3. The Election Campaign of John Isle

The Election Campaign of John Isle


  • John takes his frequent position on the rant stand, and goes to speak there.

    Hear ye, hear ye! I, John Isle be runnin' fer th' senatorial seat. Whot c'n I give t' Peltarch, y'ask? Well, fer starters, I don' speak shite outta me mouth like th' other candidates.

    If any o' ye remember me speeches from th' rant stand durin' th' last elections, ye remember how ah told that each of th' candidates be nowt but tryin' t' tell ye what ye want t' hear. That's how people be fishin' bloody votes.

    Now look at th' paladin-senate we 'ave. Guess what they've been talking about half of th' time? "Le's ban this, stop trade wi' that". Hells, feckers don' care nowt about th' city as whole - they by jus' tryin' t' enforce the view their deity has on e'eryone 'n th' city.

    Screw them, says I! Me, ah jus' want th' whole city t' get rich. Y'might call me selfish, but this be me home town, ah want t' see it bloom. And what yon Mariston chaps be doin' is th' opposite.

    Here's m'advice t' ye, citizens o' Peltarch. Do -NOT- listen t' yer guild leaders on th' vote. Do -NOT- trust everythin' th' candidates say. Jus' vote who ye think is best fer th' whole city! If it ain't me.. well, don' vote me. Just don't ruin yer city wi' yer votes.

    Think 'bout tha'.

    He swaggers off from the rant stand for now - and if there are people that seem to be supporting him, he speaks with them and advises them to support him with fliers, and talk to their friends too.


  • John's 20-on-d20 dangles in the wind majestically, before he slowly pulls up his pants.

    Arr, that be minus points fer th' Snydders, bonus fer ol' Johno. M'mates, vote me in! Th' time is comin' near! Make sure th' senate will fer once 'ave a voice o' reason, nae some idelistic nonsense. Life 's life, an' it ain't pretty - but damned well we c'n make th' best out o' it fer our city!"


  • A small, black-clad, hatted and veiled figure creeps through the crowd, squinting between the two speakers in some confusion before mumbling softly, twig-thin fingers wriggling as a vast and adorably plump Mage Hand appears, pulling down John's pants with a swift yoink. The figure sweeps a small black cloak around itself, making a single high-pitched announcement before disappearing in a puff of smoke!

    "Eerie Enananananana Snydders strikes again, ahahahahHAHAHA!"


  • John nods at Heffa, seeming to appear interested in what he has to say:

    Aye, here ah agree wi' ye - th' worst kind is th' kind tha' seems t' be appearin' decent. Whoever wins, Heffa - we need t' make sure it ain't Snydders. All that Snydders be wanting is more goldd to th' guilds. Feck th' guilds! People should vote fer what -they- want, nae what th' feckin' guilds do.

    He turns to the audience:

    Whatever y'folks do. Do -not- vote fer Snydders. He's bad fer common people. Heffa an' me… we look at th' same problem, try t' solve th' same issues. Whot makes me better candidate than 'im? Ah leave justice t' th' people who be hired t' take care o' it, and instead concentrate on th' things -senator- should do. I be real honest 'ere wi' ye. Half of th' senate meetings ah've seen 'ave been about "shoul' we ban this'n'this person or nae". Loike.. what th' fark? 's nae wonder th' divine shield has t' pay th' defenders, 'cause th' senate be yappin' about irrelevant things.

    Gold, food, jobs, entertainment.

    Those be what th' city needs, what makes e'ery great city succeed. Those be what ah deliver, those be what all me efforts are goin' t' concentrate on.


  • The dwarf folds his arms across his chest stoicly as he replies.

    "Where I'm from Justice ain't a petty thing, an' this ain't about individual troublemakers, nor chasin' around after people. Its about electin' a Senator who does nay heave in with the likes of killers and cutthroats. We've had such creatures on the Senate before and some of 'em even managed to appear fair respectable on a first glance…Bloodspiders they were called, an' I fer one think Peltarch has learned its lesson about them sorts."


