coz1 said:
Respectfully, I believe he has seen the past. I'm intrigued to see what Tom will do differently.
TheExecuter
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Respectfully, I believe he has seen the past. I'm intrigued to see what Tom will do differently.
TheExecuter
TheExecuter:...Respectfully, I believe he has seen the past. I'm intrigued to see what Tom will do differently.
i agree ! ! also, awesome catch ! !
hopefully, respect the knife ! !
CatKnight: ...So that was why. He wanted Heyward's power. Well, that much he could deny. He'd leave it here, in the very earth...Tom awoke on the hillside and rolled into a sitting position. Ice tendrils continued to rake his body, but faded quickly along with his fatigue as he looked into glowing cat eyes..."You've inherited Wasp Sting's power."
so that is how Wasp Sting kept her power from Black. and, now she gives her power to Tom ! !
it seems that Bast did not know why she brought Tom to Cherokee Country ! ! :wacko:
CatKnight: ..."And you know how to deal with my brother?" Bast flicked her tail..."Our brother," Tom agreed...
it seems to me that Tom has the knowledge and power to win vs. Black ! ! :rofl:
CatKnight: ..."Hey!" Bast leapt to her feet and ran after him. "Where are we going!?"..."To free the Cherokee."
that should be a good start ! ! freedom is good, for good people ! !
magnificent updates ! !
i agree ! ! also, awesome catch ! !
hopefully, respect the knife ! ! CatKnight: ...So that was why. He wanted Heyward's power. Well, that much he could deny. He'd leave it here, in the very earth...Tom awoke on the hillside and rolled into a sitting position. Ice tendrils continued to rake his body, but faded quickly along with his fatigue as he looked into glowing cat eyes..."You've inherited Wasp Sting's power."
so that is how Wasp Sting kept her power from Black. and, now she gives her power to Tom ! !
it seems that Bast did not know why she brought Tom to Cherokee Country ! ! :wacko:
CatKnight: ..."And you know how to deal with my brother?" Bast flicked her tail..."Our brother," Tom agreed...
it seems to me that Tom has the knowledge and power to win vs. Black ! ! :rofl:
CatKnight: ..."Hey!" Bast leapt to her feet and ran after him. "Where are we going!?"..."To free the Cherokee."
that should be a good start ! !
freedom is good, for good people ! ! magnificent updates ! !
Chief Ragusa: Good ideas. Tom does indeed know what to do now. The tide may be turning at last.
J. Passepartout: Yep! This is what Gabe (and to a lesser extent Bast) had planned. Tom needed to live through Wasp Sting's death to know how to kill.
alex994: Perhaps!
Draco Rexus: Problems for Black? It would be about time wouldn't it?
coz1: Well, see Executer's comment. As you know though, no plan survives first contact and Black is not done.
The Executer: Correct. The last post was almost a direct rewrite of Wasp Sting's battle with Black/Rutledge. Tom's just gone through that. He now knows what didn't work - and what did/will.
Chief Ragusa/Fulcrumvale: Amen!
GhostWriter: Bast did know...kinda. She knew Tom needed to learn how to deal with Black, but I don't think she was really prepared for him to have that knowledge. I certainly don't think she expected him to come out with Wasp Sting's power.
J. Passepartout: Yep! This is what Gabe (and to a lesser extent Bast) had planned. Tom needed to live through Wasp Sting's death to know how to kill.
alex994: Perhaps!
Draco Rexus: Problems for Black? It would be about time wouldn't it?
coz1: Well, see Executer's comment. As you know though, no plan survives first contact and Black is not done.
The Executer: Correct. The last post was almost a direct rewrite of Wasp Sting's battle with Black/Rutledge. Tom's just gone through that. He now knows what didn't work - and what did/will.
Chief Ragusa/Fulcrumvale: Amen!
GhostWriter: Bast did know...kinda. She knew Tom needed to learn how to deal with Black, but I don't think she was really prepared for him to have that knowledge. I certainly don't think she expected him to come out with Wasp Sting's power.
