Flyers laid out in the alleys of Lower and the soggy tunnels of the Sewers, away from Tigreye guards or common buildings, in a volume which would ensure widespread acknowledgement
Lower folk!
Listen up. How many times have we been trampled upon? How many times have we all been chucked aside like rubbish, left with nothing but unfulfilled promises and a false sense of protection?
Far too long. The events of the last few days just cap this rotheshit off.
Firstly, some of us our beaten down by the pigs in our own streets, practice dummies for the rich Upper scum and the trail of curs which follow along hoping to get a suck on the greasy pig tit. Beaten and left in the dust of our streets, the victim of Upper tyranny twice over. What'd the Tigres do? Nothing.
Second, we see corruption and treason in its most blatant form. The whore of a Councilor, Majre Nogueyra, swaggering about spewing lies and promises out of her mouth, not to mention the foul-as-shit breath of last night's pig sausage, with TWENTY THOUSANDS in coin. The filthy bitch who made herself known to us all as a friend, one of us Lower folk, a friend to count on and put our trust in. The very same filthy bitch who hoarded enough coin for herself to feed us all for more tendays then she had Upper arseholes begging for a station in her trench. Luckily, she got too cocky and started bragging about it. With the help of Cyrus, the great champ of Lower and its folk he is, one of our own exposed the whore and made her cough up. And what did she do as her hoard was about to be returned to the folk that she owed it to, the folk she made promises to? Stabbed our own in the back with her spear, then ran off like the cowardly bitch she is. What'd the Tigres do? Nothing. Shit, she was a Tigre. How does that make you feel?
Then we come to the most incredible event yet. A troupe of Upper dogs pack up and roam our streets, led by the Watch wench Marshall. They roll their barrel of explosives down our streets like they own the place, as if its theirs alone. Straight past the Tigres, who did jack shit. They then blow up the Steady Hand. In doing so they endangered Lower lives, in addition to destroying property belonging to Lower folk, in which we could of found shelter in time of need. But who cares? We're only Lower beggars, the scum of the earth. Our lifes arent worth the shit between a goblin's toe.
Thats what they all think. They're wrong, and its up to us to let them know. But again, what did the Tigres do? Its been three days now since, and they haven't moved a muscle. Do they care about us? They let the Upper curs waltz down and explode our buildings and beat up on our folk? What's next, some random killings, or maybe outright genocide? Be assured the greedy Upper pricks have their beady eyes set on Lower turf as you read this.
Ask yourself this- do you feel safe?
Lower needs a group of stout souls to take up arms and defend their homes and families. And you must all know that there are a few good men out their who fight for Lower and never leave it on the backburner. Men some of you have met, other still yet. These men are looking to find more of their ilk, to join as brothers and fight for survival. Don't look to the Tigreyes! Their worth has been proven. Look to the men of Lower, the common men who have had a gut full of being crushed under Upper heels and see the Tigres as they are- complacent puppets, greedy as the next bastard. This group of Lower patriots is being formed, and we WILL reclaim these streets as our own. The Upper dog will be made to whimper at the thought of descending those stairs. Thats a promise which WON'T be broken.
This message has made its declaration, and now it will make it's call. A call to you, the Lower folk. The folk without food in their guts, an ale in their hands or even a blanket over their backs in bitter cold. Plans are in motion, ones which will see us all with the things we need but still yet lack. Plans calling for heroism, bravery and a will to right wrongs. Men are joining together, weapons being stocked. This is a call for you to be strong, to hold out a little longer. Don't give in to the Upper dog, support those who fight for you.
What man would rather cower than fight, if given the chance, to see his son grow up in bettre times than what you were forced to in?
Not us.
- THE PORK BUTCHERS