AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - State of the Commonwealth Address: Year One

For the first time since the shocking discovery of Minister Leohnard's corpse behind the Commonwealth Center, the large iron bells in the belfry of Cordor's city hall chime. Almost a generation ago, those same bells, now weathered by the erosion of time, rang for the inauguration of former Duke Montgomery d'Cordor, their tone sweet and jubilant; today, they are cold and hard, like iron. Citizens gather gradually from all districts: the new south district, the once slum turned low income bourgeois neighborhood; the eastern district, populated by government clerks and faith leaders; the central district, home to the merchant class and industrialists; and a handful of disenfranchised former nobles from the crumbling, faded western district, a dried husk, the loser in Cordor's dramatic upsurge of class warfare. These people gather in Cordor Square before the Commonwealth Center, staring in awe at the formal arrangement of the Commonwealth guard: guards, adventuring guards, mage guards, elite guards, and the tall, striking Law Knights. Further up the steps, Dorne, Zeyriel, and Malles stand shoulder to shoulder at parade rest.

Members of the adventuring community are present as well, but soon find that the populace of the Commonwealth, citizens and guards alike, glance askance upon them. While waiting for a ministerial announcement, those adventurers who try to mingle with the people of the commonwealth gradually find themselves ostracized as the people move away from them, until at last, a great divide is apparent. Cordor's adventuring community is set apart. Ostracized. Rejected. And to those particularly sensitive to the emotional atmosphere, hated and feared. No rioting breaks out. No rioting can even be incited due to the iron-clad presence of the Commonwealth Guard combined with the united spirit of the Commonwealth: united, it seems, against the adventurers.

Finally the doors to the Commonwealth Center creak as both come open. Only two out of five original Ministers step out from the dim interior into the bright sunlight - Joseph Maximillian, the Speaker for the Commonwealth Council, and Elijah Cromwell, the Minister of Labor. A flock of seagulls take flight from the eaves above the grand double doors, doves of dubious peace with black-tipped wings and gray necks. The two ministers take places at the top of the steps, and those gathered in the Square can see the empty spaces where the late Hector L. Carton, Minister of Law, and the late Johnathin Leohnard, Minister of Health and Public Welfare, would be standing if they were still alive. And next to them all, an empty spot for the Minister of Magic, Collin Reyes, having abandoned the Commonwealth on an impromptu research expedition to the mainland. The farmers of the Northern Outskirts mumble about the Minister's absence, blaming his wizardly arrogance for their plight, and otherwise sounding pleased that they don't have to look upon him.

Speaker for the Council Johnathin Maximillian is announced. He strides forward in confidence, his expression dour, but his eyes blazing with a fervor few have seen in the simple government bureaucrat.

Citizens, he begins, and the adventuring community notices that he looks in every direction but theirs, your leaders have not been entirely honest with you.

Curious glances are exchanged before returning to Joseph Maximillian.

When we embarked upon this new way of life, a way of life that put an end to social and commercial inequality, that set right the wrongs of an era of noble dominion over the sovereign man, we knew that it would be a difficult one. And yet, we, your leaders, did our best to keep high spirits. To bring to your attention the positive changes and reinforcements of the Commonwealth, and not to dwell upon the hardships. Hardships that we, your ministers, your representatives, your fellows-in-arms, took upon ourselves with the genuine intent to find a solution. For a long year now, since the Duke's abdication of his singular, tyrannical rule to the rule of the people, we have struggled privately with forces that seek, with subterfuge and violence, to force us to return to a life of poverty!

He looks to the people of the South, who cry out, "No!"

They want us to return to a life of disadvantage and despotism, where the undeserving nobility receive all opportunity, and those who work their fingers to the bone to have their chance, nothing!

The Central District erupts. "No!"

These forces are seeking to undo all the good that we have done! To turn back the clock, and come full circle, once again, to a life spent conducting and supporting the rule of a corrupt, duchal regime, serving only the interests of one man, Maximillian nearly screams, spittle flying from his quivering lips, and not the interest of all! The interests of this, our common wealth!

Government clerks, guards, and leaders of faith, the people of the eastern district, applaud and howl with approval. "No!"

Countrymen! the Minister's hands rise quickly, silencing them. I have spent many nights sequestered away since the unfortunate loss of Minister of Johnathin Leohnard. The pain you feel, I felt just as greatly, if not moreso, for having worked so closely with a young man whose indomitable spirit and love for the Commonwealth overcame more obstacles than I could have ever imagined. Johnathin's memory will live on in the Commonwealth, in the form of his welfare policies, his public works projects, his healthcare initiatives. But most of all, countrymen, in his smile. In the kind and honest words he was never afraid to give, even to those who wished not to hear it. I confess, friends, that I am a of an older generation than he was, a generation that spent many troubled years under the unfair rule of the Duke. They have made me a skeptical man, hardened my heart against the virtues of youth. But in Johnathin Leohnard I saw all that I could have been.

A mournful silence falls over the assembly at Maximillian's impromptu memorial. And in his memory, I see the future of the Commonwealth of Cordor. We are one with him, and he, forever, shall be one with us, in deed, and in spirit.

In those quite hours of the night, I lay restless, and did wonder: How is it that we, a people who have fought for and won our independence, who have done right by ourselves and by the world, to throw off the yoke of noble dominion, how is it that we are made to suffer such losses? Hector Carton's loss, sadly, has left the Ministry of Law in a dire state of affairs. Since his passing, criminal cases have gone unprosected. The guilty allowed to walk free to prey upon us again, on technicalities created by shoddy recordkeeping. The innocent have been held for too long against their will while waiting for the courts to organize their cases. To his eternal credit, Hector L. Carton, serving as Minister of Law, had years of experience behind him to ensure that justice was done, to balance the management of law enforcement, he looks to Dorne, Zeyriel, and Malles, with a fair and decent trial by jury of peers. It was my duty to audit the Ministry of Law's practices, and it was with a heavy heart that I deemed their current operations inconsistent and not up to the standards of the Cordorian Commonwealth. Therefore, I wish to make it public knowledge: the Council has decided that it is prudent to enact Article Nine, the Colligation and Fragmentation of Administrative Offices, and to, for a term of six months, absorb into the Ministry of Finance, under the direction of myself, Joseph Maximillian, Speaker for the Council. I have chosen to adopt this additional responsibility on your behalf because the Ministry of Finance has the unique privilege of benefitting from some of the Commonwealth's most excellent and dedicated clerks, who shall, over the next six months, seek to entirely reform the Ministry of Law to meet the standards of Justice and Vigilance upheld by leaders such as Mark Dorne.

The obligatory praise to the Captain of the Law Knights is met with applause and nods.

And, as my first reformation as acting Minister of Law, I am proud to announce three promotions for the Guard. First, the promotion of Sergeant Neveah Tarvencia to a Lieutenant within the Adventuring Division of the Commonwealth Guard. Her oustanding service to the Commonwealth has taken my personal interest for many months now. When the Council urged the Commonwealth Guard to conduct a recruitment campaign, Neveah took especial interest. In addition, during some of the most recent unsettling affairs to afflict the Commonwealth, Officer Tarvencia has gone beyond the call of duty to assist her fellow citizens. And finally, her vigilance while on patrol is exemplary, burdening her personal life by adopting extra shifts to cover the low patrol routes that are the result of low numbers within the Adventuring Division. It is my honor to present her with a new decoration.

Polite applause follows the announcement, with a handful of welcome shouts from the Guard.

Secondly, but in no particular order, Captain Saelier Zeyriel, the long-standing leader of the Adventuring Division, is hereby honorably promoted to serve as a titled Law Knight of the Cordorian Commonwealth, led by the honorable Mark Dorne. She has served the people of Cordor since before the establishment of the Commonwealth, and is to be commended for her role in easing both guards and citizens alike into the transition. Her experience and her unparalleled love for the Commonwealth render her deserving of the title of Law Knight. Mark Dorne will be conducting her official inauguration into the Law Knights at a later date. Saelier Zeyriel, the Commonwealth is proud of all you have done for her.

