, hoping got an explanation.

White Thunder shakes his head. "It is as if a dream we share. I know nothing of this predicament." He puts a hand on Yellow Wolf's shoulder. "Perhaps White Hat and Little White Man may have answers." Yellow Wolf nods, uncertain, looking to White Antelope. The chief nods, and looks to the crowd of gathering warriors.

"It would not do to show up with readied bands. Patience!" He shouts. The chiefs shortly managed to disperse the crowd. White Thunder grunts in annoyance. The Dog Soldiers have been difficult these past few years, like horses held back from their herd. He looks up at the still falling stars.

Perhaps it was for good reason. What prestige does the Keeper of Arrows hold without the arrows? Perhaps young braves are better off without the nagging of impotent old men.

As he began to head towards the fort with the chiefs, White Crow waylaid him momentarily, his face wrought with anxiety and joy. "My wife, her months are up. My baby is here, elder." White Thunder was bemused, but nodded and asked Owl Woman to assist him in finding the midwife.

The sudden appearance of White Crow seemed as if an omen to White Thunder, for the man often wanders off into the praries for months on end until he comes upon something new to show off. He grasps at the man before he can disappear. "You'll come with us, you lazy dog." Leaving White Crow in the camp may be a welcome distraction, but the momentary insights he has may be of use. He'd already caused a ruckus in the camp by marrying a southern white women he "found" in the wilderness. "Your wife will be safe, but disaster may still be nigh," the elder said. White Crow looked confused, but replied in affirmation. White Thunder scoffed, but cuffed him in a show of fondness. "Come, let us be off."

***********​

Charles and William Bent were already at the boundary of their fort when White Thunder and his small entourage arrived. A bizarre night like this had everyone huddling with familiar strangers, it seemed. With the fort on his back, Charles had felt reassured about dealing with Comanche raids. It had seemed like the start of a new era when the final adobe brick was put in. With no other fort in the entirety of Colorado, the Bent Fort's success as a trading post was practically assured. He chuckled, and then shuddered in fear as another bright star hit the horizon. "It's always something or another," he whispered to William, who seemed largely distracted with tracing the transit of the stars.

The pitch darkness of the Coloradoan prairies was now offset by the sheer volume of falling stars enveloping the night skies, but expediting their journey to the Indian lodges with horses would be foolhardly. Fortunately, the natives had come to them. Perhaps they would have an explanation.

William greeted White Thunder with respect and Charles hurriedly ushered them to the terrace for a better view of the skies. The safety of the fort had already beckoned him back into its folds.

He looked to Charles, distraught. Summoning up what little he knew of their tongue, he asked, "Do you know what is happening?"

Charles shook his head. "I have never once seen or heard of such a thing." William nodded; the Bents were never religious, and the starfall seemed to make a mockery of this stance.

Just then one star grew brighter and brighter still; it lit up the sky like day for a brief second. The light revealed only horror in the faces of those present before disappearing, leaving everyone partly blinded.

Only a big puff of smoke remained within a second of the unholy illumination .

White Crow could not ignore the rush of adrenaline and fear that struck him. "My child!" He cried as he ran out, stumbling down the stairs and out the entrance, rushing into the darkness alone. He cursed himself for being far from his ailing wife.

Even White Thunder himself struggled to control his wildly beating heart.

"Ma'heo'o protect us all," he whispered.

One among the chiefs had soiled themselves in fear. White Hat - Charles Bent - could barely speak, gesturing with both hands "I-Inside. Now." He rushed in with William, going down into the Council Room. Viewing the starfall from the safety of their fort now seemed foolish. A few labourers could be seen kneeling in the walkway, too terrified to do anything else. Their beliefs may yet save them, when all else is uncertain. William - a younger man still full of vigour - could do nothing but clench and unclench his hands to calm his nerves. Both brothers paced along the insides of the Council Room, attempting to wait out the end.

There was nothing else to do.

Rather than shelter in the fort, White Thunder and his entourage left in haste, retracing White Crow's steps. Who would want to die without their family and clan at hand? White Thunder looked back at the fort and wondered about the brothers, wealthy and clanless in their clay fortress. It seemed to him that riches and death made for poor companions.

***********​

White Crow was inconsolable. He'd rushed out to find White Thunder once again after Teresa's cries forced him away from the lodge's vicinity. One of the women watching over her had informed him of the difficult birth. The child was coming out legs first, which meant that much was uncertain. White Thunder would not be able to help, for he knew little of this aspect of womanhood; none of the men did. White Crow could do nothing but seek comfort from his elders.

Luckily, the man had sense enough to return with the chiefs later and settle down for the wait.

Outside, the night turned into day again for a moment. Inside, Teresa screamed as if in tune with the horses. The many women in the tent attempted to soothe her with soft words and firm hands, their faces marred with fatigue and worry. The baby was coming out steadily, but Teresa was tiring fast. Owl Woman rubbed Teresa's hand and wiped off her sweat, reassuring her. "He's coming, Teresa. Push!" The hips were out, but the baby's head was not yet in sight.

"Ahhh!" She screamed, too tired to cuss up a storm as she had in the beginning of the night. Her youth kept her going, and the hours passed in agony until finally, a couple of hours before dawn, the baby was finally born.

Owl Woman cleaned the baby and gave him to the tired Teresa. "J-José Antonio," she whispered tiredly, pointedly looking at Owl Woman and the other. "José Antonio," she repeated, her eyes narrowing.

The tension broke, and everyone laughed lightly. The birth went well. "I'll go inform White Crow. Let's have a meal after," said Good Woman, the midwife. Teresa would stay indoors with the baby for a few days still, until it was safe to rejoin the others.

Outside, White Crow and his band brothers were in deep discussion. His brother-in-law Little Hawk clapped his back hard, gesturing to the lodge to distract him.

