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Red Hawk Nocona

Proud. Fierce. Deadly.

0 · 349 views · located in Fort Trinity

a character in “The Ballad of Fort Trinity”, as played by Jag

Description

Dark skin painted by the harsh sun under open skies give canvas to eyes and weathered lines burdened with the memories of days when the rolling plains belonged to his people, the Comanche warrior bears every resemblance to the proud warriors of generations before who fought to their deaths and carrying the puha passed down by their spirits, Nocona can be an intimidating figure.

History

Rumored to be the nephew of Pete Nocona and cousin to the revered Comanche chief Quanah Parker, Red Hawk Nocona did not retire to the reservation lands in Oklahoma with the mass of his people led by Parker in 1875, opting to lead those resisting the white man's influence and expansion onto their lands and hold out for the future generations of free Comanche children.

With the buffalo hunted near to extinction, the gatherer Comanches have resorted to moving wherever they can to find the food and resources necessary to survive as a free people. With the growth and expanse of Fort Trinity and the abandoning of the military post originally created to combat the influence of the "savage red man," warriors such as Nocona have begun to resort to raids of cattle herds owned by white settlers in order to provide for their families.

Red Hawk's contempt for the white man, sense of betrayal by Quanah and those who surrendered, and fierce resistance to the western expansion into traditional Comanche lands, is documented.

So begins...

Red Hawk Nocona's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annie Monroe Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona
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#, as written by Jag
Darkness began to fall quickly over the whole of Fort Trinity as the sun set behind the horizon, finding deeper cover behind the storm clouds rolling over the old fort and across the booming settlement. The storm seemed angry, growling thunder threatening with flashes of lightniing just to make sure that anyone in its path wouldn't have any doubts that the storm meant business.

The storm was blowing in more than just sound and fury.

Dark corners caught by blinding flashes of light often gave way to strange sights, things that go bump in the night and only seem to come out on the worst of nights. Things that older brothers tell to younger sisters for a laugh that night and a beating by a switch the next morning. Floorboards creaked and groaned as old buildings settled into the clay dirt on which they were built. If one were too many drinks in or listening too hard to that little voice inside, they'd swear it wasn't just the storm, but something real you could reach out and touch if it wouldn't bite your hand.

For Annie Monroe, the sounds weren't just the old library settling and aging before her eyes. With another flash of lightning and clap of thunder, the spirit vision suddenly became very real.

He stood in a dark corner, thick as a tree stump and with skin as dark, too. Maybe the darkness made him look bigger and taller, but the man loomed in the corner with the frame that better resembled a bear than a man. Long back hair was partially pulled back and fastened behind his head while two long tendrils hung down next to the dark skin of the face, eyes of a hawk peering through from the darkness at the young woman. Loops of brass wire completed pierced ears

Long pants of woven cloth ran down legs like railroad ties, ending just inches above a pair of moccassins that creaked against the weather floor of the old library. A loose-fitting bucksin shirt hung off the boulder that was the man's torso, straps of leather tied around the otherwise bare upper arms of the beast.

As Red Hawk Nocona stepped forth from the darkness and into the dim lighting of the library, it became clear that his face, torso and arms were stained a deep red with blood.

"The emar comes soon," he spoke in broken words mixing his own Comanche tongue with the language of the white settlers. "Paa to wash out sickness, sickness your people bring."

He took another step closer.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annie Monroe Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald
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#, as written by Jag
Maybe it was fear. The sight of the blood-covered Indian stepping out of the shadows, heavy breaths and heavier threats rising above deep footsteps causing the entire floor of the library to creak would be enough to cause anyone a moment's pause for fear. Whatever the cause, the young woman didn't react in the time that it took for Red Hawk Nocona to close the distance between them.

It wasn't until his hands wrapped around the soft flesh of her neck that she finally reacted with a blood-curdling scream. Her body flailed as she tried to pull, push, kick, and squirm her way out of the grasp of the mountainous man, but there was nothing her frail frame could do to escape the death grip that cut off the scream and began to choke the very life from the girl. As the last glimpe of light died on the horizon, the last gasps of life escaped Annie Monroe.