  • John tilts head at Heffa:

    Eh, sure. They went abroad, nae sure where. But ah be pretty sure they left th' lands. Now…

    Ye know jus' as well as ah do - this has nothin' t' do wit' bein a senator. 'nfact that's why th' city ends up wi' shitty senators. They vote fer personalities, nae rational decisionmakers. Lookin' fer murderers 'n shite be job fer guards. Yet, ye know wot? 'tis petty things loike this that th' current senate spends all their time on. Are ye goin' t' be th' same, Heffa? Are ye lettin' yerself get distracted by individual troublemakers, an' stop thinkin' about th' good of th' -whole- city?


  • Jerrick, on a stroll through Peltarch, almost trips and falls flat on his face.

    Mad Marty?

    He blinks a few times, stares, and walks off laughing towards the boat south, his shopping quite done.


  • The crowd parts before none other than Heffa, as he strides forward, jabbing a finger at Isle pointedly.

    "Answer it so the lot of us can hear, Isle! Where are the murderers Jay an' Jack hidin'? Or are ye goin' to claim not to know? Advisor to mad Marty an' friend to murderers, thieves an' pirates, who in the Nine Hells do you think is votin' fer ye?"

    Giving his stubby finger an extra jab as he bellows up at John, the dwarf looks fairly vitriolic.


  • Ah answered yer question once already at th' commons, Grak. ::tosses him a coinpurse worth around 50 golds:: Go enjoy some ale, an' if ye get -new- questions please ask em. ::grins at him::

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    Grak is again loitering at the crowd, talking with loud voice
    "Grak nay gits it; dem pirate bes asking fer us ta raise questions but dem answers bes robbed frem us just like that poor und innocent childrens life. Grak earlier questions bes still un-answered. Surely nay-one votes fer git who bes acting like lousy female: keeping mouth shut und making food!

    Answer Graks questions first before asking new ones, ya lanky pirate"


  • Crowd gathers around steaming bowls of hearty stews and juicy roast by the docks - simple food of local cheap ingredients, often the best type of food. As time comes near for his speech to begin, John cannot be seen anywhere.. until a shout comes from ontop of the tallest building in the docks.

    People o' Peltarch! Welcome!…

    Suddenly he jumps down from the roof - only to fall slowly like a feather, eventually landing on a small platform near the tables to hold his speech.

    …to hear me wee speech 'ere.

    He grins at the peoples reactions, before looking at them.

    First o' all, I want t' congratulate me fellow candidate Perri th' Gastrognome, fer talkin' a lot wi'out sayin' much o' importance. Arr, 'tis fine show o' why not t' vote fer 'im. That ain't me, though, folks. An' ye know it.

    He looks at them more seriously now.

    Out o' all th' districts in th' city, 'tis th' docks tha' are nearest t' me heart. Feck, this -is- th' heart, heart o' th' whole feckin' city. Yet it's people be unhappy. An' ye know whot? Th' ones who be rulin' ye be tryin' t' silence ye.

    Think about it, chaps, jus' fer a second. Rioters t' be sent to Heliogabalus… jus' before th' elections? Why, how handy, get th' people who be actually havin' an opinion on th' city's problems tossed out o' th' city.

    This is why I ask ye, nae, I beg - stop th' riotin', if only fer a lil' while. If ye really want t' help th' city, yer friends, yerselves... do it wi' a vote. Y'can always do some riotin' after th' elections, if some dumbarse happens t' get in t' make bad decisions again. But that's why ye want t' stay in th' city, t' make sure that don't happen!!

    Ah was born jus' like ye, chaps. M'family in th' city o' Luskan.. well, feck, it wasn' e'en a proper family. That's why I know how ye feel like no one listens t' ye. Well, I -do-! All ah want t' do is t' listen t' ye, make Peltarch bloom. 'cause that's how it be done.

    As ah've stressed before, th' boost t' yer life comes from richer city, an' more evenly distributed gol'. How do we make th' city richer, eh? Well, food will -always- be number one, ye know that. 'n man wi' empty stomach cannae work too well, an' children who don' got 'nuff t' eat will grow all scrawny like skeleton. How do ah plan t' improve it? M'plans are multiple... but th' lake? Th' lake is th' future - the lake IS Peltarch!

