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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 3, 2011 22:31:21 GMT -5
England turned and looked at the other nation, mentally cursing when he saw he was holding his firearm. Checking, he realized all his weapons had been taken from him. If this is mutiny, I’m screwed, he realized, horrified. Surely they wouldn’t kill me? Well, they may try, but he wouldn’t die. But the people around him would. He turned and pointed to the gun in the nation’s hand and shook his head, telling him not to use it. It wouldn’t do any of them good if there was blood spilled. But it seemed to be inevitable. Well… he could always take the nation as he was expected to. That’s what they seem to expect of him, his crew.
He needed to take Aotearoa. That was the only way things were going to end peacefully. England didn’t particularly like the idea of forcefully taking the other nation, but he realized he was rapidly running out of options. Taking the arm of the man, he pulled him towards himself. “See, I caught him!” He knew he couldn’t say he had caught him truly, but he figured it would be the only way to stop the English, with the more modern weaponry, from creating havoc.
He gently tugged the man along with him, putting on a show of pulling him violently. The crew all lowered their weapons. With a sigh of relief, he took the gun from Aotearoa’s hands, returning it to his holster. He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic, apologetic face. Subtly though, not wanting any of the others to see it. Living in the 21st century, this felt like some sort of crime. But he was actually half-expecting to be hit or bitten or something. For at least one of the Maori people to show some resistance to him taking their nation and putting him under British rule.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 3, 2011 23:32:15 GMT -5
Aotearoa looked at England's warriors, all carrying hollow sticks like the one in his hands. It didn't seem like there were this many on the beach earlier when they took England! He was sure the two warriors behind him were scared, and hoped they weren't showing it. You have the spirits of your ancestors with you when you go into battle, and you go seemingly without fear. Looking at this display of superior technology, he knew what he had to do.
"Stay back, and don't follow me." He said in Maori to the two warriors behind him, and moved towards England and his warriors on his own while still holding the firearm. He complied with England's unspoken order not to shoot it, and he didn't resist when England grabbed him. He knew it was for his people's own good, and not his.
"Aotearoa!" He heard one of the warriors yell from behind him, and England took back his weapon. Fortunately they were still obeying his previous order.
"Go!" He yelled back in Maori. He didn't want any of them to be hurt or killed. A small part of him kind of wanted them to try to help him, but he knew England and his warriors would leave if he went with them peacefully. He heard the warriors running back to the village, and knew they wouldn't return, and neither would he. Not for a long time, at least.
He looked at England. He had to resist the urge to hit the guy and run, and reminded himself that he was doing what was best for his people as a whole. He stood up as straight as he could, and held his head high. Yes, he was being taken, but this was his choice. He would go with honour and without fear.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 0:32:12 GMT -5
England felt slightly horrible for taking Aotearoa. But it wasn’t like he had much of a choice now did he? They had found the land that would become known as New Zealand, and this was how it was meant to be right? He was supposed to become part of the British Empire. And he will grow to love me like he did the first time, right? He wondered; worried that this little nation would permanently hold this against him. Realizing he was without his sword, he turned and looked at him. “Where is my sword?” he asked. Grabbing one of the others’ blades he pointed to it, then himself. “My sword. Where is it?” He hoped he found it, that blade had a lot of sentimental value to him, and it didn’t do to badly in terms on monetary value. He wanted it back, badly.
He looked at the nation, hoping he understood. The last thing he wanted was to leave that sword behind. It was extremely old, and had been with him through many wars. So he was almost desperate to get it back. Extremely desperate. He needed it to tell stories to his colonies like he had the first time, of King Arthur. A sort of prop, set in a case on display in his home.
He was tempted to run through and search everywhere for it, blatant disregard for property, like the colonial him would have. But his more modern way of thinking restrained him, and he waited, hoping the other nation would show him where it was willingly.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 1:03:27 GMT -5
Aotearoa didn't understand what England was saying, but he watched England as he pointed at one of the pointy things one of his warriors was carrying, and then at himself. Oh yes! He remembered taking a pointy thing from England and hiding it in his house like he'd done with the stick and the round things.