Good Woman smiled as she came over, "Everything went well. It's a boy!"

White Crow went back to his knees in relief even as Little Hawk and the other men yelled and slapped at him. The fear of the falling stars had ebbed in the hours since it began, and this happy occasion helped push it even deeper into the back of their minds. The naming took a scant moment. The stars were falling still, and this child may as well be one of them.

Fallen Star's - José Antonio's - life was just beginning. However, the wonders of life - and the terror accompanying it - would take on a strange and foreign flavour that he would struggle to make palatable for many decades to come. The first hint had already appeared in the recesses of his barely formed mind.

Trait Gained: Born under the Falling Stars Born beneath a legendary sky ablaze with falling stars, your birth was marked as an omen. Whether it is a blessing or curse remains unknown. +1 Intrigue -1% Stress Gain +1% Lifestyle Experience +1% Chance of gaining other Traits from Events Your unusual birth may occasionally influence how others perceive you.

---

The Facts: The Night the Stars Fell is the given name for the Leonid meteor storm of November 1833, which was visible across North America. The event was terrifying and awe-inspiring for the natives and settlers alike, and had many implications I did not look into.

White Thunder, Tall Woman, Owl Woman, Yellow Wolf, Big Man, and White Antelope are all real people who were part of the respective bands and tribe mentioned. The Bent family is real. These people were alive and witnessed the Leonid meteor shower. The one difference in this particular event is that in reality, White Thunder stayed the night at the fort, talking to the Bents all night. He was inspired by the event, despite the terror.

Words from the Cheyenne language used are authentic. I don't plan to use many.

 

[soul_momentum]

Fallen Star inherited much from his father. White Crow was widely regarded as a strange man fascinated with the esoteric; mind often elsewhere until it snags onto the most important of things. Perhaps that is why he seemed to take to fatherhood like a fish in water. While the boy didn't inherit his dangerous habit of losing track of other tasks at hand, he did come to share White Crow's love for the strange and inimitable.

Even as young as five, Star would follow his father into the prairie, eyes wavering between the ground and the horizon. Of course, this had more to do with White Crow kidnapping his child from under Teresa's watchful eye.

Despite that potential dangers of the wilderness, White Crow persisted in teaching his child the intricacies of prairie navigation. Watching the ground would safeguard against prairie-dog holes, uneven ground, and the rare snake, while also revealing a bounty of delicacies: prickly pear cacti, buffalo berries, and the occasional patch of sunflowers or groundplums. Watching the horizon was more important, because passing herds of antelope or bison could help feed the tribe, while horsed warriors represented something more ominous.

Fallen Star took to the lessons with more enthusiasm and interest than any five year old White Crow had ever seen. To the child however, the effort was justified by supernatural incentive.

+10 Exploration XP

The boy couldn't hide a smile from his face. The secret words had always been within some recess of his mind, but he had first been able to decipher its use at 4 years of age when mistakenly choosing one of three options had resulted in a greater understanding of the people around him. Star looked up to his father, bringing up the words consciously as they knelt in the undergrowth.

White Crow Slothful Analytic​

The first word whispered into his mind about his father seem to imply that he was lazy. Although he had never thought so, his mother has shouted it enough to imply that there may be some truth to it. The second word gave the impression of thinking and something else that was difficult to understand. The bits that he could understand had already helped him make a friend and avoid getting pranked.

The possibility of more such powers got him excited until he remembered the fear in his mother's eyes when he asked about the words. He was scared by the way she questioned him after, and confused that she never mentioned it again. Not wanting to go through the same with his father, he had never talked to someone about it again. His train of thought was disrupted by his dad pulling at the notched arrow of his bow. Fallen Star held his breath. The arrow fled the bow in an instance and reappeared in the haunch of the oblivious antelope. The shock of intense pain froze the creature as the rest of its herd took off. White Crow bound off to secure it, and Fallen Star stumbled after him, carefully looking at where he's stepping as his father taught him.

White Crow sighs, "Misfired." He looks at Fallen Star, kneeling next to the antelope as he approached. "One should always try to kill with the first arrow. If the beast freezes in fear, the meat gets tougher. It's not as good for eating." He pulled out his hunting knife, and hesitated. "Come." He brings Fallen Star to a kneel with him, and wraps his hand around the knife, guiding him to the antelope's neck.

Fallen Star freezes. "Papa-"

His protests were cut off by the swift push of the knife into the beast's neck. Blood spurted against the fur, staining his hand. The creature breathed its last in seconds.

"It's over," White Crow scoops up a little of the dripping blood and slathers it all across the boy's face. "You're not to wipe it off until we reach home." Better blooded now in his father's presence than during the buffalo hunt in the spring. White Crow's heart tightens as he sees the boy stay frozen, staring at his hands. "This life taken, will feed your mother now and clothe us for years to come." He take the boy's blood-drenched hand in his. "Do not waver, son."

Fallen Star nods, shaking slightly. "Okay." And he would be okay, for children could be killers, and killers can be children.

In fact, the boy's mind was already distracted as his father readied the kill for transport.

+10 Survival XP Wandering +1

Choose One.​

Lay of the Land You can retrace your steps with pin-point accuracy through remembered routes, landmarks, and other signs, even with your eyes closed.​

Half-Rations You can sustain yourself on far less food and water than most. ​

Watersign Once a day, learn the location of a source of water nearby.​

Star's eyes widened in shock. The words offered advantages that he could never have imagined. He looked up at his dad, biting his lip with anxiety. The coppery taste of antelope blood jarred his consciousness. No, he can't tell him, not yet.

He tried to focus on the central words that appeared more often.

Fallen Star: Level 1 Diplomacy: 0 Martial: 0 Stewardship: 0 Intrigue: 1 Learning: 0 Wandering: 1

He has attempted to understand the meaning of each earlier by asking vague questions, and with some, he had succeeded. The meaning of Stewardship was not clear, while the three aspects of many central words still eluded him.