Extending both arms, the Speaker for the Council claps politely, and a thunderous round of applause from peoples of all districts and guards alike echo, exponentially.

And so it stands that, with Captain Zeyriel's promotion out of the Adventuring Division and into the Law Knights, the Adventuring Division of the Commonwealth Guard requires a new Captain.

A hush falls over the crowd. Maximillian continues staring forward, stiff-necked. His left hand clenches briefly into a fist, and his lower jaw tightens.

Someone with unwavering loyalty to the Commonwealth. Someone who has distinguished himself as not only a major enforcer of the law in the most difficult of times, but as an excellent reformationist, personally responsible for reducing the risk of recidivism. His experience in command, in guard procedures, and in the establishment and maintenance of Order will, to his credit, be an incredible asset to the Adventuring Division of the Commonwealth Guard. Therefore, I introduce you to Captain Yance.

Sergeant Yance, now Captain Yance, steps out briefly for the recognition, the truncheon swinging from his hip. Mouth twisted into a smug smile, he gives the Commonwealth a humble open palm. Most of the guard applauds. The Adventuring Division does so with hard stares.

It is my wish, countrymen, that these reformations to the Ministry of Law not only improve our domestic concerns, but go lengths towards serving the Commonwealth's greater security interests. The Noble Army remains a constant threat, and there is an ongoing investigation into rumors that they have infiltrated spies into the Cordorian Merchant's Guild, which still harbors many old friends of those noble families unfairly favored by the corrupt Duke Montgomery d'Cordor, but also within the very ranks of the ministries themselves. In addition to the threat of the Noble Army, it is true, as you have no doubt seen and heard, that the Thayvian Menace has once again reared its godless head to revisit us with painful memories. From today forward, all known Thayvians will be subject to immediate deportation from the Commonwealth on a trans-Trackless vessel. These terrorists from a nation known for its social inequality and its traditional adherance to a system of slavery, a system which stands in direct opposition to the freedom and equality intended for every citizen of the Commonwealth, will not be tolerated. Nor will their subversive politics and attempts at diplomacy. There is no apology for what they have done in our country.

The hush returns, in a brief moment of remembrance of the burning Cordor Orphanage and the loss of so many children. But the silence is quickly broken by a single shout from somewhere in the South District crowd. "Remember the Orphanage!" And from the Central District. "Thayvian Free Since 1371! Wear your colors, and never forget!"

Joseph Maximillian is not deterred. The fire in his eyes remains as he lifts a balled fist, thundering as his address build. And to the question of citizenship in Cordor: you were promised, one year ago, an opportunity for free elections of your ministers, to practice the most basic right guaranteed you by the Constitution of the Commonwealth, the pact created between the common men, and the common men who have taken the mantle of leadership. The combined efforts of all Ministries have labored to conduct the necessary census of Cordorian citizens, even to the extent of establishing a bureau specifically dedicated to conducting the census. However, between the threat of the Noble Army's advance, the Thayvian Menace, the massive amount of governmental reforms, and an entirely unique set of circumstances, we have failed at bringing you the free elections you were promised. And I am here to tell you, countrymen, that until we can gather an accurate census of the Commonwealth, to determine who is a tax-paying, working, legitimate citizen...

Here Maximillian trails off, and while his eyes remain solid and forward, his one free hand, the left hand, seems to gesture towards one area of the crowd. An area of the crowd where people in armor, and carrying obvious weapons, battle scars, factional colors and wild magical implements are gathered, seemingly exiled from the populace.

...and who is a freeloader, a vagabond, a wanderer, or worse, an arrogant mercenary capitalizing upon the Commonwealth's commercial atmosphere for his own personal gain, with no love or consideration towards the common man, but instead a desire to do as he pleases, with no regard to law, to decency, or to human life. A person who considers the call to adventure far superior to the concerns of the working class, to the toiling laborer, the dedicated merchant. A stranger, an outsider, who feeds off the backbreaking labor of the people, giving nothing in return, evading taxation and taking advantage of public works and social welfares without giving a dime, a drop of sweat, or a single tear to the Commonwealth!

The eyes of the citizens and the guards turn to the minority of adventurers in the crowd, suddenly and dramatically called out and left without a voice. Maximillian's voice, however, will not be silenced - particularly with Mage Guards nearby, counterspelling attempts by the adventurers to mystically do so.

The adventuring populace has habitually stood in the Commonwealth's way of collecting the census. Forging documents to prove citizenship. Making claims to the same rights as the citizens who live and work here, even though all they do is stop by briefly to drop a pound of ill-gotten coin. Or, as we have all so often witnessed, or suffered, deliver a condescending insult to the citizens and to the guard; to make threats to one another and to anyone who stands in their way; to exploit the law for their own personal gain; to desecrate and defile our national monuments and the religious idols of our house gods; to damage property, to terrorize and intimidate, to fling the notorious and much-feared "hellball" with deadly accuracy but equally deadly impunity!

A fierce cry of acknowledgement rises from the guards and the citizens alike, who have all experienced, and many first-hand, these very same horrors inflicted upon them by adventurers for over a generation. Joseph Maximillian finally turns towards the adventuring populace, face contorted by a righteous indignation, beads of sweat gathering on his browline, the tip of his hawk-like nose quivering, his long index finger pointing at them from his superior position on the steps of the Commonwealth Center with unbridled condemnation.

Be warned, adventurers. The Commonwealth of Cordor has long since tired of your mercenary lawlessness. The Duke allowed you free reign to bully and belittle a proud and worthwhile people, but we are many, and you are few. You may have skill on your side. The knowledge of how to shed blood and hew our limbs as though they were so much wheat. To ensorcell the weak-willed commoner as an Ankh'remunian snake-charmer plays for the deadly desert cobra. But we will not abide your grevious disrespect to the Commonwealth and her people!

One wing of the Commonwealth Guard seems to move, with subtlety, between the adventuring community and the citizens, as well as the Minister himself, creating a vast gulf suddenly populated by law enforcement. Behind Maximillian, the bells of the Commonwealth Center begin to peal, signaling five chimes, the hour when most industry winds down.

Bong.

The Commonwealth Guard, including the Law Knights, are no longer under duty to protect or defend you; the Ministry of Law decrees that their primary responsiblity is to the tax-paying, property-owning, and employed or unemployed with Ministry benefit legitimate citizens of the Commonwealth. To those who cannot prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, your citizenship in the Commonwealth, you shall be second priority to law enforcement and the justice system! The Commonwealth is about equal rights for the citizens - but only to those citizens who give back to the Commonwealth, and not for those who exploit it, steal from it, or worse, by their very presence and attitude, seek to do it harm!

Bong.

The Census Bureau will be granting Certificates of Citizenship to those individuals capable of proving their citizenship within the Commonwealth under the bureau's prescribed requirements. These certificates will not only guarantee you the full rights and benefits of a loyal Commonwealth citizen, but they will also guarantee you a vote when the census is complete and the free elections you were promised can begin - unimpeded by those who wish to see you without a voice.

Bong.

The pealing bells echo over the Square, but do nothing to drown out Maximillian's booming and fiery address to those gathered to hear, bolstered by cheers from the citizens as their long repressed angst about adventurers, repressed out of fear of reprisal and retribution, is suddenly given voice by a single man - who, in turn, turns it into the voice of a united Commonwealth. A Commonwealth united against a very obvious and visible threat.

Men and their governments all face a Day of Judgment, that time when -

.gnoB

The strange sound of the fourth bell pauses Maximillian mid-sentence, and with a start, he spins around to stare up at the towering column above the Commonwealth Center. The shouting and cheering hastily dies down.

