Home Trending Latest threads New posts Developer diaries

Resurrection: Rebirth of the United States

Jump to latest Follow Reply
  • We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Stuyvesant: Black thinks he has the answer to his problem. We'll see. The Cherokee is going to suffer, that's for certain.

And yes, the rifle was von Zahringen's for a very short time. Heyward didn't design it though.

Maximilliano: Black is...more mortal than he was, that's a good answer. The closest analogy I can make outside of RPGs would be a battery. Black is in a human's body (Rutledge's), but he has a battery with energy that lets him do different things. Now Heyward comes along and drains part of his battery for him.

Vann the Red: As Stuyvesant said, von Zahringen died awhile back - and anyway it'd take more than 'going native' to fool Black. It does indeed take effort to heal Rutledge's body. Actually his body isn't in horrible shape now (aside from not being adapted to handling such humid conditions), but he still feels weak.

J. Passepartout: We'll see!

Draco Rexus: I don't know why everyone hates Black so much. I mean, he's only trying to crush everything you ever loved and believed in.

Hm...back towards the beginning didn't you feel this way about Rutledge? :)

Fulcrumvale: Nope, Gabe's still in France eating croissants. Poor guy's addicted to the sugar.

Stuyvesant: I'd say Exeter vs. the Cherokee would be an interesting battle. Hmm, let's find out :)

Chief Ragusa: Hm...I can't answer all your questions, but I'll note what we do know:

The Cherokee isn't with the Georgia militia. Georgia is still British btw - the Cherokee raid them too. Heyward does have part of Black's power, but it's due to the explosion, not anyone else's intervention. Rutledge's body isn't dead, and he isn't trapped per se...it's just that controlling Carolina's virtual dictator is far too useful to give up without a fight.

More states is an interesting idea. Certainly the US has plenty of territory to choose from. Maybe Vermont will finally get its wish...if they agre to play nice. :)

Your last paragraph about John/Anne, and Black's failure to make Heyward nuts is dead on.

GhostWriter: And you get the prize along with Ragusa. :) Yes, we're about to catch up with the chap who killed von Zahringen and stole his rifle. Ammunition is an interesting question, hopefully partly answered coming up.
 
resurrectsmallzq1.gif


-= 168 =-​


Cherokee Country
July 1784


"Sing?" Black echoed. "I don't sing very well."

"Funny, white man. I hope you can still laugh once you start screaming." The Cherokee continued his advance, rifle pointed at Black's sternum.

"You talk too much. How do you hunt? Hope your prey dies of boredom?"

The Indian snarled. He aimed low, for the knee. Black pushed forward - the fool never should have kept his distance if he had a rifle - and batted the barrel aside just as the native fired. A loud explosion, though not as loud as a musket, pierced the countryside and animals scattered. The Indian grunted as Black wrenched the gun away and tossed it aside.

Normally one would not expect a Carolinan lawyer to outfight a Cherokee brave, and certainly Rutledge alone would have stood no chance. The native smashed Black's face with his fist. He felt two teeth break, but there was no time for that now as the Cherokee reached for his knife. Black pinned his wrist with inhuman strength and for a moment the two stood there, virtually motionless, wrestling for the still sheathed blade.

"I will send you to your hell!" the Indian swore.

"Went there," Black replied in perfect Cherokee. "Then I came back!"

The Indian paused. Not so Black, who reached around, collared his opponent and threw him to the ground. A moment later he knelt on the native's chest, blade in his hand.

"Kill me now, white man, for if I live I will hunt down you and your family!" He thrashed.

Black reversed the knife, hilt first, and slammed into the Indian's crotch. He howled.

"You want to die?" Black asked calmly, still in Cherokee.

"How do you know my language!?" the Indian thrashed for entire different reasons.

"I know many things." He stood. His opponent sat up and glared. "For example, I know about that rifle of yours."

"It's mine," the Cherokee snarled.

"Finding bullets for it must be hard."

"I manage."

Which alone is impressive. "I can get you more."

The Indian spat. "Why would you do that?"

Black considered. No doubt this was one of the raiders General Allen warned him about, perhaps their leader. "What is your name?"

"I am Chesmu! My father is chief!"

Pride. Yes, I can use you. "I am Mister Black. I will give you bullets, if you will do something for me."

"I do not work for white men."

"You'll like this one. I want you to harass the white army. I want you to destroy the white settlements. I want you to make them cry and make them bleed."

Chesmu's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You are one of them."

"No. I am from a different tribe. I want them to suffer."

The Cherokee frowned. "I would have done this anyway. What else do you want? White men do not give gifts unless they want something in return, or want to trick us."

