The pints of strong ale had had already drank mixed with the sorrow in his heart and soul and it started to boil.
Aodh picked up his battered tankard, drained it in one long swallow and slammed the empty vessel down onto the table with a bang. His companions at the table looked at him surprised, he held up a hand.
"I am done. The papers cry of Serro's dead, like he was our king. Like without him we don't have a clockin' spine, but I don't know about yous, I ain't in this coz o' him"
Aodh pointed a finger at his chest.
"But I'm in this because I believe in a better world, a world where a person can climb to the very heights, based on their ability rather than where and what they happened to be born!"
A few of the patrons at other tables were taking notice now, some even starting to grumble in agreement. Aodh didn't care, his blood was up.
""In fact, do you know the only advantage the bloody clockin' gollymancers have over us?"
He raked his table mates with a withering gaze.
""NONE!" He slammed a fist into the table top.
""We outnumber them, if all of the Dives rose up, not just us wicks but the humans as well we'd be as a bloody wave! They control us because we clockin' let those jent bastards do it! Because that's how it's always been."