.gnoB

With the Square quiet, the sound of the great iron bell is more clear. It starts out soft, rises in volume and faintly in pitch, before ending with a muted resonant bang that quickly vanishes with no audible echo. The Speaker for the Council tugs at his ear once, and then removes a pocket watch from his vest, holding it to his ear and shaking it briefly. And then he puts it away, quickly regaining his composure and continuing on. No one else pays any mind to the faulty belltower, but to the rush of adrenaline brought on by Maximillian's bold words.

W-we have recovered from the past, righted the injustices done to us by a biased and wicked government. We are enjoying the present, content in the fruits of our own labors, rightfully returned to our hands, rather than commended into the pockets of undeserving nobility. And we are looking forward to the future, building and planning for a great society. But all of these things we do, we do them together! United we stand!

"Common in our wealth!" the crowd fires back in sacred response.

Common in our wealth of equality, opportunity, and privilege!

Caps fly. Joseph Maximillian smiles, but only very faintly. His solid poise remains as he spins on his heel and, beckoning to Elijah Cromwell, disappears with the Minister into the Commonwealth Center, followed by the Law Knights. Most of the Guard remain at post outside the Commonwealth Center until the crowd disperses, talking amongst themselves about how a new day is finally dawning: the first day they ever stood up to the adventurers.

// Reactions and responses, personal and public, welcome. But only IC. You know the drill.

On hearing the address, Warrick closed his eyes in thought, looking around at the people. He looked to the adventurers, and to the vast rift between them and the common man, the individuals of Cordor whom worked hard for their living, and could barely at best make ends meet. Sighing to himself, the Human clerk made his way back into the offices once allowed and quietly sat at his workspace, working through his typical paperwork but also seeming deeply thoughtful.

~I respect what Maximillian wants to do if indeed he seeks to do it out of an honest want to serve his people. But, at the same time if he is instead solely serving his own interests... the man reminds me a lot of another tyrant I met in my time, one who sickened me to no small end. ~ he thought as he kept working, musing as he looked at some paperwork.

~There is potential in all of us. I am a living example of this, and Eilistraee teaches to offer the message of redemption to all Dark Elves. Perhaps it is fate that brought me to her worship. ~ he paused, rubbing his holy symbol of Eilistraee, before continuing ~ I wonder what it will take to find the balanced influence in Maximillian, should he be untenable... no matter, there are priorities that must be tended to, and duties to be done. My duty, is as a Bursar of Cordor, a member of House Kenlyl, and a member of the Ministry of Health and Public Welfare, and this city deserves the finest, even in it's eccentricity. ~ he finished in his thoughts, pausing and standing to walk over to one of his Clerks.

"Can you direct me to whom I would need to speak to purchase a residence in South Cordor?" he asks curiously.

An eroded earth genasi catches the adress. He listens on with a sullen expression carved into his craggy face.
"Son of a Bloodmoon," he grumbles into the noise of the crowd before marching off towards the gates, a ragged cloak trailing his stride.

Guldorand had been seeing signs of an early fall that summer. The sparse trees which were not evergreen, typically too small or too thin
to cut for lumber had begin to turn brown at the leaves, yet they remained.
Inside her home or what was left of it, Mynna worked in the kitchen she never had need for. No guests, no food. There was tea on occasion,
but for the most part the kitchen was not one, and full of tools. Small collected instruments and tools. Odd little picks and hammers,
wrenches and bolts. Sitting there she had been fixing a crushed leg of a clockwork spider that rested on her kitchen table. Its pitted ruby
stone-eyes rolled about regarding her absently while she tried to focus on the procedure.
Her working hands however trembled so slightly that she had to rest down the screwdriver and hold her head at both sides. Tangled blonde hair
locked between her fingers there as she stared at the space between her feet and she let out a defeated breath of hot air.
And though her words had reached the spider, it was apparent she spoke alone.

"This weight. Had we brought it this far with progress only to have it break over our spines, Though what am I to do?"

The spiders legs tapped against the wood of the table, moving its small head while watching Mynna impatiently. She continued with the screwdriver.

"Perhaps I have been wrong all this while to put my trust into the organics. They worked so well as things continued, and have even restored my
hope in this battle but as our knowledge grew, so did our distrust. And they snap at each other like hungry cobras. How can I bring them back now?
Their ambitions are the same, but they misinterpret mine and each others. Do they want to destroy me? I've been an evil witch to them in the past,
and even now our circumstances are weird. They do not understand me and I little understand them. Now I learn some have secret agendas that deepen
the topiary avenues of the villain's labyrinth. Why would they poison this project? Was it not enough to work together?"

The spider's leg seemed well attached again but only for a moment when a center-limb cog had come unhinged. Mynna selected it off the floor
and attempted to repair the thing further.

"It is true my ambitions are separate, though the effect is the same. Mankind must live and I know this for some strange reason.
Chronomancy must go unpracticed and I hate he who desires liminal time. The irony of his hubris is that we ourselves
are being conflicted by our own. For everyone intends to be a hero. But I am not one. How can I convey that...
Would they even listen though? I don't want to see them destroyed."

The ugly little spider's leg had snapped back into position, and Mynna turned away from it to fetch some grease from the hall cupboard
still drowning in her thoughts out loud.

"Those creators of what is now cliche had made them incomplete for a reason! They're beautiful when time is ugly to them, and incredible by nature
though oft overlooked. I am torn between the light and dark where as they seem to hit their targets with divine symmetry in such a fragile length of existence.
Though how can I convey such things? I hate them most often, but love them too? Even after destroying what love I knew and now I'm speaking in
nonsensical rhythms."

She returned to the kitchen rubbing her forehead.

"I am one against the world, but wish to see it survive. Yes, there must be some sort of message there; simple plot though somehow impressive.
And of my lost hope, Carton and Jonathin. Dear gods! Jonathin,"

She sat back down in the kitchen chair a moment falling quiet.

"Is his death our fault? I was meant to protect him, and even then nothing could be done. What much of this can I control, can anyone control?
The battle I face seems not against man, or myself, nor the gods or fate but time. Once again, I find myself at war with Time. Its very metamorphic
presence shatters my courage and I clench what little I have to fight you."

Suddenly the clockwork extended its limbs, watching Mynna a haunting moment. Chittering the sounds of a winding spring. This very motion causing
Mynna to go still before knocking it off the table with her hand into the wall sending springs and cogs everywhere. The small gadget had not moved after that.
Mynna's gaze was at the wall where it had crashed.

"Enzan, Yossarin, Montgomery, Reyes. Why do you frighten me so? Why do you leave me a silent wanderer in search for these answers in life. Even I would
not dare tred into liminal time, nor travel through the time flow any faster than a tree knows spring from winter, but you have done these things still. My envy! My fear!"

Mynna's head hit the table her arms and her fingers grabbing at her hair again, though not this time clenching, but stroking through it with another stressful
gasp, then tears. Something strange and wet dampening her eyes and face in the space between her and the table.

"I can't pretend to be human like them any longer, I'm done trying to be like them. So the maximum of my potential could only be to further their longevity, isn't it?"

"Could I abandon this war, after all I've seen and heard? Can I abandon these people to their own devices? Have I the faith in myself or in man, or the gods strong enough
to step away? Of course I don't, not yet. What left there is to drive me, is justice for the crimes done. I had not felt such rage in a long time when Carton died in my hand.
For that, maybe I must go on. I have just barely organized this circus who trusts me no more than their enemy, but I must go on. I am no leader, I am no hero, I can
hardly pretend to be human any more. But by the gods, he will be stopped."

As the crowd was thinning out, an elven appearing man, far too tall to be a regular elf, would slowly begin to appear, sitting on a chair with a bottle in hand. With the uncorked bottle upside down, it would seem that the alcohol had been used to calm either the nerves or anger of the draconic. As he found the bottle empty, his eyes instead moved to look from the adventuring guard to the "common" guardsmen and on to the Law Knights. The commoners he paid little attention, and should any of them comment on his appearance, or his profession, he'd waft his hand at them in a manner that a king would to a jester that bored him.