-= 209 =-
Cherokee Country
October 1784
Chesmu sat, arms folded, on a straight backed chair made of fir, his elbows resting on the arms. Fir, the spirit of the tree of death: According to legend, should such a tree's shadow grow long enough to cover the grave of he who planted it, they would surely die.
His chair could cast a very long shadow.
Flanked by two braves, he stared at the boy prostrate on his father (the former chief's) medicine blanket. A week ago he'd gone on his spirit quest to commune and find out why the game no longer came near their village and hunting had grown scarce. It would be winter soon, and unless something was done soon many of his people would die.
"I'm sorry," the boy said for the third time. "I sought them everywhere! I went north to the foothills, east to where the white men live, and south to the swamps. Everywhere I asked for guidance, but..."
"But you failed," Chesmu snarled. "Why have you rrreturned?"
"To..to..." To be with his family. To rest up and prepare for the cold times.
"To eat ourrr food? To waste what little we have? We have nothing to sparrre for childrrren who cannot contrrribute!"
"But, Chesmu..."
"Chesmu!? I am yourrr chief and masterrr and will be trrreated as such!" He pointed at one of his guards. "Thrrrow this whelp from the wall! Let the wolves have him!"
The brave paled. He knew better than to ask questions and closed his eyes. "Yes, master." He stepped towards the boy who jumped to his feet.
"No, Ch..master! Please!"
The warrior lunged for him. The boy dodged and spun away, running for the cabin door. As he threw himself at the wooden barrier a fierce snarl filled the air and thirteen stone of flesh and muscle slammed into his back.
Chesmu closed his fists around the child's throat. "You darrre?" he snarled. "Your crrries will be a warrrning to...!"
The door slammed open. A warrior in brown doeskin ran in and stopped short at the scene. "Mas...master!" He shrank as Chesmu looked up, his muzzle contorted in a snarl. "A white man approaches the gate! Alone!"
Chesmu shoved the boy's face into the dirt, pressing harder as he struggled and flailed. "Capturrre him and brrring him to me! He will be tonight's enterrrtainment!" He glanced at one of his braves. "Prrrepare the firrre!"
"Yes, master." The guard paused. "What about...?" He indicated the struggling child.
Chesmu released his grip and the boy's head shot up, gasping and wheezing. "You will help capturrre the white man! If you fail, then it shall be you we rrroast!"
*******
"So you plan to just walk in?" asked Bast. "Wonderful!"
"I'm glad you approve," Tom replied, stalking towards the distant wall.
"You've outmaneuvered politicians! You've led armies! And this is your idea of tactics?"
Heyward glared. "You don't have to come. You're not needed."
Bast's orange fur bristled. "You need me more than you think!"
"For what? Tactical advice?"
"Apparently!" Bast nodded at the city. "I think they've seen you."
Thomas Heyward looked up as the wood gate, protected by its single bronze cannon, slowly swung open. Six men on horseback, all armed with rifled muskets, swarmed into the clearing surrounding their town past barriers and trenches meant to stop an invading American army. One shouted and raised his rifle overhead, and his companions spread out to envelop the invader.
Tom straightened and glared at the leader, his eyes darkening towards obsidian.
"So .. you're just going to kill them?" Bast asked mildly.
"They're in the way."
"They're only human."
Tom frowned at her. "I'm only human!"
"I'm beginning to wonder." She shook her head as the riders stopped and raised their muskets.
"You!" shouted the leader. "On the ground, now!"
Heyward grinned. They all seemed thin, especially a terrified boy on an equally skinny palmetto. He answered in Cherokee. "And if I don't?"
"How do you know our language?" the brave demanded.
"Take me to your chief!"
"Oh, we plan to! On the ground!"
Tom's eyebrows arched. He looked down at Bast, her fur on end as she contemplated the coming melee and slowly dropped to his knees. "Yes," he said in English. "We'll just walk right in."
*******
Chesmu stood in the middle of a dispute between two braves and the woman who'd apparently gifted both of them with her favors. The lady, in the middle of a complicated explanation regarding why promises need not be kept if the braves couldn't provide for her and her sick and widowed mother, fell silent and prostrate.
