#tecumsah

[twofoursixohjuan]

more herons d&d au, you say?

Tecumsah lives overseas and often can't make the session, but plays a halfling wild-mage sorcerer over videolink when she can

[brotherbandchronicles]

Fast-forward to the Ghostfaces - Stig tells Hal he wants to stay with Tecumsah and Hal just doesn't understand what he's saying for a sec because there is no way

I just love how, one day, Stig decides I am going to follow this kid to the end of the world and doesn't regret it once.

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

It's 2071. Jet Star has lived through generations of Killjoys, helped take down Better Living Industries for good, and gotten to see The Girl grow up into a force of nature. But old heartaches are always waiting to catch you unawares. In 2017, Jet and The Girl fled the Zones, hoping to stay one step ahead of BLind. To regain strength before coming back stronger than ever. In 2019, there was a ship. The Tecumsah was Jet's prison, bringing him and The Girl back to the Zones under the watch of BLind agents. Until it wasn't, and Jet found a way to get everyone he loved home safely. Until it was a grave, and certain things died with the ship. Jet has never spoken about his time outside the Zones, but now he's got to tell the story of how he got home again, and everything he lost and gained along the way.

------

I'm at the Titanic AU. I'm at the Danger Days AU. I'm at the combination Titanic/Danger Days AU.

Have I been chipping away at this for a year? YES. Please bear witness to my insanity.

Special thanks to @tiger-in-the-box

[ask-de-writer]

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SUBMARINE! 1812 an Alternate History

Chapter 6 : KRAKEN

(Part 4 of 5)

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5462 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

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Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

A hand bearing a glass of whisky emerged from the crowd. Only as he was taking it did Sir Lional notice that he was facing the sparkling eyes of Jean, Count du Coucy, Ambassador of France. It was a battle, but he kept his composure.

“Did you know of this?” he inquired, gesturing at the name-board.

“No,” said Jean. “I knew that the missiles were to be shown tonight and came for that. I also came to see my old school chum, Lt. Tecumsah. He should be ranked higher, you know.”

“Actually, I do know. I have followed his career with interest, because of his relationship to the President. He refuses to use that relationship for advancement, which is truly admirable, if somewhat foolish.”

“He said that you had been getting reports of Continental rocket experiments for nearly ten years. Do you already know what we are going to see tonight?”

“I confess to mystification. My agents have reported no missiles that could do what I know is being done. I nearly let my feelings sway me from my duty. That, I have never done before. Did you hear him threaten Great Britain itself? ”

“The Natives call him the Eagle and say that he does not lie. I would fear invasion, if I were in your place.”

They were interrupted by a liveried servant who announced loudly, “Gentlemen and Ladies, a demonstration has been set up in Freedom Square for your information and entertainment. Please come out to the square and observe it.”

People flocked out into the darkness of the square and found that a section had been roped off and lit with torches. The flames cast flickering light and shadows off four rockets of different sizes standing upright on launcher rails with guide tubes reaching above them. A Green Jacket Marine stood by them with a lit slow match.

Someone at the forefront of the crowd called out, “What are those things?”

Some other of the jostling mass piped up, “If they had guide sticks, I’d say that they were rockets! But you can’t make rockets as big as that ten foot monster! Congreve’s biggest ones are only five or six feet long. I’ve seen ‘em and I know how big they are.”

A hush fell over the crowd as President Arnold limped with his cane to the center of the roped area. It was obvious to all that his old leg wound from the second battle of Ontario was giving him pain again. He brought himself erect by sheer will power and addressed the crowd.

“You have all heard of our great success against the British Navy. Some of you have heard rumors that we had a secret weapon that we used to our great advantage. Some of those rumors had a grain of truth. As you all know, the British have been using the Congreve rocket to devastating effect. We have developed a few missiles of our own.” He gestured behind him at the rockets, the torch flames lending an almost diabolical look to his features.

“These have been fitted with pyrotechnic warheads for this demonstration. The smallest one here, is the Shrike. Its combat range is about nine hundred yards, and fifteen of them with their launcher can be carried by two men to any battlefield point of advantage.

“The next one, here, is the Hawk. Its range is about 2,500 yards and five of them and their launcher can be carried by two men, anyplace that two men can go on foot. They have interchangeable warheads. Concussion, incendiary, and shrapnel warheads can be delivered to any point in their range.

“This seven foot missile is the Eagle. One horse can carry six Eagles and their launcher to any place that you can get a horse. Their interchangeable warheads can be delivered up to seven miles.

