Formosan Expedition (Taiwan and America)

[duckie]

They came ashore when the cold was ending, leaving the barest of frosts each morning on the slowly recovering grass. Foreigners, with skin as pale as drifts of snow, compared to the darker shades of her own people. It was not the first time she had seen these people- no, not these people, but ones like them, sailors, malnourished and, in her memory, cruel, so cruel. They'd landed once before in these parts, with weapons that bit into dark flesh remorselessly, slaughtering her people. The same people that watched now as the pale strangers came ashore, the apparent leader helping the only woman out of the battered boat while the other men dragged it more completely out of the water.

The children were always the most curious- they didn't remember the last time the pale people came to this shore, and many of them no longer had parents to tell them the story. Older brothers and sisters held them back, quelling their whines with promises of sweet berries and soft meat, leading them back towards the village. The adults stayed behind, watching unseen as the foreigners set up camp on the sand- too late, now, to go looking for help, the dead of the night closing in on those who had not adapted the ability to see far in the darkness. And with them, one child, a silent observer with no parents, no siblings to lead her back to camp; a god, to the villagers, one who never seemed to age noticably, on the cusp of what they considered to be womanhood but never quite old enough to take responsibility in the tribe.

Once the sailors had settled and fallen to sleep, they retreated for the night, near silent on bare feet, years of hunting and wars between tribes having taught them well- any approaching foreigners would be as a boar stumbling through the brush to them. They did not sleep, but instead planned, for what warriors would pass up such a plain opportunity to avenge their fallen tribesmen? The girl, the 'god', listened silently, agreeing with a nod at times but never interfering without being asked. It wouldn't have mattered- the will of her people was her own will as well.

When they set out for the shore again, light had not yet broken over the horizon. They approached and stared down at the men who were sleeping still, exhausted from their dangerous trek across uncharted waters. Their weapons were taken from their sides, and then... and then it began, screams and pleading cries echoing across the water. It did not take long- the Kaolut Tribe had been murdering for years, and they were good at what they did.

The village ate well that night, but the 'god' could not help but feel that her people would come to regret it.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Alfred tried not to wince to obviously as another twinge rocketed up and down his left leg. He didn't know what was worse: not having any feeling in his lower body (except for his right foot, a.k.a. the new state of West Virginia) or getting feeling back right after what he'd ended up doing to those parts of his house.

His newest boss, Andrew, who apparently had been thinking he'd be giving Alfred a break, had sent him off to the Far East to check up on things.

'Not a hard job, right? It's just a little vacation to rest and let your body mend itself, he said. And just when I get here THIS kind of thing happens,'

[/color] Alfred thought to himself as he stared over the side of the boat.

Normally he couldn't get enough of traveling by ship: on past voyages, Alfred would stick his nose into everything and the sailors would spend half their time trying to chase him out of the rigging. This time, Alfred couldn't climb worth a damn and was therefore extremely bored and cranky. At least he could go walk around on the island they were anchoring off of. If the sailors didn't like that...too bad! Alfred had the rank to get his way whether they liked it or not! Maybe there was something to the whole 'getting promoted' thing after all.

"Brigadier-General, sir?"

One of the officers was standing by Alfred's chair.

"The captain sends his compliments and wishes to let you know that we're preparing send out the landing parties."

"About time,"[/color] Alfred sighed, grinning up at the sailor, "Go tell him not to let them leave without me. I'll be right over!"[/color]

The sailor hesitated, but took off obediently. Of course, now Alfred had to grab for his crutch and use it to pull himself up to his feet...the trick was to do it all at once and -

"Dammitdammitdammitowwwwww - that never gets any easier,"[/color] Alfred hissed to himself as the burns on his left leg loudly protested his suddenly becoming vertical.

Andrew was working on the situation at home as fast as he could though, right? So the burn should heal up nicely once everything was said and done; Alfred just had to be patient. Even though he really, really hated being patient: Alfred would much rather take an active role in his own rebuilding.

Crutch under his arm, Alfred limped quickly across the deck to where the men and supplies for the expedition were being lowered into the landing boats. None of them looked particularly happy that Alfred had basically forced himself into their little expedition, but Alfred didn't pay their expressions any mind. He could still shoot straight, after all!

Besides, that was the whole reason they were here: to show the natives of this overheated little island that murdering Alfred's sailors unprovoked was a big mistake. It shouldn't even take very long, which was what Alfred was more worried about than anything else. Once this was done he'd have to go back to being bored again.[/center]

[duckie]

They had weapons now- muskets, though they would never know the name of them- and they were waiting. From that same cliff, they watched the ships plow onto what seemed to be untouched sand, blood and bones washed away by the water, lapping so softly at the shore. Dark eyes tracked the progress of the pale ones, better armed than those before, and they backed into the brush silently as the march began. They would wait until the heat and the walking wore them out before attacking.

