Papers with the speech are later spread about Upper Sanctuary.

I was born under the open Sun, in the nation of Sembia. I dream of it often- its open fields and clear streams. I remember chasing a bird- a quick little red bird, always a little ahead, my child hands grasping for him as he flies high into the clear blue sky...

And then I awake in this tomb of rock and dirt. Some days, it is almost too much for my sun-sick heart to bare. More than once have my eyes have stared lustfully at the knife hanging by my side, my thoughts directing it towards my throat. It is at these most low of moments that the image of Victoria sustains me, her steely grey eyes locked on mine.

"Morgan", She says. "Don't piss away your freedom."

The rich, gold-fat men who rule would be content to die in this forsaken vault. Opulance is just as golden down here as it ever was on the Surface- what need have they to risk their blubberous hides for distant dreams?

I'm a lowly whore. I've little here save the shared misery of my fellow rats, the common man of Sanctuary. On the Surface, I had the Sun. Oh, Lathandar, I had the Sun.

Elect me, brothers and sisters in misery. I will increase efforts to find the Surface, and one day escape this stifling vault. I am not content with a sky of black, and I am not content with the vague promise that "perhaps, maybe, your children shall see the Surface."

My children will be -born- on the Surface, and my -own- eyes will see it. I will not tolerate the stagnant idleness I have seen at work. Like the glorious wind I so dearly miss, I'll give force to your dreams!

Do not be content with your lot! Vote Morgan Maddocks!