The thud of her body hitting the floor was soon followed by the hulking footsteps of the man crossing over her and staring down at the old man in the corner. Red Hawk lifted a hand, hovering the weapon over the man's sleeping frame for a moment.

"Soon, soon," he spoke, slowly lowering his hand and turning away from the man.

Still, the Indian and the old man were not alone in the old and creaking library. There was another, Red Hawk had heard in his patient waiting, in the next room. Breaking from his resting position and barreling into the other room, the man locked onto the frame of the young woman between him and the front door to the library leading back onto the rain-soaked streets of Fort Trinity. Unlike the plainly-dressed and obviously-poor librarian, this woman carried the look and airs of society. She smelled like the worst of the white women and Nocona's eyes hardened as he stared to pierce the distance between the two of them.

Amelia Fitzgerald stood between Red Hawk and the door, but escape seemed to be far from the man's mind as he towered, blood still draping his body and another death weighing on his hands. He stared. Then he stepped forward.

"Are you going to scream, little woman?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald
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#, as written by Celedia
Enraptured with her book of children’s stories, Amelia stood near a single lit candle perched upon a worn wooden counter strewn with paperwork and ledgers. Having assumed that the owner of the establishment was simply too busy to tend to her and with the storm raging outside, the cattle baron’s daughter immersed herself into the tome with the thunderous booms and sheets of rain falling upon the rooftop being her only accompaniment.

Then a sharp sound followed by a strangled gasp. Two faint sounds from the depths of the library drew Amelia from her reverie and for a moment she simply stood, book opened and clasped between smooth fingertips while she tried to discern the source of the interruption.

Tis only my imagination…. She thought, eyes sliding back down to the treasure in her hands but then the unmistakable sound of slow, plodding steps drew her gaze once more.

An Indian. Tales of the savages met her ears often since her return home to her father’s estate. They were one of the largest causes of profit loss for the cattle baron as the roaming tribes took what they needed with little thought as to ownership. Yet, the blood spattered man didn’t look like he was traipsing about looking for sustenance and her mind nearly broke under the weight of her terror as halting English words parted the man’s cracked lips.

"Are you going to scream, little woman?"

Frozen with fear, Amelia’s survival instinct kicked in 5 seconds after her reply.

“Yes.”

A simple statement, said in a near whisper before she panicked. Lobbing the heavy book in the general direction of Red Hawk, she grabbed at her skirts, plowing out into the downpour with little thought of what to do other than escape.




A woman’s bloodcurdling scream pierced the rumbling of the tumultuous storm as Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald ran down the street in search of safety, causing her to seek refuge in an establishment that she would otherwise avoid at all costs. But the loud music and raucous laughter hinted at people, many of them. Enough people to drive away the bloody savage with the piercing gaze and towering frame.

Sobs left her throat as she pushed through the doors of the Lonesome Dog, sopping wet and hysterical. One gloved hand pointing outside and while the music halted abruptly and her broken words filled the sudden silence.

“He… He killed someone…” Her chin tucked in close to her chest as she tried desperately to draw breath. “An Indian. I- In the library.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister Character Portrait: Lydia McCallister Character Portrait: Andrew Keatley
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#, as written by FizzGig
“You reckon I can’t ride in the rain?” Lydia teased, removing a kerchief from one of the pockets of her dress. She handed it over to him, gently laying a finger against the corner of her own mouth. “Y’got something on yourself. No need to save it for later, plenty more where that came from.”

She spoke in a low tone, keeping it between him and her. Never was it her intent to embarrass the poor young man in front of the other patrons. Still, in spite of her confidence, she couldn’t help the slight blush that colored her cheeks.

“But, to answer your question, I think a ride and a picnic would be lovely, and I’m flattered you came out all this way just to ask me.”

---

In the back room, where Doc had fashioned an office of sorts, the man had left his window open a crack to allow for a small draft, simply to exchange the air in the stifling room. His kerosene lantern sat on the corner of his desk, flickering at the lowest it could to help preserve oil, and he was passing the time reading over a few books of the medicinal kind. Other things lay strewn on his desk, reports and statements scribbled over papers in the crude chicken scratch of someone unpracticed with a fountain pen. He’d memorized them and cast them aside, eager to take his mind off the dismal happenings outside of town.