"Now that you mention it," Black beamed. "You can take me to your city."

"WHAT? I would never betray my father!"

"I could care less about your father. How do you feel about your shaman?"

Something crashed through the underbrush, snorting and growling. Faster than Black would have thought possible, Chesmu snatched his knife back and faced the intruder. Exeter charged into the clearing, snarled.

"It is alright, Jasen. We were just talking."

The Indian backed slowly away, his eyes widening. "I know you."

"You do?" Black asked.

"Murderer! Butcher!" Chesmu charged Exeter.

Pride and stupidity. God smiles on me. The fallen angel watched as Exeter countercharged. The Cherokee's blade cut deep into his arm. This only angered Exeter, who picked him up like a rag doll and threw him twenty feet.

Chesmu didn't get up. Exeter didn't care. He roared and raced forward.

"JASEN! STOP!"

Exeter turned an incredulous gaze on his master. Black ignored him and strode to the battered and bruised Indian. Chesmu lifted his head and spat out blood.

"It is true that Jasen attacked you," Black explained quietly. "He was following his chief's orders, a man named Heyward. He also led this second attack against your people, but ran because he was afraid of you. He is your enemy. Not us. All I want is to see your shaman."

"Why?" Chesmu demanded.

"I have a personal matter to discuss. Power, think about it. I can give you that kind of power." He pointed at Exeter. "No one will ever be able to stand against you again. You can be chief. You can throw the Americans back into the sea and watch them drown in their own blood."

Chesmu's eyes flattened. If he speaks the truth, I will be our peoples' greatest hero. If he lies, I will bring him to the city and let them kill him. "I agree."

"Good," Black smiled genuinely. "It's so much easier when one is willing."

Moments later screams shattered the countryside.
 
Not good, a cherokee with a modern rifle and bullets.

John's mistake in not killing Exeter is assuming mammoth proportions. Black as Rutledge is putting together a powerful little band of terror. Fancy lying about Heyward ordering the attacks.

I'd assumed that Georgia volunteers weren't above giving the Cherokee help killing South Carolinans. If the Cherokee also attach Georgia, the Americans and Georgians would be allies of sorts. Congress ought to want to question Heyward for his dereliction and desertion of duty.

When Bast decides to talk to Heyward, I hope she remembers not to be a black cat as that was almost always taken as a sign of wichcraft in the type of paranoid that seems to have gripped the US. Their amy commander out of contact, a general who just leaves his command - what next?
 
And Black now has another army on his side. Wonderful.
 
Yes, Cat, I did detest Rutledge in the very beginning. Still do as a matter of fact. I just dislike Black even more. After all, you have to prioritize your hatred. The most for the nearly immortal being that is out to destroy your history before it can even begin, followed closely by the blood sucking politician who's was trying to do the samething before being co-opted by the nearly immortal guy. ;)

Now, now I see our heroes, our brave and foolish band one and all, even deeper in the kimchee. Sucks for them, but great for us readAARs. :D

I wonder why Black wants to see the Cherokee shaman... that could be an interesting conversation. If the shaman survives, that is. :eek:
 
CatKnight: ...Moments later screams shattered the countryside.


and suffer the Cherokee did ! ! . "that's for certain."


so, i wonder how long Jasen will take the competition of Chesmu ? ? :D . . and, what would be the consequences to Black if they went head to head? ? :rolleyes:


magnificent update ! ! :cool:
 
I think Black just transferred himself into Chesmu, not made him into another Exeter. Either way, the next update should be quite interesting.
 
Archaalen: I think Black just transferred himself into Chesmu, not made him into another Exeter.

but wouldn't that remove Black from political power in South Carolina? ? :confused: anyway, that is why i think that Black just created another "Exeter"... ;)


Archaalen: Either way, the next update should be quite interesting.

so very true! ! :cool:
 
J. Passepartout: Maybe. I think Black may have outsmarted himself this time. :)

Chief Ragusa: Oh yes, Congress definitely will want to 'chat' with Heyward.


Fulcrumvale: An army? One Chesmu does not an army make. Though the rifle helps.

Draco Rexus: Yes, any more kimchee and they'll start drowning in it. :)

GhostWriter: Let's say Jasen's not happy right now.

Archaalen: Mmm...Ghostwriter's reply is right. If Black takes over Chesmu, then he loses all his influence with Carolina.
 
resurrectsmallzq1.gif


-= 168 =-​


Cherokee Country
August 1784


A slim woman, to all appearances a Cherokee with long, braided black hair and stern eyes, stepped into the shaman's tent. Her name, were it translated to English, would be "Wasp Sting." It wasn't an insult. No one dared insult her. It did reflect her personality tolerably well however, as well as her intolerance for those who doubted a woman could be shaman. None could deny it was she who succored the spirits for the lives of four children trapped in a cave, nor that a swarm of bees did her bidding when a foolish young brave threatened.

