The following commercial began airing on all major Rhy'Din networks in the early morning hours of April the 1st, and continued to be played at half hour intervals during regularly scheduled program breaks. Copies have already begun circulating on the MultiUniversal Digital Network (think Internet) as well.
A panoramic overview of the city pans across rooftops and over well tended gardens at early sunrise. A calming and serene music blends charmingly in with the sounds of morning birdsong and a cool spring breeze that whispers soothingly to the viewer. One letter at a time, a single word shimmers across the screen until it solidifies into a calming bold emphasis of what this joyous vision truly portrays.
Rhy'Din
The camera angles down and swoops in as if gliding on the back of a serene golden eagle. This display shows the viewer streets bustling with activity as shops open their doors and windows to greet the day. A freshly baked loaf of bread is set to cool on a windowsill by one of the city's many known bakers. The woman looks up with a smile and waves to the audience with a checkered oven mitt, then she turns in to resume her work.
A blacksmith is already hard at work pounding away on an anvil as the bird-camera passes by his open shop. Horseshoes and iron-shod instruments of various design dangle from hooks at the edges of his pavilion. The blacksmith looks up from his work and smiles at the camera as the bird-view passes him by. He then lifts his hammer, looks back down at his anvil, and drops it down in an array of busy sparks to resume his work.
The camera swoops around an open market square where dozens of crafts sellers are already setting up their awnings to shield themselves from the warm spring sun that has only started rising. A woman at a table covered in beaded jewelry looks up as she is laying out a sparkling pendant, smiles at the camera and waves before looking back down to resume putting out the rest of her glittering wares.
Finally the camera circles around until it focuses on the central Market fountain, where there stands man with dark black, wavy hair and stunning blue eyes. He is smiling as he watches a young girl with curly blonde hair play with a wooden toy horse and a ragdoll on the clean cobblestones nearby. He looks up at the camera, still smiling fondly, and gestures to the little girl. "This is Lucy," he says, and the little girl looks up, twisting around to look back at the camera, and smile in the most alluringly childish way. Her cheeks fill with dimples.
The man steps away from the fountain with a comfortable ease of grace, and the camera follows him as he walks a circle around Lucy and kneels down beside her. He sets his hand on the little girl's back. She smiles up at him, then goes back to the task of playing with her horse and doll. The man continues to speak to the camera, though he keeps a small amount of fond attention on the little girl at the same time.
"Lucy has lived here in Rhy'Din all her life, isn't that right?" The little girl looks up shyly, giggles and nods. "Lucy's mother owns the flower shop right around the corner." The man points to his right, the camera's left, with a long fine finger. The camera turns and pans around the busy market square to focus in on the flower shop in question. A variety of hundreds of floral arrangements line the windows and tables lining the outside walk just in front of the shop. When next we see the speaker of this video, he is walking along that row of flora, plucking a rose from one of the arrangements, and sniffing in its natural perfume with a satisfied sigh.
"Lucy and her mother both know that Rhy'Din is a beautiful place, full of wonders the likes of which no known world in the farthest reaches of the multiverse can as equally claim. Lucy's best friend lives just over there." The man points off to his left, the camera's right, and it pans over to show the viewers a young centaur filly waving cheerfully at the screen. Her russet pigtails bounce with her glee, and she giggles as Lucy runs over to join her. The two girls begin whispering secretively, as many young girls do. "Clearly, Lucy's best friend is not human," says the man with a grin.
The camera pans back to him, and he is walking a slow circuit around the market square with a calm and easy gait. "Children like Lucy and her best friend have seen the best that there is to offer in Rhy'Din. They have known very little hardship in their short lives. Nothing the likes of which some propagandists would like you citizens to believe.
"Lucy has never been poor. Her mother's business provides her with all the money her family could ever need, and her father helps out by delivering parcels to other nearby homes. Lucy's family has never suffered starvation. They've always had food on their table. The word poverty doesn't even exist in her vocabulary, and it never will.
"For Rhy'Din is a city full of wealth, and commerce continues to thrive. This marketplace, like many others in our city, is always bustling with activity." The man's circuit brings him back to the fountain, where he spreads his arms, a cue for the camera to pan around again and take in the images of bustling activity he has spoken of.
Well-dressed patrons of various interests stroll across the clean stones, stopping to browse at the tables set up by traders and salesmen of various wares. Here we see the jewelry stall again, and over there a collection of china made clearly by hand. As the camera examines each and every bit of business, the man continues to speak off screen.
"Never in these streets will you find a man, woman or child dressed in rags. Never will you find the elderly and infirm sitting on a corner, shaking a tin and begging for change. Money flows in the streets of Rhy'Din like water. Of this there is never a shortage. And because of this we can all be certain that no matter the circumstances, we will thrive and be forever safe.
