Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala]
11-10-2010, 11:17 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Captain Lhurgoyf.
Reinhardt, obediently following the instruction of his brooch, headed in the direction of the clothing store. As he passed by the populace of the sprawling city, he could see their perplexed stares and could hear them perplexedly talking amongst themselves. Reinhardt scowled. In his own land, to look down as such upon Lord Reinhardt would result in the offender being tortured and eventually beheaded. But this was a different place, a different time. No longer was Reinhardt in the empire he controlled so fiercely, and no longer would he be able to strike at those who he disliked in public without having to worry about repurcussions. Reinhardt was on a mission. If he was to complete it, he had to blend in with this city's people. His suit of armour was useless for this.
Reinhardt came to a street corner, an overhanging light glaring down at him in red. Hovering cars crossed the street in front of him. The tyrant's marvel at these strange but fascinating machines was compromised only by the importance of the situation, and the odd look from a man reclining on the lamppost to his side. "Where do you think you're going, dressed like that?", he asked. Reinhardt sighed, trying to control his frustration. He wondered if this man, through his veneer of calmness, was even aware about the explosion.
"I am..." he stopped to think and use his strategy-oriented mind, one that had in the past so keenly devised plots, schemes, and plans for invasions, before finally coming to a conclusion. "I am an actor."
"An actor?"
"I am to be starring in a play to be put on soon, and I need to get a feel for this costume."
"Oh!" exclaimed the man. "You must be playing Macbeth!"
"What?", began the tyrant, before deciding that it would serve him best if he maintained his illusion of being native to this place. "Oh, yes. Yes I am."
"Very realistic! Excellent job! Well, I wish you luck!"
"Yes, yes..."
The light changed from red to green, and the procession of vehicles parted. Reinhardt, observing that other pedestrians who had gathered at this area were beginning to move out, followed their lead and continued down the street to the clothing store. Entering, he remembered how his collaborator mentioned something about creating an "account" using his "DNA". This statement meant nothing to Reinhardt, but no doubt such sophisiticated science was another sort of a thing that these advanced people had grasped. When he had time, he would be sure to investigate the meaning of this with his more knowledgeable compatriots. Making his way through the shelves and racks of clothing, Reinhardt selected a wardrobe that would best suit his sensibilities and preferences while allowing him to blend in with the crowd. Withdrawing into a fitting room, Reinhardt began to remove his armour and store it in a trunk he had found just outside the door into this alcove. It was not easy, the tyrant thought. Normally, he had slaves that would serve him in the complicated tasks of getting him in and out of his armour. Reinhardt could not even remember the last time he had removed the suit himself - he rarely even did, choosing to impose his power through his appearance.
Finally, as he put away his armour, cape, sword, and shield, Reinhardt examined himself in the mirror. He had dressed himself in the attire of a commoner in this place, so that one might pass by him without a second thought. He wore a plain black jumpsuit with leather boots and a belt, a simple brown jacket worn over his torso with the brooch pinned on the lapel. Reinhardt chose to keep his bracers on, in case he would need their strength, but in any case rolled the sleeves of his jacket over them and covered his hands with gloves. He concealed his eyes with red-tinted mirrored sunglasses. The tyrant, his disguise complete, strolled out into the street, the cool sensation on his skin suprising him with the heat of his armour and fur collar lifted from him. As he did, a thought sprung to his mind: he would need to assume a new identity. Thinking strategically, Reinhardt devised a plan.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, he turned and looked at the passersby. If, thought Reinhardt, he would assume the identity, just for this one occasion, of an undercover policeman and ask the name of one townsperson, he would not only be able to assume a common name, but he would spread the word as well. Silently, he grabbed the shoulder of a man walking by.
"Sir!" he gruffly exclaimed.
"What do you want?" came the surprised reply.
"Police. There's been an explosion in the Laboratory District, and we must question all identities. What is your name?"
"Ma--Matthew Carolee. Now let me go!"
"Yes, you're free to go." As he retreated to a silent area, Reinhardt smirked as he formulated his ideas. Ducking into a secluded alley, he fingered his brooch and tuned in to his fellow conspirator once more.
"I've assumed a disguise, milady. What other matters may I concern myself with?"
"Excellent work. Now, may I just--"
"Hold your tongue a moment. If it concerns anyone, let it be known that my name is Matthew Vanhart."
