Grand Hobgoblonia
15-03-2004, 09:13
OOC: a debut RP opener from me wheee! hope it's worth a post or two
IC story:
A fine and temperately chill evening for the Grand Hobgoblonian central urban center, where the Grand Palace is located. A fancy motorcade of black limousines (not Hobgoblonian manufactured) passed blocks of ghetto neighborhoods patrolled by heavily armed police soldiers, through glitzy pompously gentrified blocks, through some more ghetto, past some nicely maintained public statues, and into the Palace Compound.
Prime Minister Baragh IV looked down at the reception roadway from his office window in the palace and saw a corporate official from the cheese exporting industry ushered out of his limousine. What the hell does the Cheese Exporting Lobby want at this hour? Baragh wondered to himself.
After Baragh sat down and made his office more presentable, that is, his servants collected every crum and rearranged every book perfectly, and the lighting was adjusted to give the Prime Minister a more imposing look sitting from behind his giant mahoganey desk, Baragh gestured for the envoy to be allowed in.
The Cheese Export Lobby official was a typical corporate-above-the-law hobgoblin super-rich-elite. Expensive tuxedo and shoes, confident and superficial mannerisms. Not as expensive as the Prime Minister's silk late hours uniform, though.
"Have a seat," Baragh beckoned.
The Cheese Lobby was all show, happy to see the Prime Minister like he's an old friend. "How have you been, Baragh? Pleasure to be here."
"Skip the formalities tonight, please," Baragh rolled his eyes.
The Cheese Lobby sat down across from Baragh at the desk, in a super cushioned matched mahagoney handcrafted chair.
"Of course, I came here just for business, so I'll cut to the chase," the Cheese Lobby answered. "We all love the Monarch, blessed be his name," he began, "but quite frankly, we in the Cheese Exporting industry have observed that you run the show, Baragh. We want to make a special gesture of our .. appreciation .. of your service to the Monarch, and to Grand Hobgoblonia as a whole." As the Cheese Lobby finished his sentence, a corporate servant stepped forward and placed a small black coffer box on the Prime Minister's desk.
"What?" asked Baragh, not quite sure of what to make of this move as he stared at the black box on his desk.
"Just a token of that appreciation," the Cheese Lobby gestured toward the box. "Open it."
Baragh looked down at the box, then looked directly at the Cheese Lobby sitting across from him. Something boiled inside. Reaching inside a perhaps too accessible desk drawer, Baragh felt the grip of a an expensive personal pistol he had had individually purchase ordered from a militarily advanced nation only a few days ago upon the announcement of exponential GDP growth in Grand Hobgoblonia. There was no other pistol like it in the nation. And it had never been used before. None of this occurred to Baragh as he stood up, knocking his lavish chair down behind him, pistol in hand. The Cheese Lobby was noticeably startled, holding hid arm up defensively.
"Yes, I do run the show here," Baragh started, and pointed his gun at the would be briber. The servants were all already cowering in corners of the office. "And I am a servant of the Monarch." No time for the Cheese Lobby to react, Baragh pulled the trigger. Dead hobgoblin toppled back from his seat in the Prime Minister's office.
Damn, Baragh realized, they're going to get back at me for this one.
OOC: If any nations should be receiving sketchy slander about Prime Minister Baragh IV from hobgoblin merchants, especially from the cheese importing market in your local nation, feel free to post about it here!
IC story:
A fine and temperately chill evening for the Grand Hobgoblonian central urban center, where the Grand Palace is located. A fancy motorcade of black limousines (not Hobgoblonian manufactured) passed blocks of ghetto neighborhoods patrolled by heavily armed police soldiers, through glitzy pompously gentrified blocks, through some more ghetto, past some nicely maintained public statues, and into the Palace Compound.
Prime Minister Baragh IV looked down at the reception roadway from his office window in the palace and saw a corporate official from the cheese exporting industry ushered out of his limousine. What the hell does the Cheese Exporting Lobby want at this hour? Baragh wondered to himself.
After Baragh sat down and made his office more presentable, that is, his servants collected every crum and rearranged every book perfectly, and the lighting was adjusted to give the Prime Minister a more imposing look sitting from behind his giant mahoganey desk, Baragh gestured for the envoy to be allowed in.
The Cheese Export Lobby official was a typical corporate-above-the-law hobgoblin super-rich-elite. Expensive tuxedo and shoes, confident and superficial mannerisms. Not as expensive as the Prime Minister's silk late hours uniform, though.
"Have a seat," Baragh beckoned.
The Cheese Lobby was all show, happy to see the Prime Minister like he's an old friend. "How have you been, Baragh? Pleasure to be here."
"Skip the formalities tonight, please," Baragh rolled his eyes.
The Cheese Lobby sat down across from Baragh at the desk, in a super cushioned matched mahagoney handcrafted chair.
"Of course, I came here just for business, so I'll cut to the chase," the Cheese Lobby answered. "We all love the Monarch, blessed be his name," he began, "but quite frankly, we in the Cheese Exporting industry have observed that you run the show, Baragh. We want to make a special gesture of our .. appreciation .. of your service to the Monarch, and to Grand Hobgoblonia as a whole." As the Cheese Lobby finished his sentence, a corporate servant stepped forward and placed a small black coffer box on the Prime Minister's desk.
"What?" asked Baragh, not quite sure of what to make of this move as he stared at the black box on his desk.
"Just a token of that appreciation," the Cheese Lobby gestured toward the box. "Open it."
Baragh looked down at the box, then looked directly at the Cheese Lobby sitting across from him. Something boiled inside. Reaching inside a perhaps too accessible desk drawer, Baragh felt the grip of a an expensive personal pistol he had had individually purchase ordered from a militarily advanced nation only a few days ago upon the announcement of exponential GDP growth in Grand Hobgoblonia. There was no other pistol like it in the nation. And it had never been used before. None of this occurred to Baragh as he stood up, knocking his lavish chair down behind him, pistol in hand. The Cheese Lobby was noticeably startled, holding hid arm up defensively.
"Yes, I do run the show here," Baragh started, and pointed his gun at the would be briber. The servants were all already cowering in corners of the office. "And I am a servant of the Monarch." No time for the Cheese Lobby to react, Baragh pulled the trigger. Dead hobgoblin toppled back from his seat in the Prime Minister's office.
Damn, Baragh realized, they're going to get back at me for this one.
OOC: If any nations should be receiving sketchy slander about Prime Minister Baragh IV from hobgoblin merchants, especially from the cheese importing market in your local nation, feel free to post about it here!