He didn't look at her, nor the men kneeling on either side. Chesmu sniffed the air and snarled. The white man who'd changed him? The one who could unmake him just as easily? Here? Panic and rage fought for dominance. Things were different now. He had the entire Cherokee nation behind him! Better not to take any chances though, better to kill him now!
"Get out!" he shouted at the love triangle. He turned to his guards. "They arrre bringing the white man! Make surrre he is bound!"
Once alone, he moved quickly, fluidly behind his chair, hunched with arms low to the ground. He opened a side door into his sleeping chamber, dark and empty except for a nest of furs in a corner. Darkness didn't deter Chesmu, who loped across the room and rummaged through the furs until his hand closed on cold metal. He lifted it clear; a rifle with a thin barrel that would be impossible to load had he not known the secret of its strange lever mechanism near the stock. Wild eyes glowed as he surveyed the craftsmanship: Not pretty by any standards, but effective. It would do.
After loading the rifle he emerged from the chief's cabin, blinking and squinting at the morning sun. A crowd of over a hundred men and women gathered in a loose circle in front of him, some shouting and muttering, others appalled at the single figure in the middle. A white man alright, wearing the blue and red clothes of the enemy, his wrists bound behind him.
The wrong white man.
Chesmu looked around warily for the one who'd changed him, but everywhere he saw only Cherokee, dogs, cats. Did that orange one wink? Slowly his gaze returned to the prisoner. Could he be wrong? Could the other man not be here?
"Who arrre you?" he demanded.
"Thomas Heyward. General. United States Army." Heyward lowered his gaze and studied the Indian. Feral and truly an animal now. Releasing him would probably be a kindness.
"How do you know ourrr language!?"
"I learned it from Wasp Sting," Tom replied.
"Impossible!"
"I get that alot. I take it you are Chesmu."
He straightened as much as possible and lifted his head. "I am!"
"Chief of the Cherokee."
"Yes!"
Tom's voice lowered to a snarl. "Butcher of the Cherokee! Where did you get that rifle!?" He recognized it, of course. There was only one in the world like it.
"It is mine!" Chesmu shrieked, pointing the barrel at Tom's chest.
"You stole it!"
"No! I took it from a traitor!"
"Von Zahringen was trying to save you!" Heyward shouted.
"Ha! All the white man brings is death!"
Tom's gaze swept the crowd in front of him. "The white men are not why you suffer now! Your master is."
"I HAVE NO MASTER!" Chesmu pointed. "Kill him!"
Three younger braves started forward, then paused as Heyward effortlessly snapped his bonds.
"What's wrong, Chesmu? Are you afraid?"
"I fear nothing!" the Cherokee raised his rifle and fired. Heyward jerked back, his face contorting into a snarl as the bullet slammed into his upper chest. Blood laced his lips and Tom stumbled. "I am chief!"
Heyward inhaled once, twice, then straightened with clenched fists. "You are not even a man anymore."
Chesmu shrieked and leapt on him, bringing both down. He rose to his knees, doubled his fists and swung at Tom's face, determined to break his jaw if not his skull. No time for power, angelic or otherwise. No time for thought. Heyward caught the swing with an open palm, batting it away before bringing his knee up. Not fast enough, as the Indian leapt away, rolled on his hip and rose into a crouching position.
The Cherokee weaved easily, years of training and practice merging with the smooth agility of a wolf and the strength of a bear. He drew his knife from his belt, a gift from his father after his first hunt and thrust at Tom's eyes. Heyward grabbed his outstretched wrist and twisted, the knife falling to the dirt. Chesmu once more rolled, breaking Tom's grip and crouched on all fours.
"You'rrre quick, white man," he admitted grudgingly. "Not quick enough!" He shot forward.
Heyward brought his fists together like cymbals. Blood spurt, bone cracked and a sickly yellow substance dribbled from both of Chesmu's ears, coating his knuckles. Chesmu fell to elbows and knees, nose to the ground, panting. Beyond tears, beyond pain, he nonetheless shrieked once as he rolled to his side. Men shuddered and children wailed at the inhuman cry that seemed to go on forever, scattering the birds, silencing the wind and, it seemed, stilling life itself for a horrible moment.