Reinhardt, obediently following the instruction of his brooch, headed in the direction of the clothing store. As he passed by the populace of the sprawling city, he could see their perplexed stares and could hear them perplexedly talking amongst themselves. Reinhardt scowled. In his own land, to look down as such upon Lord Reinhardt would result in the offender being tortured and eventually beheaded. But this was a different place, a different time. No longer was Reinhardt in the empire he controlled so fiercely, and no longer would he be able to strike at those who he disliked in public without having to worry about repurcussions. Reinhardt was on a mission. If he was to complete it, he had to blend in with this city's people. His suit of armour was useless for this.
Reinhardt came to a street corner, an overhanging light glaring down at him in red. Hovering cars crossed the street in front of him. The tyrant's marvel at these strange but fascinating machines was compromised only by the importance of the situation, and the odd look from a man reclining on the lamppost to his side. "Where do you think you're going, dressed like that?", he asked. Reinhardt sighed, trying to control his frustration. He wondered if this man, through his veneer of calmness, was even aware about the explosion.
"I am..." he stopped to think and use his strategy-oriented mind, one that had in the past so keenly devised plots, schemes, and plans for invasions, before finally coming to a conclusion. "I am an actor."
"An actor?"
"I am to be starring in a play to be put on soon, and I need to get a feel for this costume."
"Oh!" exclaimed the man. "You must be playing Macbeth!"
"What?", began the tyrant, before deciding that it would serve him best if he maintained his illusion of being native to this place. "Oh, yes. Yes I am."
"Very realistic! Excellent job! Well, I wish you luck!"
"Yes, yes..."
The light changed from red to green, and the procession of vehicles parted. Reinhardt, observing that other pedestrians who had gathered at this area were beginning to move out, followed their lead and continued down the street to the clothing store. Entering, he remembered how his collaborator mentioned something about creating an "account" using his "DNA". This statement meant nothing to Reinhardt, but no doubt such sophisiticated science was another sort of a thing that these advanced people had grasped. When he had time, he would be sure to investigate the meaning of this with his more knowledgeable compatriots. Making his way through the shelves and racks of clothing, Reinhardt selected a wardrobe that would best suit his sensibilities and preferences while allowing him to blend in with the crowd. Withdrawing into a fitting room, Reinhardt began to remove his armour and store it in a trunk he had found just outside the door into this alcove. It was not easy, the tyrant thought. Normally, he had slaves that would serve him in the complicated tasks of getting him in and out of his armour. Reinhardt could not even remember the last time he had removed the suit himself - he rarely even did, choosing to impose his power through his appearance.
Finally, as he put away his armour, cape, sword, and shield, Reinhardt examined himself in the mirror. He had dressed himself in the attire of a commoner in this place, so that one might pass by him without a second thought. He wore a plain black jumpsuit with leather boots and a belt, a simple brown jacket worn over his torso with the brooch pinned on the lapel. Reinhardt chose to keep his bracers on, in case he would need their strength, but in any case rolled the sleeves of his jacket over them and covered his hands with gloves. He concealed his eyes with red-tinted mirrored sunglasses. The tyrant, his disguise complete, strolled out into the street, the cool sensation on his skin suprising him with the heat of his armour and fur collar lifted from him. As he did, a thought sprung to his mind: he would need to assume a new identity. Thinking strategically, Reinhardt devised a plan.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, he turned and looked at the passersby. If, thought Reinhardt, he would assume the identity, just for this one occasion, of an undercover policeman and ask the name of one townsperson, he would not only be able to assume a common name, but he would spread the word as well. Silently, he grabbed the shoulder of a man walking by.
"Sir!" he gruffly exclaimed.
"What do you want?" came the surprised reply.
"Police. There's been an explosion in the Laboratory District, and we must question all identities. What is your name?"
"Ma--Matthew Carolee. Now let me go!"
"Yes, you're free to go." As he retreated to a silent area, Reinhardt smirked as he formulated his ideas. Ducking into a secluded alley, he fingered his brooch and tuned in to his fellow conspirator once more.
"I've assumed a disguise, milady. What other matters may I concern myself with?"
"Excellent work. Now, may I just--"
"Hold your tongue a moment. If it concerns anyone, let it be known that my name is Matthew Vanhart."