Manifest Destiny - Page 2

SKILORD · December 31, 2002, 19:35

When the Kid woke up he was laying in the middle of wreckage, what an awful dream he thought.

Sundance had always been a pacifist, he shyed from conflict. Now he watched buildings burn as vaugly familiar faces grinned from horses, sometimes up to three women tied and bound to the horse. What they planned he couldn't imagine, being an innocent outlaw.

"What the f*ck?" he muttered, watching San Fransisco burn. This was his city, he couldn't stand for this.

But you will a voice within echoed. Sundance fell, convulsing. Cutting himself on rocks in his violent internal struggle. crawling up he heeard the voice no more. He must have won, for now.

The Kid marched into the city. A man stood, a torch in his hand before a shabby wooden building. The dust was so thick in the air, Sundance seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Hey boss." the black clad man offered his hand. Sundance pushed it aside.

"Gimme that," he said, grabbing the torch. the other man seemed frightened and the pacifistic Sundance shouted," There ain't room enough for the both of us, get the hell outta Dodge!"

The other man seemed genuinely terrified now, and he dissapeared into the darkness of the dustcloud.

Sundance peered into the torches flames, a face seemed to take form,

Throw me, Burn, Kill Loot, it uttered as he stared dumbly into it's radiance.

"N, N..No" he stammered. The convulsions took him again, he rose, fire in his eyes now, and tossed the torch into the granary. Laughing as the flames rose, an offering to insanity, but insufficient as to elect mercy from it.

Sundance cackled long into the night. He would unite his army, they would take the West by force. Maybe one day he would write a book about it all. He'd definately name it, How the West was Won.

-

"Sic Semper Tyrrannis"

Henry had heard it a million times on his flee from Richmond, the slaves were rising. Such chaos was painful to the CSA as it tried to fight a war against the Union to the north. He felt no pity for the generals of the south. Fires raged as plantation after plantation burned to ash. He wept the first time he saw it happen, hidden in the carriage.

I am father to that he thought. The beast seemed more than could have come from him. The son, the hate of revolution, was so much greater than the father.

His tears did not put out the fires, though. He was but an idle spectator, fleeing the nation he hated, and returned his hatred threefold. New York, as he imagined it, was a magical city, where a man could become a god in a matter of weeks, his accomplice was a living testament to that. Sam smiled most of the time, he was returning home, both men had accomplished great missions against the slaveholders, together they had brought forth war.

"What will i do, when we reach New York."

"You won't stay." Sam stated the obvious.

"I have nowhere to go..." Utter despair showed in Henry's eyes.

"I'm sending you to Ottowa, i've wanted a branch there for a long time."

Hope ruled the day, as Henry crawled on his knees to freedom, and prosperity.

ChrisiusMaximus · December 31, 2002, 21:39

Awesome

Happy New Year SKILORD,

SKILORD · January 1, 2003, 11:03

Haapy new year Chrisus

SKILORD · January 3, 2003, 03:10

due to personal problems it may take a while for Chapter 8 mau be a while.

I'm working on it.

gooberboob · January 3, 2003, 20:06

It's cool SKILORD

SKILORD · January 3, 2003, 23:25

I've managed to make peace with my parents, so i am back to sanity, but i'm too tired to write now, and will be away for a while.

The Productive writert will be a while, but by the 8th i'll have Chapter 8.

SKILORD · January 7, 2003, 17:59

i'm working on the next chapter now. I'd like some more feedback anyway.

SKILORD · January 7, 2003, 19:02

Richmond's once proud walls lay in shambles, a widow's ashen mourning gown.

The nation had lost it's leader, it followed any general who could defend their farms from either the north or their former slaves, who roamed the courtryside in merciless bands, laying waste to any acheivmant of the men they had once called masters.

They held the whips now, they held guns, stolen or provided, they held no care for the people they were grinding into the ground, they were out to find exactly how many wrongs made a right. Women found no solace, three raging groups burned the feilds only the losers had vowed to protect.