He noticed they were standing on dirt, and he should be able to draw where the pointy thing was. Using his foot, he drew a shape that looked like a house. He then pointed at himself, and pointed at the shape he'd drawn on the ground. He hoped that if they were going back to the house for England's pointy thing, then he would be able to get his spear. Not to attack England's warriors with, but because he wanted something that reminded him of home.
He then drew his spear next to the house, and gave England a look that said "please?" He didn't want to use it on England or his warriors again, but he felt kind of naked without it.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 1:33:55 GMT -5
England watched as Aotearoa drew the image of a house on the ground. He’s showing me where my sword is, he realized, watching closely. So it’s at his house, he thought, watching as the other pointed from himself to the image on the ground. “Right…” he mused, forgetting that the other man couldn’t speak English.
He realized that the other nation had drawn another image, a spear this time, and was looking at him in a pleading manner. He was tempted to say no, fearful that it would be used to stab someone. That wouldn’t be good, considering what I did to avoid that very thing. Although he had blood on his hands from the past… present… well, he didn’t want anymore, thank you very much. Biting his bottom lip he pondered on this slight dilemma for a moment before nodding his assent. England decided that he was outnumbered and his weaponry near useless compared to their own. Though he knew from history that that did not necessarily indicate the outcome.
He stood waiting for the other nation to lead the way to his house, having no idea of the geography. He pointed to the image then shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘I don’t know where that house is’. He wasn’t sure if that was clear for Aotearoa, but hoped it was. The crew seemed to want to leave soon, fearful that the Maori would start an uprising, not knowing that Aotearoa hadn’t really been taken by force.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 1:58:41 GMT -5
He was going to let him have his spear? Relief flooded through him at that. He was going peacefully so he wouldn't be using it, but he was glad that he would be allowed it all the same. He looked around and saw the track leading to the village, and pointed in that direction.
He figured England would let him walk there, so he started to move in that direction and hoped the other men would follow him. As long as they didn't use the noisy sticks on his people everything should be all right. This was a peaceful surrender on his part, and the Chief was letting him go in exchange for his village's safety so everything was fine.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 2:54:02 GMT -5
England looked in the direction Aotearoa was pointing, and began to follow him as he began to walk. He looked around the village curiously, the crew following close behind him. They were given the strict order not to harm any of the Maori people, which, England saw with relief, they followed obediently. Well, although they may be bloodthirsty, land seeking, greedy blockheads, they had the ability to follow commands thoroughly. If they hadn’t, he would have more than happily had them all keelhauled. Well, not all. Just the some, as an example. Dear God, I am thinking like my old self, he realized, shaking his head. I’m getting way to into this time period. What I need to do is keep my goal clear. And that is to… Umm… Get everyone back to the 21st Century. He nodded. I need to not forget that, he thought. I can’t lose sight. And Aotearoa is one of them… New Zealand. If all the colonies are were they should be, we should be able to get back to the future right?
He glanced around, waiting for Aotearoa to point at his house. Their houses are so… primitive compared to the houses in London, he realized. He hadn’t paid much attention to their culture, he realized, the first time he was here. In fact, he had left the exploring to the crew and simply claimed the boy, Aotearoa, for the British Empire. He wanted to ask questions about their culture. What did they eat? Did they have social classes like in Europe? He also wanted to understand his language, and, hopefully, teach the nation some of his own.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 3:31:30 GMT -5
Aotearoa walked into the village with England and his warriors following. He hoped his people wouldn't try to attack and claim him back while they were here to get England's sword and his spear, that the Chief had told them that he would be leaving with these warriors from another place.
He made his way to his house, and went inside. He assumed England was following him as he went. The food from earlier was still there, and he grabbed a sweet potato as he went past it to first grab his spear, and then get England's pointy thing from its hiding place. He was glad that he'd forgotten it when he went after England earlier as he wouldn't have been able to get his spear back. He'd made the spear himself so it had some sentimental value to him.