“The Albatross is intended to lay siege to cities. Its warheads can be sent as far as fifteen miles. They need to be carried by wagon.

“You have now heard enough. See for yourselves what we have wrought. Sargent, send them up!”

The smoldering rope of the slow match was applied to the fuse of the Shrike and the Sargent disappeared in a cloud of smoke, lit briefly from within by the flame of the rocket’s exhaust. Suddenly, the rocket was a streak of fire headed for the zenith, trailing smoke. The flame went out and nothing more was seen for long seconds. A brilliant starburst of green filled the sky, followed shortly by the concussion of its detonation.

With innate showmanship, the Sargent launched the Hawk just as the Shrike’s burst filled the night sky. Its trail of flame and smoke rose up through the center of the green flower of sparks. It went out farther up than the Shrike had managed to get. Again, there was a pause of long seconds. Its red flare framed the Shrike’s green one. As the audience was going, “Ahhh!” the sound of the blast smote down, drowning everything.

The Eagle’s launch made a definite hissing roar as it streaked up, up, through both previous pyrotechnic stars. It seemed to dwindle against the heavens, finally winking out. Once again came the pause, longer this time. People were beginning to question whether it might be a dud, when it blasted a ring of blue into the night sky. It was ten long seconds before the sound reached the ground.

The Albatross launched with a bang, followed by a hissing scream that diminished as the missile climbed into the heavens. It left a choking cloud of sulfurous smoke behind. We did not actually see it burn out. It was out of sight by then. Over forty five seconds later its end was announced by a brilliant white flare. It was another forty seconds before the distant roar of its detonation came to us, not once, but many times, echoed off the hills around the town.

I had made it my business to be standing where I could observe Sir Lional. The faces of the crowd were filled with wonder and delight, some were thoughtful as they realized what they were seeing. Sir Lional understood perfectly what he had just seen and his face, unguarded for the moment, registered both shock and horror. It was a struggle for him to get his features under control. He turned to me.

“So, this is the truth of Cuttlefish? Lt. Tecumsah, I have rarely been duped before.” He actually held out his hand, which I shook. “I acknowledge a master.”

To be continued

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[apenitentialprayer]

In the spring of 1878, General William T. Sherman opened a letter from his oldest son Thomas, a young man for whom he held great hopes. At 22, Tom had studied at Georgetown and Yale, and had graduated from law school. Sherman envisioned a bright future for Tom, one which would ensure the family’s security. The letter, however, left him shocked, distressed, even furious. Tom wrote that he wasn’t going to continue as a lawyer, but was joining the Jesuits that summer. The General told Tom in no uncertain terms that he had betrayed him, his sisters and mother, who looked to him for support in their old age. (He always felt his army salary didn’t go far enough.) It’s not clear that Sherman ever fully forgave his son. While Mrs. Sherman, a devout Catholic, was overjoyed, her husband held a lifelong skepticism toward religion in general and Catholicism in particular. Born Tecumseh Sherman to Protestant parents, he was orphaned early and raised by Catholic neighbors who insisted on his being re-baptized. His baptism occurred on June 28, 1829, the feast of St. William, and he was renamed William Tecumseh. But as his biographer John Marszalek notes, Sherman “refused to call himself a Catholic or practice that creed.” Yet his children were all raised Catholic. Ellen Sherman actively supported Catholic causes, numbering many priests, bishops and even cardinals among her close acquaintances. The General, however, frequently berated what he called her “unnatural fascination for the Church.” Born on October 12, 1856, Thomas Ewing Sherman was the grandson of one United States Senator and the nephew of another. His father, a central figure in the American Civil War, served for two decades as commanding general of the U.S. Army. Raised in Washington, D.C., among the nation’s political elite, through his mother Tom was on intimate terms with the country’s leading Catholics. Priests and bishops were frequent guests at the Sherman home. One family friend who made a strong impression on him was Father Peter DeSmet, a Belgian Jesuit who worked extensively with Native Americans. The General complained that Ellen “thinks religion is so important that everything else must give way to it.” He told young Tom: “I don’t want you to be a soldier or a priest but a good useful man.” Nonetheless, it was while at Georgetown that Tom became seriously interested in the Jesuits, who ran the university. But he went on to study law at Yale. After graduation, he practiced law for two years in St. Louis. By 1878, he had made his decision to join the Jesuits. Although his father felt he was shirking his family duties, Tom wrote his sister Minnie:

"People in love do strange things … Having a vocation is like being in love, only more so, as there is no love more absorbing, so deep and so lasting as that of the creature for the Creator. What a grand thing it is to be, as it were, shooting straight at one’s mark, living every hour, performing every action in preparation for the great hereafter."