Tom knelt next to the fallen warrior and lifted his no longer muzzled chin to stare intently into glazed, but very human eyes. Chesmu shuddered and moved his mouth, but no sound came out. Heyward leaned forward, his ear brushing the Cherokee's lips.
"Thank you."
BAM!
And so departs a twisted spirit...
BTW, Van Zahringen would have been proud of how Heyward handled that. Perhaps Heyward can use our great Badener's gun in the upcoming battle with Black?
I see Heyward didn't use too much magic in that sequence, just a little bit to help with the physical. I wonder if the 'right' white man is around preparing for a final 'battle of annihilation' or will I have to find a new cliff to hang off of?
TheExecuter
And so departs a twisted spirit...
BTW, Van Zahringen would have been proud of how Heyward handled that. Perhaps Heyward can use our great Badener's gun in the upcoming battle with Black?
I see Heyward didn't use too much magic in that sequence, just a little bit to help with the physical. I wonder if the 'right' white man is around preparing for a final 'battle of annihilation' or will I have to find a new cliff to hang off of?
TheExecuter
Whew, Tom is one cool customer. I find myself admiring him a little bit after this post. Nice stuff, CatKnight.
One down. Next!
I think for Preston's sake, it had better be the shadow. Shooting him using the rifle from long range ability would be appropriate.
Bast's little reasons to accompany Tom boil down to a "I'm not letting you out of my sight, buster.
As for Exeter, there's a queue of people wanting to get even.
I think for Preston's sake, it had better be the shadow. Shooting him using the rifle from long range ability would be appropriate.
Bast's little reasons to accompany Tom boil down to a "I'm not letting you out of my sight, buster.
As for Exeter, there's a queue of people wanting to get even.
Yep, they'll just walk right in.
And another tree reference. Wouldn't be the same without it.
And another tree reference. Wouldn't be the same without it.
Wham, Bam, thank you... um... Chesmu.
So the Cherokee are freed - if they are perceptive enough to realize that Heyward is not the enemy. And Heyward has the rifle if he wants it. AND it seems we have found things Bast doesn't already know, which is a little disquieting, but we have seen that Heyward has the knowledge, the power and the will to use it which is VERY good news indeed!
We're moving now into the stage where the hot metal is cast into the mold, to form or break in ruin.
I know I should want the good guys to win - and I do - but mostly I just want someone to whip that sneer off Black's face and leave him surprised and vulnerable and uncertain.
And then kill him. Permanently. Deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead. And then jump up and down on his lifeless carcass for good measure.
Chanting "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah."
So the Cherokee are freed - if they are perceptive enough to realize that Heyward is not the enemy. And Heyward has the rifle if he wants it. AND it seems we have found things Bast doesn't already know, which is a little disquieting, but we have seen that Heyward has the knowledge, the power and the will to use it which is VERY good news indeed!
We're moving now into the stage where the hot metal is cast into the mold, to form or break in ruin.
I know I should want the good guys to win - and I do - but mostly I just want someone to whip that sneer off Black's face and leave him surprised and vulnerable and uncertain.
And then kill him. Permanently. Deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead. And then jump up and down on his lifeless carcass for good measure.
Chanting "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah."
Impressive, just impressive at how Tom dealt with the whole affair in that no nonsense act of singlehandedly taking down Chesmu. Of course, I'm sure Bast will have tons of fun about this whole affair... Evil cats...
CatKnight: ..."How do you know ourrr language!?" . . . "I learned it from Wasp Sting," Tom replied.
a statement that should have alerted Chesmu that he was on very thin ice...
CatKnight: ..."Von Zahringen was trying to save you!" Heyward shouted. . . . "Ha! All the white man brings is death!"
ya, right ! !
CatKnight: ..."I fear nothing!" the Cherokee raised his rifle and fired. . . . Heyward inhaled once, twice, then straightened with clenched fists.
this should have alerted Chesmu that he was on breaking thin ice...