"Even with the Watch, so sparse and unappreciated patrolling our streets—" The camera hones in on a man in uniform, walking along alertly in search of trouble. "—this is not enough. Our current government would have you believe that they and they alone are all who are fit to protect the citizens of our fair city, but that is not true.
"Every man, woman and child in Rhy'Din has the capability to keep their homes and neighbors just as safe as these unknown Watchmen. Who watching now can claim they do not have at least an inkling of knowledge on combat and defense" Who of you can say that if you were to see an innocent in danger by the mysterious evils of our city that you would not intervene to protect them, to save them and to do away with such a menace on your own?
"The people of Rhy'Din are not cowards. We do not hide and cower as your current government would like you to believe. We are not helpless and wholly dependent on a sanctioned health care system either. Why, just down this street—-" The camera pans in again to follow the dark-haired man as he walks down a well-lit side road. "—there is a healer by the name of Moreen."
The camera turns in to focus on the sign hanging over the door, a simple artistic affair denoting a mortar and pestle, the universal sign of an apothecary in less modern worlds. The door opens, and standing there is a homely woman who looks surprised to see the camera looking at her. The dark-haired man steps back into the frame with a smile and takes her hand, turning to face the audience. "Moreen has lived here all her life as well, but business for her has not been as booming as it could have been, all thanks to your current government."
The dark-haired man takes Moreen the healer by the hand and walks with her out of the side-street and back into the bustling market square. "Rhy'Din," he says as he makes his way back to the fountain. Upon reaching it, he turns with his back to the spray of water and his arm around Moreen the healer's shoulders. The child Lucy runs up into the frame at his side, and he takes her hand as she too faces the audience. Her friend the centaur canters in to stand behind her.
"Remember your roots," says the dark-haired man. "This election year, don't put your trust blindly in a man who claims to know what is best for you. You yourselves know what is best for you, and for generations long before there was a government in Rhy'Din you have been self-sufficient and wise.
"This election year, vote for me, Sheridan Driscol, and I will do all in my power to return our fair city to the self-sufficient paradise we have always known it to be. I won't stifle you with false hopes and persuade you to forget that which you already know. For generations we have had the power to fend for ourselves, to stand up for ourselves, to support ourselves. You don't need a governor who is going to tell you how to live your lives. You need a governor who is going to encourage you to live the lives you always have lived.
"Remember your roots, Rhy'Din."
The camera moves backward, away from the scene, leaving healer Moreen, Lucy and her centaur friend waving with bright smiles at the audience. A scrawling message etches itself across the screen.
Remember your roots. Vote smart. Vote Driscol.
Then the commercial fades to black and returns the viewer to his or her regularly scheduled programming.
A panoramic overview of the city pans across rooftops and over well tended gardens at early sunrise. A calming and serene music blends charmingly in with the sounds of morning birdsong and a cool spring breeze that whispers soothingly to the viewer. One letter at a time, a single word shimmers across the screen until it solidifies into a calming bold emphasis of what this joyous vision truly portrays.
Rhy'Din
The camera angles down and swoops in as if gliding on the back of a serene golden eagle. This display shows the viewer streets bustling with activity as shops open their doors and windows to greet the day. A freshly baked loaf of bread is set to cool on a windowsill by one of the city's many known bakers. The woman looks up with a smile and waves to the audience with a checkered oven mitt, then she turns in to resume her work.
A blacksmith is already hard at work pounding away on an anvil as the bird-camera passes by his open shop. Horseshoes and iron-shod instruments of various design dangle from hooks at the edges of his pavilion. The blacksmith looks up from his work and smiles at the camera as the bird-view passes him by. He then lifts his hammer, looks back down at his anvil, and drops it down in an array of busy sparks to resume his work.
The camera swoops around an open market square where dozens of crafts sellers are already setting up their awnings to shield themselves from the warm spring sun that has only started rising. A woman at a table covered in beaded jewelry looks up as she is laying out a sparkling pendant, smiles at the camera and waves before looking back down to resume putting out the rest of her glittering wares.
Finally the camera circles around until it focuses on the central Market fountain, where there stands man with dark black, wavy hair and stunning blue eyes. He is smiling as he watches a young girl with curly blonde hair play with a wooden toy horse and a ragdoll on the clean cobblestones nearby. He looks up at the camera, still smiling fondly, and gestures to the little girl. "This is Lucy," he says, and the little girl looks up, twisting around to look back at the camera, and smile in the most alluringly childish way. Her cheeks fill with dimples.
The man steps away from the fountain with a comfortable ease of grace, and the camera follows him as he walks a circle around Lucy and kneels down beside her. He sets his hand on the little girl's back. She smiles up at him, then goes back to the task of playing with her horse and doll. The man continues to speak to the camera, though he keeps a small amount of fond attention on the little girl at the same time.
