Modern Name: Rocket Price
Native Name Among the Nisqually Tribe: Aucha (as spelled in the Journal of Occurrences at Fort Nisqually, 1833, by British officials of the Hudson's Bay Company)
Race: Nature Spirit (crow)
Attitude: Fuck you, white people. Give us what we are owed.
Backstory: He had told them. Oh how he had told them, good men, like his spirit brother Leschi, those white people who began showing up in the 1820s, they were fucked. They couldn't be trusted. White people should have just been killed whenever they appeared, and maybe they would have stayed away. But the British ones had brought amazing things like guns, and the few British women were very, very fuckable. Aucha had boned Mrs. Tolmie, wife of Dr. Tolmie, the head factor at Fort Nisqually, so many times that some of his friends said they thought she was turning brown.
So he had let down his guard. The Americans had seemed much more uncouth, and he had thought perhaps they too should have been slaughtered but .. there were too many of them, and it was too late. Leschi was hung for killings he had not committed, killings Aucha had been much more responsible for. This stayed with Aucha, and still does.
And so Aucha had done what he could during tensions between Washington Territory's natives and whites, encouraging peace, slaughtering evil whites when able, and fucking the hell out of white women. Everyone wondered why Catherine Maynard had stayed with the high functioning drunkard, Dr. David Maynard, who had founded Seattle. Her life had been bearable in part because Aucha was banging her until her teeth were loose. He felt a little bad about that because Dr. Maynard had been one of the few whites good to Washington's Native Americans. Oh well. Fuck the whites. In every possible way.
It had been - ah, he had long lost count of the lynchings, it had been the latest time a Native family had been murdered, that Aucha had changed into his crow form, flew off and .. simply kept flying. He had knocked around many many places after 1901, largely California and Mexico. It was during the Native American Civil Rights movement he'd found his meaning again, and he had happily been involved in such protests as the reclaiming of Alcatraz.
Along the way, the man who now called himself Rocket cleaned himself up, and began to testify before the news media, and then in the legislatures, and then in the courts, about the importance of Native heritage, and honoring the few decent aspects of the treaties that lying bastards like Isaac Stevens had imposed on the natives. Rocket had returned to Washington to help with the movement to restore salmon habitat. He had been one of many who had lobbied for the restoration of the Elwha River, and the glorious destruction of that goddam Elwha Dam. The river flowed free. So did the Native spirit. White people now realized that the salmon needed to be saved, that perhaps the Natives had been right about some things. And then all the money from the casino operations also helped make change (pun intended).
Two hundred years before now, Rocket had been in the San Juan Islands. His father had set him up with a Lummi Native woman who had been hot as hell, but .. just not his type. It's been stressful, testifying in Olympia and other places about the need to tear down more damns and restore more salmon habitat. Mobilizing people is great, raising money from casino operations is fun but .. this is all starting to feel like work. So Rocket finds himself in need of vacation.
Hey, everyone says the San Juans are a vacation paradise where you go to relax. It might be amusing to see how the whites have ruined the islands, but what might still make them fun. What could go wrong?