    He holds up a hand for silence, then peers into a talisman briefly - before casting a net into water like the old seadog he is. He hands over the rope to the nearest commoner.

    Pull it up, pull it up if'n ye can! Keep th' fishes, feast!

    This is th' future ah promise ye, Peltarch! Vote fer me, tell yer friends t' vote me, an' people won' speak o' Jewel of the Icelace anymore, NAY! They speak o' Wonder o' th' East!

    He takes a hearty swig of rum, wipes mouth with a grin.

    An' now.. ah'm 'ere th' rest o' th' night fer yer questions, issues, or whotever else y'want t' share wi' me. ::wink wink::


  • Quiet and unnoticed until a sharp jab at Grak's kidney calls for his attention, Black Sails captain Sabre gives a cold, mirthless smile and speaks up, loudly enough for onlookers in the immediate area to overhear:

    "Soundin' like sour feckin' grapes from th'one person who actually managed ta git his fat arse ousted from "th' villainous organization", fer bein' such a deceitful, craven, hypocritical good-fer-nothin' thug, wi' an odour an' personal hygien only marginally less vile than his repugnant personality ta boot. I seem ta recall ye've 'ad quite a number o' well-earned stays at th'Peltarch slammer, oh righteous proclaimer o' law an' order."

    With a disgusted look, she wipes her gloved hand off, repeatedly, as if merely having touched the half-orc might've caught her some horrific disease.

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    Grak is calling for John, waving a piece of paper
    "Oi ya git. It seems dat yar pointy-ear friend und some pesky female bes wunted fer cruel murder. Und dis bes nay happenin within far away lands, but straight within shorty-town at south! Grak asks dat shall ya bes again ignoring dis und staying wit yar previous remark aboot "let da other towns handle dem own problems" As even ya coulds see, dis bes right impossible if dem murdering culprit decides ta flee 'ere instead of staying within shorty-town.

    Should yar villainous organization nay turn dem vermin over, Grak says dat dem whole bunch should be barred frem dis fine town und town militia should be doing constant searches throughout yar warehouse within docks und take over yar holdings. Unless yar bunch delivers dem culprits within da justice.

    Und of course, Grak bes nay voting ya, unless yar organization helps local militia with full support, so dem good huuuumie-laws bes enforceds. Dat means overseeing dat pointy ear und dem female's git special place among da gallows 'ere"


  • Dwin, spending more time in Peltarch than usual, often speaks to his store customers or anyone that will listen about the senatorial hopeful John Isle, and how his election would be a great thing for Pelt, and the whole of Narfell, even the Mighty Realm of Norwick.


  • The visiting dignitary Dwin Dolvak listens to Mr. Isle speak, and nods approvingly several times during the speech. Afterwards, he heads off, muttering that he is looking forward to meeting one on one with this Senatorial hopeful.

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    @d1d25f2c9e=Wywernywin:

    Any other questions? I be 'ere t' answer all ye can ask, no question be stupid. Ask! ::grins ::

    Grak lingers in the crowd, pressing the issue
    "Aye, gots question fer ya: Was it ya, who held da knife or da throath which ya pirates cut? Whut aboot dem blood in yar hands, ya think yar hands bes clean if ya just change location where ya scroundrel around?

    Dem fine city ere shoulds bes example of huuuumie-justice. Whys should it not show it by detaining all suspected killers und see dat dem got carried fer dem distant town fer trial, eh? All dem high talk abooot huuumie-laws ere goes inta gutter, should suspected killer get any high position among dem town-chieftains.

    *Looks around for crowd reactions
    "Dat wuz but small und innocent snotling dem pirates murdered, ya wunt such bunch run yar city ere, eh?"


  • John grins at Mariston briefly:

    Ach, yer actions have been that o' warrior and 'n paladin, mostly. Nae that o' senator, politician, leader o' people. Anywho, ain't worth concentratin' on that nomore..

