Jamestown

4,140 years since initial death
﹝━━━━━━━━━━ ⍋ ━━━━━━━━━━﹞

Within a matter of seconds, over a hundred men, women and children were immediately silenced.

Michael was one of them.

Three bullet wounds. Two of them struck his chest, the other one was directly targeted between his eyes.

Already, the settlers were dropping like flies. Throughout the slaughter, a thunderous noise was heard coming from the forests ahead. It was the rest of the Powhatan tribe. Dozens of them, running from the shadows to join the others. But they didn't come from one spot only. They charged from every single direction, completely surrounding the entire settlement in a matter of seconds. It was a fully planned and orchestrated attack. They knew exactly what they were doing.

Violence was the only language they were willing to speak now. Their war cries echoed throughout the fort, striking fear into the hearts of every single settler, whether they be man, woman or child.

Nobody could defend themselves because nobody was given a chance to. The number of English deaths steadily rose. This was unacceptable.

Wake up Michael.

The carnage surrounded him. He was still dead on the ground, laying directly over his back. Not a single part of his body ever moved. He was still awaiting his regeneration. But one creature stepped forward, placing a claw over his forehead.

Jamestown will fall without you. Stand up.

Michael didn't want to regenerate. Not now. Perhaps after the massacre, but just not now. Waking up now means facing the opposing tribe. That can only result in more deaths. The lion standing over him seemed to disagree.

Become the hero you've always wanted to be. Make your final stand here. Use your wrath and take back your home.

His body started to produce a faint scarlet aura once more. The regeneration process had begun. But Michael was resisting it. Even before regeneration had finished, his consciousness returned. Through death, his lips moved just to mutter one single word. "No."

This is the fight of your life Michael. There is no backing your way out of this. Now stand up and fight!

His body was no longer lying on the ground. Rather he had started to slowly rise in the air. His body tilted forward, forcing his feet to face the ground. He was only levitating a few feet above the ground. The bullet wounds he suffered from had already vanished. His strength, stamina and endurance returned to their maximum potential.

When his eyes opened, he found himself staring back at a Powhatan that had witnessed his resurrection. He was frightened beyond relief as Michael ignored the very laws of gravity. When his flight ended, he landed back down to the ground. His feet making impact with the earth caused it to crack. Even the Indian was shaken back by this inhuman force.

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Nobody dared to make a move. Even the lion had disappeared. But when more natives arrived to the scene, they gained the advantage. Michael was becoming surrounded by the full force of the Powhatan tribe. They were ready to kill him and rip him apart.

However, Michael had a different idea. He was in complete control of himself. He was finally ready to fight back, but not with his wrath. The lion's disappearance meant only one thing.

An example needed to be set. Bloodshed is not the right path forward. No one will die by his hands today, he will make sure of it.

Michael was ready for their attack as the natives charged forward. One Indian already aimed a musket towards him and opened fire, only for Michael to roll over the ground and dodge it. Every man that approached him was fought back with his fists.

They had the upper hand with their superior numbers, but none of it mattered. Every second, one body fell to the ground. Each one still breathing, no one was killed by Michael's aggressive beatings. Slowly but steady, he had advanced towards the one armed native with the musket. It's a good thing they didn't know how to reload.

Disarming him was simple, following it with a kick to another native's stomach and an uppercut to the jaw with his musket. So far, he hasn't been hit once. He still was in his prime, perfect condition.

One Powhatan quickly appeared and swung his axe forward, only for Michael to hold his musket sideways and block it. A violent swing to the Indian's head knocked him unconscious.

"Come one, come all!" Michael yelled, hoping they could understand him. "Is this how we negotiate? Over a decade of war and yet we must continue? Well come on! Kill me if you can!"

The time for reasoning is over. More Powhatans were arriving at the scene. His musket was on the verge of breaking apart after sustaining so many blunt hits. But he couldn't give up now, he refused to die here again.

He dropped his musket to the ground to prove his commitment. But it wasn't going to accomplish anything. As he watched ahead, he noticed one of the Indians in the distance pulling back the string of a bow. Rather than attempting to dodge it, he felt it was right to stand still.

Suddenly, the Indian released the arrow within. The arrow flew hastily towards Michael. Every other native had watched the arrow in anticipation for a quick kill.

The arrow didn't miss. It was directly on target with Michael's head.

But they were met with a shock of their own. Michael wasn't dead, nor was he even struck at all. Instead, he stood tall and proud, remaining entirely uninjured.

