Broadcasting throughout the city, on any given number of television screens or holovids or trideo players or magical media broadcast spells at any given time, in any given place, was a little campaign runner.
What appeared initially to be a commercial for a new pancake special at the Original Rhy'din House of Pancakes eventually cuts to an image of Skid, seven feet, scales, claws, horns and mask, with a white chef's hat and apron.
Skid's busy flipping pancakes, but pauses to look into the camera.
"Well hey there, Rhy'din. I didn't notice you because I'm getting all these DELICIOUS PANCAKES ready for my TASTE OF FREEDOM and possible oppression meet and greet which will be taking place".."
The shot's changes, and Skid's walking through the Marketplace. A homeless man asks him for some change and instead is buried in pancakes, presumably from the previous scene. In a Cameronesque nod, the homeless man's hand appears to be clawing for freedom until it curls into a thumbs-up, and they move along.
"Never! And also always. I'm in lots of places all the time, and as a regular citizen of Rhy'din -albeit way cooler looking, probably more intelligent, and better at doing lots of things than most of you- I'm just as available as the next guy, gal, or horrible fish-monster. So if you see me in public, ask me a question! Shake my hand unless your hands are gross! Give me your baby because apparently people trust politicians with them! Just make sure you don't sneak up on me from behind, because I spook real easy and I might kick you in the chest! Twice!"
He laughs, perhaps a little wildly, before the scene changes again. This time he's sitting in a wingback armchair in front of a roaring fireplace, wearing a smoking jacket (in grey like the rest of him, of course) with one of those weird little cravat things, holding a pipe. Again, a plate of pancakes sits on the end table beside him.
"Still here, Rhy'din" Well good. I wanted to show you the kind of life you could all be living with me steering this doomed ocean liner towards the iceberg of prosperity!"
He looks at himself, and around, and then puts a hand up with a laugh that's either good-natured or condescending.
"Oh, no. Not like rich people. Unless you're rich, then you'll probably keep living like that. What I'm talking about, is precious and delicious pancakes. That's right, Rhy'din. In addition to incorporating the Barons" Council into the current governing structure and trying to figure out what -if anything- the Opals and Diamond or Keepers and Archmage do around here, revamping the city's sanitation, child service, and law enforcement models, assembling pretty much whoever I want into councils or to specific offices to take care of problems or do things that are too boring for me to care about, maybe starting a fire or two, inviting my fallen enemies to govern in less exciting titles and capacities than me (especially that Jesse, she seems DELIGHTFUL) and probably starting some kind of super soldier program, I'm offering you mandatory second Wednesday of the month pancake dinners for random city districts! How great is that' Pancakes!?
The screen starts to pan back and away as Skid takes a square of pancake and tries unsuccessfully to eat it through the mask for about five seconds, until it fades to black and reads in white the following:
Skid for Fire,
Skid for Pancakes,
Skid for Governor.
What appeared initially to be a commercial for a new pancake special at the Original Rhy'din House of Pancakes eventually cuts to an image of Skid, seven feet, scales, claws, horns and mask, with a white chef's hat and apron.
Skid's busy flipping pancakes, but pauses to look into the camera.
"Well hey there, Rhy'din. I didn't notice you because I'm getting all these DELICIOUS PANCAKES ready for my TASTE OF FREEDOM and possible oppression meet and greet which will be taking place".."
The shot's changes, and Skid's walking through the Marketplace. A homeless man asks him for some change and instead is buried in pancakes, presumably from the previous scene. In a Cameronesque nod, the homeless man's hand appears to be clawing for freedom until it curls into a thumbs-up, and they move along.
"Never! And also always. I'm in lots of places all the time, and as a regular citizen of Rhy'din -albeit way cooler looking, probably more intelligent, and better at doing lots of things than most of you- I'm just as available as the next guy, gal, or horrible fish-monster. So if you see me in public, ask me a question! Shake my hand unless your hands are gross! Give me your baby because apparently people trust politicians with them! Just make sure you don't sneak up on me from behind, because I spook real easy and I might kick you in the chest! Twice!"
He laughs, perhaps a little wildly, before the scene changes again. This time he's sitting in a wingback armchair in front of a roaring fireplace, wearing a smoking jacket (in grey like the rest of him, of course) with one of those weird little cravat things, holding a pipe. Again, a plate of pancakes sits on the end table beside him.
"Still here, Rhy'din" Well good. I wanted to show you the kind of life you could all be living with me steering this doomed ocean liner towards the iceberg of prosperity!"
He looks at himself, and around, and then puts a hand up with a laugh that's either good-natured or condescending.
"Oh, no. Not like rich people. Unless you're rich, then you'll probably keep living like that. What I'm talking about, is precious and delicious pancakes. That's right, Rhy'din. In addition to incorporating the Barons" Council into the current governing structure and trying to figure out what -if anything- the Opals and Diamond or Keepers and Archmage do around here, revamping the city's sanitation, child service, and law enforcement models, assembling pretty much whoever I want into councils or to specific offices to take care of problems or do things that are too boring for me to care about, maybe starting a fire or two, inviting my fallen enemies to govern in less exciting titles and capacities than me (especially that Jesse, she seems DELIGHTFUL) and probably starting some kind of super soldier program, I'm offering you mandatory second Wednesday of the month pancake dinners for random city districts! How great is that' Pancakes!?
The screen starts to pan back and away as Skid takes a square of pancake and tries unsuccessfully to eat it through the mask for about five seconds, until it fades to black and reads in white the following:
Skid for Fire,
Skid for Pancakes,
Skid for Governor.