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The Rights of All (Open)


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All over the city, in alleyways, and cramped corners. They lie. On lamp posts and fenceposts their corners flutter in the dry desert air.

 

[align=center]MEN AND WOMEN OF UL'DAH

 

YOUR FREEDOM LIES AT HAND

 

The time comes to take back your destiny. The Syndicate and the Sultanate are nothing but slave masters, sucking you dry, all in order to feed their own extravagance.

 

The PEOPLE are the only true rulers of Ul'dah

 

You owe it to yourself and your children to tear down these ancient corrupt structures.

 

Down with the Syndicate!

 

Down with the Sultanate!

 

The People shall Rise!

 

Meetings of the people's resistance held nightly, donations appreciated. Flyers produced under the generous donation of Otto Vann.

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On a soapbox, on a a crowded street, an Elezen woman, dressed plainly in a black shirtwaist, is loudly and brazenly repeating the opinions of the poster, to any and all that walk by.

 

"You there! Do you wish to help break the chains of oppression?" She says with a resolute smile, as you are handed a flyer.

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Jaques pauses as a flier is thrust in front of him. He shifts his amber gaze up to the elezen woman as he processes the question she asked and the meaning of the flier. As tall as he was, he still had to look up to the woman on her box. He accepts the parchment, barely giving it a glance as he keeps his gaze on the woman. He'd seen the fliers littering the streets and torn down the ones that had been hung on the door and walls of the Rose.

 

The duskwight's baritone is flat as he asks, "And what, exactly, is to take their place? The monetarists?" Gives a derisive snort.

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The Miqo'te winces when a flyer is pushed into her hands. This isn't the first time and she was hoping not to have to pass the soapbox but it was right in the way of where she needed to go. Ears folded back she frowns.

 

"So chaos can ensue and people get killed when others try and take over where they want? No thanks. I'll continue to support the Sultanate."

 

She would crumble the page up and toss it at the foot of the soapbox.

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L'yhta'd never been a fan of Ul'dah -- the sand, the heat, and especially not the ever-present "dancers" -- but today she had business with the Thaumaturges' Guild on an esoteric matter of Aether-channeling, and so she'd caught an early airship flight from Vylbrand in the hopes of getting in and out before the rivers of people turned into cataracts filled with pickpockets and "handsy" lalafell. Unfortunately, her meetings and studies filled most of the day, and by the time she left the Guild, her usual routes through side streets were packed full. As she forced her way down a crowded street, she found a flyer thrust into her hands.

 

"Oh, no thanks, I'm not looking for a drin--" she starts to say before her eyes register the notable lack of pictures on the paper, as well as the words "freedom" and "resistance." She comes to a stop, much to the chagrin of a hyur behind her carrying a pair of burlap sacks who nearly collides first with her and second with a pair of chittering lalafell ladies as he tries to dodge.

 

"Resistance? Do you have a plan for scraping the slime off the city's walls and keeping them clean afterwards? And! Doesn't it seem like advertising this in public is just a way to collect malcontents in one place so the Blades can get rid of them?" she asks, adjusting her rose-tinted pince-nez.

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Alothia stood in the shadows of the junction of another alley, watching the people walking past the woman with the fliers. One that was tossed to the wayside rolled toward her feet, and she bent over to retrieve it, unfurling it quietly as she maintained her spot in the dark.  Her eyes quickly scanned over the words on the page, and she sighed with a small huff of breath. It was as she suspected. Word of the Syndicate and it's various dealings were getting out, and the name of the Sultana was being dragged down with it. She shook her head and tucked her tail beneath her robe before scuttling off back down the alley toward the markets, where she could easily get lost in the crowd. This simply would not do. She folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her robe, noting the date and times scrawled at the bottom of the parchment. Perhaps this would be something she would look into at a later date.

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At the far corner of the street under a lamp post, Coatleque stood with arms crossed while watching the crowd. She had just come from the palace, silver armor glinting under what was left of the sunlight that day.

