Brom of Alsthorpe

As I look out at the faces surrounding me here today, I am reminded of how much we’ve accomplished in such a short period of time. We’ve driven the creature from our village, chased it back to its moldering castle, and burned that castle to the ground, doing so with no more than a few dozen pugnacious townsfolk. This was a huge undertaking, and we should all feel proud. However, to achieve our goals moving forward—to track down this beast who ultimately escaped the fire and fled—we must increase our numbers.

This angry mob can’t reach its full potential until we make ourselves more welcoming to newcomers.

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I understand that many of you are reluctant to expand our base. Hey, I get it. Most of us have been with this horde of furious villagers from the beginning. We’ve dealt with our fair share of frustrations, such as the discovery that our torches were not sufficient to set aflame the stone windmill the creature was hiding in, but we always found creative solutions, like destroying the windmill with a battering ram. We’ve formed a special bond, and we don’t want to lose that.

There’s concern that bringing in a bunch of new people will dilute the mob mentality we’ve worked so hard to create here. But would it be fair to prevent other, equally committed peasants from joining simply because they didn’t happen to be in the town square when we first began rioting? Would it be smart to ignore other voices just because they come from someone more mud-encrusted or pox-ridden than the rest of us? I don’t think so. At the end of the day, we all want the same thing: To chase the monster through the swamplands and kill it.

If we work together, I believe we can make that dream a reality.

Every mob gets to a point where it has to take a good, hard look at itself and figure out what’s next. I’ve seen far too many bloodthirsty throngs with incredible potential just fizzle out because they weren’t willing to take things to the next level. Remember that swarm of belligerent plowmen that came through town last year? Sure, they drowned a half dozen witches, but then no one ever heard from them again. I don’t want that to happen to us. We’ve done such incredible work, we owe it to ourselves to see it through till the end.

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Look at Sorin the Baker: He didn’t join until well after we had cornered the monster and driven it into the woods, but now he’s one of the most valuable members of our group. It’s almost impossible to imagine marauding through the countryside without his angry chants, his can-do attitude, and the perpetual glint of madness in his eye. Sorin is a bona fide success story, and there’s no reason we can’t replicate that success.

Of course, I’m not proposing we let just anyone in. I suspect some of the reluctance to accept new members comes from a recent incident in which we briefly admitted a parson who begged us to try to understand the monster and work out a peaceable arrangement with it instead of unleashing the full force of our bloodlust upon it. That was a mistake, there’s no doubt about it. He didn’t share our values, and I take full responsibility.

Fortunately, he’s been duly drawn and quartered, and I assure you the error won’t be repeated.

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Missteps aside, it’s high time we welcome those townsfolk who possess a clear and passionate interest in destroying that hell-spawned beast by whatever means necessary, and who are willing to provide their own torch and pitchfork. The truth is, our particular brand of crazed, vicious fury isn’t the only one out there, and frankly, we’d be doing ourselves a disservice if we didn’t consider other perspectives. A healthy cross-pollination of ideas will allow us to become a more dynamic, effective mob and discover innovative new ways to rend the creature’s flesh and trample its skull.

So I encourage everyone here today to speak to their friends and neighbors about joining up. Make the case that the unspeakable monstrosity has destroyed our fields and killed our livestock. Let them know about the limitless opportunities for vengeance that await them. Share your personal story about the fun and excitement to be had as part of an unaccountable, leaderless, and extremely violent gang of vigilantes. Nothing is as convincing as an expression of genuine enthusiasm for the work you’re doing.

And if that doesn’t work, remind them that if they don’t join us, we’ll set fire to their huts while they sleep.

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