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<blockquote data-quote="Guilt Puppy" data-source="post: 1963600" data-attributes="member: 6521"><p>The sun sets over the crest of the Tilvanot Peninsula; Abbon Craylor sits, grooming, in a curtained alcove at the Grand Amphitheatre of Kro Kerlep. At the bottom of his breath, he practices one final time the speech that he will recite first here, then again countless times across the Scarlet Territories. A burdensome thought, to be sure: No doubt by the end of the day his head will be agonized with teleportation sickness.</p><p></p><p>A servant steps in: "It is dark now." He had decided some time ago that these rallies should be held at night, the better to emphasize their spectacle. He had come to regret this: By the time he reached the Northern territories it would be quite late, and the thought of appealing to a horde of sleep-deprived barbarians with a spent voice was intimidating, at best. But here it was still early, by grace of the early winter sunset, and these were the true devoted. This one, at least, should be easy.</p><p></p><p>Swallowing all troubles, Abbon Craylor makes his way to the podium. The enthusiastic cheers of thousands burns his ears, but vanishes politely at merely a gesture. The best audience of the night, indeed.</p><p></p><p>[sblock]</p><p><span style="color: white">"Brothers!"</span> he calls, then until he is certain all attention belongs to him.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">"Brothers, we are living at the beginning of a New Age.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">An age of triumph! An age of greatness! An age of <em>industry!</em></span></p><p><span style="color: white">For Brothers, the gods have left us, but in their stead we have something more powerful.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, we have <em>knowledge</em>. Knowledge granted to us by benevolent forces from beyond.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, their will is clear, and so too must be ours:</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Our past grievances are to be settled.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Our past sufferings are to be met with justice.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Our past oppressors are to bow down before us.</span></p><p><span style="color: white"><em>Our lost dominion is to be restored!</em></span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, let our terms be certain: <strong>We claim the Flaeness in the name of the Suel!</strong></span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, <em>this</em> is our birthright. This is what we have struggled for long, what we have battled to achieve for so many long years.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Our success is today! The Kingdoms of the Flaeness are flocking to claim allegiance with our Brotherhood. Only a few token holdouts remain, but these spheres of unjust rebellion are too small to blemish our victory. They will be silenced shortly!</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, at last, the Scarlet Brotherhood has achieved its aim."</span></p><p></p><p>Craylor falls silent, giving the crowd a chance to savor its rhetorical victory, before moving on.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">"But Brothers, today does not end all struggles.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, today marks but the beginning of new battles, new sacrifices to be made.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">We must come together, and prepare ourselves for one more great war.</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Why, my brothers? Why in our moment of triumph must we restrain our elation, and strengthen our arms? Why must we commit our energy to preparation, instead of celebration?</span></p><p><span style="color: white">What threat remains that can spoil our victory?"</span></p><p></p><p>There is a great burst of fire, a <em>silent image</em> resolving into the giant visage of a fearsome, one-eyed lich.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">"Vecna! </span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna! Tyranny! Filth! Ugliness! Funeral pyres and interminable suffering! Children screaming under the stairways! Mothers sobbing for armies! Old men murdered in the streets!</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna! Vecna! Nightmare of Vecna! Vecna the loveless! Vicious Vecna! Vecna the heavy judger of men!</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna the incomprehensible prison! Vecna the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Vecna whose idols are judgement! Vecna the vast stone of war! Vecna the stunner of governments!</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna whose mind is pure machinery! Vecna whose blood is running tragedy! Vecna whose fingers are five armies! Vecna whose breast is cannibal energy! Vecna whose mouth is a smoking tomb!</span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna whose eye is a thousand blind windows! Vecna whose monuments stand in the long streets like endless deities! Vecna whose legions dream and choke in the fog! </span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna whose love is endless oil and stone! Vecna whose soul is lightning and dungeons! Vecna whose poverty is the specter of genius! Vecna whose fate is a cloud of lifeless alchemy! Vecna whose name is the Tomb!</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p><span style="color: white">Vecna! Vecna! Zombie encampments! Invisible townships! Skeleton treasuries! Blind capioals! Demonic industries! Spectral nations! Invincible madhouses! Granite stock! Monstrous fire!</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p><span style="color: white">What shall we not give in opposition of Vecna? Labor, iron, sons, meat? Who among you would not give your <em>lives</em> in the fight against Vecna? For you are the hands, the <em>fists</em> of our greater racial body. What good is a hand that will not protect its body? What purpose does it serve?</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p><span style="color: white">This shall not be the age of the selfish! Ten Brothers who hide from danger shall only die in hiding, and be forgotten. But Ten Brothers who fight as one shall live, and live on in their blood, and be remembered forever as heroes.</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p><span style="color: white">Brothers, the Suel shall fight as one! Let the lesser races cower into their own oblivion. We shall make of ourselves a perfect machine of War, and our adversaries shall not so much as <em>imagine</em> the gift of mercy."</span></p><p></p><p>The image of Vecna bursts in magnificent crimson light, as Craylor strides away from the roar of the crowd. His part is done: Leave it to the others to begin taking names, assembling labor groups, enlisting youths into the military...