The preparation program for the Jesuits can last up to a dozen years, and Tom started his novitiate, where he said his position “quite corresponds to that of a cadet in the army,” in England. Back in America, he studied philosophy and taught at St. Louis University, a Jesuit school founded in 1818. There he preferred public speaking to teaching, but he made a strong impression on his students, several of whom followed him into the Jesuits. As the son of a leading national hero, Tom Sherman was something of a celebrity, a man set apart. In 1889, he was ordained to the priesthood, but in a separate ceremony from the rest of his class. His mother’s close friend, Archbishop Patrick Ryan of Philadephia, performed the ordination. The event was national news, and Father Sherman looked forward to a promising career. While most Jesuits take up teaching or parish work after ordination, Sherman seems to have written his own ticket as a popular lecturer. His biographer Joseph Durkin writes that he “had a flair for the dramatic and an acute sense of the theatre.” One peer described him as “always hungry” for a podium. No doubt his name and background helped draw crowds. And draw crowds he did. In time, however, he butted heads with his superiors, who felt that fame might be going to his head. Durkin describes him as “a high-strung individualist of an extreme refinement of nature and a disposition unusually sensitive.” Ordered to take a break from the lecture circuit, he went over his superiors’ heads to Rome, and got a leave of absence from the Jesuit order. During the Spanish-American War, he obtained a chaplain’s commission without consulting the Jesuits. For several years, Sherman drifted from one Jesuit assignment to another until he suffered a nervous breakdown in his early 50s. Institutionalized for several years, he traveled around the country from one Jesuit community to another. “Having served in six provinces,” he wrote a friend, “I am attached to none.” In a fit of despair he wrote, “I am utterly at a loss what to do … no peace is possible for me.” In the fall of 1914, Sherman formally withdrew from the Jesuits. For several years, unattached to any diocese or religious order, he wandered around the country before settling down in Santa Barbara, California, where family members looked after him. For much of this time, Durkin writes, he was “allergic to the mention of the word ‘Jesuit.'” Just before his death at age 77, however, Father Thomas Ewing Sherman reconciled with the Jesuits and renewed his vows. After many years of unrest, General Sherman’s son died a Jesuit. He was buried in their cemetery at Grand Couteau, Louisiana. Interred next to him is Father John Salter, a nephew of Alexander Stephens, Vice President of the Confederate States of America.

[thislittlekumquat]

Honestly I feel like the reason so many marginalized groups are still rightfully frustrated with "progress" in social justice is because we're still framing the worthiness of minorities in terms that the majority find valuable. I just saw a thing like "Tecumsah was a warrior, orator, and statesman! Woo! Go him!" Okay but would he and his people have viewed those things as important, or are we projecting white european values onto him to prove to ourselves he was a human too?

[wherewhereare]

A recent addon to an app I use, shows that the heli flew up to Tecumsah, which is just south of Shawnee, and then back. It disappeared off of the radar before it got to Sherman. I see no follow-on to FTW so I am assuming it is still at Sherman.

I may be way off but isn't the place the heli went yesterday it goes there for maintenance? It's hard to tell with the tracker because sometimes it flies low but I think it's currently at Sherman?

.

[doctorstarlock]

US Lt General Ulysses S. Grant’s strategy to defeat Gen. Lee’s Confederate army during the Wilderness Campaign of 1864:

[john111world]

Geeni camera app for Windows PC

Geeni's application empowers you to Handle every one of your Geeni home contraptions from a solitary put, even distantly. Each Geeni framework is connected to your Wi-Fi association at your home and you can undoubtedly work them with the cell phone application.