She loved the Cherokee and hated what the Americans were doing. She thought it best to let them handle their own disagreements however, especially as he lived in Charleston. Wasp had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but apparently he wanted one. She could sense his presence as a steadily closing darkness.

His armies had pursued her and failed, so he wanted to finish the job himself. Wasp sighed. She'd have to prepare a warm reception for her brother.
-------------

Exeter growled.

Black looked ahead, to where their new partner loped around the ground like a hunchback. A very quick hunchback. "You have no need to be jealous," he said quietly, in English so Chesmu would not understand. "He is a pawn, nothing more."

Jasen hissed.

"No, you are not a pawn."

The trio advanced steadily through the thick forests of the Appalachian foothills towards Echota, the tribal home of the Cherokee and their one fortified town. Then Colonel Exeter broke an army here once, and Carolinan General Allen couldn't get within a day of the citadel without encountering 'partisan' activity. She must be helping them, he reasoned. He'd deal with her, then let Allen finish off the sheep.

Exeter continued to express his discontent, loudly.

Chesmu turned. He crouched, his chest leaning forward so his hands almost touched the ground - his back hurt less that way. "Shut yourrr frrriend up," he said, his elongated muzzle turning each word into a growl. "We arrre close."

Jasen howled and leapt forward. Chesmu dropped his rifle and charged. Exeter wrapped his arms around the Indian's torso, planning to crush him. This time Chesmu had too much momentum: He returned the embrace, twisted, and threw them both to the ground where they snarled and hissed like enraged wildcats.

Black closed his eyes. "Gentlemen." No response. "THAT'S ENOUGH!!" He pointed at the writhing mass. Thunder ripped through the sky, and burnt ozone filled the air as an explosion tore the combatants away from each other. Exeter landed in a heap, then leapt to his feet. Chesmu landed on all fours. They glared.

"How close is this town?" Black demanded.

"One hourrr, maybe two."

"Lead on." He turned towards Jasen. "No more fighting!"

Exeter growled.
---------

Wasp didn't hear the first keening cry, lost in her preparations. She sat in front of a small fire, occasionally adding various spices and letting their heady scent fill the room. Come to me, she chanted, over and over. Come to me. There is danger. More spices. Come... "Yes?" she asked, still staring at the fire as a brave entered, pale, wide eyed.

"One of our patrols came back badly mauled. May we bring him in?"

"The Americans?"

"No, Wasp Sting. He says they were dark spirits." The brave's tone indicated he didn't believe this, but he looked about nervously.

She stood. "Bring him in, then leave us."

"All right." He ran out, then returned with another brave bearing a broken, bleeding body between them. They gently lay him down near the fire. Wasp knelt, washing his wounds with a damp cloth. One shattered leg, several broken ribs. How had he managed to get back? He stared up blindly, lashing at the air with one hand.

She turned. "You may go."

The brave looked down. "Do you really think it was dark spirits?"

"Go!"

"....came from nowhere," the patient whispered. "We tried..."

"You did this on purpose," she swore. "You know if I try to heal this man, it'll weaken me for our meeting." She started to anyway, to place her hand on his forehead and use enough power to knit bone and muscle, then paused. No. Her brother threatened the entire tribe. He had to be dealt with first. She touched her patient's forehead. "Sleep," she murmured. "Sleep for now." Once his whispers ceased, and his ragged breathing deepened she stood.
--------

"Therrre is the town," Chesmu growled, resting on his haunches and pointing.

Black followed his finger and smiled. "Jasen, you tried to assault that?"

Americans called it Echota, but only because that was the main tribe living in the area. Various battles over the years cleared the area around the town of trees. Wooden walls twenty feet tall surrounded the settlement, in turn flanked by spear hedges and an earthen breastwork. A single cannon, bronze and no doubt ancient, dominated the front gate.

Exeter snarled.

"What is wrrrong?" Chesmu asked, grinning. "Do you still rrrememberrr theirrr crrries as we cut off theirrrr parrrts, then theirrr fingerrrs, then eyes, then..."

"That's enou..."

Jasen howled and leapt on the Indian. They rolled across the dirt, Exeter punching and biting while Chesmu tried to rake his throat. Black closed his eyes. This wasn't one of my brighter ideas.

