comic
Previously turnt3chGodh34d
1826
Children are born to survive. To succeed. To surpass. To grow old and have children of their own to repeat the cycle. That is nature’s will and testament, but humanity, in all of its selfish and contrived desires, is so focused on surpassing nature and God that it cannot contain its own hubris. A child born on the tenth of May in the year 1826 was not given the opportunity by his parent to survive, to succeed, to surpass. His mother was poor, and she simply could not afford the infant. At only a year old, the young baby was abandoned in the woods to be forgotten. To die. To never see his potential realized.
A passing tribesman happened upon the child, a warrior of the Cheyenne tribe named Vohkinne. He took pity on the babe and wrapped the malnourished child in animal skins, then returned to his tribe. His wife, Namida, took in the infant as her own, and raised him alongside her own daughter, Awenasa. This baby boy was named Ehane. His skin might have been a different color, but he grew up to be as Cheyenne as the others. He understood his origins, and for that, and the life he’d been given, Ehane cherished his adopted family. On the outside, he was the white man. On the inside, he was Indian. He learned of his true heritage. His mother, Charlotte, had died of disease only a few years after she'd abandoned him. His true father, a nobleman named Phillip III, had been claimed in a skirmish with Native Americans.
A passing tribesman happened upon the child, a warrior of the Cheyenne tribe named Vohkinne. He took pity on the babe and wrapped the malnourished child in animal skins, then returned to his tribe. His wife, Namida, took in the infant as her own, and raised him alongside her own daughter, Awenasa. This baby boy was named Ehane. His skin might have been a different color, but he grew up to be as Cheyenne as the others. He understood his origins, and for that, and the life he’d been given, Ehane cherished his adopted family. On the outside, he was the white man. On the inside, he was Indian. He learned of his true heritage. His mother, Charlotte, had died of disease only a few years after she'd abandoned him. His true father, a nobleman named Phillip III, had been claimed in a skirmish with Native Americans.
1846
The erection of nearby settlements by American settlers heightened border tensions, and it wasn’t long before the young adult Ehane was involved in a youthful raid against a nearby settlement, to the heartbreak of his elders. The settlement, ever excited for an opportunity to expand and to eliminate competition, called upon the USAF. The ensuing battle was bloody. Half the tribe was wiped out, and the other half fled to other nearby Cheyenne tribes. Among the dead lay Ehane, the fearless but rash warrior, his hand grasping onto the cold hand of his fallen sister. He was recovered by the USAF, viewed as something of a spectacle. “The white boy who thought he was Indian”, they called him. He was on the brink of death, but something pushed him on. Something spurred him. Something survived.
Ehane was committed to a psychiatric ward. He was “brainwashed by the natives”, they said. The experience was long, cruel, and brutal. His experience was no different than the other admitted patients to the ward. There was no love here. Only the purpose of breaking open their minds and leaving hard-working slaves in its place. Ehane began to fade. “Ethan”, the staff referred to him as. After a time, he forgot his old name, and accepted the new one.
Ehane was committed to a psychiatric ward. He was “brainwashed by the natives”, they said. The experience was long, cruel, and brutal. His experience was no different than the other admitted patients to the ward. There was no love here. Only the purpose of breaking open their minds and leaving hard-working slaves in its place. Ehane began to fade. “Ethan”, the staff referred to him as. After a time, he forgot his old name, and accepted the new one.
1886
Forty years. Forty long, grueling years, Ethan was abused in this place. It took forty years for him to finally break, as they’d been trying all that time, but he shattered in a way they did not predict. It was known later as the ‘86 Massacre of Eidard Ward. Ethan was a 60 year old man. Too old a man to do the things he’d done. He disappeared into the wilderness, and was never heard from again. Some say he went off to fight a war, a war for his mind back. Some say he never existed. Most agree he died.
At least, Ehane and Ethan weren’t heard from again. The old man sought out a sage of infinite wisdom. Like in stories of old you may hear today, the old man found what he searched for, and was granted something. The first words from this sage were simple; "You are a warring man". He then offered a second chance at life, with a price; “A second life, for your first born”.
Ethan was too old to have children, and had never had any to begin with. He gave no thought to the deal with the devil, and when he awoke the next morning, it was the spring of 1890. He was as youthful as the day his life had been taken from him. He could remember Ehane clearly again, he could remember Ethan, he could see his opportunity. He integrated himself into society, sticking close to his passionate roots of Minnesota, heart of the Cheyenne tribes. To his great surprise, the revived man realized he was an academic prodigy, and a talented orator. People could not believe him when he revealed he was uneducated, and a small circle of friends and admirers began to grow around him. They asked for his name. The man stopped, and looked off into the distance, thinking deeply for several long moments, before he smiled and turned his gaze toward the one who’d first asked the question, a twinkle in his deep blue eyes.
“Charles,” he’d broadened his grin. “Charles Phillip Warren.”
At least, Ehane and Ethan weren’t heard from again. The old man sought out a sage of infinite wisdom. Like in stories of old you may hear today, the old man found what he searched for, and was granted something. The first words from this sage were simple; "You are a warring man". He then offered a second chance at life, with a price; “A second life, for your first born”.
Ethan was too old to have children, and had never had any to begin with. He gave no thought to the deal with the devil, and when he awoke the next morning, it was the spring of 1890. He was as youthful as the day his life had been taken from him. He could remember Ehane clearly again, he could remember Ethan, he could see his opportunity. He integrated himself into society, sticking close to his passionate roots of Minnesota, heart of the Cheyenne tribes. To his great surprise, the revived man realized he was an academic prodigy, and a talented orator. People could not believe him when he revealed he was uneducated, and a small circle of friends and admirers began to grow around him. They asked for his name. The man stopped, and looked off into the distance, thinking deeply for several long moments, before he smiled and turned his gaze toward the one who’d first asked the question, a twinkle in his deep blue eyes.
“Charles,” he’d broadened his grin. “Charles Phillip Warren.”