Discovery Gaming Community

Hello Sirius

I'm sure by now you've all realised that I have been less and less involved in the Confederation for a while now. My health has been failing and I have already dropped out of OSI as an advisor. Effective immediately I am ceding all responsibilities for administration of the Confederation of Freeports to Robert d'Autoine. He shall also bee responsible for finding an administrator for Freeport XV.

I will be staying on only in an advisory role for as long as my health allows.

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Sender ID: Dr Achille Augustain Nadeau.
Sender Permissions: Commonwealthian Administrator - Freeport 5 acting regent - Freeport 10 acting regent - P.A.T.H.F.I.N.D.E.R. C.T.O.
Sender Transponder Locality: Sirius sector - Edge worlds - Barrier Ice Belt - Hispanic Space - Outer Taus - Tau 37 - Torres Ice Crystal Field - Freeport 10 - Deck 13 - Administrator's sanctum.

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*Indulgently*
"Bonjour , les gens porcs."
"Aae' Nad' here; Commonwealth rep, I…"

*From the state of aggravation blotching across his features like gangrene to an amputee, you conclude that the head of the Commonwealth is experiencing a cardiac hiccup.*

"…Le bâtard de magouille… merde divine, le bâtard, I…"

*The camera blackens in an orgy of Gallic profanity.*



*Gently, the world refocuses, and you wonder if you had merely imagined the outburst. Apparently not.*

"And a hearty 'well met' with all the conventional social accoutrements to you too, ami; I am sure that a figure of your (significant) standing will prove appreciative of such tokenistic formalities - after all, administration and delegation are often conjunct synonyms, as is 'nicety' to 'endearment', or, ah, 'buttering' to 'spread'. Feel free… nay, pressed, to spend your time if not your credits in the Sylvania Dome annex - as an alumnus, the ethanol, is on the proverbial freefalling house, as opposed to your credit balance. Being gracefully robbed of employment does occasionally have its upsides in the tipple department, if you follow me."


*A seismic pause*.



"May your health continue to prove prosperous, and your retirement to run as impeccably as your physique. Mind over matter and all that Saxon shizz.."

*A full minute of tedium as the administrator's dialogue degrades into a spate of fevered murmuring. When he finally jars back into coherency, you realise that he happens to be swearing again.*

"Putain putain Autoine, you pestilential, pretentious parisian pis…"

*Suddenly deploys a mawsome grin. Perhaps it's Christmas?*

"…My god man - point to you, you incorrigible clot. God man, I… I… lov…" *halts before he utters something compromising* "…tolerate... you. You're truly a marvel. The whole, freakin' confederation, too…

"Pardon me gentlefolks, but I happen to have a hat to eat. Jusqu'à la prochaine fois!"

*Inaudibly, as he reaches over to stab the communicator...*

"Robert, I kiss the soil you walk upon, you filthy marvel…"

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