The next few days, Eir could often be seen on the great stage of the Triumvir, writing down what may have been his thoughts. or something entirely different.

"Common in our wealth of equality, opportunity, and privilege!"
The gathered crowd was cheering and many threw their caps in the air. Naethar preferred to keep his cap on.
Leaning against the watch house's brick wall,wearing a dark gray trench coat and holding a small notebook, he skimmed through it's pages one more time. He hastily scribbled something before closing it again.
Then Naethar removed his cap and swiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
We're running out of time, he thought, strolling away from the square towards the west...

Xaviera, leaning against one of the pillars on the square's central island, unnoticed in the shadows except by those of the crowd immediately adjacent, grinds her teeth as Maximillian speaks. Her arms, folded across leather-covered breasts, tense, and her head whips upward to the apex of the Commonwealth Center as the strange sound of the bell rises from nothing and ends abruptly.

She watches Yance's smug grin as he stands next to Dorne, Zeyriel and Malles, looking like a jumped-up thug at a fancy-dress party, then studies Maximillian from beneath lowered brows, listening as he plays the crowd like an instrument.

"Well..." she sighs, thinking to herself. "I guess we know where he stands."

Since she was completely antagonized by the crowd, despite not really being able to be called an "adventurer", Riala stood off to the side as the speech was given. She made a mental note to talk to Nevaeh later, and congratulations was the least thing on her mind. She was now worried about what would happen to people like her - non-citizens who were honest, and worked for every penny they had rather than exploiting it. But then again, the council had antagonized her a long time ago just for her dragon blood, so why should she care? Because now, if something went wrong and the law was being broken against her, she couldn't do a damn thing about it. And since she was already a citizen of Kohlingen, she wouldn't be getting a citizenship for Cordor anytime soon.

Maybe it was time to give up on trying to lead a normal life. Riala just couldn't, there was no way a dragonkin ever could. Still, she had tried endlessly, and where had that gotten her? Classed in the same way as the evil, backstabbing mercenaries that sought only their own gain. Riala wasn't like them, but the crowd wouldn't recognize that. Riala just wanted a nice, peaceful life. Too bad it wouldn't ever happen, especially not with the latest move by the council.

With a disapproving scowl at the crowd's complete rude rejection of her, the copperkin walked off to Guston's ship, taking it back to Kohlingen - to home. As she road the ship home, Riala was completely lost in her thoughts, instead of being happy and talkative as usual. She simply stayed below-deck, wrapping her head around everything she had learned today. "Well, I remember why I never liked the council now..." she mumbled in draconic to herself. "They're all bastards. Prejudiced bastards. And once again, It's me against the world. Gods, I hate being a dragonkin sometimes..."

------------------------

Kythra stood off to the side, listening to the speech. The blind girl whispered briefly to a commoner beside her, "What exactly is going on...?"

The commoner just scowled at her and moved away. Kythra heard his footsteps as he shuffled away and sighed. "I'm not even an adventurer, and you're still rather rude to me."

"Ye certainly 'ave the look of one. With tha leafy 'air an' all."

Kythra shrugged. "Well, I'm a feyling, yes. But I'm not an adventurer. I'm just a blind juicemaker."

"Ye a citizen then?"

Kythra shook her head. "No. I rarely visit Cordor. I live in the forest and sometimes I stay in the inn at Bendir Dale."

"Then I ain' talkin' to ye no more." With that, he simply walked away, back into the crowd.

Kythra sighed. "Rude man."

Reh'Cra can be seen standing back in the crowd and pondering to himself after the speech, wondering if he counts as a citizen or not, while looking at his ring. "privilege not a right.. about time the others have to learn that too.....still.. he did call me a citizen when he shook my hand.."

Satisfied with his own answer, he meanders off into the shadows, before someone does something stupid to tick off the guards.

Vaylek watched from under a shrouded hood, a twisted grin on his face as he witnessed Maximillian's aggressive speech, and the reactions of the myriad of adventurers around him. As Maximillian declared that the law will no longer protect adventurers without a special certificate, Vay lets out a hushed chortle, concentrating his excitement into his tongue, which rolled around his mouth rampantly.

Suits me just fine. Bring on the chaos.

"...Weird. What happened to the bell?"

*A more or less accurate transcription of Malcolm's inner dialogue as he goes about the Southern Docks of Cordor, chatting it up with the dockworkers and sailors, and tossing in a helping hand where he can*

"Huh... So the citizens have finally had enough of the crazy adventure-people, eh? Good for them. Hope it goes well. They deserve to really call this place their own, after all the mess they've gone through with half-insane mages and power-hungry gits with huge swords.

"I just kind of hope that they don't turn on every person who likes to wander around with a sword, playing hero. Sure, me and my friends don't exactly live here, but this is largely a home for us. And it's not just some questionably ill-gotten gold that we've invested in this city. I know I've poured out my share of blood and sweat, trying to protect these people during random attacks, or crazy freak storms. Not to mention hopping in after the damage is done, to see these piers cleaned and operational.

"It's weird in a way. A good chunk of the common folk can't stand people like me, but really they need us, just as much as we need them. Where would they be without the heroes to save the day from the odd siege or invasion? Where would we be without the people to provide all the goods and services to keep us alive and kicking long enough to perform thrilling heroics? Sure, I can understand their disdain, but they really need to get to know us before the rotten potatoes start flying.

"Ah well... What happens, happens. No stopping that. I'll just keep doing what I can to support this city, namely making sure Griffith continues making that steady income, and hope for the best. Full sails, straight ahead."

Samantha stands at the very back of the square and watches Maximillian speak with one hand on her hip and one resting on the hilt of one of her many weapons on her belt. She tilts her head back as she listens to Nevaeh's promotion and catches Yance's all-too-friendly wave, but her face remains blank until the odd bell peals. She would glance through the crowd quickly, then also scan the buildings around the square, weapon half out of its sheathe...

...looking back to Maximillian as he stumbles through his ending statement, frowning deeply, Samantha walks off quickly before he finishes towards the Northern Outskirts, missing the cry of the crowd.

*A young woman stood with her warried, but well dressed parents, near the edge of the gathered people, listening onward.*

"But.. but.. That bell is wicked. Aujir..? Why is he saying that stuff.."

*A soft hiss came from within her bag.* "Shh girl, I'll explain later. For now continue to stand with mother and father and look cute."

--------------------

*A dark shape remains hanging from an eave of a building, listening with keenly perked earfins, grinning behind his mask at the words of promotions, his snout then dips, shaking his head firmly aft'ward at the turning of the crowd on the adventurers*

"Nrrgyhk, hrr. No. Going to force them out of the city are you.. that will be a violent insurrection.. though some could do with being culled in such chaos-play. Demonize the only ones to be able to stand up to your machinations councilmen.. Not bad, for a simian. "

Standing in seclusion apart from both adventurers and commonwealth citizenry, Avadon can be seen pulling the large hood of his cloak further over his eyes. The cloth of his concealment rubbing against the brown horns that protrude and curl back from his forehead. As Maximillian speaks, the tiefling's eyes grow dim and shut. Each word a resounding bell in his ears, paining him to over hear.

"All of our plans...were we doing the right thing to begin with?..These people stand united, not against what we wanted them to, but united non-theless. Not only are they running out of time, but do they have any time at all?"

His fingers begin to tighten into fists, the gauntlets encasing his forearm and hand begin to cry out in pain. The metal and leather of his steeled vambraces creaking under the strain that he places upon them. His eyes flare open, the crimson orbs locking their attention onto the bell tower and the bell sounds and the Speaker's address is interrupted...

"This is only the beginning of it..The peril we face, that I face..more disgression will be needed...We've only scratched the surface of what is to come."

One last side long glance at the bell tower, the Speaker, the guards assembled, the citizens heeding every spoken word, and the distressed adventurers ostracized as he knew they would finally become. He makes his way to the Northern Gates trying to outwalk the deadly poised silence and the cheers of te crowd...the cries of "Common is our wealth!" ringing in his ears.