Lightning flashed, the thunder following like a cacophonous drum roll, sending a familiar shiver of pleasure down the man’s spine. He loved the sounds of a storm. Reminded him of his days on the battlefield, when he was a younger man and far too naïve for his own good.

Something lingered after the thunder faded. At first, he thought his ears were ringing, but as he stood, walking closer to the window to get a better sense of what he was hearing, he recognized the sound of a panicked woman’s screams.

The man grit his teeth, grabbing for his duster and swinging it over his shoulders before grabbing his hat off a hook and shoving it onto his head. His double-barrel was next, resting comfortably against the wall. Without so much as blinking he swung it up into his arms and burst out of his office, coming out behind the bar and immediately making his way towards the front without so much as looking back.

Startled, Lydia looked towards her father with wide eyes. “Papa?”

“Stay inside.” He instructed gruffly, the door to the saloon swinging shut behind him as he stepped out into the torrential downpour. Rain and darkness obscured his vision, but he went to his horse, mounting it without bothering with a saddle, and pulled it around with the reins held firmly in his hand.

The horse trotted through the mud, bringing him closer and closer to the place where the screams had originated from. What he saw emerging from the library had him pulling up short, his eyes widening beneath the brim of his hat.

What the hell was a Red Man doing so far away from the reservation?

“You’re a long way from home!” he bellowed, trying to be heard over the sound of the storm.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister
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#, as written by Jag
Red Hawk Nocona

The silence between them beckoned the darkness of the night, heavy air tingling with the electricity darting through the night sky and permeating the distance between his blood-covered hands and the fair skin of the woman he eyed with vicious intent. The silence was marked only by a distant clap of thunder and a tired groan of the floor beneath them having seen years of stress and seconds of violence, both enough to end a lifetime.

"Yes."

The woman's voice broke the silence. Somewhere in the darkness, the dark man smiled.

"Good."

The book flew at him, honestly catching the man off his guard in the instant, giving the young woman a chance to flee. Nocona's hand shot up to protect his face, the binding of the book catching a glancing blow at his cheek as the large invader covered his right eye for a moment out of instinct. It was long enough for Amelia to pour into the street. Into the storm, out fo the danger. For now.

Shaking off the blow, Nocona grunted and charged after her, his large frame passing through the door and noticing the last of the young woman's body and skirts diving into the saloon. It would be suicidal to follow her now -- too many white men, too many guns, and too many drinks in their systems for the white devils to avoid pulling the trigger the moment that he appeared. Red Hawk Nocona may have been a man with a death wish, but that wish was set on his own terms and following the girl strayed from the vision he'd been given.

The sound of shoed horsefalls through the mud of the street carried the man's eyes up and meeting the eventual gaze and words of the lawman. It had only been a matter of time until he'd come, only a distance of death to summon the wrath of men who believed their word to be a truth from above destined to rule the hearts and souls of other men. Control was everything to them and Nocona did not fit neatly into the grids and plans by which the white men were so eager to live their lives.

"You're a long way from home!"

Water dripped from the white man's hat as thunder clapped again, this time closer as if heralding the heroic call to action of the man charged with keeping the peace and protecting the innocent from the likes of this savage. Nocona stepped forth from the protection of the library's porch and into the cold rain, beginning to wash away the blood covering him. Some feared the rain, feared the cold, feared the elements. Nocona felt a new strength surge through his body at the sensation of the coming emar.

"This is my home, lawman," Nocona spoke in the broken English that carried the tone and meaning of his words without loss. "Badge and gun you carry does not take my home away forever. Makes you a thief. A sickness."

His hands hung down to his sides, but the mere size of the man and the blood covering his torso gave rise to the threat he carried even if no weapon was visible as he stood in the street.

"Girl inside is dead, lawman. Too weak for what comes. Her spirit free, no suffering. Do not weep for her."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Daniel Shay Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister Character Portrait: Madeline Whitten
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Maddy smiled. She hadn’t taken the statement as an insult but it was fun to tease the semi-serious man a little. She shook her head as he relaxed.