The Indian had his knife out and stabbed. Exeter didn't seen to notice. He punched Chesmu in the face, then gripped his head to tear it apart.

"Jasen!" Chesmu howled and thrashed. "Jasen, we still need him. Ja... God rot you both!" He pointed at them, and once more an explosion rocked the countryside throwing them clear. Chesmu rolled on the ground, howling, crying and weeping blood.

"Oh stop that. You'll heal."

"Am I interrupting?"

Black whirled to find his adversary standing about fifty feet away. She looked smaller than the last time they'd met. She looked strange without blond hair. Granted that was several generations ago.

Wasp folded her arms under her breasts. "I can come back if you're busy."

Jasen growled and surged to his feet. Black held up his hand, stopping him. "Not at all, sister. You're right on time."

She straightened and lifted her chin, arms by her side. "If you can't control your own people, what makes you think you can handle me?"

Before Black could reply, the forest around them echoed with howling wolves. Exeter looked around wildly. Chesmu still thrashed.

"I brought a few friends," Wasp smiled. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my dear. My men were getting hungry."
 
Last edited:
Interesting family Black has. Morgana?

Black is attempting to take over the Cherokee and defeat his sister whilst on les than full power with two bestial servants who are more of a liability. Black has such bright ideas. One could hope that the beasts will die and Black taste defeat.

I am looking forward to Heyward's conversation with the Congress. I wonder how they'd take the truth? Then there's the very determined Miss Foster who seems to pin the blame for the success of the American revolution entirely on Heyward's shoulders. Now it would be very convenient for Heyward were she to be captured and asked to testify. That wouldn't be too fortunate for Andre/Andrews.
 
Interesting... I fear from Miss Black, although I dearly hope she puts a severe thrashing upon Mr. Black before she loses the battle. Then again, I could be wrong and we could read of Mr. Black getting his backside kicked hard by his sister and having to flee. Wouldn't that be nice? :D
 
I like Mrs. Black already.
 
CatKnight said:
"I brought a few friends," Wasp smiled. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my dear. My men were getting hungry."
Click to expand...

I'm not sure if Wasp Sting should be the one worried or Black but somehow I don't think Black would walk into this battle with just his two lackeys for help. So what trick does he have up his sleeve? I’ve just caught up CatKnight and your tale keeps growing in complexity, which is good. :cool:

Joe
 
Finally had the chance to catch up once more, CatKnight and most interesting reading. So very well written, too!

So Black has gathered a "merry band" if you will and now goes forth to do battle with another angel/shaman. Should be interesting to see how you move through this.

And I loved the special Thanksgiving scene. A nice touch and wonderful foreshadowing, as well as some needed exposition. This is coming along right nicely. Keep at it!
 
CatKnight: ..."I brought a few friends," Wasp smiled. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my dear. My men were getting hungry." / CatKnight

at this point, neither of them seems worried. even so, only one can prevail... :D

for all his problems, my money is on Black... ;)

unless there is outside intervention. then all bets are off...

magnificent update ! ! :cool:
 
Chief Ragusa: Nope! I promised J. I wouldn't use Morgana. Never intended to anyway, it was a throwaway name at the time. :)

Heyward's conversation will take awhile. There are still some things that need to happen, and Black's chat is taking longer in number of posts than I thought it would. :)

Draco Rexus: Can you name this song?
Brother, what a night the people saw
Brother, what a fight the people saw
Yes, indeed

J. Passepartout: Yeah, Exeter and Chesmu were fun to write for. I didn't expect that problem...until I actually started writing those two chapters. :)

Fulcrumvale: I don't think she'd like you calling her Mrs. Black :)

Storey: You missed me on the SolAARium a few weeks back begging for help with all this complexity. :) We're back now though!

coz1: Thanks! I liked the Thanksgiving scene (though I'm regretting pulling Morganna into it. It actually overrides something I'd planned and forgotten about. Ah well.) Being a CatKnight I liked putting Bast in of course. :)

GhostWriter: Does a wolfpack count as outside intervention? She did invite them... :)
 
Warning: Graphic depiction of violence against trees and other lifeforms.


resurrectsmallzq1.gif


-= 169 =-​


Cherokee Country
August 1784


Wolves prowled the hills and trees behind Black, Exeter and Chesmu. Huge for their species, they advanced with bellies nearly touching the soft earth. The Alpha sniffed the air. Something foul lay ahead, man-but-not-man. He lifted his nose and sniffed again. Whatever it was, he didn't care for it and howled a warning to his packmates.

Chesmu leapt to his feet at the second howl. Blood still poured from his eyes and he flailed about blindly. He uttered a low moan and screamed something between a prayer and a challenge to Great Spirit. Black smirked.