Diplomacy was split into Persuasion, Empathy, and Presence, Martial included Prowess, Command, and Tactics. Stewardship included Management, Economy, and Provisioning. Intrigue included Deception, Stealth, and Espionage. Learning included Knowledge, Reasoning, and Creation. Wandering included Exploration, Survival, and Adaptability.

He had no idea how he had gotten the point in Intrigue, but the point in Wandering was the result of his forrays with Papa. The points in Intrigue's other aspects were all 1, while Wandering had 2 in Exploration, 1 in Survival, and 0 in Adaptability. A smattering of points were spread across the other aspects, but the central words remained unaffected for most.

"Come! Stop your day dreaming." White Crow gently cuffed his head. He was worried about the boy, and wanted to get home as soon as possible. It isn't often that an antelop herd strays so close to their bend of the river, and they would only have to travel an hour.

************​

Teresa was pacing around the tipi, hands clench and face livid. "Maldita seas, bruto!" The idiot had taken her boy out further into the wilds again, despite her numerous entreaties to avoid doing so. Her sisters were more than happy to back her in their own mothertongue, agreeing heartily. White Crow was a favoured brother, but even he does not get to outrun the wrath of his wife.

The sounds of her swearing had already reverberated around the vicinity, and White Crow's brother-in-laws were already idling nearby, gleefully anticipating a good show. Teasing among brothers - especially those married into the same family - was practically a tradition among the Cheyenne, and today would offer enough ammunition to draw many a bow. White Crow and the little one had set off in the morning, and it was early noon already, which meant that all hell would break out soon.

"They're back!" Small Bird shouted out, running along the tipi and scurrying behind the expertly well-positioned cadre of men waiting for the drama to commence. White Crow, clueless as always, was greeting his brothers and passing off the antelope to be butchered. The boy's blooded face brought in many slaps on his tiny back, with words of congratulations. The brief moment of joyous comradery did much to alleviate the strain on Fallen Star's mind. The hunt by itself was draining, and the appearance of a choice had flooded his brain with whispers he was not yet equipped to deal with. The boy walked into his tipi with the intent to collapse on his bedding, but walked straight into his irate mother.

Teresa Antonio Charitable Empath​

Teresa's anger deflated and transformed into horror when she saw blood on the boy's face. "Por el amor de Dios." She quickly wiped off the blood with a rag and dragged the boy out to wash it off. After wiping him down again, she picked up a frying pan propped against a stand and threw it with unerring accuracy at White Crow's head. Fortunately, the man was already vigilant and well-aware of her throwing skills; he ducked out of the way, letting the pan harmlessly hit the back of an unfortunate young brave, who crumbled onto the ground. The laughter of onlookers mixed in with Teresa's swearing until White Crow managed to calm her after much dodging, repeated apologies, and prostration. His brothers had graciously hidden the axes, knives, and other sharp paraphernalia to prevent injury.

"It is the way, darling. The boy must learn out ways," he pleaded softly. Grumbling, Teresa exclaimed, "Did you ask me? Why do you drive me to such rage, you useless man!" She rushed into the tipi to check on Fallen Star. The boy was already fast asleep, which made her sigh in relief.

There were mercies and pains that came with marrying into the Cheyenne; this was one of the latter. White Crow hadn't entered after her. Teresa sighs, knowing that he would slink in guiltily around sundown. His roguish charm and subtle demeanour did not appeal to her today as thoughts of her son and his future grew nebulous. Many among the tribe saw White Crow as lesser, although he never really let it get him down. He was of Suhtai descent like White Thunder, and the Cheyenne still had misgivings about the merger of the two tribes many generations ago.

Teresa had heard the whispers of White Thunder's assumed illegitimacy as Arrow Keeper once she learnt to understand the tongue. The accusations seemed absurd, especially after the elder had hiked alone into Pawnee lands to request their chiefs to return the arrows and sue for peace. Two of the four Pawnee chiefs who held the arrows - impressed by White Thunder's bravery - agreed to peace between the tribes and smoked the peace pipe with the elderly medicine man. The reputation the chief had regained from the incident did not stop the whispers of his illegitimacy.

Teresa scoffed; it is in the nature of man to play politics and salt the oldest of wounds. She had tried to instill good Christian values in her boy to ensure that such corruption does not take, but what could she do about the superstitious? Despite her attempts to find inroads into the tribe, she was too foreign, too different to gain a foothold. Atleast Owl Woman and her sisters were forthcoming, more so since her marriage to one of the Bents. William spoke enough Spanish for her to speak freely, and her visits to the Fort with White Crow helped alleviate some of the loneliness. Maria Ignacia - Charles' new wife - was haughty but tolerable, and many of the traders and their wives were good company.

Teresa sighed, once again glancing at her sleeping boy, and then stepping out. Some air would do her good.

************​

Fallen Star was too excited and distracted to sleep for long. Once he awoke, he eagerly pulled up the words provoking a choice. Aspects of the three choices had been whispered to him, and the nap had helped clear his mind enough to understand.

Choose One.​

Lay of the Land You can retrace your steps with pin-point accuracy through remembered routes, landmarks, and other signs, even with your eyes closed.​

Half-Rations You can sustain yourself on far less food and water than most. ​

Watersign Once a day, learn the location of a source of water nearby.​

The first choice came with a vision of him speeding through the prairie, dodging dogholes, brambles and snakes without a thought. The words whispered of stronger memories, and promised ease of travel. The second choice was easier to understand; he would need less food, a quarter less than he would need daily, and only half as much water. The third choice showed him finding freshwater in the wilderness, be it in a clear pond or a small catchment.

The first choice was the most appealing because - to the child - the prospect of roaming free was a supernatural ability. The tribe was flush with food, and fresh water came directly from the Arkansas river, which meant that the other two options were less important. Given these considerations, the boy quickly selected the first option.