It would be a long walk, tracking the foreigners in the heat of midday, carefully making sure they were heading exactly where the villagers wanted them. The child was with them, giving quiet words of advice in the language of her people, and speaking to herself in the language that even her people could not understand. She'd been on this island longer than she could remember- they took her advice to heart, knowing that she knew the lay of the land better than any of them ever could.

Eventually, they set up on an inaccessible hill, spears set to the side and muskets aimed vaguely in the direction that the foreigners were approaching from. They waited, patient, until the first patch of light hair shone in the sunlight, then fired- missing by a long-shot, of course. They barely knew how to use the guns in their hands.

The 'girl' snuck down the hill, around the far side of the trees, watching the reactions of the foreigners carefully. Her people knew when to retreat, when to set up the next ambush- they didn't need her there.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Ugh...why was it so hot out here?! Alfred's feet had barely sunk themselves into the sandy shoreline before the heat and humidity rolled over him like a noxious wave. He wasn't the only one feeling the heat: the marines and sailors that had come ashore were panting and sweating. At least Alfred could wear a summer uniform while he was here.

The men resigned themselves to the heat much better than Alfred did, though, and loaded up water and ammo. Stuck with his crutch (and a few pleading requests from the poor marines that he outranked not to strain himself), Alfred had opted to stick with his Colt Army revolver instead of lugging around a larger (and heavier) gun. He'd also agreed to walk in the back, which gave Alfred more time to sight-see as their expedition set off into the steamy, unpleasantly hot jungle.

'Damn, and here I thought I'd never complain about being too warm again after 1778,"

[/color] Alfred thought wryly as he limped after the advancing soldiers, 'What kind of crazy people live in a place like this?'[/color]

Thankfully, there was a distraction from the heat in the form of a tree branch exploding to splinters overhead. Alfred recognized the bellow of a musket seconds later. Of course, the marines recognized it too. And since the natives had so thoughtfully alerted their force as to where they were, there was only one thing Alfred's soldiers could do in response to that blatant (though poorly-aimed) attack.

"Come on, then! Charge!" yelled Lieutenant-Commander MacKenzie up at the front.

Yelling, the marines took off after their commander. Alfred's crutch took that opportunity to snag on a tree root, and by the time he'd pulled it free the rest of the force was a long ways ahead.

"I'm not gonna let this stupid overheated jungle get in my way! Wait for me!"[/color] Alfred called after the marines as he hobbled after them.

Even though he was struggling to follow the others uphill, Alfred was grinning. This was a million times more fun than sitting around back on the ship![/center]

[duckie]

She could have laughed as the obviously injured man got stuck- on a tree root, of all things, how did one even manage that?- before trying to hobble up the hill that was nearly impossible even for his uninjured men to climb. The tribesmen would already be long gone by the time any of them made it up the hill, fleeing on swift, silent feet, setting up another ambush at a suitable site ahead.

She followed them at a liesurely pace, easily keeping up with the tall, injured man. Why would they bring an already wounded person along on a hunt? It didn't make sense- it would be so easy for him to trip and fall, or to simply... die, the way the wounded sometimes did on Formosa. And the others clearly weren't waiting for him...

It didn't take long for her to step out of the concealing foliage, bored with simply following. She couldn't die, so what did she have to fear from this stranger? But she had no words that he would understand, only those of her people and those that humans didn't quite comprehend. So she settled for moving into his line of site and then stilling- the thin cotton of her loose robe and fitted leggings were dyed in bright colors, easily spotted against the backdrop of green. She would just have to wait for him to see her.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Alfred's early enthusiasm began waning quickly as the path the marines were taking proved to be extremely steep and difficult to manage. At least nobody was around to notice when Alfred finally gave in to exhaustion, leaning heavily on the crutch and wheezing for a solid five minutes. When he was finally able to breath normally again, Alfred straightened up and laughed hoarsely.

Just great...his normal stamina was still lacking after all. You'd think that winning wars wouldn't do that, but that was the first (and so help him, it was going to be the ONLY) civil war Alfred had ever fought, and apparently they were...different. Wars like that absolutely, definitely sucked.

Even though she was extremely visible, it still took Alfred a little while to notice the girl standing out in the open nearby.

"What the? What's some kid doing around here?"

[/color] Alfred thought out loud.

It didn't take much longer for Alfred to put two and two together. Strange little girl in a strange land...this had to be one of the natives! Right? For some reason, Alfred wasn't entirely sure, but a native was a native.

"Hey! You guys are in serious trouble, you got that?"[/color] Alfred called out to the little native girl, pointing at her with one hand to emphasize his words.

He didn't know her language, so Alfred was speaking in English. Not that he could expect her to understand him either...but he was pretty sure his point would get across!