"Lucy has lived here in Rhy'Din all her life, isn't that right?" The little girl looks up shyly, giggles and nods. "Lucy's mother owns the flower shop right around the corner." The man points to his right, the camera's left, with a long fine finger. The camera turns and pans around the busy market square to focus in on the flower shop in question. A variety of hundreds of floral arrangements line the windows and tables lining the outside walk just in front of the shop. When next we see the speaker of this video, he is walking along that row of flora, plucking a rose from one of the arrangements, and sniffing in its natural perfume with a satisfied sigh.
"Lucy and her mother both know that Rhy'Din is a beautiful place, full of wonders the likes of which no known world in the farthest reaches of the multiverse can as equally claim. Lucy's best friend lives just over there." The man points off to his left, the camera's right, and it pans over to show the viewers a young centaur filly waving cheerfully at the screen. Her russet pigtails bounce with her glee, and she giggles as Lucy runs over to join her. The two girls begin whispering secretively, as many young girls do. "Clearly, Lucy's best friend is not human," says the man with a grin.
The camera pans back to him, and he is walking a slow circuit around the market square with a calm and easy gait. "Children like Lucy and her best friend have seen the best that there is to offer in Rhy'Din. They have known very little hardship in their short lives. Nothing the likes of which some propagandists would like you citizens to believe.
"Lucy has never been poor. Her mother's business provides her with all the money her family could ever need, and her father helps out by delivering parcels to other nearby homes. Lucy's family has never suffered starvation. They've always had food on their table. The word poverty doesn't even exist in her vocabulary, and it never will.
"For Rhy'Din is a city full of wealth, and commerce continues to thrive. This marketplace, like many others in our city, is always bustling with activity." The man's circuit brings him back to the fountain, where he spreads his arms, a cue for the camera to pan around again and take in the images of bustling activity he has spoken of.
Well-dressed patrons of various interests stroll across the clean stones, stopping to browse at the tables set up by traders and salesmen of various wares. Here we see the jewelry stall again, and over there a collection of china made clearly by hand. As the camera examines each and every bit of business, the man continues to speak off screen.
"Never in these streets will you find a man, woman or child dressed in rags. Never will you find the elderly and infirm sitting on a corner, shaking a tin and begging for change. Money flows in the streets of Rhy'Din like water. Of this there is never a shortage. And because of this we can all be certain that no matter the circumstances, we will thrive and be forever safe.
"Even with the Watch, so sparse and unappreciated patrolling our streets—" The camera hones in on a man in uniform, walking along alertly in search of trouble. "—this is not enough. Our current government would have you believe that they and they alone are all who are fit to protect the citizens of our fair city, but that is not true.
"Every man, woman and child in Rhy'Din has the capability to keep their homes and neighbors just as safe as these unknown Watchmen. Who watching now can claim they do not have at least an inkling of knowledge on combat and defense" Who of you can say that if you were to see an innocent in danger by the mysterious evils of our city that you would not intervene to protect them, to save them and to do away with such a menace on your own?
"The people of Rhy'Din are not cowards. We do not hide and cower as your current government would like you to believe. We are not helpless and wholly dependent on a sanctioned health care system either. Why, just down this street—-" The camera pans in again to follow the dark-haired man as he walks down a well-lit side road. "—there is a healer by the name of Moreen."
The camera turns in to focus on the sign hanging over the door, a simple artistic affair denoting a mortar and pestle, the universal sign of an apothecary in less modern worlds. The door opens, and standing there is a homely woman who looks surprised to see the camera looking at her. The dark-haired man steps back into the frame with a smile and takes her hand, turning to face the audience. "Moreen has lived here all her life as well, but business for her has not been as booming as it could have been, all thanks to your current government."
The dark-haired man takes Moreen the healer by the hand and walks with her out of the side-street and back into the bustling market square. "Rhy'Din," he says as he makes his way back to the fountain. Upon reaching it, he turns with his back to the spray of water and his arm around Moreen the healer's shoulders. The child Lucy runs up into the frame at his side, and he takes her hand as she too faces the audience. Her friend the centaur canters in to stand behind her.
"Remember your roots," says the dark-haired man. "This election year, don't put your trust blindly in a man who claims to know what is best for you. You yourselves know what is best for you, and for generations long before there was a government in Rhy'Din you have been self-sufficient and wise.
"This election year, vote for me, Sheridan Driscol, and I will do all in my power to return our fair city to the self-sufficient paradise we have always known it to be. I won't stifle you with false hopes and persuade you to forget that which you already know. For generations we have had the power to fend for ourselves, to stand up for ourselves, to support ourselves. You don't need a governor who is going to tell you how to live your lives. You need a governor who is going to encourage you to live the lives you always have lived.
"Remember your roots, Rhy'Din."
The camera moves backward, away from the scene, leaving healer Moreen, Lucy and her centaur friend waving with bright smiles at the audience. A scrawling message etches itself across the screen.
Remember your roots. Vote smart. Vote Driscol.
Then the commercial fades to black and returns the viewer to his or her regularly scheduled programming.