</p><p></p><p><em>(OOC: The Vecna tirade is mostly lifted from Howl, by Allen Ginsberg... Don't ask how I arrived at the decision to use it... I'm not sure what to make of using beat poetry as source material for D&D, but I'm pretty sure it's nothing to be proud of.)</em></p><p>[/sblock]</p><p></p><p><em>(The sblock is just the speech, which ended up growing to thread-clogging proportions... If you don't feel like reading it, but somehow care about the content, the short of it is: Opens by claiming that the TEC Pact somehow represents a victory for the Scarlet Brotherhood, giving them total influence over the Flaeness, and then uses the threat of Vecna in a very vague but inflammatory manner to rally people to arms.)</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Guilt Puppy, post: 1963600, member: 6521"] The sun sets over the crest of the Tilvanot Peninsula; Abbon Craylor sits, grooming, in a curtained alcove at the Grand Amphitheatre of Kro Kerlep. At the bottom of his breath, he practices one final time the speech that he will recite first here, then again countless times across the Scarlet Territories. A burdensome thought, to be sure: No doubt by the end of the day his head will be agonized with teleportation sickness. A servant steps in: "It is dark now." He had decided some time ago that these rallies should be held at night, the better to emphasize their spectacle. He had come to regret this: By the time he reached the Northern territories it would be quite late, and the thought of appealing to a horde of sleep-deprived barbarians with a spent voice was intimidating, at best. But here it was still early, by grace of the early winter sunset, and these were the true devoted. This one, at least, should be easy. Swallowing all troubles, Abbon Craylor makes his way to the podium. The enthusiastic cheers of thousands burns his ears, but vanishes politely at merely a gesture. The best audience of the night, indeed. [sblock] [color=white]"Brothers!"[/color] he calls, then until he is certain all attention belongs to him. [color=white]"Brothers, we are living at the beginning of a New Age. An age of triumph! An age of greatness! An age of [i]industry![/i] For Brothers, the gods have left us, but in their stead we have something more powerful. Brothers, we have [i]knowledge[/i]. Knowledge granted to us by benevolent forces from beyond. Brothers, their will is clear, and so too must be ours: Our past grievances are to be settled. Our past sufferings are to be met with justice. Our past oppressors are to bow down before us. [i]Our lost dominion is to be restored![/i] Brothers, let our terms be certain: [b]We claim the Flaeness in the name of the Suel![/b] Brothers, [i]this[/i] is our birthright. This is what we have struggled for long, what we have battled to achieve for so many long years. Our success is today! The Kingdoms of the Flaeness are flocking to claim allegiance with our Brotherhood. Only a few token holdouts remain, but these spheres of unjust rebellion are too small to blemish our victory. They will be silenced shortly! Brothers, at last, the Scarlet Brotherhood has achieved its aim."[/color] Craylor falls silent, giving the crowd a chance to savor its rhetorical victory, before moving on. [color=white]"But Brothers, today does not end all struggles. Brothers, today marks but the beginning of new battles, new sacrifices to be made. We must come together, and prepare ourselves for one more great war. Why, my brothers? Why in our moment of triumph must we restrain our elation, and strengthen our arms? Why must we commit our energy to preparation, instead of celebration? What threat remains that can spoil our victory?"[/color] There is a great burst of fire, a [i]silent image[/i] resolving into the giant visage of a fearsome, one-eyed lich. [color=white]"Vecna! Vecna! Tyranny! Filth! Ugliness! Funeral pyres and interminable suffering! Children screaming under the stairways! Mothers sobbing for armies! Old men murdered in the streets! Vecna! Vecna! Nightmare of Vecna! Vecna the loveless! Vicious Vecna! Vecna the heavy judger of men! Vecna the incomprehensible prison! Vecna the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Vecna whose idols are judgement! Vecna the vast stone of war! Vecna the stunner of governments! Vecna whose mind is pure machinery! Vecna whose blood is running tragedy! Vecna whose fingers are five armies! Vecna whose breast is cannibal energy! Vecna whose mouth is a smoking tomb! Vecna whose eye is a thousand blind windows! Vecna whose monuments stand in the long streets like endless deities! Vecna whose legions dream and choke in the fog! Vecna whose love is endless oil and stone! Vecna whose soul is lightning and dungeons! Vecna whose poverty is the specter of genius! Vecna whose fate is a cloud of lifeless alchemy! Vecna whose name is the Tomb! Vecna! Vecna! Zombie encampments! Invisible townships! Skeleton treasuries! Blind capioals! Demonic industries! Spectral nations! Invincible madhouses! Granite stock! Monstrous fire! What shall we not give in opposition of Vecna? Labor, iron, sons, meat? Who among you would not give your [i]lives[/i] in the fight against Vecna? For you are the hands, the [i]fists[/i] of our greater racial body. What good is a hand that will not protect its body? What purpose does it serve? This shall not be the age of the selfish! Ten Brothers who hide from danger shall only die in hiding, and be forgotten. But Ten Brothers who fight as one shall live, and live on in their blood, and be remembered forever as heroes. Brothers, the Suel shall fight as one! Let the lesser races cower into their own oblivion. We shall make of ourselves a perfect machine of War, and our adversaries shall not so much as [i]imagine[/i] the gift of mercy."[/color] The image of Vecna bursts in magnificent crimson light, as Craylor strides away from the roar of the crowd. His part is done: Leave it to the others to begin taking names, assembling labor groups, enlisting youths into the military... [i](OOC: The Vecna tirade is mostly lifted from Howl, by Allen Ginsberg... Don't ask how I arrived at the decision to use it... I'm not sure what to make of using beat poetry as source material for D&D, but I'm pretty sure it's nothing to be proud of.)[/i] [/sblock] [i](The sblock is just the speech, which ended up growing to thread-clogging proportions... If you don't feel like reading it, but somehow care about the content, the short of it is: Opens by claiming that the TEC Pact somehow represents a victory for the Scarlet Brotherhood, giving them total influence over the Flaeness, and then uses the threat of Vecna in a very vague but inflammatory manner to rally people to arms.)[/i] [/QUOTE]
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