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Even-Out Evening 11th of Snow's Maiden, Year 3 of The Second Age Video Première link : Our last public announcement yielded great success, with those on ‘the band of the hours’ side giving a thunderous standing ovation. Cheering our name in the streets as we at last redistributed the surplus amount of wealth to those in need of it, while also liberating them from the shackles of society. No longer will the oppressors of these lands turn their noses up and look down upon the common man, for they will soon be eating alongside their unfortunate necessitous peers. To do this, another plan had to be devised, to show the hard-working that our group of mere men will stop at nothing to bring the pigs to heel. Our men were once wallowing in the depths of society too, by your side, yet they raised their consciousness from the bottomless abyss. To ensure that nobody would have to live like them again, underneath the frilly heel of a pompous Nobleman. At long last sticking at nothing until a true to man societal reform is put into place, not a true to nobleman reform. They are the outnumbered ones in this world, yet they still feel so inclined to treat us without regard. Thus, in no more than a singular winter’s night, a plan was hatched. ACT 1 - The Bank Heist The plan was as plain as a picture book; for the foe was as easy to read as a three year olds idle scribblings. Their discipline is similar to that of the crayons colored outside of the lines in a picture book. We were to steal as many of their tax slips as possible, handing them out to the backbone of their nation thereafter, the farmers. So with talk of their military gloating about a singular, yet entirely false killing of one of our comrades, we knew that we had to return them from their childlike fantasy; the reality in which we controlled. Due to bolstering our five champions, myself included, not one intruding thought passed through our minds as we strode into the bustling city, when it was most alive. Upon entering the city, distant clashes of metal and inept barking were easily discerned by our five. The Imperial State Army was in the midst of conducting their typical improper training. Then within half of a second, our leader echoed his voice to make himself known to those dwelling inside of their grandiose yet compensating haunt. Hurtling into the bank after, two of us hovered over the rest with torches while they set about cracking into their many safes. Before we knew it, the bank was surrounded by the Empire’s trembling soldiers, all donning scarlet red. We hastily departed from their governmental building, being greeted by the named army at hand. We knew from our last raid there was nothing in the slightest to fret about, as numbers mean little if incompetency is the only thing your army is renowned for. So we stood there, without a singular bead of sweat upon our brows, our shoulders straight and chests out. As the Imperial State Army fumbled into ranks, we yet noticed that not one of their soldiers could yet equal our mens heights, not even if one were to stand on another's shoulders. Our up-and-coming companion, who was new to the company, uttered lowly, “My comrade, they have thrice our numbers.” Lacking a second inbetween, our leader responded with “Yes,” his voice sounding both resonant and composed. For half an hour, our group ran their horde around their own city, hurling our torches towards buildings that had previously been marked on the eve before. Hopscotching from wall to wall subsequently, our destination had been found without a singular scratch showing on our bodies. Once we had climbed down from their tallest wall of all, we reached to our sides and all pulled our flasks into our grasps. We cheered and clinked our drinks together, while the soldiers above contemplated saving their buildings or giving chase to our smaller force. One eager rapscallion, foaming at the mouth and hair dripping off his head as though a razor had been taken to it slipped. This was the fault of none other than a well-placed banana peel, all according to plan. The other soldiers, mistaking a genuine slip for some form of leadership, followed suit, and plummeted into the field. Their leadership needed to show that their city was safe, they could not simply allow mere freedom fighters to combat them again and triumph. The people of Providence fund them, yet in every circumstance their funding is misplaced. So it was their time to shine, to prove their worth in a time so vital, and shine they did. Not in triumph, no. Not in mere stalemate either. They shined in waves of their own flickering blood, all cut down and put to rest. Each of them sharing a blood-curdling scream, as they clawed at the walls that were supposed to protect them. There was nothing to save them from it all, they might have stuck together at first but they shattered at the first sign of loss. They were so displaced from the initial charge, that our men frolicked between them without being impeded, the red tide mistaking foe for friend. After hearing the jaw of their General crack under the pressure of ‘Ts’ steel-lined boot, their swarm lost all composure and dispersed like lambs running away from a wolf. Their feet could not be trusted either, being effortlessly caught up to and crushed by the infamous ‘roadrunners’. Their numbers continued to grow thinner and thinner, much like the hairlines of the sharks at the very top of the inferior scarlet army. They did not stand a chance. Outmatched by our tacticians and outdone by the unparalleled synergy of our men, the ISA realised that outside of their imposing walls, they are nothing and will never be anything besides training dummies for their betters. There was not a thing that could have saved them from the outside, their weak mental strength faltering as soon as they tasted the fresh and free air outside. That ends the tail of the butchering of the Imperial Army, yet, not a singular simple man was hurt that day. I propose you cease in paying their wages and instead invest in more gardens, for flowers give as much protection as the ISA can provide. Perhaps then, we shall see a smile upon General Peter Baldwin D’Arkent’s face. ACT 2 - Dark Elf Liberation While the named group above was occupied laying an entire army to rest, another group of like-minded individuals was picked for a similar task. This army was larger though, to everyone's surprise, proved much more primitive and further intellectually incapable. Laying low in a thicket just off of the capital of Elvensse, the group lay their eyes upon a predetermined figure, another oppressor of the people. No minute was made to waste, so they darted after him and dragged him to a steep cliffside, where a boat was waiting for their arrival. Just as they had arrived, in the course of traipsing down to their port of call, an army almost four times the size of our force met them. They were cornered upon all sides, the steep cliffside lingering behind them and the Wood Elven army bearing arms in front of them. The Elves all had vicious smirks spread across their thinned lips, yet they soon curtailed and contorted into angst frowns. Our men had all taken a second of silence before plunging from the cliffside and into the dangerous waters; leaps of faith. If a passerby was to roam by, they would have screamed bloody mary and proclaimed it a mass suicide. Fortunately it was not the case, the group plunged deep and raised to the surface within moments, all drawing thin and shattered breaths. With their hearts in their mouths, they tread the water and looked up in disbelief as the opposing soldiers started to rain from the sky. It was an impulsive decision quite clearly from their lesser-trained military, all plopping into the water, but more so diving into death’s door. Just like sharks to fish, the Ferryman at the top of their chain pulled the dagger-eared men one by one under the water. In which a minute would pass before a body would float to the surface in a puddle of blood. The weak-chinned Elves began to panic, already realising that certain defeat was guraunteed. It was magic, seeing such a force disappear in no more than five minutes. However, their force had not been the only thing to have faded away, as our kidnapped target had given into death. We might have lost a valuable hostage, but the spoils gathered were greater than the price paid for any singular Elf; feeding the mouths of many. It is time for revolution friends. Do not give into the listed oppression and allow us Ferryman to lead the charge, for our minds lie with you, not ourselves. We hope to see you, common men and women, at our side when the evening comes. The evening where every palace on this realm is plundered. We will tear the golden coating from their pillars and provide some good in this shallow world. Written by: Dyselxic