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?"

 Quinalin snorts then replies in a dispirited tone, "I recall, though it seems like years ago, we got started in this city by trying to distribute wealth to the citizens so they could buy the right to vote for someone who would stand up for them. All that got them was burned out of their homes. We tried to take down one corrupt and evil official, and now it feels like there is nothing but corruption or at least pure self-interest. We can't just take over the city for ourselves. The Odessans don't seem to be interested in helping anyone. I don't see many good choices here although I would be happy to have my eyes opened.

  Egg : I don't think you're wrong, either of you, not exactly, but I think you're all "missing the Owlbear." Err, that doesn't translate so cleanly, but you get the idea, maybe? Everyone we worth with... for? They all have *agendas*. Plans and goals. What do we have? What do we want?

If we want to help the refugees, why are we sitting with sacks overflowing with desperately needed healing gear settling personal vendettas in town? If we want to see the Odessans crushed, why do we refusing to leave sight of the city for more than a week at a time to strike against them? The Odessans, for all their advantages and strengths here, are spread across the mainland to the point that attacking them anywhere is attacking them everywhere. If we want is to see the Odessans gone, why are we not negotiating with them, especially now that their claims and demands are laid bare? We grab for everything and so take hold of nothing, and then direct our anger at those who employ us to their ends. Imagining, perhaps, that just because we all share the desire to lift the siege that all of our other desires are harmonious.

It's appropriate we all meet in the "War Room." Because, while the war rages outside, another one is fought within. The war to save Wydmoor, and the war to rule it afterwards. Which war are we fighting?

My partner talks easily of "doing what needs to be done," but what does that even mean? Might as well say we want to "make the world a better place" or "oppose evil." It's nice talk for a sermon, but not much of a plan of action. An easy, comfortable thought, and a good line to rouse the masses, but something the Silverwalkers seem to have struggled to nail down for as long as I've worked with you. Without any personal goals it is certainly convenient and profitable to work for those who do, but don't expect their agendas to make room for our pet issues.