The relative position of the tents in the camp bloomed in the back of his mind, with major landmarks he had been to - like the river, parts of the nearby prairie - seeming as clear as day. He eyes widened in wonder when he realised that focusing in on his immediate vicinity would reveal the very slight variations in the ground and the paraphernalia scattered around. He rushed out, stepping onto the piece of wood at the boundary of the tipi and bypassing flaps covering the entrance without a break in his step. Grinning, he ran to find his mother. Food is now the biggest priority.

The next trip into the prairie would be amazing.

---

The Facts: White Thunder did in fact, travel to the Pawnee tribes at the ripe old age of 70 to bargain for the arrows. The first chief he encountered was impressed with how the old man braved death alone, and gave him the locations of the other bands and the one arrow he had. White Thunder visited each tribe and escaped death each time, returning home with two of four arrows. This is however, only one historical account. Others say that many other attempts were made before this happened, and some acts of treachery were also committed by the Cheyenne after the fact to retrieve the man-arrows. The Lakota (or Sioux) then returned one man-arrow to the tribe after a few years, having captured it (or traded for it) later from the Pawnee.

White Thunder was originally of the Suhtai tribe, which completed it's merger with the Cheyenne in 1932, about a century after they started mingling. He died in 1838, five years after this feat. He allegedly died by sacrificing himself during a clash between the Cheyenne and the Kiowa and Comache in the Woodward area of Northwest Oklahoma, during the Battle of Wolf Creek.

 

[Kacperix]

Thanks for the chapter. The story seems interesting, good luck with the next chapters.

 

[Trek]

Do you plan to make mc a ruler faster than legends never die? Also how much of the ck3 stystem has come through? Can he incarnate into his heirs?

 

[saladass]

I loved legends never die but couldn't find anything similar. Hope you don't drop this.

 

[soul_momentum]

A/N: Apologies for the wait. This one took quite a while, and you'll see what I mean. I am concerned that the writing may be too dense or convoluted. I am a researcher by trade, and the language tends to seep in. Please do let me know of any thoughts - be it about the plot, devices, or writing. This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Don't let me keep you waiting. Enjoy.

---

White Crow had a reputation for being absent-minded. When in camp, he's known to lounge in the shade of his lodge, chewing on wild rice or sunflower seeds as he relaxes for hours on end. He finds joy in simple observing the going-ons of the camp.

In contrast, Teresa was more invested in the community; she could be found preparing supplies, cooking, or cleaning, as was expected of women of the Cheyenne. She found comfort in the bustle; it kept her distracted from thoughts of the home she had lost, now so many years ago.

While both these people often found themselves occupied, neither were oblivious to obvious strangeness of their child.

To no one's surprise, Teresa was the first to notice the signs as the boy turned about 4. No Cheyenne child would ask about the concepts he described to her in halting words.

Things she barely understood herself.

In good Catholic fashion, she instinctively pretended that nothing had happened. Her boy was already the subject of talk due to Cheyenne superstitions, and the fear of pagan beliefs were vastly overwhelmed by the fear of God. She chided the boy and hoped that it would never come up.

The status quo only lasted until White Crow began taking the boy into the prairie. It was no secret that White Crow was a master when it came to navigating the prairie. He was intimately familiar with its dangers, and very cognizant that a child seemingly capable of sensing the terrain without looking was not merely skilled.

No, this was an anomaly.

Rather than reacting with fear like his beloved, the situation made White Crow very curious about the boy's gifts. He led the boy to the banks of the Arkansas river, where the soil was rocky, uneven, and pitted with the remnants of antelope pits used to hunt them enmass. He expertly descended closer to the river to fetch water, and turned around to see how the boy would fare.

Fallen Star was able to atleast partially match the practiced pace of his father across the rough terrain. White Crow knew the boy was not familiar with this place, which confirmed the possibility of talent…or supernatural interference. Once the boy arrived, he crossed his arms and barked at him, "Did you forget to tell me something, my son?" Star was shocked at the sudden change in tone, and fell toward his father as he tripped on a stone and lost his concentration.

White Crow effortlessly caught him, set him down and knelt in front of him. "This river, I have walked its banks for many more years than you have been alive." He smirked as he scooped up and drank some water before flicking the rest at the boy playfully and standing up.

"Look around you," he said, gesturing at the horizon with a flick of the head. Verdant green and shades of brown extended out as far as the eye can see. "Would you believe that I have gone as far as the eye can see? And further beyond." He looked along the river and then scooped up more water, washing off the dirt from his hands and torso.

"All of it took time, and the stories can be found on my body. Look," he said, pointing to his right foot. Fallen Star had never noticed that the little toe was missing. "I wandered a little too deep into the wilds and couldn't reach back home soon enough. I didn't know how cold it could get. By the time I set up the fire, it was already too late." White Crow chuckled, "I was older than you when this happened, almost a man." White Crow helped Fallen Star wash off his torso and hands. "Even the water here can kill if we try to cross over; the currents can change in a split second, pull a grown man under and kill him in seconds."

He looks down at the boy, "It seems you have a gift, my son, but do not be mistaken. I see already that you do not pay attention to your surroundings. It WILL kill you." White Crow sat down on against a stone, and gestured the boy to join him.

Star said nothing for a while, and then whispered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you Papa. I was scared. Mama was angry when I asked her." Star looked down guiltily as he sat down, rubbing his legs nervously. "I can hear words…not hear…but they appear inside my head. It tells me things, like you are lazy."

White Crow looked at him, incredulous. "It does?" He laughed and slapped at Fallen Star's back. "Well atleast we know it's not lying." Star giggled, and the matter was settled. White Crow had the boy promise that he would tell him about any future changes before doing anything.

