New Bedford by Night
Go-between. Messenger. Game Warden.
Cyrus Barton. Clan Gangrel. Go-between. Messenger. A friendly face in a sea of strife. If you need a hand, he’ll usually be obliged to help ya out. If you need an ear, he’ll listen. If you need a warning, he’ll stop you on the way out and make sure you’re listening. It’s a dangerous city out there. It’s harmless to make a few friends.
“Well… not much to tell really. I’ve always been more focused on the texture of life rather than who runs what and why. Where do I come from? Well, like any mortal man in America, I was born. I lived. I went off to war. Vietnam, it was. I loved, I lost. I lived. I lived alone.
Then Marie found me one night in ’87. That night everything changed. She showed me things. We traveled. Did a little exploring of those secret wild places of the world. I saw danger. I saw truth. We had some close calls. Eventually, I was “ready” and we parted ways.
I mostly followed the herds after that. Good elk hunting in the woods around New Bedford, whitetail too. Lovely country but dangerous. Some sections of the wood, you just don’t want to touch. I’ve been there. Met why. Not going back. They told me not to. I had 4 hunting dogs then. Now there’s just Duke. You do the math.
Those old political gears are turning in the city again. The Prince and the Baroness are butting heads again. Time to be sharp. Time to keep an ear to that old mother earth and listen. A storm’s a-brewin’. That’s the thing about New England. An uncautious person might not be too careful of the storms. That person might end up dead, if you get my meaning. I hope ya do."