Post by atlas on Dec 11, 2016 5:12:11 GMT
*Background noise, as if something was rubbing against the hollow-tape*
"Begin recording. Dubois's Journal, December 12th, 2282. Five minutes to midnight."
*The sound of people taking in the background is heard. Followed by something metalic being set down.*
"The Wastes are beginning to wear Greystone down. David is dead. Danes killed the man who was responsible. Toaster and his gang are regrouping after a suicide attack by David. Yesterday I killed seven people. That was the only day I kept track of it. Foggy, like always. Two new men arrived in town. One is nearly seven foot tall. Wears a black trench duster, probably trying to be edgy."
*Shouting is heard, as well as the creaking of wood.*
"The other has a case of Old World Blues. Sergeant Steamroller is entering town as I speak. He stands below me and is resting. He got fired at yesterday, really hurt his build. If robots can feel pain. Where was I? Oh yes, the Park Ranger. I don't know if he is aware of the madness that he walks with. Then again, this is a town with a drawf and Jimmy Romano. The fog is getting darker as it hits twelve."
*Potshots are heard in the background, most likely originating in the city*
"The West cannot hold this place. We are too weak. The Legion and Warhounds outnumber us greatly. This government process is going to kill us all before we make any remarkable improvements. I am standing on the edge of my new country. Almost makes me wish I stayed in Seattle. But I couldn't. I know we are going to continue to bleed for this place. Why? Why a useless strip of dead land. Because we are the best option Baja has."
*The jingles of Brahmin bells grow louder. Their hoofs clack against what is left of the road*
"We cannot pull out. No matter how few of us there are, we cannot pull out. The slavers must end. The Legion must end. Even without the NCR, this place needs to be saved. I've been called a facist and a imperialist. Frankly I've stopped caring about the insults, they are all the same now-a-days."
*A sudden gust of wind muffles the audio*
"We can't let this place fall into the hands into people like Toaster. Or Decanus. Or the man that was responsible for David's death. I don't care how long it will take. These people here? Some are worth trying to protect. However little in number. I know I complain a lot about this strategic uselessness of this area, but it is worth it. At least I say that, helps I suppose. This has gone beyond my enlistment. With our without California, I will fight for this place."
*Buzzing is heard in the background, followed by curses*
"But like I said, we cannot hold this place. But all those Legions and Slavers and Raiders will have to get through us and -take- this land from us. End recording."
"Begin recording. Dubois's Journal, December 12th, 2282. Five minutes to midnight."
*The sound of people taking in the background is heard. Followed by something metalic being set down.*
"The Wastes are beginning to wear Greystone down. David is dead. Danes killed the man who was responsible. Toaster and his gang are regrouping after a suicide attack by David. Yesterday I killed seven people. That was the only day I kept track of it. Foggy, like always. Two new men arrived in town. One is nearly seven foot tall. Wears a black trench duster, probably trying to be edgy."
*Shouting is heard, as well as the creaking of wood.*
"The other has a case of Old World Blues. Sergeant Steamroller is entering town as I speak. He stands below me and is resting. He got fired at yesterday, really hurt his build. If robots can feel pain. Where was I? Oh yes, the Park Ranger. I don't know if he is aware of the madness that he walks with. Then again, this is a town with a drawf and Jimmy Romano. The fog is getting darker as it hits twelve."
*Potshots are heard in the background, most likely originating in the city*
"The West cannot hold this place. We are too weak. The Legion and Warhounds outnumber us greatly. This government process is going to kill us all before we make any remarkable improvements. I am standing on the edge of my new country. Almost makes me wish I stayed in Seattle. But I couldn't. I know we are going to continue to bleed for this place. Why? Why a useless strip of dead land. Because we are the best option Baja has."
*The jingles of Brahmin bells grow louder. Their hoofs clack against what is left of the road*
"We cannot pull out. No matter how few of us there are, we cannot pull out. The slavers must end. The Legion must end. Even without the NCR, this place needs to be saved. I've been called a facist and a imperialist. Frankly I've stopped caring about the insults, they are all the same now-a-days."
*A sudden gust of wind muffles the audio*
"We can't let this place fall into the hands into people like Toaster. Or Decanus. Or the man that was responsible for David's death. I don't care how long it will take. These people here? Some are worth trying to protect. However little in number. I know I complain a lot about this strategic uselessness of this area, but it is worth it. At least I say that, helps I suppose. This has gone beyond my enlistment. With our without California, I will fight for this place."
*Buzzing is heard in the background, followed by curses*
"But like I said, we cannot hold this place. But all those Legions and Slavers and Raiders will have to get through us and -take- this land from us. End recording."