...A moment later, it occurred to Alfred that this might be a trap of some kind. He was all alone now...but if anything, Alfred felt more confident this way. A normal human might be in serious trouble, but Alfred was the United States of America! No little native girl on her native island anywhere in the world could take out the likes of him![/center]

[duckie]

He wasn't moving towards her, or running away- that was a good thing. When he pointed at her, though, her eyes widened slightly, and she shifted to the side enough that his finger was no longer aimed directly at her. Though she'd never been able to die, if he was a witch and was trying to curse her... well, she would really rather not test her luck. Her fingers found each other behind her back, squeezing lightly in a reassurance to herself, and she rocked slightly on her feet, cocking her head to the side a bit.

His words made no sense to her, but she giggled quietly anyways, taking a step back, letting the foliage rustle against her legs. Slowly, she took another step, watching him expectantly. Waiting.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Alfred was left hanging as the little native girl failed to respond in any way to his words. Oh sure, she kinda tilted her head to the side, but that didn't actually count as a reply. Letting his hand drop, Alfred glared at her, sullen. The least she could do was realize why he and his marines were even here on her overheated island in the middle of nowhere interesting!

And then she giggled at him.

"Oh, so you're a wise guy, huh?"

[/color] Alfred retorted, "Well you won't find it so funny when I catch up to you, little missy!"[/color]

He might need a crutch to walk at the moment, but Alfred was confident in the fact that he was still fast enough to catch some little kid. Determined face set in place, Alfred limped at the little girl as fast as he could go.

Yes! It was a perfect plan! He'd catch her, make her lead him to her village, and then...well, wait around for the marines to get there, Alfred had to suppose. Although maybe he should catch her, find the marines next, and then make the little native girl lead him to her village. No sense waking up in his boss's office just because Alfred had gotten himself unnecessarily stabbed a bunch of times by whatever pointy sticks the natives here had for weapons.[/center]

[duckie]

Though she couldn't understand what he was saying, his intent was as clear as the waters off her shores- he thought he could catch her. No- he honestly thought that he, an injured stranger, could best /any/ of her people, who had lived on this island their entire lives and knew every facet of it better than they knew their own bodies? She couldn't help but giggle louder, a soft 'kihihihihi~' falling from her lips.

She waited until he was almost within reach, then quickly but gracefully backpedaled, bare feet stepping over branches and roots with ease, eyes staying locked on his, dark on bright, lips curved into a secretive smile. Taunting.

"You cannot catch me," she murmured in her own language, one he would never understand. "You are large and slow, and I am small and quick, and can slip through places you would never know existed. But you can't know that, because you can't understand me."

Making sure to stay just out of reach, she turned, a definite bounce in her step, and ran ahead, hearing him still blundering along after her.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

He was almost on her when the little native girl stepped to the side with alacrity. Alfred, while he wasn't usually totally coordinated even when he wasn't stuck with a crutch, had no way of turning or stopping himself and thus continued moving forward until something got in his way.

That something, unfortunately for Alfred's dignity, was a tree the native girl had been standing in front of. Alfred crashed into the bark with a heavy thud - not wounded or hurt much by the impact, but definitely surprised and extremely embarrassed.

"...Ow."

[/color]

Pushing himself back and away from the offending tree, Alfred was worried that he'd lost his target. But then he heard a little girl's voice talking in some kind of weird language that he didn't understand. She hadn't gone far at all, and she was still laughing at him!

While he had no idea what it was she'd said just now, Alfred was pretty certain it was a taunt. He was certainly treating it that way, hobbling after the native girl without a care for where they were going.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily!"[/color] Alfred called after the native girl as he chased her.[/center]

[duckie]

Every so often, she would turn back and walk backwards for a while, waiting for him to get just within arms reach before turning and running again, always with that peculiur little energetic bounce to her step, and often with that soft giggle, eerie and taunting. She made no sounds, and if not for her brightly colored clothes would have melded seamlessly into the forest they ran through.

She led him down paths she'd played on her entire life, filled with traps for animals and raised roots that could trip up anyone who didn't know exactly where they were, as she did. Finally, long after she thought he should have given up, she turned and stopped, tilting her head up to look at him and waiting until he was close enough to hear her voice, if not understand her words.

"Why do you persist? Most would have given up by now." This time, it was in her language- not that of her people, but the one she'd had since before she could remember, the one her people did not understand. Her tone was one of frustration. She'd expected him to get lost long ago.

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Alfred officially HATED this stupid island now. And all its stupid tree roots (he'd tripped over ten so far!) and its stupid bushes (one of the ones he'd crashed into had left his exposed skin red and itchy!) and its stupid bugs that wouldn't stop trying to climb up inside his nose and - and - gah!