CatKnight: ..."You are not even a man anymore."
oh Gee, Tom, and you are (human) ? ? ? ?
CatKnight: ..."Thank you."
wonderful ! ! splendid ! ! Chesmu is free of evil (hopefully) ! !
( the Cherokee deserve a magnificent leader ! ! )
magnificent update ! !
a statement that should have alerted Chesmu that he was on very thin ice...
CatKnight: ..."Von Zahringen was trying to save you!" Heyward shouted. . . . "Ha! All the white man brings is death!"
ya, right ! !
CatKnight: ..."I fear nothing!" the Cherokee raised his rifle and fired. . . . Heyward inhaled once, twice, then straightened with clenched fists.
this should have alerted Chesmu that he was on breaking thin ice...
CatKnight: ..."You are not even a man anymore."
oh Gee, Tom, and you are (human) ? ? ? ?
CatKnight: ..."Thank you."
wonderful ! ! splendid ! ! Chesmu is free of evil (hopefully) ! !
( the Cherokee deserve a magnificent leader ! ! )
magnificent update ! !
TheExecuter: Perhaps vZ's gun will show up for the final battle. Unfortunately Black IS preparing for a final showdown...and Tom's got his own problems.
Mettermrck: Thanks!
Chief Ragusa: You're right, Bast doesn't trust Tom at all right now...and as we're about to see, she has a point. Exeter has QUITE the queue of people wanting to talk to him.
coz1: Of course not. More trees to come I'm sure.
J. Passepartout: Maybe
Director: Hm...the Cherokee being perceptive enough isn't the issue. Your 'hot metal cast into mold' reference is VERY appropriate here.
"Nyahnyahnyah." I'll try to remember that for you
alex994: I dunno, I kinda like Bast as Tom's foil
Fulcrumvale: Does it? We'll see
GhostWriter: Yeah, Chesmu had a few chances to realize he was in serious trouble. Oops.
Mettermrck: Thanks!
Chief Ragusa: You're right, Bast doesn't trust Tom at all right now...and as we're about to see, she has a point. Exeter has QUITE the queue of people wanting to talk to him.
coz1: Of course not. More trees to come I'm sure.
J. Passepartout: Maybe
Director: Hm...the Cherokee being perceptive enough isn't the issue. Your 'hot metal cast into mold' reference is VERY appropriate here.
"Nyahnyahnyah." I'll try to remember that for you
alex994: I dunno, I kinda like Bast as Tom's foil
Fulcrumvale: Does it? We'll see
GhostWriter: Yeah, Chesmu had a few chances to realize he was in serious trouble. Oops.
-= 210 =-
Cherokee Country
October 1784
Aren't you forgetting something important? Bast asked silently one evening, nearly invisible amidst the piles of food surrounding Thomas Heyward as if he sat at the center of a great shrine. Vegetables and fruits, fading with winter's approach, joined a scant supply of meat on clay plates and bowls. Bast nibbled at something not readily identifiable that tasted like chicken. It's been a week.
"So?" Heyward sat straight backed in the ash throne Chesmu had made and nodded gravely at a woman who knelt, tears streaming down her face, and presented a wicker bowl of sickly pears.
So we have business with my brother.
"He isn't going anywhere." Tom stood as the woman left, pointing at the braves guarding the door. "Leave me!" They bowed and fled, leaving them alone with the flickering house fire and food.
"It is time to go," Bast said aloud in English.
"I'm not forcing you to stay." Tom grabbed one of the pears and narrowed his eyes. "Worms." He flung it away.
"I thought you wanted to kill him!" She was on the verge of asking what was wrong, but it was obvious enough. Her heart sank. "You know how dangerous he is."
"I do, and I know." He found an apple and bit into it. "These people are just getting over a war then interference from Chesmu and Black. They need my guidance."
"Oh, how many evil bastards have hidden behind that line throughout history," Bast spat.
"What are you talking about!?"
"You're starving these people! Have you taken a good look around your dominion? They have no food, and what they do collect they give to you!"
"I don't make them."