See More Details: http://geeniappforpc.com/

Phone Number: 318-964-0698

Address with Zip code: Street: 4708  Tecumsah Lane, City: Mansura, State: LA, Zip Code: 71350

Business Email: contact@geeniappforpc.com

Country Name: United States

[gotravelbroad]

"GRIMALDI AFRICANUS" cont. ----- "Brothers—My people wish for peace; the red men all wish for peace, but where the white people are, there is no peace for them, except it be on the bosom of our mother. Brothers—The Great Spirit is angry with our enemies; he speaks in thunder, and the earth swallows up villages, and drinks up the Mississippi. The great waters will cover their lowlands; their corn cannot grow; and the Great Spirit will sweep those who escape to the hills from the earth with his terrible breath. Brothers—We must be united; we must smoke the same pipe; we must fight each other’s battles; and more than all, we must love the Great Spirit: he is for us; he will destroy our enemies, and make all his red children happy. -Chief Tecumsah ------ "Eventually there will be only one people on the planet...We will talk about them, like the dinosaurs, you'll have to go to a museum to see a Eurasian...what their doing at the border is COLD. it's ICE.-K. Kamene ------- Praise of the Leopard (Yoruba) Gentle hunter his tail plays on the ground while he crushes the skull. Beautiful death who puts on a spotted robe when he goes to his victim. playful killer whose loving embrace splits the antelope’s heart. -------- Your history is an assasin, lurking in the bushes waiting for an opportunity to take our collective future.-gtb ------- How was it? Yeah, blinding mate, like martin luther king, yeah, but white... And more violent. -"Us and Them", Joe Martin https://ift.tt/3007Pxt

[reine-du-sourire]

O-o-oh boy. We're actually doing this?

Word of warning, Stef might sound a trifle feminine

And I'd love to take Zavac! Not at all because I have big plans to make his voice a combo of Scar from The Lion King and Cedric from Sofia the First

And maybe Tecumsah would be fun, too.

they should let me do the audiobooks for Brotherband instead of that guy

[twofoursixohjuan]

Brotherband Championship Round 2 Match II

Tecumsah: the woman Stig falls in love with in The Ghostfaces

[brotherbandchronicles]

Somewhere, in a parallel universe, there's Mikkel helping a group of young outcasts find their place in the world because some of them are children of his dead crewmates and he feels obligated to do everything in his power to do so.

A few streets away, helping a group of young shieldmaidens, there is a younger woman who can move silent as a shadow, has a tongue sharper than her knives, and wants to make a world a better place because no-one deserves to go through what she did.

On the other side of the ocean, there is Tecumsah with her eyes firmly set on the horizon, determined to find out what's behind it.

And maybe, in this world, the Sharks never board a ship with dark sails.

[the-witty-pen-name]

omg western sheriff and saloon girl?? Ahhh I love that. She could be like one of the tecumsah girls he secretly has been obsessed with for forever 🥺 he’s always in the bar laaate into the night but she’s so sweet and kind to him and he makes sure no one messes with her on her shifts and they’re all just heart eyes fro each other

YES YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES

[ask-de-writer]

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SUBMARINE! 1812 an Alternate History

Chapter 6 : KRAKEN

(Part 3 of 5)

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5462 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

“I am attempting to deliver a formal protest, to the President, about the conduct of the war. He has been refusing to see me.”

“Would you like to meet him, then? Nothing easier.”

“This seems fun,” muttered Jean in my ear. “May I follow along?”

“Please do. Come on then, both of you.” Trailing ambassadors in my wake, I made for Benedict Arnold, across the room.

“Uncle Benny,” I began, an innocent smile on my face, “I was working over the buffet when I happened on to the stuffed crow. I would like you to meet Sir Lional. You know, the ambassador from the Court of St. James?”

For a moment it appeared that I might be in danger of having my bottom paddled, as the President had done so many times in my youth ... Then he grinned.

“If ‘Cumsie’ here vouches for you, that is good enough for me.” I winced. I had not heard that nickname since I was ten.

The President held out his hand. Sir Lional took it and bowed stiffly. “May we speak privately, Sir? It is a matter of some delicacy.”

“I am here to meet with these folks, all invited. Speak openly or not at all.”

“Very well, Sir, if I must. This is a note from the First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Robert Hood, himself, and signed by King George III as well. In it is a protest of the vile, stealthy means that your navy is using to destroy ships of the British Empire.”

“Is that all?”

“Basically, we are asking you to refrain from your ungentlemanly tactics.”

“I see. There is a reply. Tecumsah, may I use your back as a writing desk?”

“Yes, Uncle. Jean, you always carried a small writing case at the Academy. Is it still with you?”

“Indeed it is,” he answered with a mocking smile, “would you like to borrow it?”

“Yes, please. Uncle Benny needs it.”

Jean reached into his waist-coat pocket and produced a small writing case with a carefully trimmed quill, ink in a cut glass well, and a blotter.