General Lee was the last hope, though he chided himself for such egotistical thoughts he knew them to be true. Stonewall was buried outside Richmond, if the Union general had the decency to bury a foe who had fought well, as Lee knew Stonewall had done, Jackson always fought well. Lee liked to think the yanks had buried his old comrade in arms, he liked the Northerners, where his countrymen despised them. It took a long talk to remind them who exactly had begun this war of attrition that ravaged their homes. The ships waving the Stars and Bars had fired the first volleys, the men in gray the first shots.

Which is not to say it could be avoided, could the loss of the greatest leader of the south be overlooked, could the other cheek be turned, as rifles came to bear on it? They had had little choice but start it, but start it they had.

Cavalrymen lay in wait, his cavalrymen, riflemen were hidden behind the hill opposite them, his as well. Union troops were expected, and Robert Lee couldn't bear to let a chance to make their acquaintance go lost. If the yanks were repulsed here they wouldn't make it to Vicksburg, the South needn't loose another city.

A shot rang out, from the other hill, the lead horse collapsed as the Union troops wheeled around to positions. They were ready for an ambush, thought Lee, and the trap was sprung early, a wiser man would retreat.

But the cannon of retreat lay dormant. Lee had no intention of surrendering Vicksburg over so slight a obstacle. He raised his sabre, and horses carried their masters to a death the men were happy to receive. The sabre swung low as Union positions were bombarded by cannons who sang a different tune than retreat. Riflemen stood high on the opposite hill, aiming back in the yankee line, where the horsdes hadn't arrived they laid fire down.

Damn that's a lot of Northerners. A tear in his eye, the fuse lit. The final cannon roared, the men fell back, reluctantly, yet knowing no other option, to Vicksburg. The cavalry was gone, not a horse left worth the glue. The survivors of the mounted men were captured, the prisoners of the North.

-

Pearson looked the man in the eye.

"I cannot help."

"You must realise that you too are endangered, there is no place in this world for sympathy anymore, you must join one side or the other."

"Your opponents will destroy me, my nation will crumble."

"The Mexicans have a fleet of new Ironclads moving up the coast, the troops in their caravels should keep the Quebecois busy. I promise you you will survive the conflict."

"How can you make such a promise?! Your leader didn't," The Confederate envoy blushed.

"Such things are.... unavoidable. Fate has offered us a duifficult hand, but we can play it, if you help. The Cowboys have an army moving to attack Bayley's men. You will be safe from them, they hardly have any feildable troops. You could take their iron mines away and lay their plans to waste."

Pearson grinned, it wasn't a happy look he shot at the other man.

"I'll consider it, give me to the years end."

-

The same words were intoned by a man who couldn't see a war, his fledgling business wouldn't survive it. Already Henry Caliber had discovered that his skills as a salesmen were lacking. Many slots in the once filled shop were empty despite his feeble attempts to sell them. He almost wept with fear whenever he had to send in his list of sales to the main office in New York. How long would he last if left to himself?

Often he dreamed of the farm. He had been a good rancher. The men obeyed him, he could bring the cows back o the barn singlehanded. Selling had been left to those more experienced than himself. His wife had sold well, she could sell any quantity of Cattle he needed to be rid of. He missed her, more than any of the children who had sat upon his knee as he told them stories of his grandfathers first try at ranching.

Grandpa.

The old, weary man had held such hope for him. The original rancher had seen the entranced look as young Henry looked at the great beasts he would one day master. Hank had lost it all, despite his ancestor's hopes.

It was almost enough to make a grown man cry, but Henry couldn't imagine feeling sorry for himself, rather he had to work on selling the gifts of gold in his shop, in the hope that one day he would rebuild his home, restock his feilds.

To make his grandfather's dreams justified.

gooberboob · January 7, 2003, 19:58

Excellent addition SKILORD!!

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 01:32

Thanx goob.

I'm nowhere near done here and i've already begun researching the next story (Crusader's Legacy) I'm actually doing research into the different religions of the nations fr that one (the religions are pivotal in that game).

Oh well, i've got some spare time, Chapter 9 is coming.