Her brows knitted together just a little. He had come from the east and not the near east. ”What would have you riding so hard and so long...” She wondered silently as the dirt drifted from his skin into the bath water.

“Looks to me like you brought the entire road in with you.” Maddy stood and moved around the tub to grab a pitcher. She tested the water and found it still warm. “Close yer eyes Daniel.”

She slowly poured the fresh water over his head rinsing away more dirt and the soap.

“Aye, McAllister has been here for a spell now.” Maddy crouched next to the tub. “You going to protect the Doc from the likes of the Gentleman then?” An amused smile on her lips. “Ramsey runs this town. No one makes a move without him knowing.”

Maddy sat back in her chair, her bare feet once again on the edge of the tub. “I don’t know a single thing that Ramsey is afraid of but everyone around here is either working for him or doing their very best to stay on his good side. Might be best to stay out of his way Daniel.”

Her voice was soft and comforting as the man closed his eyes and relaxed in the water. She looked him over and wondered what Ramsey would think of this newcomer.

The room was quiet save for the pattering of the rain. Maddy watched Daniel’s chest rise and fall. Given what he had told her about where he had ridden from and how long he had been on the road she was amazed he had been upright when he had come into the saloon.

She brushed the side of his face gently, keeping her voice low. “When you are done here there is a warm bed waiting f..”

The rest of her comment was cut off but the scream of a woman. It was the kind of sound that makes a person’s heart stop. Maddy stood up quickly and bolted to the door. She opened it and looked out. Up and down the hall others were doing the same fearing it was one of their own. Her mouth was dry but her ears picked up the sound of a commotion downstairs.

A few men were in the hallway now, pulling on shirts and unholstering guns as they rushed down to the main room of the saloon.
----
Max looked up as the well dressed lady practically stumbled in through the saloon door. She was soaked to the bone and trembling. The scream that had caused the entire saloon to pause must have come from her. He quickly moved from behind the bar to where she stood pointing out the door.

“He… He killed someone…” Her chin tucked in close to her chest as she tried desperately to draw breath. “An Indian. I- In the library.”

At the word Indian many men began to stand, pulling guns and moving to the door. Max and the woman stood in their way. A clattering of footsteps from the stairs added to the new uproar.

“She said Indian and he killed someone!”

A few of the girls gasped fearfully and clung to whoever was near by. Nellie frowned and looked out the window. Max put an arm protectively around the hysterical woman. “Now, none of you are going anywhere. You George, you can barely stand and we don’t know for sure...”

“There is an Indian out there and the Doc’s with him.” Nellie could see the figures down a ways from the saloon.

Max turned to look out the door spotting the figures himself. “Sweet Jesus.”

He pulled the woman away from the door. “Get her a tea Annie or something stronger if she wants it.” He handed Amelia over to the closest girl. She led Amelia to a nearby chair. Max turned and quickly grabbed his rifle from behind the bar. Her stepped outside and a few men now followed him. They stood on the covered porch and waited for some sign from Doc that he needed help.
---

Maddy heard the word Indian and darted to the window. She pushed the curtain out of the way and looked out the rain streaked glass. “It’s true....”

She turned to look at Daniel. “There is a man out there and the Doc is with him.” Maddy nodded, “I’ll find you some clothes.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Elizabeth Reddy Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister
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Beth nodded. She never answered Ramsey when he talked like that. Not because of her throat or the lack of anything to reply but because she knew he did not want an answer. They were musing he put out there, whether it was because he was trying to figure the world out or simply liked the sound of his own voice Beth didn’t know and didn’t much care.

Her eyes watched Ramsey. Unlike many others when his eyes met hers she did not look away. Beth had earned her way here and she would not let anyone tell her differently. She knew quite well what Ramsey was capable of there was nothing there for her to fear. Beth had faced death once at the Seven’s hands and since then she had never been afraid of the man’s intense stare. Others who faced him at the poker table found him unsettling and intimidating. She liked to see a man’s cunning in his eyes it gave her an idea of what was coming.