Landing face-first in the dirt after his foot met its eleventh tree root, Alfred glared at the dirt for a while. He was dirty and sweaty and tired and this wasn't remotely entertaining anymore! Sure, Alfred had nothing personally against doing things that got you dirty, sweaty, and tired, but in this case he'd much rather be clean and dry and preferably anywhere else.

The worst part had to be the fact that when Alfred propped himself up on one elbow, the little native girl was right there in front of him like always! He couldn't believe his stamina was bad enough that some little kid was keeping ahead of him this easily.

Fumbling for his crutch (he'd dropped in after hitting the ground), Alfred wearily used it to push himself into a sitting position. Just as he made it, he heard the little native girl speaking again. At least she was complaining and grumpy this time: the least she could do was to be unhappy, especially if Alfred wasn't happy.

"Too bad! I'll have you know that quitting isn't in my dictionary!"

[/color] Alfred retorted.

...It took a few more seconds for him to realize that he'd actually understood what the little girl had said. She...hadn't been talking in her weird native language then, had she? No, that had sounded just like...

'Wait. Little native girl...with native people...so that means she's...this whole time?!'[/color]

Frowning, Alfred looked the little girl right in the eye.

"You creepy little girl! You might've said something earlier so I didn't have to waste time chasing you all over the place!"[/color] Alfred complained.

This time, Alfred was using Shaykomay, the common nation-tongue, instead of English. At the same time, he was mentally kicking himself over not realizing what he was dealing with sooner. If Alfred had known he was facing some little nation - well, probably just a proto-nation since she was with all those primitive natives - then he could have acted accordingly when he first saw her instead of hobbling over the landscape like this.[/center]

[duckie]

"How-" The word was cut off as brown eyes widened and dark skin paled, and she took several steps back, suddenly much more wary. He was... like her? Like China and Japan? That... explained why a foreigner who was injured was on her lands. Her lips turned downwards slightly, displeased as she was with this outcome.

She knew there were other nations, of course. After all, one of them- China- had taken over parts of her island. She had evaded him for the most part, enough to still be with her tribe, but he'd not hidden the fact that he was intending to make her more like him. And if that was what nations did.... she wanted no part in it.

"If I knew you were one of them I would have just let you stumble through the forest on your own," she said, taking another step back, on the verge of just running and leaving him here. "Why are you on my island!? Go away!"

[America]

Date: June 13, 1867
Location: Southeastern coast of Formosa

Feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing the creepy girl's shock didn't make Alfred a bad person, right?

He really wasn't feeling up to struggling to his feet at the moment, so Alfred remained seated on the ground and waited for the creepy girl-nation to process what she'd just learned. Maybe now they could do this in a more civilized manner! Alfred was sick to death of limping after her.

'I wonder if she's the whole island,'

[/color] Alfred thought to himself as he watched her thinking, 'If she was just that one tribe we're after, she'd probably be smaller...what did they say the island's name was again?'[/color]

Alfred was disturbed from these thoughts when the creepy girl-nation finally replied to what he'd said. And what he heard...Alfred really didn't like.

One of them? One of who? Who else could he be mistaken for? Another nation, sure, but which ones were sailing around out here that Alfred could possibly be...oh. As a pair of likely suspects rose to the forefront of his mind, Alfred's expression darkened.

France and England, huh? How dare she compare Alfred to the likes of those useless, spiteful, b-backstabbing -

"Don't you dare lump me in with those people,"[/color] Alfred snapped, his voice almost a snarl, "I'm not a damn thing like either of them!"[/color]

Belatedly recalling what else the creepy girl-nation had said, Alfred quickly continued with "Why am I here? Because you and your people killed my sailors for no reason! And I'm not leaving until I get satisfaction for it, you creepy girl!"[/color]

That should have been obvious from the beginning - you didn't just murder someone's people and expect nothing to come of it! She had some nerve to act like Alfred was the one doing something wrong here![/center]

-----
- It's just after the Civil War. Therefore Alfred is extremely pissed with England and France - especially England~

[duckie]

Oh. Well, that wasn't very nice. She might not have wanted to belong to Japan or China, but they didn't deserve to be spoken of so rudely, either! Propping her hands on her hips, she frowned deeply at him, shifting her legs apart into a stronger stance- the one she used with the children of the Kaolut tribe when she knew they were going to try to push their luck with her, the same stance she'd had ever since she was small enough to still be pushed around.

"Don't be rude! They don't deserve that, they're good people!" There was a pause, and her face twisted, eyes narrowing. "My people would never have touched your people if your people had not murdered an entire village of my people unprovoked!" Her jaw clenched and her foot stomped, frustration writ all over her face.

"Your people left me with an entire village of children who do not know how to provide for themselves because their parents were killed in cold blood in their sleep! Tell me, how do sleeping villagers, old men and women, provoke an attack by those obviously meant to fight!?"