 

The pontificating Elezen herself she had ignored. The fliers had been read a dozen times over. The entire order was aware by now of what was happening. What she was more interested in were the people's reactions, as well as those of the Brass Blades. She guessed that it would not be soon (and perhaps even hoped) before someone would be sent to silence this fool.

 

What she herself would do then was yet to be seen.

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A tall man of Highlander stock, clad in dark leathers and with long hair and an instrument case hanging from his hip, stood his ground as the Elezen woman made her pitch, and looked her squarely in the eye.

 

"You're going to have a hell of a time convincing me, love, considering you just cast your eyes and your flier at the man who is probably more free than perhaps anyone else in this arid city. Now, if you get tired of being the voice of freedom, and painting a target on your back big enough to be seen from Horizon, maybe we can have something to dry our throats and I might show you what freedom really is."

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Sounsyy watched intently from her position against the wall opposite the thoroughfare. Her face was swathed in fabric and hidden from prying eyes. She had been standing there, watching the proceedings for some time. People came and went, most throwing away the flier or replying disparagingly.

 

You poor girl, Sounsyy thought, These people don't want to be saved. The people below are no better than those in power on high.

 

Sounsyy kept vigil to her left and right, for soon the Brass Blades would surely arrive. Mercenary savages of the worst sort paid to show off just how much power money could buy in this city. And if Otto had truly funded this brazen treason, unwittingly or otherwise, he may be getting a visit after this Elezen. This was the wrong way to go about a revolution. These people were content with the status quo. If there was to be change, Ul'dah had to be shown that the gil they worshiped was powerless to protect them.

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Otto sighs, momentarily lapsing and showing any sign of interest. He isn't dressed in his typical rose-colored suit, and is in a more typical brown and blue pin striped suit. He reads a new flier that he picks up off the ground - noticing his name being portrayed as a sponsor. With a cocked eye-brow he regards the situation and shrugs as he lets the slip of paper fall out of his hand again and continues walking.

 

True enough he gave the woman close to one-hundred thousand gil. She asked for a donation after handing him her old flier - its contents going on about "DOWN WITH SYNDICATE". He amused himself that night, making it clear he was Syndicate and then offering her gil to see how it unfolded. Sure enough she spat at him and he has taken to calling her 'Spitting One' now. Eventually though he goaded her into accepting his money. An irrelevant amount for an irrelevant cause. How could someone so noble as I turn down a woman in need, especially such a seductively attractive Elezen woman? Perish the thought of Otto Vann being so crass as to not help beautiful ones in need.

 

Eventually someone from the Flames would be waiting to speak to him. Let them come, who cares? I have plausible deniability because frankly no one will take her word over mine. Even if Spahro wrote about witnessing my handing over money to her - what would it matter? Her and her readership of dozens are just as irrelevant.

 

With that he puts all of it out of his mind, focusing instead on a more important task. He needed to head to his next date Ridley had set for him.

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The Elezen turned, fire in both her eyes and voice as she responded to the challengers.

 

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Responding first to the midnight skinned dusk wight, "The People shall stand in its place! We shall form committees, and come to group decisions!"

 

She then points an accusatory finger at the miqo'te who had spoken next. "It causes some pain to excise a tumor or infection, I agree! But the harm is far greater if it is left be." She emphasizes the gesture with a stomp of her boot, "The far greater suffering would be to leave Ul'dah uncured."

 

Her electric gaze finds the next to speak, also a miqo'te, "You have a point sister! It will be no small struggle, keeping the Republic of Ul'dah free of corruption." She crosses her arms and nods, "But I believe the people of Ul'dah are up to the task. As the recent riots show, the people are ready for change, whether we admit it or not. Is it not better to guide the anger of the people? Rather than wait for it to explode?"

 

Her slender finger finds the highlander next, "Freedom does not belong only to the strong and the skilled, my brother." She says, before sweeping a stray lock from her face, "It belongs also to the downtrodden and the weak." She clears her throat, "You may have the skills and the strength to find freedom from government in this world, but not all are so lucky! We aim to create a place where all, regardless of stature can live a life of freedom and dignity."

