gowia — Roleplayer Guild

"How many of you are unemployed?" A chorus of angry shouting and raised fists answered the question. "Brothers and sisters, you were promised employment when moving to Northport. The big oil industry has lied to you, private corporations spurting slander about how great they are for the country. Well, the CEOs spend their nights eating imported caviar and attending the parties of Florence Gray, the witch that personifies the bourgeoisie. Tell me, how many of you enjoy such fine luxuries?" Once more the cries of outrage and raised fists of the mass were the answer. "I thought as much. It seems very unfair, that they receive the benefits of all the hard work of the proletariat. Whilst at the same time disempowering a majority of those they promised to raise up. The one criminal you may have heard of, Governor Nuncio, is the worst of the sort. He attempts to break us through violence and further cutting what the minority have. I tell you this people, we will march on Nuncio, we will hold him accountable, and we will spill his riches on the floor for you to each take a share. But we cannot do this alone, when we march it cannot be Joseph Sullam's march, or Maria Truskov's march. It must be the People's March. The People will lead and the people will break of the oppressive shackles of despotic capitalist bullshit!"

"Brothers, sisters, will you march with me?" The crowd let its blood roar of approval ring around the small square. The small wooden plinth, that had been hurriedly erected, vibrated as the crowd took up the cry of 'People's March'. Thomas stepped down and was smiling and cheering with the men and women of rags who blindly looked to him to help them out of squalor. He shook the hands of a number of supporters before the two bears he called body guards, Trevor and Trevor, lightly tapped his shoulder. They wore matching trench coats and flat caps on top of they greyish trousers. Their shoes were army surplus and held steel toes. Finally each man wore a bright red armband emblazoned with the People's March flag. In contrast thomas was a much thinner man than them, however his arms were thick from time spent in the refineries. Thomas also didn't cover his face, but his outfit matched their, if the colour scheme was slightly brighter. The two bodyguards hurriedly pushed their way through the cheering crowd, angling to take their charge out through one of the side alleys.

Suddenly a loud whistle blew and everybody turned to see the familiar face of the police, preparing to disperse the crowd as swiftly as possible. A man in uniform stood above the grunts and used a megaphone to speak. But before he could ay a word Thomas stepped forward and picked up a sharp stone from the floor. Reaching back he hurled the missile as the man, the grey arching in the rising sunlight. The stone collided with the man's forehead and there was a wild cheer from the mass as the red of blood could be seen. The man reeled back clutching for only a second before shouting orders and allowing his men to run rampant. As the bodyguards grabbed Thomas he preached quickly to the supporters. "They make to break our bones with force, but stand strong. The day of judgement is coming, and when it does we will break ten bones for every one they snap. Disperse friends and spread the word."

With that Thomas was running as well and his bodyguards released him. The three men were the main target but the police were now randomly arresting everybody they could. The trio made their way through the crowd, careful to try and be unnoticeable, into what appeared to be an abandoned house in a basement, running down the stairs into the basement they made their way to a hidden door behind a dresser. The door lead to the next house along where a member of the People's March secret police held a change of clothes. Throwing off their coats and covering their armbands, but not removing them, they made their way further into the house where another secret door led to a different road. Coming out they could hear the sound of the futile resistance pittering out. Counting from the shadows Thomas reckoned they had arrested ten people at most. And with a crowd that size that meant a majority had got away. Their message should spread. Pulling his hat down, Thomas turned and followed his protectors as they moved him to a new safe house to prepare another speech.

There was a loud gunshot and a curse as the bottle remained intact and standing on the gate post. A quick drag of the bolt and then another round fired off. Again followed by a curse as the mocking bottle was unmoved. Crunching steps grew louder as the bottle found itself face to face with the barrel of a pistol. "Die, green pig." There was a click and then the gun fired, spraying glass shards forwards. Smiling Joseph Sullam walked back to the mark on the makeshift range and grinned at Yuri. Yuri was a dark and swarthy man who almost never smiled, and he wasn't now. "Great comrade, if you are to lead a revolution, you need to be able to shoot. That is why we practice, so that when the day comes that we march on Northport, you can gun down the dogs with your comrades. Again." Jospeh sighed and picked the bolt action rifle back up. Dropping to a crouch he lifted up the gun and aimed at the second bottle, slightly further away than the first. Breathing out deeply he pulled on the trigger and laughed as the edge of the bottle was caught. Green rain spat out and the bottle was half obliterated, half knocked to the floor. Yuri merely nodded and walked away.

Joseph had been practicing for hours now and it was time to return to the more pressing duty of inspiring a nation. Walking back to the camp the pair nodded at every person they came across, all wearing the armband of the People's March, but all in an assortment of outdoor equipment. The camp was situated at the bottom of a small ridge and covered in some light trees. This allowed them to be quite camouflaged, at the same time nearby guards could easily see far around in case of attack. The main tent was the most well hidden and had been dug in to provide a minimum of protection from any sort of light shelling. Inside a large war table was set up and around it The Party stood, staring at the radio in the centre of the table. They greeted each other with the People's March salute, a closed fist slapped against the chest. "Party, tell me we have at least got an idea as to who we will contact, the days are counting down for our march and still we used outdated weopans and don't have anywhere near enough or those working in the city, definately not including the masses that will join us." Sitting, Joseph listened to his brother speak.

"Brother, we need allies that is for sure. But our message may simply be too strong to garner aid from other countries. At the same time we are the most organised Communist faction in the country. I doubt we have many friends, at least none with the arms we need."

"Then we look for support from a group that doesn't fight due to political ideology, but due to a simple desire to change the regime. And only one such group really fits this bill." There was mutterings and some arguing over what this meant as people tried to hash out whom Joseph meant. Quickly Jospeh slammed his fist down and spoke in the sudden silence. "I want to contact the Iron Legion. They are a professional group, that whilst tied up with their own battles, must surely have connections and reserves of arms. That's who we will contact.

-Elements of the People's March are inciting small acts of violence all across Northport.
-The Iron Legion has been contacted for some form of support in exchange for future promises of oil.
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