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.