"The commonwealth must be protected at all costs...all costs."

Among the citizen-crowd stands a brown-skinned man, dressed much like any merchant in the city, crying out in agreement with Speaker Maximillian and joining the other citizens in their applause and hard gazes at the adventurers. As the crowd eventually disperse, he leaves with a few others to the south where he joins a sudden celebration in one of the taverns, Later that night, he hands a paper to the barkeep. "Tell Chief that we have to talk." The barkeep looks at him for a moment and nods. "Will do, Jonny." The man called Jonny nods, and puts on his brown trenhcoat, lightens a cigar, and walks out of the tavern.

Darby listens and watches from the shadows, her hands on her belt. Her helmeted head fixed mostly on Max, and then Yance, until the bells ring. After all is said and done she follows a certain tiefling north, staying in the shadows her hands tightly clenched on her belt.

Dear Horace,

For the first time in so long, I'm waking up to the terrified shrieks of children. In my dreams, my skin turns black and flakes away in the flames, while I watch the Thay escape unscathed through the sewers, their hulking bone golems clamoring after, all with wide grins, teeth flashing, mocking me. I wake up and my face is hot with sweat from a fire that burned so many years ago, but haunts me still.

Going into the orphanage, I felt strong. I knew you believed in me, and with that I felt I could have done anything. But now... not even I believe in me. I can't even hold together a group I consider friends, let alone fight an enemy like this.

I've lost that confidence I had, once. That feeling that no matter what, even if I died by sword or fire or magic or whatever, things would turn out for the best, is gone. I have no faith. Even the moon is hardly a comfort anymore; Selune just seems far away and cold. And the sad thing is, I wouldn't expect her to seem any other way. If I were her, I'd stay up there on my little rock in the sky, too. Mortals lead lives full of sadness and struggle and precious little happiness or success, I'm realizing.

And yet, even though I'm bone tired and can barely keep a meal down, even though my friends are fighting and unhappy and scared, my husband is missing an arm and my child wonders where his mother goes at night... I would rather have all of this, all this fear and uncertainty, than give it up to a man who would wipe it all away.

I wonder what you would think of me. I suspect you wouldn't be proud. But I will keep going because I know that's what you expect of me.

I will always keep going.

-Alanna.

On the top of Nexus Falls, Alanna stood with massive clouds to her back, hulking forms a dark grey at their centers but still white around the edges, punctured with rays of white- gold sun like gaping wounds. Her face was tight, and the years that usually went unnoticed beneath her bright smile stuck out starkly in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. The usual color that decorated full lips and blushing cheeks had vanished, leaving her seeming more like a lingering spirit, a pile of white ash after a long fire, stark white save for the petal- pink eyes that continued to smolder.

The wind picked up in a whistling gust that whipped her hair about her face, and carried the letter she let sail from her grasp over the booming falls, it's form slowly shrinking before disappearing over the dark, looming forest to the North.

Nevaeh, only recently returned to the island, picks up a newspaper documenting the occassion on her way to the grocery the morning after the speech. After reading it, her expression contorts a bit, changing a few times as she reads. Once a few moments have passed, she purchases her items, sighs, and wanders off, still reading the article covering the speech.

Flanked on one side by the notorious Delta Scouts, and upon the other by the Adventuring Guard division, Saelier Zeyriel's visage didn't even make an attempt at a smile as her 'promotion' was stated. The people of the Northern Outskirts, those she was known to interact with daily, cheered the loudest regardless.

As her replacement was named and titled, a single, profane elven cuss was murmured under her breath; eyeing the new Captain warily.

For whatever reason, the urban ranger was most displeased at how things turned out, though not even a concerned friend among the populace got a word out of her.

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Weston found himself standing between the citizens of Cordor and the adventurers, although he was more towards the side of the minority. Even then, he stayed his modest distance back and did his best to listen to the rallying words. A worried frown one moment, a smile the next, and he settled on showing nothing upon his expression as thoughts took him aside from hearing all the words.

Only when the bell began to toll did his attention come back. Even he could hear what was amiss, almost instantly understanding what his ears had heard even if he knew it not a possible phenomina. It quickly slipped from his mind again.

"Johnathin. I have to wonder if this would be your strive as well. Cordor is strong. There is no question to that. But I must try to reach out and give you your chance. I have to know. If what I felt in your aura is true, than Cordor would only prosper further with you here."

Weston closes his thoughts and turns to leave, suddenly paused to glance back with a sudden realization of the adventuring-life folk being far outnumbered.

"Clever words. Clever indeed. A proper banishment begs chaos, even if they are fewer. So make it less appealing... Now where does that leave I? An orphan who's left your walls. How will you judge me?"

The grin on his face matches a glimmer of dare in Weston's eyes. He smirks to his thoughts as he finishes taking his leave of Cordor with his companion Edonil.

Warrick makes his way home after a long day, both of resource gathering in service to the Commonwealth, and exposure to adventurer behaviour.

He makes his way to his humble flat in the South, sighing quietly and murmuring to himself as he opens his door.

"Why in the hells can't adventurers learn that their being in Cordor is a priviledge, not a bloody right? Especially now. More behaviour like what I saw earlier and I think I'll turn pro-Maxi.. which is a frightening thought to be sure." he thought to himself as he prepared for bed.

"The only thing keeping me from it already is knowing there are adventurers who do want to be respectful, considerate and work within the system as opposed to trying to be above it. he finished his thoughts as he went to bed.

When he awoke the next morning, he put on a more casual outfit before slipping out and going for a jog through the South, once finished he takes a moment to wash himself on and prepare for the next day.

Over the next few days, Kael has been leaving leaflets scattered around Cordor at random locations, some left on tables of inns and taverns, a few posters appearing in accessible, yet not always watched locations.

Quote:

Do you really think you can survive without us adventurers?

Do you really think Cordor would stand were it not for the heroes keeping it safe from harm and outside threats?

Adventurers are heroes. We fight against monsters, even those wearing the guise of humans. If all good heroes would leave, who would protect you? A single spell is all it would take to kill dozens of commoners...! A small band of goblins could burn the city to the ground, were it not for us. Will you challenge the evils of this word with sticks and stones? Good luck with that, and the gods be with you if that is truly your choice.

Face it... you owe us, big time. We made the city what it is. It is us, the adventurers who are the reason that cordor even matters.

Your economy is based on accommodating us and our needs. What would a farmer do with an enchanted sword? A potion of heal? That assumes they could even afford it. Do you think you could live of carrots and potatoes alone? Think again. Supplying us is the only reason you survive.

You say Cordor belongs to the citizens... you hate and despite us. Why? Because you are scared. You know as well as we do that if a few of us banded together, Cordor could be ours by force. We don't. Instead, we protect you, bring business to your city, and give your lives a meaning, a chance to play a even so small role in the greater happenings of our world.

Cordor is a city of adventurers, always has been, always will be, one way or another.

You should love and praise us, and go out of your ways to accommodate us and your needs. You owe us that much and far more. Without us, you would be nothing.

Don't listen to the lies of the commonwealth. They murdered the duke, they are murdering their own, only so they can blame us. They lie and corrupt, they deceive you. Open your eyes. A council made up of commoners? What do they know about running a city or the real life? They want us out, because they know we own the city. Once they get their way, hell will break out. Only then will you beg us to return and safe you... once again.

Cordor is us.

The sooner you realize this, the better.

A near enraged Warrick sees one of these and drafts the following for Maximillian's approval as counter-propaganda

----

Adventurers who assume themsleves greater then people are the very reason that such harsh measures against them are warranted.

While yes, there are adventurers who have served in Cordor's past, such as Lieutenant Tarvencia, there are also so many who have dared carry the same attitude as the above notice.