"You don't stop them. They saw how easily you beat Chesmu and think you're some kind of spirit come to save them."
He started to bite, then put down the apple. "There is no shaman: When someone is hurt, I heal them. There is no chief: When there is a dispute, I solve it. Maybe I am here to save them!"
"You are here to stop my brother!" Bast snarled, fur rising.
"Let him come," Tom laughed. "Tell him to bring some friends. I'll slay them too." He leaned towards the orange tabby. "I told you, these people don't have anyone now. Where would they be if I wasn't here to guide them?"
"Free!" she yowled. "They'd be free to foul up their own lives without any help from a human with delusions of grandeur! At least they wouldn't be starving! Is that what you want? To be the lost demigod of a dead people!?"
"They won't die." Heyward stood straight, eyes darkening and pointed a pale, trembling finger. "I will not LET them!" He stepped over the mounds of food as Bast backed away, back arched and hissing. "For years I have let you and those like you manipulate me like a pawn on a chessboard. I did not ask to come to this time and place, yet here I am. I did not ask to lead armies, and yet I did. I did not ask for our brother to try to kill me, yet he did. I certainly don't recall asking for a cat to drag me across half the continent for knowledge she could have given me then and there!"
"You had to experience it for yourself. You had to..."
"I refuse to play your games anymore!" he shouted. "Perhaps you and yours are chuffed when you can manipulate and bat your humans around like toys, but in case you haven't noticed I'm something else!" He grit his teeth. "Something better."
"Or something worse," Bast shot back. "You ... we are supposed to help people! These people believe - and they are right - that we are all part of Creation and..."
"I am helping them."
"You're exploiting them!"
"Enough of your foolishness, little cat." He turned his back. "I'll deal with Black when I get around to it. Until then, you're dismissed."
"DISMISSED!?" Bast snarled. Her eyes glowed crimson as flames erupted from her fur. "I think you do need some sense 'batted' into you!" She leapt on him. Tom pivoted to knock her out of the sky but missed. Supernaturally sharp claws dug into his side staining his shirt red.
"Stupid boy! Do you really think you can just tell me to lea....ACK!" Tom scruffed and ripped her away, throwing her end over end into one of the cabin supports. He gestured and a heavy clay pot followed, smashing into the dazed cat.
The pot exploded and, if anything, Bast's nimbus grew brighter. "You like food? Let's see how you like this!" Baskets, pots, fruits and vegetables all rose of their own accord and struck. Tom raised his arms, instinctively guarding his face against the worst of the barrage, but a turkey carcass struck him in his stomach and hurtled him into a wall.
The cabin door slammed open and a brave ran in. "Master! Are you...!?" He focused first on the dazed 'spirit', food and pots tossed about, then the glowing cat.
"Leave us!" Bast shouted in Cherokee, throwing a melon at his head. He ducked, but too late, and fell. She slammed the door with another thought. "Now then, boy!"
Knives sliced into her sides. Bast yowled in pain, her nimbus sputtering. "You're...you're trying to kill me!?"
"I will kill you!" Tom threatened, stalking across the room.
"Not today!" Bast concentrated and the two knives exploded away from her. The first struck Heyward a little below the belt. He cried out and doubled over as the second knife slammed through the cabin's main support. The roof groaned dangerously then fell.
Bast fled through the town, a bleeding orange tabby darting among the Indians stopped in puzzled shock as their chief's cabin collapsed. She knew it wouldn't stop him long, just enough to get away and find help.
It's not really surprising is it that Heyward has gone a little mental. he's gotthe full power and awareness of an angelic being who died and half of Black's power. If he were rational, he'd have held Bast by the scruff of the neck until she told him everything he needed to know.
Tom's not yet accepted the reality of who he know is and nieither have the other "parts" of him.
Somehow, I think Bast has to deal with Tom on her own. It's something she needs to do and she can't be a cat to do it.
Tom's not yet accepted the reality of who he know is and nieither have the other "parts" of him.
Somehow, I think Bast has to deal with Tom on her own. It's something she needs to do and she can't be a cat to do it.