Aphra burned like the heart of Asmodeus as she stalked the mobs of protestors she felt as one with in spirit. The young maiden had come from the heart of the slums of Kintargo, and the strangled city hurt the poor first. In a white blouse that accentuated her lovely bosom, covered with a vest and crude leathers, she also wore leather gauntlets that suggested she'd not hesitate to draw the sword that swaggered in its scabbard along her hip as she dodged protesters, children, farmers, guards. She was too hot to talk to anyone, yet. Her shoulder-length brown hair was straight, matching her brown eyes scanning. She saw where she wanted to go - where it was the loudest. A mob of protestors were venting their anger and shouting over top of each other and, sometimes at each other. Aphra strode in her high leather boots and made a beeline for them, bodily moving in roughly and shouting herself.
"Stop fighting amongst yourselves you fools!" she tried to outshout even the loudest of the bunch. She shoved her way to the center, gauntlet even near the hilt of her sword as she glared around at the other protesters. Any who were angry as she was might know she was angry for the same reasons they were.
"I'm fed-up! And I'm already fed-up with your infighting!" she outshouted everyone, throwing elbows to those who didn't give her room or attention. Aphra vehemently rallied her fellow citizens.
"Kintargo demands local rule and independence! You," she looked over at the economic conservatives. "If you think Thrune is squeezing the life out of you now, come sleep in the slums for a night! And foresee your own near future!" Silence replaced their shouting. "No legal action was taken by House Thrune," she cried, red in the face, eyes darting in the direction of the Opera House, "and we demand democracy! The Lord-Mayor will fall, by my sword if none other!"
Suddenly she drew its long blade, as a group of advocates for democracy shut their traps. "What kind of Lord-Mayor takes up in an Opera House! Is it so funny?! Does this Balzillai Thrune duel with the trombone?!" she hurled at others. "He does not sound like the sort of man who can wield a sword, or is any stronger than I!"
"Citizens of Kintargo! Take up arms! Hide your children and pick up your hammers and skillets and revolt! The city guard...they are torn between their families and their own lives! But they are like us, they feel like us! They will only be swayed to our side by our own conviction! By our own riot! RIOT!!" she hurled at the anarchists. Aphra heaved breaths at her hotly-flushed cheeks in the wake of her yell. "Riot at the House of Thrune! And the Church of Asmodeus! Slay any cleric of Asmodeus on sight! Poison their sleep! Raze their temple to the ground!" As she rallied the shouting anarchists she paused again silently a moment, a single tear running down her cheek. She did not speak of her family, but had been jolted by recent memory and loss.
Aphra Pesara raised her unsheathed sword to the sky in a gesture of death or glory. She looked with dangerous warning over at the Chelish loyalists, her simple brown cloak furling.
"We citizens dissent! Any loyalist stand aside in the liberation of Kintargo, or be counted amongst the enemy!"
Silence Undesirable Elements: With five distinct factions among the protesters, the message delivered is a jumbled mess. Characters can try to silence or outshout elements of the crowd they disagree with with a Bluff or Intimidate check.
Intimidate d20(14)+8= 22.
Last edited by Bong Bellowsmoke; 02-21-2017 at 03:32 PM.
The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."
“I will,” Darvig uttered.