The Transformation of New Haven

[Jonn Revelator]

A horde of scurrying ants has invaded the stately grounds of the New Haven Baronial Manor. A small horde, but a horde nonetheless. Made up of filthy laborers in the drab colored clothes that defy description which dirt and wear and age have made a sort of universal uniform in the poorer quarters small clusters move here and there, fortifying, digging trenches and doing unidentifiable things to unremarkable structures.

Among them, small in number but only in comparison to the whole, walk other men, almost as scruffy but doing no work other than walking the grounds in pairs with swords and spears.

The word has gone out through the Dockside taverns, the city center streets and the darkened places where men with things to hide congregate. The Baron of New Haven is forming a militia for the common defense. At least, the common defense of New Haven. Rumors fly that coin can be had by those who know how to hold a blade, and more for those willing to use them without compunction.

The storm is not here yet, but the grumbling of thunder is on the horizon.

[Jonn Revelator]

The hearth sat cold and bare, the manor's current occupant's preference being open windows and fresh breezes to the smoke and warmth of a fire. At least within the walls of his own house. Outside the study, servants and guards crept quietly about their business, avoiding drawing the Baron's attention as he brooded in silence, sitting upright in a simple wooden chair before the open window.

Alone, unseen by other eyes, Jonn's bearded face was composed but empty of both rage and humor, eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window but seeing only whatever landscapes filled his mind. His experience, his training, and his inclination all screamed at him that there must be blood and ruin. But deep within his thoughts, far more complex and informed than many who knew of him might guess, a quiet voice was speaking.

The events of last night's confrontations in the Arena made clear that he was short on allies, long on enemies, and deep within a web of unknown weaving.

Death comes to all, he thought, but perhaps there were possibilities beyond dying with the blood of his foes on his steel.

Even deep in his reflection, battle tuned senses caused his eyes to flicker to the study door behind his left shoulder. After intense few seconds of scrutiny he lapsed back into his blankness.

[Jonn Revelator]

After days of increasingly foreboding silence and with a pall of threat and woe hanging over the entire house and grounds, the household staff of the New Haven manor happened, entirely by happenstance, to gather one at a time or in pairs in a far corner of the Red Dragon Inn. Most of the staff were more henchman than servant, those who remained at any rate. No ambitious dandelion among them wished to raise his head enough for the gimlet eye of the Baron to make note of them but someone had to speak first, and finally one of their number, named only "Ed", spoke by virtue of having taken care of things too menial, too boring or too inconvenient for Jonn's personal touch.

"You boys know something got to be done. For me, I'm staying. The coin is better than we'll find anyplace else. But the Man hisself is busy bein' batshit crazy and probably gettin' ready to do something we'll all have fun with. Orders got to be given, and I ain't giving them and neither are you lot. Anybody thinks better, say so now, because I'm going to go get some help."

Taking silence as agreement, Ed vanished from sight for a few days, and on Wednesday afternoon reappeared in front of the manor house, a short and dapper man in tow. Passing the guards, Ed left the stranger to enter the halls alone and quickly disappeared into the recesses of a barracks.

The staff shortly heard crashing, shouting and cursing in the distinctive bellow of the New Haven Baron and hunched even more tightly over their work. Ed discreetly tasked several of the larger men to gather tools and stand ready to dig the grave, but all were surprised when the stranger exited the front doors an hour later not only alive but bearing no signs of violence and with the same calm manner with which he had entered.