For White Crow, the implications of the situation were numerous. Very little of what his son said made sense to him, for he had no understand of the supernatural. Deciding to consult his wife that night, he was taken aback at the open relief his beloved expressed when confronted with the issue. They spent all night talking about what this could mean, letting the boy sleep in his friend's home.

Teresa was more than a little concerned about what this could mean for his future, especially when White Crow filled her in on what happened in the prairie. "All this is so frightening. José is just a small boy, and this thing - these words - I don't like it." Teresa knew her beloved will probably disapprove of her thoughts about this being the work of the Devil, and so kept that to herself. "What do we do about this, my love?"

White Crow took her hand and placed it on his chest as he layed back on the bed. "I'm not sure what this strange power is, but it is not hurting him. Not yet atleast. We have to be careful." He kisses her hands and looks over to her in the darkness. "Don't push him away when he talks to you. There may be things he can only tell you, and we must guide him properly."

He grips her hand lightly, "We'll take him to White Thunder tomorrow. He'll know what to do."

It had only been a scant few years since the Suhtai had merged with the Cheyenne. Not enough time for the bonds of brotherhood to meld into the larger community. His elder and kinsman White Thunder would know what to done about this…unnatural power.

************​

White Thunder was far from a doddering old man. Tall and energetic, White Thunder was the very picture of health, a man atleast 2 or even three decades younger than his age suggested. This was hardly surprising for a priest of the Great Spirit and a master of Medicine.

However, White Thunder was an unusual sight among high Medicine men, for they typically rendered themselves hideous with paint, horns, skulls, and skins to increase the potency of their preparations. White Thunder had few of these embellishments. And yet, the healed over portions of skin flayed off his back, chest, and legs - the typical sign of a Cheyenne Keeper of Arrows - occasionally flashed in a dull light, his body radiating glimpses of power rarely seen among his kind.

The favour that the Great Spirit showed White Thunder - evident in his youth and bearing - was the only obvious thing that hinted at greatness. To the tribesmen - many of whom lived and died even as the old man grew even older - his greatness was more obvious; this was partly why the Suhtai clansman ended up the chief Medicine man of the Cheyenne.

None of that mattered today, for White Thunder was deep in the high-minded thoughts that were the mainstay of his age and title.

The Medicine man knew great Secrets of the world. Even as a tribesman would thank Ma'heo'o for a successful Buffalo hunt, White Thunder knew that the Great Spirit - and the denizens of the upper world - were far from fickle. The Great Spirit would never deign to touch vile and ephemeral Man, not after Creation. The lower deities of the upper world interceded only through the land gods. Even the basest of the land gods would not deign to concentrate their sacred powers within a being like Man, for their energies were immanent, spread across the countless animate and inanimate objects in the material world.

In fact, he wondered now if The Night the Stars Fell was the result of a war in the upper world; if so, many deities they were familiar with may as well be no more. White Thunder worried that the world is now astray. Even as the land gods live and direct, is the world still under the stewardship of the Great Spirit?

Still, the fervor of the warriors and the magics of the Societies persist. In many ways, this implied that the mighty powers that Man wielded were largely the result of mortal feats like learning and discipline, mixed with the ancestral knowledge of Medicine passed on by mighty spirits. Through Medicine, Man could concentrate sacred powers into symbols and objects of power.

But will any of these powers serve to stall the inevitable? White Thunder mulled over the prophecy long since passed on through the Cheyenne Medicine men, all the way from the original prophet, Sweet Medicine. The Great Spirit had already deemed their lands and way of life forfeit. White Thunder himself had seen how quickly the tribesmen had taken to the alien beings, the horses that the white men brought with them. The tribe he grew within had disappeared, and the Cheyenne themselves are now unrecognisable in both nature and pacing.

The old man had already inferred the outcomes. The rangings he had commanded two decades ago had already revealed the numbers. A veritable horde inched through the the Creator's Gift, stripping it of its essence. Conflict was inevitable.

White Thunder was beyond embittered. When he took on the mantle of Medicine man, he had made efforts to strengthen the tribe, hunting more game, stockpiling, and encouraging child birth. He had woven his magics into the food and the air, helping love bloom faster and food sustain longer. All those efforts had amounted to a mere thousand more tribesmen. An ounce more meat for the slaughter to come. In fact, more problems like the increasingly belligerent Dog-Warriors had cropped up. The loss of the man-arrows - still unretrieved - was the result of a lapse on the part of one such warrior, too eager to rush into fray.

As the years passed, it had become apparent to White Thunder that the prophecy would be fulfilled, perhaps even accelerated by his own hand. Just two years ago, he had thought himself clever for binding the Bents to his tribe through the marriage between his daughter Owl Woman and William Bent.

The tribe had prospered, but the Bents were clearly one piece of a massive puzzle that is the white man. The Cheyenne could make few such in-roads before they were thoroughly exhausted.

White Crow, Teresa, and Fallen Star were ushered in just as White Thunder was mulling over the possibilities and further spiraling into hopelessness. Suddenly distracted, he remarked, "Hmm? Why have you come, little one?" His eyes fell on Teresa and the child, traversing past the former and landing on the latter. Ah yes, the Omenborn. Another variable to account for.

"The boy has powers, elder. He can traverse the prairie as if through flat ground." White Crow hesitated before sitting down, gesturing for White Thunder to send away his attendants.

"Oh?" Eyebrows raised, he signs to his assistants to leave. It was not uncommon for tribesman to be born with some measure of power. The confluence of stars - the machinations of gods - can often result in beings or objects being blessed in minor ways. "What matter requires such privacy in the heart of our tribe?" He asked inquisitively. His spirit sight showed trepidation radiating from all three, with a hint of excitement in the child. He inwardly chuckled at the exuberance of youth. Oddly enough, there seemed to be no special confluence of energies which hinted at the child being extraordinary.

