RP: Shameless Self-Promotion
Under the incessant pounding of 
Kimika's Ring of the Ram, the stone slab standing between the Guild's trapped tomb and the fresh, clean air crumbles away. As you emerge from the catacombs and looks around, you see looks of dismay and agitation on all of your friends' faces, but none so intense as that of 
Germain. He sputters and stammers, clearly wanting to speak, but in place of his usual incessant and tiresome dialog, there is little more than red-faced silence. He turns to face the group, closes his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, and finally manages a sentence:
Germain : It's not that we were lied to. It's not that we walked into a trap. I expected both. It's that we are little more than lap dogs, begging for tasks and treats to win favor in the eyes of a bunch of incompetents. The guild and the wraiths have forced our hand time and time again, and once more we have accepted it without complaint, unwilling to set our own path!
Don't you see that these people will never win this war? This whole damn issue was caused by the Wraith's politicking. They have tied themselves up with the Odessans with the hopes of currying some sort of political capital for themselves, and were caught with their dicks in their hands. And all they can do is turtle in their little castle, hoping for someone to save them. The Guild, on the other hand, has stepped from the shadows, and despite the fact that their behavior has weakened the city considerably, they have managed to twist our arms to help them build smuggling routes and deal with their own internal strife without risking their own necks. And I'm sure they have been rewarded by our goddamn compliance!
We are nothing more than a bunch of fucking lackeys! What are we trying to save? Bricks and stones? The people of Wydmoor are dying alone, while we scramble to help a bunch of cowering nobles, politicking mercenaries, and opportunistic thieves! We are the only people that seem to be willing to stick our necks out to save this city, and yet we can't seem to pull our heads out of our asses and do what needs to be done! All we can manage to do is run errands for the bastards that put the city in this position in the first place! What the hell are we doing?!?
Germain glowers and fumes.
Al finds himself in the odd position of completely agreeing with Germain on matters of politics.
Al : Yeah, dude! I still don't really get why everyone's so worried about who gets to sit at what table in what room, but I'm all for dumping the lot of them and just helping the people who need help! Stick it to the man! Let's go take all the food, medicine, etc from the rich folks and give it to the people who need it. But that's just a stopgap. What we really need to do is help these people learn to survive on their own! Teach them how to grow their own food and live off the land, outside these horrible walls.
Kimika looks up thoughtfully. "I agree with you both and I desperately want to help the people of Wydmoor; the ones who are suffering. What do you suggest we do, Germain?"
