Rook

protests died down quickly when the general level of ability among the Africans outstripped that of most of the other operatives.
    There were many threats to the colonies—in fact they rose with a terrifying regularity—and the Croatoan tried to meet them. When possible, colonies dispatched reinforcements to their stricken siblings. It was this unity that enabled the group to weather the revolution. Maybe it was also the fact that none of the members were obliged to pay taxes (a privilege that has never been extended to the Checquy in Britain, I might add. You wouldn’t believe how much I pay in taxes) and that visiting Checquy representatives treated them with profound respect. Still, they were realists, recognizing that their mission was as much about protecting the people as it was about being loyal to the throne.
    During the Revolutionary War, the Croatoan operatives did not fight on either side. The massive carnage and chaos of the various battles excited some of the more exotic local wildlife, and teams were occupied with quelling the gigantic mollusks that liked to descend upon isolated farmsteads and feast on the families. By the time the war was over, the Croatoan had been decreased by half, with heavy casualties inflicted by the desperate operations and by incidental violence from the war.
    At this point, the remaining Croatoan forces found themselves in an awkward situation. They were agents of a government that had been firmly invited to leave the country. If they revealed themselves to George, Ben, Thomas, and the rest of the gang, they might be told to bugger off. Or there was always the good old hanging. Jefferson and Franklin were supposed to be fairly open-minded, but some of the older Croatoan members were still wary of revealing themselves to anyone. However, the country was as much theirs as it was anyone else’s. And it was clear that no one in the new, still somewhat confused government was close to even comprehending the supernatural horrors that strutted across the nighttime landscape, let alone doing battle with them. Bewildered and exhausted, the remnants of the Croatoan continued to protecttheir neighbors and sent out politely desperate letters to the Checquy asking for instructions.
    Meanwhile, the members of the Checquy Court back in England had been having its own problems. Something unpleasant had been born in Cornwall, and putting it down had occupied the attention of the entire Court. On September 3, 1783, when the Treaty of Paris was signed and ratified, the Checquy were recuperating, burying their dead, and just starting to turn their attention back to the parts of the world that weren’t Cornwall. The arrival of letters from the Croatoan prompted the Crimson Lord to scream “For fuck’s sake!” while in church.
    Although the Croatoan was performing vital services for the good of humanity, the Checquy decided that they couldn’t really ask King George for the funding to keep their American counterparts in business. The new country’s government would need to be approached, subtly. The Croatoan would send one person to the new government to explain their mission and offer their services. Someone with abilities garish enough to impress the authorities. Someone who could easily escape if the newly elected president hastily reached for a musket. Until they could be certain that the government had accepted them, the Croatoan was urged to keep their heads down and behave.
    The chosen representative was a Bishop, a former slave named Shadrach. His appearance in George Washington’s home was suitably inexplicable and would have made a great impression on the president had he been there. Unfortunately, Washington had elected to spend the day inspecting some troops. Fortunately, Shadrach’s entrance out of a cloud of moths and his impeccable manners bemused Martha Washington enough that she agreed to let him stay until her husband came home. For several hours, the first First Lady and the ex-slave sat in the parlor and Shadrach explained all about the Croatoan and their mission. Martha was a remarkably open-minded person and was sensible enough to appreciate that having the Croatoan would be a good thing for the fledgling nation.
    Over a cup of untaxed tea, Martha and Shadrach hammered out the details of the Croatoan’s absorption into the government. The negotiations were terrifying in their complexity, and the supernatural community still disputes who was the shrewder