White Crow speaks for the boy. "He…sees or hears words, perhaps messages of spirits? Please elder, I hope you can look into it."

White Thunder settled down to question the boy. White Crow may be eccentric, but never a liar. There seemed to be something odd happening to the boy. "Tell me child, and start from the beginning."

The scope of the boy's boons and the choices presented to the boy…all this is unprecedented in the eyes of White Thunder. It is clear that the boy is somehow entangled with the works of several upper deities and land gods. His mind went back to the wonder and terror of the Night the Stars Fell. Perhaps this was the Great Spirit's gambit, a boy who can barely write or think, but with gifts that may be cultivated. Just as Ma'heo'o worked on the Cheyenne through Sweet Medicine.

More questions, and a child with no answers.

After a period of reflection, White Thunder nods. "Leave him with me from now on. I will teach him the ways of Medicine. Speak nothing of what we discussed. You merely petitioned me to accept the boy due to his talent."

The boy could be useful. Perhaps he could even be another means of survival, in thought and deed, if not in means.


White Crow was stunned, but understanding. It was not uncommon for chiefs to choose a talented child to mentor, even one with a full cadre like White Thunder. Teresa looked most apprehensive, but the supernatural visage of White Thunder and the fear of reprehension - or worse - made her hold her tongue. She looked at White Crow for reassurance, and received the same.

"What is Medicine?" Fallen Star asked. "Will I learn to fix people who are hurt?" White Thunder smiled, and nodded, "that and more, child." White Crow suddenly remembered, "So you will not be accompanying the braves?" Just then, a chime reverberated in Fallen Star's mind.

Event: The Kiowa-Comanche Raid​

The Dog-Warriors are baying for Pawnee blood, but all of the Cheyenne are equally unwilling to face their own sacred artefacts, the man-arrows. The Kiowas and Comanches of the lower Prairies will serve as a sufficient sacrifice. However, blood begets blood, and the Cheyenne have much to lose. Tasks Ensure that White Thunder doesn't participate. Ensure that White Crow doesn't participate. Ensure that the Dog-Warriors don't leave the tribe. Ensure that the Cheyenne forgo the raid. Rewards For White Thunder's survival (completed) Access to the mysteries of Medicine. ??? For White Crow's survival. +1 Wandering For ensuring the Dog-warriors' allegiance to the tribe. Increased reputation with Northern and Southern Cheyenne tribes. For ensuring the Cheyenne don't commit to the raid Trait [Seed of Wisdom]. Consequences Death of White Thunder Death of White Crow Schism between Council of 44 and the Dog-Warriors Decline of the Cheyenne

The shock of what was presented to the child rendered him unconscious. Teresa gasped and then screamed, and White Crow pulled up the boy, attempting to revive him. White Thunder quickly looked him over and calmed down. "It seems the boy was overwhelmed. Perhaps it is nothing. We shall see when he wakes."

He lets the parents take the boy to their tipi. The sudden bout of fainting seemed rather inauspicious, but what more could be done. As an elder of Cheyenne, White Thunder won't hesitate to grasp at even the weakest strand of sweetgrass if it would help the tribe survive.

---

The Facts: The separation of Dog-Warriors from the Southern Cheyenne and the formation of a separate tribe happened some time in the 1840s. After White Thunder's death in 1838, his successor also died that same year because he misunderstood his duties and swallowed the juices of a poisonous plant he was only supposed to hold in his mouth. The next 2-3 successors were adequate, but many of the tribe's original rituals were lost after.

A/N: This is my first forray into long-form historical fantasy, so I really would appreciate any criticism and suggestions. Please feel free.

 

[soul_momentum]