His right hand was extended forward, clenching the very arrow that was out to kill him. Its tip was merely inches away from his eye. He took several deep breaths, staring at the arrow he had miraculously caught in midair. Even he couldn't believe what he had accomplished.

The closest Powhatan ran towards him, eager to kill him while he was still stunned himself. But Michael was quick to notice him, taking on a defensive stance. Once the native swung his arms to attack, he was met with an unbearable pain in his armpit as the settler jabbed the arrow into him and pulled it back out.

This caused the native to drop his axe, only for Michael to catch it with his other hand before it reached the ground. With a quick whack to the head with the blunt end of the axe's handle, the Indian was left incapacitated. At that moment, he proved just how powerful he truly was, rightfully striking fear into the hearts of the many natives surrounding him.

Still holding the arrow in his hands, he didn't hesitate to snap it in half and discard its remains.

"I am not afraid of death." He said loud enough for them to hear him. This was his final stand, and it seemed the Powhatans were still determined to stop him.

"But I am afraid of giving up."

His instincts were forced to kick in again as every Indian around him decided to run at him all at once with their weapons drawn.

His wrath was right. This was in fact the fight of his life.

Every man that came in contact with him was met with a strike from the blunt end of the axe. Some were toppled over with his feet and others were punched with his other free hand.

The fire around them continued to spread rapidly. By now, the sun had finally risen and it shone the corpses that laid across the entire settlement. Countless Powhatans continued the assault and Michael couldn't even spot a single colonist around him that could lend some aid. He was alone in this fight.

There were far too many of them to face down. They gave him no chance to breath or relax, raining down hell over him and striking whenever it was possible. Michael had already dropped his axe, he was left unarmed. It still didn't deter him from his mission, he was destined to survive.

He considered running away, but there was nowhere to go. Every part of the fort was under heavy fire. He had to stand his ground here until the end.

For what felt like an hour, he continued to stand. His stamina never dropped, referring to Arthur and Joan's similar combat stances to aid him in the fight. Every now and then, he got his hands on a weapon he could use the blunt side of. Although he made several of the natives bleed, none perished by his hands.

One by one, they fell before him. It was the hardest he had ever fought before in his life, to face such an onslaught completely alone without relying on a blade to kill. He lost count of how many men he fought, it could have actually been a hundred considering how many lay injured beside him.

The most fascinating part of it all was the fact he was never struck once himself. Not a single hit ever landed on him throughout the conflict. Many would deem it impossible, but Michael had singlehandedly fought off an army without suffering a single blow.

When the final native was beaten down, Michael was given the opportunity to breathe properly. He had done it.

A deep breath was his reward, granting him the break he deserved. He looked around him slowly, watching the countless men below him squirm and attempt to stand.

"Sorry." It was the only word he felt he could say.

He walked off leisurely, leaving the battleground that saw so much physical abuse. Even if no lives were lost during his fight, it was no less brutal than any other war.

He fought as well as he possibly could and it paid off, but his quick celebration was immediately cut short. While he had gained a small victory for himself, the rest of the settlement had suffered a massive loss. Jamestown was destroyed and corpses filled every corner of the settlement.

The battle was already over, and the Powhatan's had won. Almost half of the settlers were slaughtered, while the Indians suffered very low casualties. The only reason the rest of the settlers were left alive was just so they could take this slaughter as a lesson. To pack their belongings and leave the land they had taken from the native tribes in the first place.

Michael stood in the center of it all, watching as the fires raged nearby and the wounded were being carried away. Every thought rushed through his mind, feelings of anger and sadness, and wondering why everything must ultimately end in bloodshed. He started to walk down the path, looking at all the buildings and homes they had all built.

While they remained standing, they were terribly damaged. It looked nothing like the way he had imagined it would look after all this time. Instead of striving, they had only suffered through a war they had started on their own.

He wanted to leave again, but he also couldn't leave the settlers in despair. They were at fault for all the carnage, but they still remained as friends and allies in his heart. However, he still pondered the question of what they would do afterwards, and despite wanting to take the Powhatan's message and leave, he knew the settlers wouldn't quit this easily.

Each injured man was taken to a medical station, while the corpses were taken and buried outside in a mass grave. The council situated in Jamestown came together while the fort was recovering. It was time for a plan of action.

"We must leave this land, for it was never ours to begin with!" Michael made his case to the other members, most of whom disapproved of his comments. "Thus I believe this settlement has failed its duty, as we have only known death and suffering rather than rejoicing as proud English pilgrims and settlers. Take the Powhatan's message into consideration, we cannot afford a second massacre."