 

She squares her feet and scans the crowd, "Do not blame me for voicing the words all your souls secretly wish for." She nods, "The bitterest pills provide the best medicine, and Ul'dah is in need of medicine indeed. Join me brothers and sisters, let us expunge this sickness, and bring a new health to the people and city of Ul'dah."

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"And to what purpose, then, would revolution bring?"

 

The Roegadyn woman strode forward to the head of the crowd, her broad axehead catching a glint of the fierce desert sun.  Equally enflamed were her golden eyes as she tromped forward.

 

"I have little and less adoration for the opulence of the higher castes." ,she continues, her voice booming forward.  "But I also don't presume to know the amount of machinery and gears that actually keep this desert jewel humming.  Sanctimony is simple when one is ignorant of the layers beneath the greater task."

 

She folder her arms across her bust, jaw locked and eyes firing golden daggers at the Elezen.  Normally, the din of the Gold Court was easy to ignore...but her patience with the pontificate was gossamer-thin.

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Melodia stood off to the side, noting the Elezen woman's face, her features, her demeanor and words with a note to memorize that face. She grumbled to herself.

 

"Of all th' days t' visit th' city, an' I get t' listen t' a bloody madwoman on th' streets." She remembered the face. A woman trying to start a revolution in Ul'dah was not something she would tolerate in Limsa.

 

"An' why th' hells is no one tryin' t' quiet this one? She's only stirrin' up trouble."

 

She voiced this aloud, as she was looking for anyone she knew in the city, though she was starting to regret the extra day she'd taken here.

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The tall bard tilted his head at the outspoken Elezen's response, and, seeing that the woman was attracting a large, and not completely sympathetic crowd, he offered her but a toothy grin and a shrug, turning from her to let the throng do as they would.

 

He started to step at a lively pace towards the Quicksand, and spoke to Melodia in passing, catching her words among the din.

 

"Just enjoy the show, my dear. Kings come and go, Sultans sink into the sand and arise again in a different shape, and through it all, the soldiers keep their swords close, and the tax collectors sleep easy on all days but one. If it bothers you that much, why not let the inevitable happen on its own time, and join me for a drink to help remember our own places in the daily dance?"

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Melodia smirked as the man asked her to a drink. "Oh , aye, an' I'm sure yer intetions are no' but pure, right?"

 

With a look back to Crofte she shook her head. "I'm no' agains' th' free speech....jus' alarmed when I see someone s' clearly tryin' t' incite a riot. Were this me jurisdiction she'd face a bit o' me heel in th' alley afterward." She cracked a smile, not giving away whether she was making a joke or otherwise.

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L'yhta nodded as her ears perked up at the rebellious elezen's statements. "Oh! I've no doubt that the people have serious and legitimate grievances and something should definitely be done!" she stated, glancing around as she stepped out of the flow of traffic. "So! Meetings? In the city? Are they what you're planning to do? That seems like it's not going to get a warm response from either the powers that be or the people you're trying to help," the purple-haired miqo'te added, pointing to members of the less than enthusiastic crowd, ticking them off with the fingers of her right hand. "By my count! You've at least five against you so far, and one wizard talking your ear off about specifics.

 

"If everyone's so angry and ready for change," she said as she brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, "where's the cheering crowd?"

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The Highland male met her smirk with a beatific grin. "I thought this was Ul'dah, love. I could never be such a hypocrite to insist on a woman's purity, and would find it as boring in others as I would find it in myself...."

 

He narrowed one eye, and looked over the midlander female next to Melodia, before finishing his thought with the Miqo'te. "But then, I'm thinking, lass, you might be more interested in watching for a skirmish than anything else." He turned his heels again, suddenly piqued by the mention of crowds.

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A soft laugh from Melodia as her eyes wandered for a second before remaining locked on the Elezen woman, though her words were playful and directed to the man.

 

"Aye...maybe I am lookin' t' see how this plays out....no' often I get out o' Limsa. An' love....I'm no' near wha' anyone would call pure, 'specially in tha' area." She winked and folder her arms wondering whether she'd see something break out on her small visit to Ul'dah.