THIS HAS TO END

----

Kael's propaganda has the desired effect on the people of the Commonwealth; it turns out that Christophan is not the only one tearing down those notices in rage, but every citizen does their part to tear down, stomp upon, spit upon, and otherwise mock adventures for having the opinion that they should bow down and worship them.

Councillor Maximillian visits the government clerk personally, giving him a stiff nod of approval to send that counter-propaganda to the presses. But in truth, the counter-propaganda is hardly necessary, as the citizens more often than not speak up for themselves, now that they have been given the voice.

"All of the adventurers say that we owe them so much, but if we were to turn them out completely, and something bad happened, who would be the perpretator? An adventurer, just to prove his point."

"Hear hear! And what is this nonsense about challenging the evils of the world? Those are not our concern! I have a family to look after! I have a job to do! The adventurers are welcome to do that if they want to, but they treat us like we're the evils, stomping all over us at any chance they get!"

"Adventurers are not heroes! Heroes are good men like Johnathin Leohnard! The ones who example virtue, and not the damnable arrogance that fills every word of these posters! If the person who wrote this is a hero, then I'm a Raksasha's uncle!"

Last edited by Grymia on Wed, Jun 24 2009, 21:21 PM, edited 1 time in total.

Warrick proudly nods and sends them to the presses with Maximillian's approval.

----

Adventurers who assume themsleves greater then people are the very reason that such harsh measures against them are warranted.

While yes, there are adventurers who have served in Cordor's past, such as Lieutenant Tarvencia, there are also so many who have dared carry the same attitude as the above notice.

THIS HAS TO END

----

The day after, Kael would have been seen in the square, the skilled bard singing a rather peculiar song. Despite the beautiful merry tune accompanying his silken voice, it would be the lyrics that may have caused a ruckus.

The bard has been escorted out of the city by a guard right after, but not before his song could be heard by any adventurers and commoners present.

Quote:

~There once was a man, duke Montogmery his name. Some people had him killed, with a vile aim.

~Take over, gain power, not only was their intend. It's the adventurers, they away wanted to send.

~They lied, they deceived, they placed blame. With the commoners, they were playing a game.

~Clouding their eyes, their perception, their vision. Their words loaded with lies, hit with precision.

~They fooled you, the fine folk of Cordor, into turning on us. They made promises, but few were made true, it makes me want to cuss.

~To keep in power, they kill their own, those who no longer believe in the plan. They kill the councilors, blame adventurers, they wait, maybe get a tan.

~Their dirty work you do, so willingly and gladly. Even though the commonwealth is threating you so badly.

~They are corrupt, they are vile, they care for you not. You are all pawns, in the commonwealths sinister plot.

~They want us removed, vilainified, hated. To help them do this, you they have waited.

~We wield power, that which they fear. We got the better spells, the muscle, the gear.

~Vigilant they need to remain while we remain. While we remain, the power they wish they can not gain.

~Once we are gone, nothing will stop them. They will squeeze you, take your freedom, your wifes, your last gem.

Warrick quietly makes his way home to South Cordor from the square, sighing to himself and obviously deep in his thoughts.

~Distrust. That'll be what gets us if we can't somehow get it together in the end. The trick is, how to get everyone to trust one another... or would it be better to accept that they won't, and improvise. Risky, but it may be the only choice of any viable consideration. ~ Warrick thought to himself, making his way back to his home where he slid off his clothing and looked up to the moon, briefly praying to Eilistraee before going to bed.

In the morning, when Warrick went out on his by now routine Morning jog , he quietly made it a point where possible to be a good neighbour and help his fellow Cordorian citizens as best he could, but would remain humble about doing so and not bother anyone if it didn't appear as though they wished to be bothered.

Edonil stood next to Weston for the speech. Her hearing is keen more than some for making up being blind. She kept a light hold on Weston's belt so the crowd wont separate them. Frowning to smiling then back again at the mention of adventurers. ~Am I one? I sit and sing of hope and encourage others around me. I went on a few ventures with other when asked too.~ Pause to hear the bell tolls, always loving the bold strong sound. Bong. Bong. Bong. gonB. Tilts her head all of a sudden to the vibration reversal. ~Did I hear and feel that right?~ gonB. Then the pause and beginning studder of the speaker and the ending. ~Something is wrong, out of place.~ Sudden move of Weston, she spins to follow him along in retreating from the district.

-

After his day's activities, Warrick begins to make his way back home to his small apartment in the South.

~ I hope she'll be alright. Whoever it is that harmed her isn't a slouch to be sure.. they're well trained and experienced., ~ he mused to himself as he went into his house and completed his nightly routine.Going to bed wordlessly, he awoke the next morning and pulled himself together with his usual routine for the most part.

However, he seemed to make an effort as he jogged to engage folk in conversation, stopping to do so and asking their opinions on a specific matter if they'd be willing to speak with him.

"Might I ask how you'd feel if the Council was to consider a law making sure people behaved in public in a reasonable way, especially the Eastern square? Or, perhaps how they were to dress at least when in public?" he'd ask in some permutation or another, seeming to honestly listen and pay attention to what's said.

He does his best to keep a good mental track of the people's thoughts as he makes his way along, keeping it more casual, and also nonetheless maintains regardless of the people's opinions a polite and kindly attitude, lending a hand to help where he can so long as it's welcomed.

*after several days Kael returns to the city for one more performance*

~There is something here that is rotten, it's how bad things with the commonwealth have gotten.

~The plot is underway, the conspiracy afoot, their lies dragging out like pure black soot.

~The commonwealth, they killed our duke, we let them get away with it, just by a fluke.

~Now they are in power, firmly seated, yet every adventurer knows that to get there they cheated.

~We stand in their way, the only true match, with adventurers, the corrupt council can't deal a scratch!!! *the elf would shouts as he is being dragged away by one of the guards, the rest of his message being lost, slowly fading to silence*

Various additional posters are put up in all major areas of the city, as well as outside shops by government clerks and similar appointed personnel. All are stamped as approved by the Cordorian Council.

-----

Adventurer!

This man works for his living, toiling bravely every day in the service of his fellow CITIZEN

*This image would be the image of a man who is working to repair a cobbled road. Behind him are lush green fields, being worked by similar humbly drawn individuals

What do YOU do everyday for your fellows?

-----

Adventurer!

This soldier stands on guard for his fellow CITIZEN , laying their life on the line for the fellow man day in and day out because he wishes to work WITH his community, NOT for personal Glory! All they ask is their day's wage, room and board!

*The image of a guardsman from the Cordorian City Guard, standing tall and proud. He does not appear to be distinctive in his features, though his features are stylized to be strong and bold. In the background are more like the first*

Can YOU say the same?

-----

Adventurers on the isle of Amia!

The Horde War was a great tragedy to the people of Cordor, a war in which many lost their lives. This war however, was not a product of Cordorian actions, or it's citizenry. Nay, it was a product of YOU and your insistance on trapising about others' lairs and their Homes!

*A quality sketch of the Horde Monument is shown here, very drab and with no background. A single mourning woman in ragged clothes kneels before the monument obviously weeping*

Haven't you left enough of a mark on this city!

-----

*Here, would be the image of a beautiful woman wearing simple and humble clothing, that likely seen worn by commoners*

Want her? She prefers Working men, Citizens , not Adventurers

-----

Want this?

*An image of a rather shiny looking pile of gold coins and gems*

Try THIS

*Here, a plain but very clearly drawn montage of common trades, such as mining, farming, quarrying, and similar is seen*

It's an honest person's living! An honest CITIZEN'S living!

-----

Upon hearing the words, Kythra sighs a bit. "Normally I wouldn't care, but the citizens seem to class me in with the adventurers. I am far from it, but I'm treated as a common thug. And still, there are those who are honest, and who are out there risking their lives for other reasons than gold."

