Discovery Gaming Community

Your long struggle is now coming to a close, but ours? It is just beginning. That is why we have sent this communication, we are here to ask you to now aid us in our time of strife with whatever goods you may, food, medical supplies, water and oxygen, the very goods of life. We implore you to consider this request seriously, we do not forget our friends easily, and when we may we would set their lives in a lavish state not seen since the last reigning King of Bretonia.

While our stores are not so filled to the brim as they once were we can still offer a solid trade agreement, nothing but what is necessary to out survival and to ensure your prosperous existence. This is exclusively a trade agreement, there will be no lending of arms, no fighting of the battles of friends, just a sharing of goods. At this time the Independent Miner's Rights Union can offer the following in fair supply:

• Construction Machinery
  
• Mining Machinery
  
• H-Fuel
  
• Niobium
  

We do realise that this is by no means a fortune for you, but it is expensive to manufacture and acquire for those not of our trade, and it was felt by all members of the Union that if we would ask aid we would ask it of the Mollies. In exchange we would only seek the following supplies:

• Pharmaceutical Supplies
  
• Food Rations
  
• Water Rations
  
• Hull Panels
  

While we have engine components and sensor arrays to maintain, repair or even construct new ships we are in need of hull panels, if you could grant us this boon we would be a stronger fighting force by far, and a better ally in the near future.

We implore you to take this offer and request to your hearts and answer swiftly, should you choose either the path of objection or the path of acceptance you will be able to reach either myself, Vigilance or the Union Leader himself, Freedom. Please do not dismiss this is idle chatter, we are most serious.

Long live the Union!

Jacob O'Malley walked into the comms room on Mull, his gait suggesting he'd had a skinful already, the bottle in his hand suggesting he wasn't finished yet with the evenings drinking.

"What is this, eh? Communicashun? From where? Who is it? Bloody irrespectful buggers I wus drinking with old Conor O'Kelly in the bar."

The comms technician didn't even look at Jacob, thing's had gotten more interesting since the Clans had taken up residence here, more interesting as in more rowdy. Bar fights were frequent and the Clan boys were quick to take offence especially if the integrity of the Clan girls was called into question. Not that they needed defending at all, more testosterone than the boys half the time.

"Ummm, some miners want a chat, seems they've got an offer for yer."

"Right then, shift over let's ave a look see."

Jacob read the communication and began to respond.

Transmission Begins

Comm ID: Jacob O'Malley
Location: Mull Base, Newcastle System.

What's this then, eh? Trade agreements? Suppose I ought to clear it with the lads and them O'Kellys un all. Don't seem nothin wrong with it, mind. Provis...prov... yes for now. But if them lot want it changed it'll get changed ruddy quick, clear? Roight.

Back to the Battle Cruiser, as the folks on New London (right bunch of losers) might say.

Transmission Terminated.