Bonds that Bind: (CVnU Bio for Surkit and Flucks) Part 1


They call our people savages, yet they act as animals.

Before the colonists found our tribe in the caves, only a small few ventured into what they now call the Pinelands of New Jersey. Those who did so were desperate for lumber and bark, in need of food so seriously they would come to hunt in small packs with their thunder sticks, shooting lightning at the wild.Only the most desperate came into this forest of their own volition.

One night there was a Medicine man of the Powhatan, one of many, though a rarity in himself. He was the only known Medicine man that could call on the spirit world in battle, and with a fighting style even more so unique.

A hunter by warrior nature but a gatherer by his Shaman mind. Gathering herbs and berries under a full moon, his father's father wrote on the cave walls that under a high moon you will find the rarest of items ever committed to memory.The medicine man took this information for the first time and ventured out for the herbs that would help summon Okeus, the god of war and wrath. A colonist woman once called the god, The Devil. Traversing the trees under the pale light he finds one by one the last needed pieces of the calling spell.

Down further into the forest for the last item he finds a beaten path, down the path, smoke. Walking further he found a cabin, a young woman inside preparing a fresh caught rabbit. The medicine man knocked on the door. The woman unlike almost any looked out and smiled. The Medicine man lost his focus as she opened the door and let him come inside, They began to communicate through the expressions on their faces and the genuine look in either's eye, words came as a second resort over time.

11 years later

After a few months in the wild, the woman moved to the cavernous tribe. Among the Powhatan the woman named Catherine grew even closer to the young Shaman in more than the physical, which it ironically led to. One story teller once said the two could be heard by the entire tribe, like wild rabbits in the spring, constantly. Two sons were born eleven months later, One named Bishop after Catherine's father, the other William for her brother. Both had been hung in the Roanoke colony for conspiring against the empire, claiming this new land was a place for a new start, for freedom from the crown.

On the same night they'd met, the twelfth months of the twelfth year of their relationship, The Shaman had finally mastered the calling ritual. Digging a small hole at a specific length and width he drops in the ingredients, throwing an oak nut in the hole and reapplying the dirt carefully. Sitting with his legs crossed and fingers on his knees the Shaman began to chant. A bolt of lightning strike the ground where the hole was. The shaman didn't blink, his dark eyes turned white, blinded for life by this dangerous calling. The tree begins to sprout from the ground , growing to seemingly infinite height past the clouds and directly towards the full moon, the btrunk curved unnaturally into a rising spiral with no branches hanging from it's side and no leaves. Like he was possessed the shaman ascended the spiral, his sons below watching as they run through the forest to the open field. "Stay" the father said in an omnipotent tone. The Boys wait. For three days they lived beside the Spiral hunting in the forest while the mother worried at home.

"Father should be back by now" Bishop said pacing the base of the oak. William lay with war paint on his face in the shape of a skull eating an apple, "The old man knows what he's doing. Wait." Bishop sat and out of boredom painted his face black with white eyes mirroring the drawings of an ancient hero on the cave walls long ago. Impatient and nervous for his father Bishop climbed the tree. "Are you coming?" William sighed and climbed the tree.

In the clouds it was so bright they could only make out outlines of bodies. Two. Their father unmistakably, and a smoking black mass with an aura of the most baser instinct of danger in the brothers, the raw sensation of fear infecting them from the outside.

"No...Please they came on their own, they did not understand."

The boys were confused, scared, and feeling sick by the second dropping to their knees, "Your children Shaaaman...?"


" Shaman, I required sacrifices and offerings in my past. Now, is no different" closing his fist the boys suddenly feel paralyzed and constricted. The Father falls on his knees and begs the god for leniance, something that left the brothers internally shocked at the sight. Their father a great warrior, the greatest shaman, of the Powhatan had never even complained, yet here he sobbed on bent knees. Who was this thing that pretended to be a man? "Please, mighty and powerful Okeus, spare them. name another boon and it will be filled instead without hesitation."

The god enjoyed the attention after so long in the darkness "Hnn... Very well. First, ask me the favor which you came to trade your life forrr..."

"...The colonists. They are savage and kill thier own as well as ours. They shoot my people without hesitation as though we are a wild deer. They must be stopped. But my wife does not want me to ask for their deaths. I only ask that my people are given the power to protect themselves and our land."

"...Done. The deal..." Sitting in an ebony thrown lined with gold like rays of sunshine blinding from the corners of the seat,

"Your sonsss, "Holding out long nailed fingers balls of some kind of organic plasma formed in either palm, one red, one dark blue." Together they will combine to become one. My heraldsss, My Thunder and Lightning."

The shaman was desperate, and could not take the previous offer or ask for another, "Agreed..." He hung his head low breaking eye contact, "...And me"

"You will have the greatest honor of alll... You will be my avatar. This will hurt, very much." No one could in the field far below the spiraling oak, find the Family Jones after an entire week. Only the signs of a storm in the distance and flashes of lightning beneath dark clouds, Each crack of lightning seeming to outline an agonized body writhing for a split second each thunder break making the sound of reverberated through the forests, screams of a child that slowly turned to a high pitched cracking laughter.