The blind feyling walked along, using her staff as a guide, tap-tapping it on the cobbles before her as she walked, continuing to speak to herself and any that cared to listen. "I have no idea of the politics of Cordor, nor do I care. I am not a citizen, and I do not plan to be. I can't live in a city, it's too far from the trees. The trees I'm eternally bound to. I can only visit. Let the city-folk have their way, I don't care. All I wish is to be allowed in once in a while to sell my juice without fear of being jumped and attacked in the street without hope of justice. I have an honest job, I work for every coin I have, yet the common populace treats me like a common thug. Do I look like one? I'm just a blind juicemaker, I don't go out risking my neck for coins. I don't risk my life at all in my line of work either. At one point I was a beggar on your streets, and you didn't care then. But now, since I've found a decent job, I have decent clothing and I'm not filthy, you hate me. How typical."

After her little speech to herself more than anyone, the blind feyling spun around, walking back in the direction she came from without even going where she was originally headed. She made enough money in Bendir anyway, so why should she stay where she was treated like a dishonest mercenary rather than what she is: a hard working orcharder simply trying to make a living, albeit a fairly decent one compared to the farmers. Kythra didn't care about Cordor's politics, and all it was doing was annoying her. She resolved not to come back until people began to realize that she wasn't one of the troublemakers.

Christophan makes his way home after a slightly shorter but nonetheless still exhausting day. Making his way to his residence in South Cordor, he quietly smiles at the door before taking a look around him looking to the South Cordorian streets.

~.. No matter what happens.. the people are the most important to this city. Princples, fighting evil.. they cannot clothe or feed people.. they can guarantee them safety, aye but they need to be clothed and fed.. ~ he mused to himself briefly before bed.

In the morning when he awoke again, he continued with his morning routine of jogging, helping his fellow South Cordorians, and querying them personally about a new law to regulate certain behaviours in public.

Samantha stops as she catches sight of a few of the new posters on the side of the Temple.. a frown creases her face and she then rubs it a bit violently, shaking her head before moving along..

Once again posters and leaflets appear in the usuall spots. Mimicking the style of the counterpropaganda appearing, they are acompied by beautifully drawn images, telling a simple story...

Beautifull, isn't she... a simple girl, living a simple life of a farmer. What more could she wish for?

But.. uh oh. Did you see that in the distance?

Oh noes! Evil monsters came to plunder the pretty ladies home. They will rape, pillage and plunder... Her nice, simple life will be over...

Who shall save her? Certainly not this guy.

With noone to defend her, to keep the hordes away, the simple woman lost everything. She barelly got away with her life... noting left but ashes.

None saved her. No heroes, no adventurers were around. The commonwealth drove them all away.

They protected you for ages. You are able to keep living your simple, happy lives due to them. They keep watch, stand vigil, they shape the world so you may live. You are here thanks to them.

They did not want to leave. The commonwealth made them. With you, the common folk as their weapons of choice. You have won, the adventurers are gone. Only simple folk remain, the honest farmer, simple blacksmith, the tanner, the weaver...

They got what they wanted, the heroes are all gone. Soon, everything else will follow.

Be carefull what you wish for. It might just come true...

The posters are simply removed, with a simple notice;

Adventurers cause more damage than Outside Entities. Additionally, the Cordorian Military has stood long enough to deal with said entities in a practiced, experienced and effective manner.

However, our means don't destroy homes in the crossfire, and damage the city in an array of area spells and chaotic activities.

- Commonwealth Guard

There are quite a few citizens who stand around to admire the beautiful drawings, and there is something about the message that does seem to strike a chord: the appeal to a common fear. But one thing is for certain - those artfully rendered orcs and goblins and monsters are just as often the adventurers allowed into town as the monstrosities kept at bay.

"If this guy spent his time trying to reform the adventuring community to keep them from demeaning and harming us, he might actually be successful. But instead, he chooses to keep telling us how inferior we are to adventurers and how we should give them all of our worldly possessions because we owe them everything. Between mercenary adventurers stealing all of our common wealth and our lives at their whim in order to protect us from the monsters and the Commonwealth Guard on hand to defend our lives and our livelihoods for free, with a sense of honor and duty and love for the people...I'll go with the Commonwealth Guard."

"I have to understand what he's trying to say.. more often then not if I see a situation like this I'm lending my own hand if I am able in a way which won't put innocent folk in danger." Warrick can be seen commenting to one of the posters.

"But, when I help, I do my best not to step on Citizenry. Point of fact, I'd just as happily teach anyone who wishes to learn what I know of the unarmed arts to defend themselves and their homes , long as I'd be permitted and so long as there'd be an interest." he adds, looking around to the various folk present.

Notes begin popping up here in there, in both relatively public and private places:

Not all of us want to be what you have made us. Some of us would be simple citizens given the choice, but our blood or our ways cause us to be cast out and we are forced to fight to survive when we would prefer to lead a simple life. Not all 'adventurers' are out for personal glory, or to take advantage of the city. To assume such about the whole based on the actions of a few is idiocy and arrogance of a high order. The so-called "City of Tolerance" that I knew and loved growing up has fallen far from what it once was, and faintly I find it despicable. Turning out or mistreating 'adventurers' is bound to have consequences in the form of the very actions you so despise in the few, only now it could well be the many perpetrating it instead of the few.

This city is my home and will remain so, but I can no longer take pride in saying that. The Commonwealth is using its people wrongly, and turning out the good and the bad indiscriminantly because they either cannot tell the difference or refuse to think it matters. These choices may well come back to haunt them, and no doubt they will be quick to foist the blame for their actions off on others.

The notes are unsigned. If anyone happens to catch one being posted, they find it being posted by an urchin or beggar, who claim they were paid by a tall man in dark armor to put them up.

Warrick reads one of the unsigned notes and muses to himself.

~I empathize with the writer of this note... the problem is, those that don't adventure for glory and for some personal gratification but instead for an idealogy are fewer and further between. ~

Shortly after, he can be seen commenting.

"As one who has come from afar back to this land after so long I can empathize. Life isn't a simple matter, and I hope he can find himself good honest work to help show he's more. I mean hells, how many would consider me an adventurer and yet, I work for the government and for the People's benefit."

Reh can be seen sighing at the various discussions popping up around Cordor. Most see being in Cordor as a right, not a privilege. I should know, I worked my butt off to be allowed in here... But because bad things happen to good people, doesn't give people the right to go bad themselves.. I don't go shooting every elf I see, because some of them are !#!%!#%!#.

Make everyone work for entry and respect in Cordor, like some of us have had to.. maybe that'll teach them some humility, and boundaries, instead of violent approaches to unstable adventurers.

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Did you know that Cordor's very own graveyard is infested with undead? Day after day they rise... and day after day, dozens of brave adventurers venture out to meet them, forcing the risen dead back into their graves. It is thanks to those heroes that the undead menace can't spread beyond the graveyard. The reason why you can sleep at night, not having to listen for the rabid call of the walking dead, craving for your flesh. It is not the guard that keeps the undead at bay. It is not the commonwealth that spill their sweat and blood in the battle against the undead hordes.

Did you know that the sewers beneath Cordor are full of filthy kobolds, of risen pirates, mean spirited water spirits, infested rats? Did you know that cordor has more holes than a slice of cheese? That one can easily walk into your city from the swamps... from the kobold caves... from the undeardark? Did you know the only thing standing in the way of an army about to steal your children is a rusty gate and two guards who can't even stay awake?

Did you know that adventurers venture into the sewers daily, killing the infested, the kobolds, the undead? That it is due to their vigilance that none could slip past without someone knowing? What would happen if they were gone?

Did you know that a vile cult resides in Cordor's crypts? They follow their god, the Horned rat. They plot and scheme... right beneath your feet, deep underground. The guard is not helping. Tristana has to seek our help in fighting the cult.

Did you know that captain Yance has trouble fighting the orc threat to the north on his own? He doesn't send his own men to protect you. As the orcs get organized, getting ready for an attack united by a leader... he does nothing. He sends us, adventurers, to do what the guard can not.

