Posted all over Caer

[Volkher]

CITIZENS

This is the time to take action!

The Varanite Empire is crumbling and will eventually fall and be forgotten by history.

Now, all of you, who still know what a conscience is, assemble and fight the occupiers!

Free the slaves and yourself from the foreign rule!

Talk to your friends, you know, who also hate the bloody Varanites!

Assemble small groups and fight a war of insurrection!

YOU ARE NOT ALONE! WE ARE MANY!

DEATH TO MARCUS THE MAD AND HIS HOUNDS!

[Nicholas Woodruff]

Nicholas approaches one such notice, and frowns. He takes one down, folds it into his evidence pack, and starts taking down the rest.

[Stalkinghorse]

Stalkinghorse reads the flyer and laughs, and so they slash their own wrists, offering themselves in sacrifice to their true master. It shall not be long before his armies subsume these lands.

[urgualamand]

Mandrake sits on a hilltop. Two dead orcs by his side. He reads the flyer he had picked up to rip apart and throw in the trash. But he had not. Why? His thoughts went racing, bumping around his head looking for an escape.

The Governors death.. Politics! Why would he care for such. A soldier stands tall and fights hard all the time. Those above change stance like the mood of a woman scorn. Why try to understand it, when Orcs are aiming for your guts every day. Guts in need of food.

Was this another sign. Had Lochwar been an illusion or had Cear done Lochwar wrong? What action would he himself choose when faced with these rebels? If you claim weak tactics, you face the wrath of Tharon! The battlefield know no lie. It only shows you the pool of blood by your feet.. some of it your own.

He ungloved and held his hands high against the winter sky. It had become more visible. A hue of red. And if he stroked his arm from elbow and out, it felt like stroking a fish from the tail and up. And so smooth the other way around.

He had spend all his gold earned from his dealings with The Hand. He had spend it on a new armor, a cloak, plated gloves.. to hide what he was becoming. What was he becoming?

He had killed innocent priests of Lochwar. He had fought and won many battles in the service of the empire. He had aided farmers and good folks in need of food before the rain finally came. And now this. He looked back down at the flyer on the ground before him. Everything was changing.

He felt old.. and non the wiser.

[TheFabledFist]

Deftly the monk grabs a flier blowing through the air in an empty back alley of Cear and reads the short message quickly with his good eye. He clutches it in his fist without a word. The message is familiar but the timing is finally coming... A time for both sides of the war to meet their end.

[Bobzim]

Hiding in the shadows outside the Misty, Luteus grabs a flyer from the dusty ground. It was crumpled and recently discarded by one of the fleetsmen who had conspicuously stamped his boot upon it in disgust.

Luteus reads the words on the note, and then crumples it again. Still hidden, he moves toward the trash bin outside Misty, the one near the Captain. As he passes the trash bin his red bearded face breaks into a broad grin. He pauses by the garbage receptacle and lets the note slip into its assorted waste.