Wasp inhaled sharply. "What did you do to him!?"

"He wanted power," Black shrugged. "I gave him power. When you are gone, he will be chief."

"When you are gone," she swore, "I shall cure him and then remove every trace of your existence from this world."

"Enough talk!"

Wasp shouted a command, and eleven wolves swarmed from the sides emitting a single, unified, hateful growl. Chesmu spun about. Exeter bellowed a challenge of his own and countercharged.

"Wait!" Black commanded, but his henchman already caught one leaping form in midair and literally tore its forearm off. He gestured at the swirling melee and an explosion, louder than the previous two, broke them apart. Exeter landed hard, stunned but still very much alive with several unmoving bodies in a rough circle around him.

Two wolves surrounded Chesmu. One snapped at his face. When he swung blindly, the other bit him in the back of the thigh. The Cherokee screamed, twisted around and seized the offender in a suffocating headlock. Another two wolves leapt on Exeter's prone body. They rolled in the dirt until the former general seized both by their throats and brought them together like huge, snarling cymbals.

The last survivors leapt on Black himself. He cried out as tooth and claw raked Rutledge's body, but he still had raw strength on his side. He pivoted and threw one twisting and thrashing into a tree, breaking both.

Wasp grieved for her friends, but they bought her time. How much time? She chanted in a language never used by humanity, using her angelic powers to twist and warp reality. He was down. Now to make sure he stayed down.

Exeter brought his wolves together again, threw their bloodied bodies aside. He started towards Black who lay prone on the ground bleeding from several bites. He just had time to register a wolf had his master's arm in its mouth, worrying it back and forth when he saw the creature's head explode.

"Stop her, Jasen!" Black cried, fear tinging his voice. He could feel the raw energy building up inside of her. If only he could get close enough! He turned as Chesmu, bleeding from several new wounds, tore into the last dog. Desperately he tried to heal Rutledge's body, but he couldn't even move. "Hurry!"

Exeter roared and charged the woman. She aborted her plans for her brother and instead focused on the immediate threat. Thunder clapped at their impact, and suddenly Exeter flew through the air past her to land in a motionless heap.

Chesmu finished the last wolf, but rather than helping he fled. No matter. Black had more serious problems. Slowly, wheezing and bleeding profusely, he staggered to his feet.

The Cherokee shaman walked to him. "What is the matter, brother?" she asked placidly. "Not quite as prepared as you thought?"

Black fell into her. Instinctively she caught him. He drew Rutledge's knife and stabbed her.

She cried out, more in surprise than pain, and let him fall at her feet. "Fool!"

"I came prepared," he hissed.

"You know I will just heal..." Wasp choked, swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath.

Black laughed weakly. "Works fast, doesn't it? Paralytic. And nowhere for you to go - not even any wolves left."

"I...I'll go to the village," she swore. Wasp turned, but already her body betrayed her. She fell to her knees. Her breath came in painful whoops. "God. Will damn you!"

He staggered to his feet. "God will thank me." His eyes hardened. "Your power is mine."

"No," she replied softly. "What I am...belongs to...God." With that, Wasp Sting passed away, followed seconds later by her mortal host, her friend.

Black stared at the body, unbelieving, and sank to his knees. He'd wasted his trip coming here and now, it appeared, he'd wasted Rutledge's body as well. He stared at the ruined ribbons of flesh, far too much to heal. "Damn you," he whispered.

"Damn you!!"
------------------------

Black had no idea how much time passed. The samw trap he'd laid for Wasp applied to him, and it occured to him he may have finally outsmarted himself. He slowed Rutledge's pulse and respiration to almost nil and went to work stemming the worst of the blood loss. He couldn't win this time, but he could still avoid losing.

He felt rhythmic thuds in the ground. At first he thought it was his failing heart but no, ragged breathing soon joined it. Good. Good, faithful...

"Jasen."

The brute stared down at Black's broken body. He'd thought he was dead. He'd been debating whether to celebrate.

"Allen. Get me to Allen."

Exeter considered his options, then snorted.

"I saved your life, Jasen. If those wolves bore you down..."

His henchman managed a short guffaw. He smelled fear. He liked it.

"Please!" This was his one hope.

Yes, he liked this very much. Jasen grinned.

"You were never a pawn! I used the Indian to cause trouble. I wouldn't have kept you if..."

Exeter picked Black up, shook him gently. Black gave an agonized wail.

"I'll give you anything you want. Your voice! Riches! Anything!"

Jasen's grin broadened. This was like having a new toy!
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back