Have you asked farmer Holvin what the guards ever did for him? What did the commonwealth do to take care of his kobold trouble? I know the answer. They did nothing, we adventurers did.

Have you ever considered what would happen if one day... the adventurers stopped fighting?

Adventurers. We fight. So you don't have to.

Xaviera greets the usual folk who come to the bath house for their daily or weekly ablutions and socializing. The common people, more tied to the rhythms of daily life than the peripatetic adventurers, tend to frequent the bath house at certain specific times of day and generally avoid the more flamboyant of the adventuring class. The farmers and labourers appear in the late afternoon, the working girls and other folk of south Cordor in the early evening or early morning, families later in the morning.

She makes sure that everyone is taken care of, offering small amounts of her special soaps, shampoos, balms and perfumes to those who dont usually have the money to afford such luxuries. She chats casually with the people while massaging shoulders made sore from lifting hay bales, hoeing vegetables or chopping wood in the forest.

Her words are usually variations on a theme:

"Adventurers, like nobles, are only useful if they do something for the privileges they claim. Once someone becomes a drag on you, they need to either shape up or ship out. But that's true of anyone, not just adventurers. I'm sure you know someone who doesnt pull their fair share of the weight, hm?"

"A noble is given his position because he is supposed to fight for the people, because he has the money to pay for the equipment and the skill to do the job where others dont. Dont expect him to be able to birth a calf or tell a tomato from a pepper. As long as he does his job, he should get paid appropriate to the risks he takes. When he takes without giving, or when he treats those he's supposed to be serving like garbage, he doesnt deserve his position. There were good nobles and bad nobles under the Duke, just as there are good adventurers and bad adventurers."

"The Commonwealth Council has worked hard to make things better for everybody and to kick out those who dont deserve what they have. I think sometimes they've gone a bit too far, but that's politics for you. Johnathin Leohnard and Hector Carton were good men who wanted the best for this city and its people. If everyone would treat people with the respect they deserve, we'd all be better off, adventurers included."

"Adventurers are people too. Just like anyone else, some are good and some are evil. I and my family have experienced the tortures of the Lolthite drow and I was one of the people who pushed for their ban. That being said, I know a lot of good drow. Commander Jud'Vardas, for example. Some people are helpful and some are bullies - the point is to tell one from the other, keep the former and get rid of the latter. I'll take an Eilistraeean over a Cyricist anyday, or an honest guardswoman with an adventuring history like Lieutenant Tarvencia over a crook like Boss Miller."

The point she tries to make in each conversation is that people should be recognized for who they are and for their accomplishments, whether commoner, adventurer, 'monstrous race' or otherwise.

If Warrick happens to catch Xaviera in passing, he'll agree with that sentiment and add.

"There are those who adventure but do nonetheless work and pull their weight in the community, or those who pull their weight in the community more, but adventure only when absolutely nescessary."

After a long day and evening, Warrick makes his way home quietly, but politely at the same time greeting anyone he passes on the way to his residence on the South.

~This .. Ultriannan trouble... I hope by the Dark Maiden's will it does not affect us in Cordor, or if it does that we will be ready to stop it before it becomes a problem ~ Warrick thought to himself, quietly going to bed after a brief pause to consider.

Awakening the next morning, Warrick continued his routine , speaking with those he encountered on his morning jog and in general, living the life of a Cordorian Clerk.

Nevaeh, who had been watching the addition of notices for some time, finally resolves to put her own up.

“A common theme I’ve been seeing when people talk about this conflict between adventurers and the common people of Cordor is that no one has listened to the fears that have been glossed over or ignored by a people who need to be protected.

For those who are adventurers, I’ve seen the posters about adventurers fighting the things that plague our city, but these deeds do not justify the wrongs that have been done to the working citizens by the very same group. Instead of arguing that we contribute by fighting the undead in the sewers, hunting the rat cult, and being around just by sheer number to combat things that seek to harm Cordor, why don’t you actually listen to the people who are scared instead of sweeping their fears under the rug? I’m certain that their fears are rational, but no one has taken the time to acknowledge them, instead they argue as though the people are –wrong- for being afraid, after being battered, stolen from, threatened, killed, and delivered sorrow and hardship, by the adventuring population.

Maybe the last bit doesn’t apply to you, but I implore you to just listen to these people anyway and do something different and own up to some of the guilt that the adventuring population has earned, even if you are not responsible personally.

The common people are waiting for people like that, and they’re not averse to meeting some of these rumored 'good' adventurers that everyone talks about. Bend an ear to them and put the swords away. Show them that you care, listen to their fears and acknowledge them and then work to spread the word to others. Arguing the 'some good, some bad' and 'adventurers contribute!' is not working. It’s time to listen.

Sincerely yours,

Nevaeh Tarvencia”

At the bottom, an excerpt from the dogma of Nobanion is penned in.

“The law of the jungle is that only the strong survive, but they survive best by being leaders, not tyrants, by protecting the weak, not bullying them. All creatures have their strengths in the assigned roles and should be encouraged to find their niche. From cooperation between beings of differing strengths comes the strength of teamwork and community, the strongest force of all. By demonstrating compassion and tolerance and living within the land, all living creatures may find harmony with nature and one another.”

Several citizens stop by to read the new notices with the Lion's Head at the bottom. Most nod in quiet agreement, but have little else to say. There are some remarks, however, from those who recognize the author's name.

"That's why she got a promotion. This is exactly why the Council trusts adventurers enough to give them a chance to reform in the Adventuring Guard."

Warrick quietly looks at Nevaeh's notice, bowing his head quietly and smiling.

~It seems the youngling is actually very capable. Given an honest chance any adventurer can improve and can contribute. ~

"THere are other branches, if one has patience and dedication to prove themselves honestly willing to serve in a more civil fashion as I am. I am always willing to lend a hand in a situation where physical force is needed, but I mostly serve as a Clerk, and as a Bursar. That is why I try to work within our system for it's benefit, that is why I respect the guard's word and ASK if they need a hand." he can be seen noting in conversation with people.

As Mynna and Yurioji rode the cart back from Uhm her thoughts held her like quicksand of what old Jack had told her.
Suddenly the threat of the End was very real to her and her friends, but she had now a reason to fight. There was little
confusion in her mind as to what she would do and how she would do it. However she was left with one puzzle and the
words of Gnosis cycled through her mind in the very way they may have cycled through Jack's.
At home in Guldorand, she wrote the prophecies of Gnosis among the walls several times the tale so much repetition until
she eventually ran out of ink, things were clear to her. Not in the way that Reyes had seen it, but as a spectator; a creature
of this realm though not human nor beast, or god, or plant, but the fifth party entity that had right to this world and its resources.
A machine created by the genius of mankind, a girl that never was, but still had been. The invisible hand that pressed her
to continue would not slow down now. She had learned and seen too much, and had been far too damaged by the actions of
one to allow him such forsaken legacy.
"Time cannot touch me." She repeated the old man's words.
And it was with that epiphany had she the strength and knowledge to pull through. Her target could be hit with divine symmetry
and she would have no fear stepping against the realm of Liminal Time. Time, her greatest enemy was never and had never been
a weapon used against her. It could not. However time would not need to touch her to destroy what she has and had already lost.
It always was her weakness. The heaviness of knowing she would never die would only tether her to the endangered longevity of her world.
And all of the people: rich or poor, strong and weak, good and evil, the fat or thin, ugly and beautiful, nobodies, somebodies,
every breathing life form she had come into contact with who was sworn to their own doom when the hourglass of life dropped
their final grain of sand, while she stood above a desert of her own keep! The mere facts were unkind to them all and to her.
"I never thought I'd need so many people."
And for the first time in near all of her near indefinite existence, Mynna had felt both love and remorse for her world.
She must stop that which will become, to preserve that which is passed.

..."In the Beginning, there was the Logos; but in the end, there will be life."
Bong. rang the bell tower in Guldorand, and it was beautiful.

State of the Commonwealth Address: Year One

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