As far as the tribespeople knew, the spirits had been nothing if not generous to the Cheyenne. The buffalo were abundant, and trade with the Bents had only made the tribe more prosperous. More warriors were sporting metal axes and arrows, with some of the more affluent chiefs even sporting guns. Nearly everyone were dressed in coloured cloth adorned with trade beads, and the utensils that were once made of horn or hide had long been replaced by brass alternatives. It almost seemed like the tribe had a bright future. Would have been nice if that were true. The white man's burning liquor - whisky - had quickly become a favourite of warriors across the tribe. The allure of the substance was threefold for braves itching to raid, despite the reckless courage it inspired. The popularity of liquor had given rise to many a fight, and even a few deaths. Some men could even be seen lying about at the break of dawn, already drunk beyong their wits. There was little harmony in the camp, and the few among the Council could - would - prevent the exodus of killers looking for prey. The community would be safer and more harmonious for it. The majority of the raiding party would be young braves, new entrants into the Coyote Warriors and Dog Warriors looking to make a name for themselves, woo a lover at home with their spoils, or steal a bride. Much blood would be spilled, for each society had access to powerful martial Secrets that were only shared amongst themselves. Their weapons and tactics were also frightful complements. Ironically enough, their prowess in the coming raid would prove their prowess in…other matters. Unfortunately, the opposite was equally true for detractors. White Thunder's withdrawal from the coming raid had been met with much disapproval and allegations of cowardice. As arrow keeper, his absence would also mean that success is not assured. Rumours were abound. Some said that the spirits may have signalled misfortune, while others argued that White Thunder was powerless after the loss of the man-arrows. The bitterness of the loss had only strengthened overtime, despite the chief's retrieval of the buffalo-arrows. After all, what use are the buffalo-arrows in a time of obscene abundance? The camp was particularly turbulent today, as the time to depart for the raid was approaching. White Thunder and the other members of the Council of fourty-four were once again meeting at the central area near the chief medicine lodge. The camp was practically overflowing with Dogs, preparing their weapons and cultivating their martial prowess. The chiefs of Dogs, Coyotes, Wolves, Red-Shields, and Hoof-Rattlers were present for the meeting, alongside a representative of the Inverted Warriors, who stoically towered over everyone else. "I have stated my reasons before. The time for war has passed. This raid will be a foolish one, and it will end in failure," White Thunder reiterated patiently. "Do not presume to lecture us, old man," said Blood Morning, the Warcaller. "Warriors are as warriors do, and your inadequacies have resulted in enough shame for the rest of us." The blatant insult from the obvious advocate for war was unfortunately well-received by a large portion of the crowd. Long-time supporters of White Thunder shouted in anger, with Yellow Wolf taking point. Snarling at Blood Morning, he said, "You have no place here, woman! This is not a warband, nor are you qualified to-." Just as the Dog chief was about to retort over him, White Thunder cuts Yellow Wolf off. "Calm yourselves. Blood Morning may not be an elder, but she is a fellow brave, and well-respected." Blood Morning smirked, no hint of remorse or shame marking her face. "Stop trying to prevent the inevitable, elder." She emphasised the last word, as if she were not half a century old. "You do not wish to participate, but using a child as an excuse? Truly despicable." White Thunder scoffs. "You are simply more familiar with leading youths to slaughter than nurturing them. He is Omenborn, as you know. I have more reasons to suspect that he will be important, reasons I don't intend to share with you. The child has great promise, and I cannot delay his education in good conscience." Despite these high-sounding words, White Thunder knew Blood Morning had the truth of it. He had simply spent too many energies nurturing the tribe to see blood spilt on a meaningless raid. Saying that however, would probably incite more disapproval, even among his supporters. Blood Morning laughed malevolently. "I have seen this boy. White Crow's spawn. Suspicious how it is your tribesman's child-" "BLOOD MORNING," White Thunder's voice rung through the camp, bringing everyone to a halt. Reining in his anger, he bades everyone to continue and speaks in a cold tone, "you mistake my patience for acquiescence. I am of the Cheyenne. Do NOT insult me again, or you shall live to regret it." White Thunder's scars flashed, an exceedingly rare showing of authority. The hostility shocked Blood Morning, for she had never seen such rage from the elder before. The fear that cropped up was accompanied by shame, both of which later erased by her wrath. "You...you would threaten me?" She knew his words were devoid of killing intent, but that wouldn't matter. She looks towards the others, "You see how this Suhtai threatens violence amongst us? What more must you see before you realise the truth?" Before matters could worsen, Winter-Behind-Him walks forward, bow-spear in hand. The crowd parts to make way for him, for none may stand in the path of an Inverted Warrior. The massive warrior places a hand on Blood Morning's shoulder, and nods his head. "You are not wrong. You will not cease?" Blood Morning stiffened because Pure Ones like Winter-Behind-Him only said the opposite of what they meant. Clenching her fists, she growled out in frustration, "This is not over!" Stepping away, she disappeared into the crowd, pushing away those foolish enough to stand in her way. White Thunder looked regretful. He looked up at Winter-Behind-Him and the others, and said, "I apologise for my conduct and that of Blood Morning. Our failures weigh heavily on us." The Pure One shakes his head. "It is not acceptable." He walks away, leaving White Thunder relieved. White Thunder had more lives to bargain for, and the military societies will be more amenable without Blood Morning here. "Let us speak once more about the raid. I believe it is not necessary for the Coyotes and Dogs to commit their full strength." The meeting continues, with the minutiae once again coming into focus. The Council was barely Meanwhile, Blood Morning was raging and already drowning in her cup. She had failed to discipline her braves during the Pawnee raid. One thoughtless boy with barely any hair on his chin had interrupted White Thunder's arrow ritual on the battlefield just as the elder pointed a man-arrow at the enemy. The idiot died in an instance along with his horse when he passed in front of the arrow. The inauspicious death had forced White Thunder's hand, making him stow away the arrows, only to have them stolen during the aftermath of the defeat. Blood Morning drank straight from the thick glass bottle and screamed out her frustration, shocking those passing by her tipi. Blaming White Thunder could only take her so far. She had failed in her duties. She was distracted, deep in the bottle. Just as she is now. If only she could stop. ************​ An elbow whipped through the air, neatly smacking against the upraised hand protecting Fallen Star's face. The impact was softened, but not enough to stop him from breaking his stance and falling. "You have to move, Star!" said the boy standing over him; he extended a hand to help Star up, dusting off his shoulder. "You didn't catch me this time." He say triumphantly. Brown Bull was practically half a foot taller than Fallen Star, with broad shoulders and a bright smile on his face. The two have been inseparable for years, practically two halves of a whole. Fallen Star - with his easy wit and charming demeanour - was the front man, while Brown Bull served as the muscle. Star frowned, "I'll get there." The boy was far from clumsy, but the practiced ease of movement he experienced in the prairies did not readily help him react or move out of harm's way, especially when another person is involved. The fact that the boy shied away from violence and conflict - unlike many of his peers - did not help. Fortunately, many other aspects of his other skills had improved in the few months since his ascension into a Medicine apprentice. Fallen Star: Level 3 Conscientious Apprentice Diplomacy: 0 Martial: 1 Stewardship: 0 Intrigue: 2 Learning: 2 Wandering: 1 The bounty of these improvements were also immense. The boon in Martial he earned by increasing his Prowess, watching the other braves and wrestling everyday with Brown Bull and the others. It went into Steady Grip, which stopped his hands from trembling when carrying heavy loads, wrestling, or climbing. The difference was immediately noticeable; none of the other children could break his grip anymore. Earning a point in Learning was somehow more difficult. He had to memorise White Thunder's endless list of herbs and their properties, which increased his Knowledge. The point he got went right into Keen Memory, which allowed him to remember faces, things, characteristics, and names after seeing or hearing about them just once. This helped massively improve his ability to recount White Thunder's instruction, earning him another Learning point along with the title 'Conscientious Apprentice'. He didn't get anything for reaching the second point on Intrigue and Learning, but reaching level 3 gave him something special…and scary. Sacrifice Offer something of worth to an interested spirit for something in return. Actively invoking this skill will let you know whether your prospective sacrifice interests a known spirit. You cannot choose what you receive, but may request for what you need if you follow the correct forms.​ The boon came with an infusion of knowledge that knocked him unconscious as soon as he laid down and closed his eyes. When he awoke, he knew Secrets that only the dearest of Ma'heo'o would know. It was revealed to Star that Ma'heo'o accepted offerings and felt human feelings like loneliness and pity, but would only communicate through dream, intermediaries, and omens, in that order. Ma'heo'o's blessings defied explanation, but should be sought after nevertheless, for one realises harmony by seeking harmony with the Great Spirit. Similarly, knowledge of the Maheyuno - the four Sacred Persons that dwell at the cardinal points of universe - was given to the boy. Together, the Persons represented the general orientation of life, expressed by Action, Sexuality, Spirituality, and Wisdom. These spirits may be called upon to guide, direct, and instruct using appropriate sacrifices. Finally, the existence of Cheyenne ancestral spirits, both great heroes and close relatives, were whispered to him. While no names were offered, the knowledge suggested seeking their names, but tempered expectations with a warning. DO NOT SACRIFICE TO UNKNOWN BEINGS.​ The words came with a sudden chill, and almost prompted the boy to scream. He held his mouth shut with panic in his eyes. After breathing heavily for a few minutes and holding himself for several more, the boy managed to crawl out of bed. The fear made him remember the panic he had experienced when he tried telling his father what the words said about his death. YOU CANNOT REVEAL SECRETS OF FATE.​ Trying to talk to White Thunder or his mother about the raid also yielded no results. He could not open his mouth. It was as if his jaws were held shut. Trying to etch things out made his hands freeze on the hide. The possibility of his father's death had bought with it many nightmares and restless days. After nearly a fortnight of despair, he finally realised that he had to do something himself. He must save his father. And now, he had a plan If you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee. All your support will go into helping me write full-time.