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 02:17

The water lapped at the sides of the iron ship. The tanned mexican captain grinned, thinking even the sea bows to my vessle.

Quebec hadn't come prepared to bow. Unwavering sails flew above antiquated frigates, Rusted cannon took aim at the heirs to the sea. Ancient mastery took the feild against newfangled power. The frigates were faster, their rough wooden sides plowing the fertile waters, but a single shot ended the prelude, initiating the battle proper. The sails were torn, the Pride was dead in the water, her captain futilely attempting to maneuver even as holes were drilled into her deck by compassionless metal. The captain placed his hand on his ship one last time as they sank beneath the waters his stubby gray beard nuzzled his ship one last time, they were outdated, the captain accepted that, he was happy to at least die on the ship he had sailed since he first took to the sea. A single tear dropped from his light blue eyes into the dark blue ocean as he watched his ship's sisters rush to their fates.

By the end of he day the Mexican ships had slowed down, for which the Admiral cursed the sunken ships.

-

Vicksburg was lost.

A provisional government took seat in Miami, but Lee expected little life from them, there was no life for the South left to give.

His men dragged their feet on the roads, when roads remained. Some had ridden horses once, Lee wondered if there was a horse left in the south.

Bull Run had once been a one horse town, but the horse was dead, little good it would do. Slaves were reported to have stolen it, they ate it too, if the townsfolk could be trusted. Few men would remain when Lee left.

He looked over the troops that Miami had selected, faces too young for war or too old to bear combat any longer, a determined glint in every eye, but the Union would soon steal that, even as the slaves stole everything else. He held himself back while he inspected the random array of firearms. When he reached his room he wept, to see a nation brought to it's knees, so defeated that it had to send it's future to war.

-

The newly issued Rifles were uniform. Every Rifle fired the same shot as it's Brothers. Strong, proud men held every one of them, but then the Hudson Bay Republic had yet to taste war.

The armies marching now wished to see this change though. Canadian troops forced their way to the newly hostile border as a huge force came from the west.

The men were well trained at least, Sun Tzu had written his Ar of War based on his experiences with the training seargents of Hudson Bay. As Individuas they were formidable, united they hoped tp be indefatigable.

The war marked the end of the old republic, which had been accustomed to isolating itself from the world, a new era had dawned the world had come north, shoved itself down the throats of the lurking state.

The rifles were clean, ready to answer back to the world that had forced them to be a part, A new dawn came, as the night threw itself on this sabre, the Continental Warthe time for the Hudson Bay Republic to rule had come, the ascent inevitable, but would the world like the giant it had forced from it's slumber?

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 04:41

Republicans took the feild.

Conservative even in their attire, they were a bold new order of political Candidate. Lincon himself claimed to be a member of this special group.

But they all carried rifles. As always, hardy opponents of gun control.

It only felt right to be fighting the Mexicans. The strips of fertile coast were a worthy prize if they won, and many a Texan woke to nightmares of being nothing but members of the Mexican state, and hen escaping that only to join the Union. Such dreams were the bane of the Lone Star Republic, though they came with alarming frequency.

The Confederacy, a loyal ally had declared war on the Texans, who remained unafraid, a few Republicans placed near the border frightened away the already terriffied irregullars. The Entire Confederacy was constantly paniced, which was understandable as they were being thrashed. Cuba had even taken a few citiies in Southern Floridia.

Texas was going to war, another fresh nation in the War of Attrition.

-

The dirt smelled awful. Petre dumped it from his hand and wiped it on the side of his horse, a stallion, bred for perfection. The Rifle he held was not an idle threat, and his men worked like they understood it.

The last group hadn't, maybe they could sense the blood on his hands.

He heard them speaking amongst themselves, why did the Madman remain, He had faced no censure for murdering an entire unit of Cossacks similar to themselves, officially because the boys there had worked too slow.

Unofficially though....

THe Russians had been short on money at the time, they couldn't pay the men that month, an uprising began, but Petre had helped end it, by slaughtering his men.

It was a small price to pay for Russia.