“Thank you, sir,” said the President, opening out the note upon my back and scribbling briefly. He blotted the writing dry and handed the note back. Sir Lional read it, eyebrows raised in surprise and puzzlement.

“‘Tell it to Copenhagen?’ What do you mean, sir?”

“Your navy and army have never considered a more powerful weapon ‘ungentlemanly’ unless you were the ones on the receiving end. You used Congreve rockets to burn Copenhagen while staying out of range of their guns. Lt. Tecumsah, here, came to me years ago with the notion that Congreves could be made better. A whole lot better. He was right.

“We made some ships of the line armed with them. Two frigates and a Capital ship, the Maryland. You ran into them and you lost. We are now making even more and when you run into those you will lose again.

“I will entertain surrender terms.” President Arnold smiled slightly as he took a firm stance, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a gross insult!” huffed Sir Lional, in a rage.

“Is it? I thought it plain fact.” Turning to me, he said, “Tecumsah, would you be so good as to get me Commodore Marks?”

I found the Commodore deep in converse with a lady that I knew to be the daughter of Delaware’s Representative of the Morning Council, intelligent, witty and politically savvy.

“Melinda, I beg your pardon, but the Commodore is needed by Uncle Arnold. It is sure to be interesting. Why don’t you come and watch?” I invited.

“Even more interesting than what you people are going to show later tonight?” she asked, head tilted in interest.

“Very much so.” I responded, offering my arm. She took it, and we went back to where Benedict Arnold was facing Sir Lional.

“Commodore Marks, I have heard that you have a present for me,” stated the President.

“I do, but I am not sure if this would be a good time,” began the Commodore, eyeing the furious Sir Lional.

“Please.” It was clearly an order.

“Very good, sir.” He raised his hand in signal to a pair of midshipmen who brought a long, large package into the hall and held it for President Arnold, who cheerfully pulled the wrappings loose. Sir Lional’s face went white as he watched the ornately carved board, painted gay blue and white emerge from the coverings. Gilt letters spelled out Admiral Hood.

“What is this?” he gasped.

“I have been lead to believe that it is the name-board of the late flagship of your Home Fleet,” said Arnold with a smile. “She had two hundred guns but never fired a shot at the ship who sank her. Lt. Tecumsah, I believe that you were responsible for this victory, our first of the war. How many weapons did you discharge to get this for me?”

“One,” I replied, thankful that the phrasing of the question allowed me to answer without a lie.

“Many witnesses say that the Hood was holed below the waterline, some submarine device,” hissed Sir Lional, trying to make me a liar.

“Under the circumstances, I was lucky to hit near enough for the charge to hurt her at all,” I replied levelly. True again, but misleading. We were the center of all eyes.

“I will not stay to be so affronted, both personally and as the representative of the King,” said Sir Lional in high dudgeon.

“Sir Lional,” commanded Arnold, “stay a while yet, or you will do your King a grave disservice. We are tonight, putting on display and making public our rocket missiles. If you fail to see with your own eyes what is laying your fleet low, and will soon be striking your home island, you will be remiss in your duty.

“Someone get the Ambassador a drink, I think that he needs it.”

To be continued

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[casuallyceltic]

Today is Wednesday, February 14th, 2018

The holidays for the day are International Book Giving Day, Pet Theft Awareness Day, and National Have A Heart Day

Born on this day:

George Washington Gale Ferris Jr. (Engineer, mostly known for creating the original Ferris Wheel for the 1893 Chicago World's Columbian Exposition) in 1859

Teller (Icon, magician, illusionist, writer, actor, painter, and film director. He is best known as half of the comedy magic duo Penn & Teller, along with Penn Jillette) in 1948

Freddie Highmore (Actor, known mostly from his portrayal of a young Norman Bates on Bates Motel) in 1992

Died on this day:

Vicente Guerrero (Historical figure, revolutionary, hero, general and 2nd President of Mexico) in 1831 at age 48

William Tecumsah Sherman (Historical figure, served as a general in the Union Army during the American Civil War, for which he received recognition for his outstanding command of military strategy as well as criticism for the harshness of the "scorched earth" policies he implemented in conducting total war against the Confederate States) in 1891 at age 71

Dolly the Sheep (Icon, the first mammal to be cloned from an adult cell) in 2006 at age 6

Please, remember to be kind to animals & check my Cat Adoption tag, reblog some kitties and help them find a home!

Have a person you want included at a future date? Send me an ask/ message, give me the info and I’ll consider it!