As expected, Ramsey took exception to Donnel being back in the casino. She placed her hat on her head, an apathetic look on her face when he told her to let law enforcement handle the scream. She let out a slow exhale, still very tense. Beth waited patiently as Ramsey poured himself a drink.

"Peter was always so skilled with his shuffle of the cards. Would be shame if something were to happen to his hands,"

Beth reached for her coat that lay over the back of one of the chairs. She pulled it on and gave Ramsey a look. His eyes focused on hers.

"Don't kill him."

She nodded and headed out of his office, closing the door behind her. Beth moved down to the main floor of the casino. She gathered two other Seven’s with her and gestured for them to follow her. The others were used to her not speaking, even if it did bother them at times. She could speak but she chose not to more often than not finding actions to speak louder than words.

Beth approached the table where Peter sat. She stood across from him, looking down at the man from under the brim of her hat.

Peter Donnel paled visibly at the sight of her. The other two Seven’s moved to stand behind his chair.

“W-well now, what can I do for you?” His voice was shaky as he tried not to let on that he was scared. The others at the table had already dropped their cards and waited silently.

Beth lifted her chin, a gesture to him to stand up. Her hands were at her side and she stared at him. Peter shook his head, more in fear than defiance. Beth nodded her head at the men and they each took Peter under the arm. Turning, she led them outside.

“Come on....I just want to win some money back. I wasn’t doin’ no harm!”

Beth was glad her back was to the men as she rolled her eyes. Peter was being carried between them, his feet frantically trying to dig in and slow them down.

“Ugh, stop the fuss and just take it like a man.” One of the Seven’s grunted at Donnel.

Beth led the party out back, the rain soaking them. She cast one glance down the road towards the earlier commotion and despite what she saw, Beth left it alone and followed Ramsey’s orders.

The woman stopped and pointed to the stump of a tree in the brush behind the casino. Normally she’d have dragged him further out of town but it was raining something fierce and the sight of Doc and the Indian put her on edge. Her shoulders felt tight and contempt for Donnel grew. If the man wasn’t so stupid she wouldn’t be out here in the rain dealing with scum.

The men pinned Peter down.

Beth shook her head. “Hands on the stump.” The cold tone of her hushed voice made one man shiver.

Peter began to whimper and whine. “No, please....not my hands I need them!” The two Seven’s held the thrashing man down as Elizabeth approached. She crouched down, coming eye level with him.

“You were told not to come back. You don’t listen. You had a chance.” Beth tapped his hands with the barrel of one of her guns. “You have to make amends for the insult.”

She stood and shot the gun once. The bullet went through Peter’s hand, straight through the palm and into the wood. Her head tilted slightly to the side and she aimed for the other hand. This time it was two shots. One for his thumb and then one to the palm.

Peter’s yells mixed with the clap of thunder overhead. The men let him go and Beth watched passively as he writhed on the ground. She took two steps towards him, her booted foot coming down on an injured hand. “Don’t come back.”

She stepped down hard until the man screamed and tried to kick out at her. Holstering her gun Beth headed back inside and went straight up to Ramsey’s office.

She slid her coat off, tossing it over the back of the chair again. Beth removed her hat and placed it down as well. She looked at Ramsey and gave him a nod. She sat down and began to reload her gun.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister
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#, as written by FizzGig
He couldn’t mean…

“Many of us here in this town were not personally responsible for taking that away from you!” He shouted over the roar of thunder. “…including myself, and the girl inside that library that you killed. Taking out your anger on someone as innocent as she makes you no better a man, and subject to the laws that govern these lands now.”

Rain ran in rivulets down his cheeks, reminiscent of tears. That girl was Lydia’s age, the quiet sort who wouldn’t harm a fly even if it landed on her dinner plate. He gestured to the gun at his side, before dismounting and standing to face off the Indian. Man to man. Neither one better than the other. Nocona was big, but Doc was big too, and he had a gun.

“I can’t let you hurt anyone else.” He told him, taking the weapon in both hands. He did not, however, bring it to bear. Not yet.