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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
The market was rife with peasants. Each one was like a many armed insect, carrying more than they should, more than weight should have allowed. They scurried about, chirping, honking, scratching, bumping, shouting. The sun was high overhead. Noon or thereabouts. Food merchants' pockets were growing heavier by the minutes. Children screamed out for food. Urchins cried aloud for coin. Dogs ran about, inbetween legs, around carts, biting, snapping, fighting, yelping. It was packed here. So many people, a pickpocket's dream. Such a press would bring good business for purse snatching.

Adam wove through the throng of the them like a fish through water. His horse had been stabled at the Merry Faun Inn and Tavern. Unburdened by the beast, he was at ease. These were his people, people who lacked insight now, but would soon know the truth. Already he had called others to his side. Just outside the walls of the city in small villages scattered here and there, he had planted the seeds of revolution in young sons and daughters.

He smiled winningly at this person or that, his targets giving him room unintentionally or perhaps simply stopped by a glance. He was in a good mood. He had gone to a brothel first thing when he had reached the city and found a clean woman and used her thoroughly. He felt... free. He smiled and ran a hand through his mild mess of blond curls. May I use that crate, Goodman? The merchant whom he had addressed blinked, stunned by the request and nodded, motioning for this handsome, young stranger to take what he would just have to toss out of his way soon anyway. Adam tipped it on its top and got upon its back, now standing taller than most everyone in the area. The noontime sun spun down on him as if he was some sort of godling, his hair like vibrant gold, his eyes twinkling. My people! My people! Hearken unto me!

Some of the street noises quieted as curiosity took some unawares. For some others, it was the sight of a handsome young man. For others still, it was his voice that drew them in. Street performers were common, but orators and speakers were in the minority. Doomsday preachers called for the end of the world, death of sinners everywhere if they did not pray to this god or that. Adam had said nothing that was expected. My fellow countrymen, so many times we are shoved into a rut, one so impossible that we feel as though we cannot escape it. We find that we reach for something more, but that it is farther out of our reach than we thought. We dance to the tunes of lords and ladies who rest easy, dance, sing, and sew for pleasure, not for necessity. We give them our tithes, pay their taxes, give them the sweat and blood of our labor. Our young men go to their deaths under banners that have lost all meaning to subjugate more of our brethren.

What is he saying? I don't understand. What is he trying to say?

Shhh! Let him talk! Murmurs hit the crowd like a small wave as the nearest people began to wonder about his message.

When you look around your streets, what do you see, my good people? His hands stretched out to encompass the whole area in his broad sweeping gesture, his sleeves like the wings of a gull. You see bumpy, rutted streets, dirty carts, begging children, street dogs fighting for scraps! This city has become a cesspool of inequality! No matter how hard you struggle, no matter how hard you sweat, no matter how much you bleed, you will still be thought of as the scum that those who have everything see you as! The order that our 'so-called' leaders have imposed on us is no better than slavery! But because we are insects underneath their heels, they do not hear us! They will not listen to us! They will not heed us!

What can we do?! How do we fight back?!

We can't do anything. Who are we to do anything at all except go back to work? Voices rose as people began to talk with each other in clumps. Those that had lost interest had moved on, being older people, too used to having things stay as they were. The ones he had caught were younger fish, lively and willing to put up a fight.

We must prove to our overlords that we will not put up with their slavery! We must cast off the shackles of servitude! The imposed Order is a false Order! We must fight back! Join me, my brothers! My sisters! Join me and, together, we will rise above-- Adam raised his fist in the air triumphantly as all eyes had turned to him. It was then that the armorclad guards rushed into the street. There were only two this time, but they recognized him readily as a rabble-rouser of the worst sort.

Stop right there, you! By the orders of Captain Dochel, you will be brought to stand trial for attempted uprising! They rushed towards him, weapons readied. The two pushed through startled onlookers, toppling over one older lady who shrieked as she fell. Other men moved to help the woman or stop the guards' hostilities. It didn't matter. Another onlooker was pushed aside like chattel.

You see what they do! Find me! Join me! Only together can we right this wrong world! He jumped down from his box and, with a quick glance at the disturbance in the crowd and a sharptoothed grin, he dashed off like one of the street children that he had once run with, into an alleyway, down several more, blending in with this group of people or that. It was child's play until he stood in an alleyway that was empty, partially illuminated by the fall of the noontime sun. It cascaded about his shoulders like a spotlight, floating bits of dust hung in the air as if suspended by time. His breathing slowly settled, his face and neck dappled by a light sheen of sweat. That wasn't too bad. Then they just have to listen to the rumors floating around about me. The street children know enough to tell them about the farms nearby. I only hope that Ionas knows what he's doing. It's hard to hide an army. It's just as hard to have to gather is so piecemeal like this... Just... I need some more major operations. Setting fire on the bank wasn't enough. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose as he leaned against the wall of a building, his face upraised to take in the sunlight.

It seemed a world away now, the market and every person in it that he has spoken to. Even now, whispers went around about this "Adam" and his group of fighters. He was sounding a call to arms against injustice, oppression. His ideals made him sound like a government toppler, a regime ender. Go to the farm north of the city known as Lockley's Landing, they said. Go there and join Adam's resistance. The whispers passed from this person to that person. It would not be for everyone, but it was clear that he needed people with certain skills, people who knew how to fight.
Edited by Kasuin, Feb 28 2012, 12:31 PM.
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Clarion Call to Chaos · City Randatria

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