    He turns towards the commoners asking questions:

    Hoarsgate? Nae - ah wasn' there. Ah was 'ere, in me city o' Peltarch. Whote'er happened 'n Hoarsgate be up to th' people o' Hoarsgate t' solve, anywho. That ain't got anythin' t' do wi' Peltarch - sadly though, many o' th' candidates an' current senators alike put their efforts int' jus' this kind o' issues - issues that don' concern Peltarch's betterment. Y'know, rather 'n tryin' t' investigate possible crimes 'nother city, th' senators ough t' concentrate solvin' th' causes o' riots in our very own city.

    On th' matter o' jail, lemme be right 'onest 'ere.. ::grins slightly:: Aye, spent a night there once - had a bottle 'r two too much o' rum, and endedd up knockin' wrong door - ah though one o' me lasses lived there, honest! ::he chuckles lightly with a wink:: But eh, 't was a lesson t' learn from. Criminals in th' city.. they get tossed 'n jail. Have y' any idea how 'xpensive it be t' toss people in a locker, guard them day in and day out, feed em properlike, make sure dthay don' infect e'eryone else in th' jail 'n so forth? Bloody expensive! 'nstead, we ought t' make em work 'n th' jail. Think about it, me fellow citizens. A poor soul steals t' get a bread t' his starvation - instead o' tossin' him in th' locker, tarnishin' his reputation, an' makin' him learn nothin'… how 'bout we make em prisoners work in them jails? Somethin' simple like, makin' fishin' traps fer example. Not only woul' th' prisoner learn a craft, an' probably not have t' steal anymore.. th' city woul' lose much less gold from th' upkeep o' th' prisoner, as his wares woul' be sold, eh?

    I say this t' ye again - if ye like whot ah tell ye, if ye like m'honest words, spread th' word - I don' want t' buy me votes wi' feckin' balls'n'feasts, ah want people t' vote fer me, because they like me message, mates! Tell it t' yer friends, yer mothers - e'en yer mother in-laws if ye dare! Get me in th' senate, 'n ah'll work me best t' make it a bloody win in a lottery of life t' be born int' Peltarch!

    Oh, 'n slavery? Nae, legalizin' slavery wouldn' be good fer th' whole o' this 'ere city. Th' trade woul' suffer, th' rich woul' get richer, an' th' poor woul' get poorer. Don' want that happenin'.

    Any other questions? I be 'ere t' answer all ye can ask, no question be stupid. Ask! ::grins ::


  • ::Mariston smiles briefly::

    Really I hath no idea where the concept of personal and sexual freedoms seem to be lessoned by any god of the Triad, very odd concept there old chap. A poor grasp of basic theology.

    ::With a shrug of his armoured shoulders, Mariston turns to John::
    You may wish to down play the achievements I hath brought to this city, yet in all things I hath acted for the people. Do not seek to imply I wouldst bring in laws regarding the topics you mentioned. I hath fought and bled for years for this city and its fine people. I wouldst be most irked shouldst thou seek to slander mine name again.

    ::Radiating an aura around him as he speaks, sitting tall and stoically in his saddle::


  • The initially modest gathering grows quickly as Senators appear to question the candidate, and the growing crowd becomes quickly divided and rowdy at the exchanges between Mariston and Isle about Oscura, many voices around Mariston shout out various slurs and abuse;

    "He's a killer! He's just back from Hoarsgate wi' blood on 'is hands!"

    "He's a pirate! Just -look- at him!"

    "He's a criminal! He's been in jail!"

    Things start to get uglier as other elements of the crowd take offense to the band of Mariston-supporters heckling Isle…

    "Oi! Let th' man speak! Let 'im speak!"

    "He's right! Thel's only paying for the Defenders because he's shafted the city coffers!"

    "I'll slit yer gizzards, ye paladin-humpin' goody-two shoes!"

    Guards are quickly on the scene, dragging off the more troublesome people in attendance, but they don't shut the speech down just yet, as people begin asking John questions.

    "What 'appened in Hoarsgate? Were ye there?"

    "Is it true, 'ave you been in jail?"

    "Do you support slavery?"