 

[soul_momentum]

Do you plan to make mc a ruler faster than legends never die? Also how much of the ck3 stystem has come through? Can he incarnate into his heirs?

Click to shrink...

No, I most likely cannot make MC a ruler faster. I can try but the adventure is just beginning for now. Not much more of the CK3 system will be coming through EXCEPT for one big system. Will do a reveal soon. He probably won't incarnate into his heirs, not that kind of set-up right now.

 

[Tta160]

No, I most likely cannot make MC a ruler faster. I can try but the adventure is just beginning for now. Not much more of the CK3 system will be coming through EXCEPT for one big system. Will do a reveal soon. He probably won't incarnate into his heirs, not that kind of set-up right now.

Click to shrink...

It would be better if mc was one men army or at least greatest warrior before becoming ruler, he should become legend in history.

 

[Cutest_Bunny]

You should add the crusader kings 3 tag, so more people see your work, are you planing any long term crossovers?

I think something like Mass Effect would have little short term effects on the story but in the long run could set up a fun spinoff, plenty of slow burn crossovers you could lead into if you want to!

Especially since you're starting so far back in time!

 

[soul_momentum]

You should add the crusader kings 3 tag, so more people see your work, are you planing any long term crossovers?

I think something like Mass Effect would have little short term effects on the story but in the long run could set up a fun spinoff, plenty of slow burn crossovers you could lead into if you want to!

Especially since you're starting so far back in time!

Click to shrink...

Yes, I was thinking of adding the crusader kings 3 tag, but decided otherwise because I wasn't really using the setting. I will add it now though.

This is purely an original fiction, but I'd love to hear ideas for cross-overs. I do want to write some fun crossovers. Not so sure about Mass Effect, but I'm thinking of writing a whole separate fiction that's a crossover between Cyberpunk and something else, or maybe a grittier Harry Potter crossover? Or a Warhammer 40k one.

 

[Cutest_Bunny]

Yes, I was thinking of adding the crusader kings 3 tag, but decided otherwise because I wasn't really using the setting. I will add it now though.

This is purely an original fiction, but I'd love to hear ideas for cross-overs. I do want to write some fun crossovers. Not so sure about Mass Effect, but I'm thinking of writing a whole separate fiction that's a crossover between Cyberpunk and something else, or maybe a grittier Harry Potter crossover? Or a Warhammer 40k one.

Click to shrink...

Mass effect is fun, they have some great fics, Warhammer is cool too, I personally love it when people add an original species with an SI attached maybe with a splice of Tech Uplift and some kind of system like Celestial Forge or maybe a limited gamer or Chaos Gatcha.

Especially if they start early on and don't know how doomed they are yet, those are awesome.

Cause at first it's tech uplift for money or fame or convenience but then it's an oh shit, if we don't push we all die

Only seen a few in Warhammer, probably because that universe is extreme hardcore mode

 

[soul_momentum]

Mass effect is fun, they have some great fics, Warhammer is cool too, I personally love it when people add an original species with an SI attached maybe with a splice of Tech Uplift and some kind of system like Celestial Forge or maybe a limited gamer or Chaos Gatcha.

Especially if they start early on and don't know how doomed they are yet, those are awesome.

Cause at first it's tech uplift for money or fame or convenience but then it's an oh shit, if we don't push we all die

Only seen a few in Warhammer, probably because that universe is extreme hardcore mode

Click to shrink...

Oh yea, like Ethereal Effect but without foreknowledge. Sounds fun. This is making me wonder if a historical SI species of that sort but in Warhammer would be pursuing.

 

[Cutest_Bunny]

Oh yea, like Ethereal Effect but without foreknowledge. Sounds fun. This is making me wonder if a historical SI species of that sort but in Warhammer would be pursuing.

Click to shrink...

I'd read it, could be super awesome!