A crowd gathers in the marketplace. Hushed whispers fill the air, as the newly-appointed Magistrate of Taverley steps in front of the crowd, eyes scanning their faces. She was a petite, but sturdy figure. Despite her authoritarian posture, the young woman offers a smile as she raises her hand towards the sky, and calls for silence. It was time to address the growing, rebellious air which had set itself onto the newly-established Republic.
"Taverley lies on sacred ground, lying beside the grand Lake Crystalmere, of which is composed of perfect, and infallible, beauty - displaying, in perpetual existence, the illustrious history of the land which it graces. For the armies of Burthorpe are known throughout for their might, and our people known for their endurance. For this, we are our own people - not servants of monarchy, nor of the oligarchs which have sent this great land into an unending darkness, leeching from the people to feed the beast which they have, unbeknownst to them, created of themselves.
As a republic, we the people may stand together, as one, in the face of this darkness and cast away the beast which would wish to impose a burdening tax to appease a selective, and exclusive, club of aristocracy. It is this, as a people, we may no longer allow. For, together, we are all cogs of a machine of might which has grown weary of those who would call us serfs, those who would not allow us the representation and respect we deserve, and those who would encourage war on this land, the holy land of Taverley, for only to allow corruption to seep into the roots of our trees, to blacken the great, blue skies with a suffocating smoke - on top of it all, they would wish to encircle us, like wolves, as our hands grow worn and our feet grow weary, and deprive us of our strength."
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Hi, I'm Dan.
05-Jun-2016 23:54:39