  • John grins almost victoriously, eyes bright as he seems to get people riled up:

    This 's what ah want t' see, questions, burning fire 'n th' heart o' ye! Cheers t' that! ::lifts imaginary bottle::

    Now let's start wi' good ol' Adriman 'ere. Whot would ah do? Improved plans o' fishin. Since th' orcs be gone o' th' caves, we coul' take over yon caves an' start ::gasp:: minin'. Y'know, so we wouldn' have t' be dependant on th' other cities so much, eh? Th' olruined watchtower to th' south coul' support a grand hunting ground wi' jus' few trees planted and deers brought 'n. Our fishin' fleet needs t' grow too. Y'know, what ah've heard in th' past, th' senate has always shoved this to th' guilds t' deal wi' - well guess wha', th' guilds haven' made a farkin' move t' get more resources in th' town. So why couldn' th' city itself pay fer th' operations? They woul' pay themselves back soon enough, investement as it were, an' we wouldn' have th' problem o' Maristons havin' t' pay th' defenders.

    As fer yon stinky half-orc there … eh, th' fecker always jus' wants t' start problem, but 'eres whot ah think: if'n th' distant cities want t' get 'n trial fer whoever's done somethin', then th' distant city will 'ave a trial. It ain't Peltarch's business. Peltarch's business be what happens in Peltarch.

    Indeed, 't seems we're more concerned about Oscura's an' other towns far an' wide than we be o' ourselves. Fer feck's sake, do ye lot think an ordinary man o' Peltarch wants t' suffer so we c'n be all shiny compared t' mudville #3? Nae, says I!

    Now onto ye young Snydder.. I c'n understand why y' want t' defend yer relatives 'n all. 's nice, family's important. Yet I don' think ownin' part o' big guild be anythin' t' do wi' senatorship - though I grant ye that yn Snydders seems t' be, along wi' Heffa an' meself, one o' th' three best candidates t' handle th' future o' Peltarch - get money flowin'.

    What ah have done? More like whot ah have tried t' do. Ah've been 'n advisor t' Marty, but advisors only c'n do so much if th' senators don't want t' listen. Hells, ah've tried t' speak me opinions out loud in th' senate's meetin's - but feckin' Mariston keeps hushin' me cause he don' like me. Or maybe because ah ain' senator, yet - but ah won't be silenced! No voice 'n Peltarch ought be silenced!! Toss th' cat on th' table an' discuss, instead of try t' hush it 'n flush it!

    Now last it seems t' be Mariston chap 'ere. Eh, mate, ye're a fine soldier, I bet. Ye've saved th' city from abyss? Ach, that's all fine an' dandy, heroic it may be. An' we're of course grateful fer ye payin' th' defenders - but yet, that doesn' solve th' initial problem - there be too little money in th' city. Th' senate needs t' get th' budget int' shape - an' shite like bannin' trade wi' Oscura 'cause they don' fit int' yer narrow perspective o' whot kind o' men shoul' live on Faerun certainly don' help th' common people o' Peltarch.

    Men, look at 'im! ::points to Mariston:: How many of ye think ye are pure enough fer 'im? Each one o' us be a sinner, some more so than others! We keep electin' em knightly folk more, we end up wi' a city where majority o' us cannae live. City wi' stricter laws. Laws about thinkin' dirty. Laws about wankin' alone. Laws against havin' a bit o' fun in brothels. Law 'ere, law there, an' gold nowhere. Hells, let's all take vows o' chastity an' poverty, spare him th' trouble.

    NAE! NE'ER! Vote fer John Isle! Ah'll bring balance int' th' senate. Ah'll make sure y' have bread on yer table e'ery day. Ah'll vote against that which hurts ye :: points at all the commoners :: For YE be th' lifeblood of th' city, ye are whot makes it go around! Ye are th' heart, an' Mariston's ilk be th' dick - wi'out ye pumpin', he ain't humpin'! Wi'out ye, he'll be a limp thing hangin' in shame, laughed at by th' women o' neighbourin' cities!

    He grins widely, obviously enjoying the scene.

    Now, ah woul' like t' hear some questions from th' commoners. Don' be ashamed t' ask, that be why ah have me ears.