Thu Apr 10, 2008 4:44 am
It was with no small degree of personal anguish that those who worked for William James Heffron the Third were turned out onto the street with no more income forthcoming from their master. Nor was the news received well at their homes, from husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, daughters and sons. There were always things to repair in Myrken Wood, and more work could be had, but not this work, for this man.
This man who had lost so much.
Rumor spread soon enough that Heffron, self-styled Merchant Captain (a title of some dubious acclaim for none seemed to know who gave it to him or when, or how another might come by it, or what it might signify), had found nothing but despair in Heath. His traders had been implicated in the horrid reports of trafficking in human flesh across Heath's borders, implication enough to drive the full fury of Heath's wretched commercial departments and officers down upon his livelihood.
Such a disgraceful happenstance, coupled with the particular ferocity that the bandits across the border targeted his caravans with, spelled doom for his enterprises in commerce. With his belongings packed the man had sworn to make his way southwest-ward, towards the heart of Trae Kelsa and better luck.
Many heard him curse Jacob Ames, officer of trade and commerce in heath. Many also heard rumors of the bandits in the neighboring land who were beginning to grow bold, who were beginning to recognize one master and one alone.