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He folded his arms, and nodded once, with the telltale shake of self-satisfaction.

 

"Well, I've no reason to doubt your claims, m'dear, and can always think of reasons to test them, but maybe you're right about the spectacle. Who am I to turn down a free show?

 

At this rate, if we get any more headcases jumping into this mess, I'm considering laying odds on who's going to be the first to start getting nasty."

 

He glanced briefly, and again, at the Hyur next to Melodia, but then simply stifled a deep chuckle and, with a relaxed sigh, peered back over at the Elezen and her fliers.

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The Elezen only seems embolded by the challenges thrown her way. She scans the crowd with a practiced eye, addressing her interlocutors one by one. The towering figure of the Roegadyn catches her gaze first, her mouth curling into a hint of a smile at the question.

 

"The goal is freedom, prosperity, and self direction!" She accetuates with a flourish of her finger, "The wealth and power of Ul'dah lies locked in the coffers of the rich and royal. They are not interested in solving problems, only keeping what they have, and getting more." She points to the north, "Look at the success of Revenanant's Toll, in the north. What a bit of coin and honest work in a barren land can do." Her finger sweeps to a glowering Brass Blade in the distance, "Howerever we have our own refugee problems in Ul'dah, and the Syndicate offers not work, only a boot in their back from a bandit in a rusty coat of mail."

 

"It is true, it will be a challenge for the people to take hold of the gears of state! But it is a challenge worth meeting, and a good intentioned amateur would be far better than the experienced despots we currently have."

 

She sweeps her gaze to the purple haired Miqote, "The people of this city have been sick so long, they laugh at the idea of there every being a cure. However one must be found." She gestures out to the city walls, "I'm sure all remember the recent riots sparked by the perfidity of the Syndicate and their Brass Blade thugs. Such events will only continue until this malady of despotism is purged from the veins of the city." She shakes her head, "Do not listen to the cries of 'Reform!' from the less bold, such treatments only affect the symptoms not the cause, "Nanamo is as pitiable a dicator as one can be, and even she can do little to protect the people. What will happen when someone less principled comes to the throne? The people will have no one to be their sheild." She rises a hand to the air, "But here me Brothers and Sisters! We can be our own shield!"

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The Sworn listened as she continued her almost heretical speech. Finally she could no longer remain silent.

 

"Faithless. Treasonous. It is by the will of the Twelve that the bonds of governance were not placed into the hands of the common man. By their blessing does her Grace hold the right to rule these lands. Why temptest thou such wrath from beyond with your delusional ideals of equality?"

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Sounsyy's eyes followed the Elezen's finger and directed her gaze to the approaching Brass Blade. She was honestly surprised this girl hadn't been shut down already, but now there was at least one Brass Blade here, which meant more weren't far behind. And where there was Brass, there was trouble. Almost instinctively, she fingered the pommel of her shortsword.

 

But was she willing to stick her neck out for this girl if things turned ugly? Sounsyy tried to weigh whether this foolhardy Elezen could be a potential asset, against the likelihood of a violent run-in with the Brass Blades. For the moment, she would wait and watch. She was sure this Elezen's plans had to run deeper than just treasonous words shouted at deaf ears. Wannabe revolutionaries weren't that thick, were they?

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L'yhta rolled her eyes reflexively as she turned her head to eye the latest speaker -- an armored woman, clad in silver and blue, armed -- and... she shrugged and looked back up to the elezen.

 

"Good luck!" she proclaimed, her voice cheery, and she turned to push back into the flow of people along the street. Her bright crimson and black robes remained easy to spot through the crowd.

 

L'yhta frowned as she walked away. She'd been skirting the Code of the Magi by even engaging the elezen, much less adding her own input, but with the authorities arriving? "I will not needlessly interfere in the politics of those outside the Tower and thereby bring their wrath upon my fellow Wizards..." Her mind mulled the implications of the speaker's claims and whether the Voices of eld -- much less the rest of the Tower -- would consider getting further involved "needless interference" or not.

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