As he had come to expect, his words swayed no minds. "We who have had possession of no more ground than their waste may now by right of war, and law of nations, invade the country; and those who sought to destroy us." Captain Spencer Tucker stated at the council, he supported the idea of warfare.

"We mustn't stand for a continued war!" Michael stood from his seat, entirely outraged. "How many more lives must be sacrificed before you realize it?"

"Whereby we shall enjoy their cultivated places!" Tucker slammed his hands on the table, interrupting him to finish his statement. His speech was agreed by many of the other colonists. It seemed the whole entirety of Jamestown was eager for revenge, instead of rightfully surrendering and parting ways.

Francis Wyatt, the Governor of the settlement was neutral, but still had to intervene in the debate. "Settle down gentlemen, immature behavior shall not be tolerated in front of the council. A war may suffice and bring along opportunities at expansion and continued growth for our struggling colonies, though our people have suffered the loss of countless individuals."

"Governor, more losses are only imminent if we decline the course of action!" Tucker exclaimed, defending his words.

"Our resources are thinning. Our men are exhausted, unable to stand and fight as our nation is collapsing! We must forfeit before we perish any further." Michael's determination was powerful. Despite his opinion being frowned upon, he continued his persistence until any amount of minds were changed in his favor. However, it was to no avail.

The day only continued with further arguing, until a decision was made. Unsurprisingly, the English have agreed to war. No time was wasted as men were gathered, fully armed with an entire arsenal of weaponry they could gather and prepared to deliver a devastating counterattack upon the Powhatans.

Michael tried staying out of it, but was forced into the battalions as several raiding parties were sent to burn down tribal communities and homes. As expected, nothing but death followed, as these lands quickly turned into battlefields. For a year straight, constant conflicts rampaged across the country, delivering nothing but destruction, fires and deaths.

Some of the women captured during the Jamestown massacre had returned back to the settlers, and negotiations were underway for the release of the rest of them. It was Captain Tucker that held the negotiations and was able to convince the Powhatans to come to a ceasefire. While preparations for a festival were underway, Michael was surprised that such a conflict could be paused for both communities to come together in the moment.

Although something was off, Tucker was not known to be so forgiving. Over two hundred Indians arrived, including Opechancanough, the Powhatan Chief. Food was set over long tables, and everyone was seated to enjoy the festivities. However, once the wine was served, everything took a dark turn.

Instructed by Tucker, Dr. John Potts had poisoned the wine. A toast was announced, and the wine was chugged. All at the same time, two hundred Powhatan natives immediately died on the spot, setting the English up to attack the rest before they could escape. The chief had somehow been able to evade the attack, but not without losing fifty more Indians during the process.

This mass murder was followed by several more raids that burned down the remaining homes of the Powhatans. While most of the women captured had returned, the rest either stayed with the native tribe or had perished. Amongst the casualties was the same woman Michael had met so long ago, Jane Dickenson.

However, Michael's mind was already set. He heard that one of the council members was preparing to depart back to England in the promise of gathering more men and supplies. Michael took this opportunity to make the voyage with him back home to Europe, as he was unable to stay here any longer.

After so many years spent in the New World, returning to England felt like another new start. Once they had docked and made it to London, Michael parted ways and disappeared into the city. He had left for good, and Michael only wondered of the settlement's future.

He soon returned to his old home in Ireland that had certainly aged over the centuries. It was in terrible condition, but he was able to renovate it alone and live in it once more. The feeling of a good night's sleep returned to him as he slept throughout the night without any worries. He didn't know what would happen next in his life, but he knew he was done with the New World.

He was just thankful that his life was back to the way it should be, away from war, and away from devastation. It was his own special Thanksgiving to finally be at peace once more.

But even he was well aware that it cannot last forever.

﹝━━━━━━━━━━ ⍋ ━━━━━━━━━━﹞
Historical Notes:

Over a third of the settlement's total population was killed with a total of 347 English deaths. Other settlements such as Henricus and other colonies in the area also suffered greatly from the attacks.

Of the survivors, two-thirds were women and children. This made it difficult for the colonists to launch a counterattack.

John Smith swore to return and aid the settlers in their goal to completely eradicate all Indian presence from the land. However, he never returned. He lived the rest of his life in England until his death.

﹝━━━━━━━━━━ ⍋ ━━━━━━━━━━﹞