He gave the sword back to England, and then left the house holding his spear. He waited until England and his warriors were ready to go, and saw that his own people had made no attempt to attack them. Good.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 21:45:51 GMT -5
The crew stopped just outside the house, prepared to defend anyone that decided to attack England. Thankfully, it seemed it was unnecessary, but they remained unmoving. Who knew if the situation would change?
England followed Aotearoa into his house and looked around, waiting for the other to get both his sword and his own spear. Balancing the sword in his hands, he nodded at Aotearoa in a sort of thanks, and then returned the sword to its sheath. He indicated to where they had entered, as if telling the other they should leave. He didn’t particularly want them all barging in here. He walked outside first, showing the crew that he was okay. Not a scratch or cut… or a spear protruding from his back.
He was happy to see the crew had not harmed anyone, and that everything seemed to be relatively peaceful, even though their nation had just been so easily handed to the British Empire.
As a group they headed back down to the beach. They surrounded Aotearoa in case anyone went to try and take him back, but considering they hadn’t so far, when they’d had so many opportunities, England felt it a safe bet that they wouldn’t now.
He reached out as if to comfort the other nation but stopped. That probably wasn’t a welcome contact, he decided, pulling his hand away slowly. He didn’t wanted to push anything, he didn’t want to make it so he was quickly distrusted. Instead, he clamped his hands firmly by his sides.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 4, 2011 22:40:17 GMT -5
Aotearoa exited the house with his spear, and was immediately surrounded by England's warriors. The group soon left the village behind, and went back to the beach where they had left their waka. He walked peacefully with the group, offering no resistance whatsoever. This was the decision his boss had made for him, and even though every inch of him wanted to use his spear to bash these guys and run for safety, he couldn't. His people were relying on him to make sure England and his warriors left even if they were taking him with them.
Eventually they reached the waka, and Aotearoa took one last look at his home. He knew he was leaving it behind, but he didn't know where he would be going, or how long he'd stay there. He gripped the spear in his hands a little more tightly knowing it would soon be his only connection to his home and his people. He then drew his attention back to getting into the boat and didn't look at the trees or the cliffs again.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jan 5, 2011 1:56:54 GMT -5
England got into the small boat and continued to sit, looking at Aotearoa, as they went back out to the ship. They had tried to take the others spear away from him, but England had told them to leave him be. So, the crew began talking their usual garbage, about how they couldn’t wait to get back to London. Same here, was his thought. He couldn’t wait to get back home. Well, kind of. He didn’t look forward to seeing his brothers again. Especially Scotland, the insufferable buffoon. Although England controlled his land, he found that unlike his other underlings, Scotland had not adapted to change as well.
He looked down at his hands, unsure of what to do now. The journey back seemed slightly faster than the one towards the land. The boat came to a stop next to the ship, and he began to climb up the rope ladder. England turned to the other nation and indicated that he should do the same. At the top of the ladder, he calmly climbed so he was on the ship deck, and turned to look down the ladder at Aotearoa.
He moved out of the way of the other nation, looking over at the island. I can’t wait to go home, was oddly his only thought. He felt bad for taking Aotearoa from his home, but it was necessary.
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Post by William Kirkland on Jan 5, 2011 2:35:47 GMT -5
Aotearoa was quite worried when the crew tried to take his spear from him until England said something that made them stop. He'd made no attempt to harm anyone with it so he didn't see why it needed to be taken away. He spent the rest of the trip to the bigger waka listening to the men around him, but the words were strange and unintelligible to him.
Finally, they arrived at the bigger waka, and England gestured at him to use the strange rope thing he'd used to climb up onto the ship. Carefully holding his spear (he did not want anyone stealing it from him), he copied England's movements and climbed up onto the bigger waka. When he was up there, he stared. It was huge, and where did you sit to paddle it? He was sure it'd take all these warriors on board to make this huge waka move through the water.
He heard one of England's warriors say something, and soon the waka was turning and moving away from his lands. This time he decided to look back. So he watched as his lands grew smaller and smaller on the horizon until they eventually disappeared.
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