They were riding to Oregon, the Mountaineers were causing trouble for the Cowboys to the south. Petre was beginning Russia's push south, Oregon was fertile, If Mother Russia took that, food would swell in the granaries, mone would be made, instead of lost, and the power of Russia would expand, unchecked, from sea to shining sea. One nation, under Catherine. Who would oppose her?The Canadians would soon be swept away by the Quebecois, the Quebecois humiliated by the Mexicans, Mexico beaten by Texas and the CSA...

The United States could be a problem, they had proved their worth against the south.

But such mindless ponderings were of little good, Petre had picked up the trail of a group of Mountaineers, plunging through the forests. Petre's rifle was out, the younger men saw nothing, and hid from any potential line of sight.

The shot rang out, a man fell from the tree he had perched himself in.The Mountaineers knew the terrain better than any Cossack. Petre's men had run when he pulled the rifle. Soon he lay bleeding in the wilderness.

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 04:41

God I'm tired.

ChrisiusMaximus · January 8, 2003, 05:39

very good SKILORD dont stop!!

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 14:41

I was tired, didn't do enough character work.

Chrisus, i'll finish this story before Crudaser comes up, i'm not writing two at once again...

ChrisiusMaximus · January 8, 2003, 16:04

I should say, so if youre not careful youll be burned out before long!

Just a thought SKILORD you know you have three stories in the nominations for round 14, you might want to hold one back for round 15. Its up to you of course but bear in mind that only one can win and Darkcloud is saying that stories that go to the prelim vote cant enter another round later! whether they get to the finals or not.

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 17:04

this one is to be held back for round 15!

You underestimate the scale....

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 17:12

You needn't worry anyway Chrisus. I've been caught back by da skewl newspaper and the CFC Demogame.

vovan · January 8, 2003, 22:08

Well, I finally got through this baby. A big one, it is, SKILORD!

Impressions: Great story. Nice plot, and hilarious jokes in some parts. Add to that the SKILORD style - always engaging, and almost never boring, and you get a potential contest-winner.

Nice job this, SKILORD. Waiting for the next installment

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 22:12

thanx vov

ChrisiusMaximus · January 8, 2003, 22:22

I was just thinking about you maximising your chances of winning a round but at the rate you knock em out you will most likely have three in each round any way.

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 22:37

lol

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 22:41

Actually Crusader's Legacy most likely won't make it in a story contest, it will be declared sacrelige and shunned. (I shouldn't have included references to Allah, but i had to)

vovan · January 8, 2003, 22:45

Uh oh, not being politically correct, SKILORD?

Bring it on

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 22:58

Well Allah dies actually, by the second Chapter.

If you hate paganism or are really really dogmatic and religious you will hate it.

But i have this to finish first, which will be easier once i have a night of sleep, a full one. g'nite

SKILORD · January 8, 2003, 23:03

But he's only the first to go, i go after them all until only 2 are left ( I wisely left Christ and Yaweh out of this)

But that's another story.

ChrisiusMaximus · January 8, 2003, 23:10

I thought you was off to bed!!

You see I was right everybody this guy cant switch his mind off! hes probably lying in bed right now contemplating the meaning of life?

Well I dont know if this will help but on the hitch hikers guide to the galaxy it said the answer was 49,

vovan · January 8, 2003, 23:28

Quote:

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
You see I was right everybody this guy cant switch his mind off! hes probably lying in bed right now contemplating the meaning of life?

That would be the best case! Judging by his productivity, I would think he is lying in bed with a keyboard on his stomach, typing up the next installment in his sleep.

gooberboob · January 9, 2003, 02:01

Quote:

Originally posted by SKILORD

If you hate paganism or are really really dogmatic and religious you will hate it.

<---------- is really really dogmatic and religious, but loves paganism

"ALL HAIL PAN, THE GOAT GOD!!!!!!"

SKILORD · January 9, 2003, 14:58

Quote:

That would be the best case! Judging by his productivity, I would think he is lying in bed with a keyboard on his stomach, typing up the next installment in his sleep.

Actually it was a pad and pen, i didn't take my laptop to bed.