11-30-2019, 06:42 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-30-2019, 06:42 AM by Iridescence.)
![[Image: unknown.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/385277662983094272/650116603270397992/unknown.png)
1661 A.C.
What was originally slated as a Summer Festival soon devolved into fighting, as the Syndicate arrived mid-way through the event. A speech was given by a masked individual, his words laced with anger and resentment towards the upper echelon of Osrona, as well as the knights who serve in their stead.
The masked individuals did not appear hostile, other than the rage displayed during the speech. After a member of the First Light took an offensive position, the bridge was thrown into a state of chaos. Those who aligned with the Syndicate and their revolution took a position to the west, while those in opposition to such moved to the east. Several small scale skirmishes broke out between the two sides, resulting in extensive damage to the bridge, as well as the surrounding forestry.
What was originally slated as a Summer Festival soon devolved into fighting, as the Syndicate arrived mid-way through the event. A speech was given by a masked individual, his words laced with anger and resentment towards the upper echelon of Osrona, as well as the knights who serve in their stead.
Quote:From the cloud of smoke emerges several masked figures, their identities and genders indiscernible at first look. At their center lies a menacing man, a mask with a beak covering his features.
Clearing his throat, he motions for the ratlings and agents alike to create a circle around himself.
"Osrona. My appearance may certainly be alarming to you… but do not fret! I have come, of course, in peace. And it is in peace I ask you a rather simple question."
A penetrating golden gaze gleams from behind the mask, staring at all of those gathered. His voice is deep, commanding and full of authority. Clearly one of the leaders of this group.
"Blood. Privilege. These two have bestowed our sovereigns with the ability to dictate our lives. To manipulate our futures. To build walls between us. To segregate the own folk they are supposed to rule justly over."
"But who gave them that right?"
His head tilts slightly to the right, before continuing.
"What have they done for us, truly? A gala that barred the common populace? They stick up their nose at the mere thought of intermingling with what they refer to as leeches upon their riches! US!"
His voice booms suddenly, as he paces in a straight line. Evidently outraged at the prospect.
"They believe themselves to be a superior breed, and us, the lesser beings, grunts ruled by an incontestable elite. But again-"
He pauses, head turning to the other direction.
"Who gave them that right?"
"How long will we allow birth to determine whether or not the mothers among us will even have milk to feed their children with? How long will we allow those endowed with wealth to determine which fathers have the means to provide love for their children? For how long will we allow our futures to remain so far out of grasping range?!"
"The top class continues to amass wealth at a steady speed, whilst we suffer. We are subdued and abused, our hard-earned money is stolen and our integrity defiled. The knights meant to serve its people are little but grunts, mindless fools who do the bidding of their noble overlords. Even one in their number agrees! Why thank you, Miss Stallard!"
A chuckle follows, as well as a shake of his head.
"No matter what they say, no matter what they do- it changes nothing. Their compassion is a lie, for yet we starve. We work the fields, we tend their gardens, we pour their drinks, we make their clothes. Their livelihood depends entirely upon us. If we were to stop? They would be left to ruin, and no amount of riches could save them from their own filth, and yet, I shit you not, they will order us to cleanse it!"
"For the last time, Osrona! WHO GAVE THEM THAT RIGHT?"
His fist balls, extending upwards to the sky.
"The state? Then we shall burn it. The archaic tyrants of olden times? Then we will discard their legacy. The Gods themselves? Then we shall topple them from their thrones just as well!"
Wind begins to gust from all directions, his emotions manifesting in magical form.
"Be you either a worker, an urchin, a petty thief or an outcasts, it matters not, for know this now…"
"The Syndicate stands with you, and the Syndicate welcomes you into the fray. We will fight."
"But will you?"
The masked individuals did not appear hostile, other than the rage displayed during the speech. After a member of the First Light took an offensive position, the bridge was thrown into a state of chaos. Those who aligned with the Syndicate and their revolution took a position to the west, while those in opposition to such moved to the east. Several small scale skirmishes broke out between the two sides, resulting in extensive damage to the bridge, as well as the surrounding forestry.
Most notably, it is said that a leader of the Syndicate bested an Exarch of the First Light. While details remain scarce, trouble is most certainly brewing. The rising tension is palpable, the city on the brink of a civil war.
(If you were one of the supporters of the rebellion, feel free to dm me at Iridescence#7892)