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Messages - Cleg

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New California Republic / THE PRESIDENT SPEAKS
« on: June 07, 2015, 08:34 »
President ClegDos

Citizens of the Reformed New California Republic, I begin this administration with a heartfelt gratitude. Your confidence is the strength, the foundation on which I build this dream we have shared for so long. After a few days of deep introspection and reflection, allow me now to emerge as a leader to usher in the new era of this Republic.

The change you have sought is coming, not soon...NOW. We as a Republic must accept that change is inevitable but growth is optional. What this means for us as a nation is while everything changes, we must make the best choices on which direction we take for growth. With that in mind, please consider these as my first official actions as your president.

General Hubert, the fromer esteemed Regent of the Republic and still the highest ranking member of the Army will remain as the General of the Army and all Army actions and direction will fall under his command. I have nothing but the most adamant trust for the General and his abilities. Under his guidance, the Army will grow, gain experience and move into a second phase of growth to become the most powerful force for peace and stability in the wasteland.  The Enclave is out there, citizens. The one thing that can stand between us and the inevitable invasion we face is the stalwart soldier of the RNCR. General Hubert will oversee recruitment and training of this army as well as any and all defense of our Republic. In this task, I have the utmost confidence in the abilities of the General and his staff. WIth that in mind, General and officers, please send me a private communication via this network at your earliest convenience.

The Citizens Council of the Republic will also continue to advise and serve as a steering committee for this government. As with any government, one man cannot hold all the power for that is the shell from which tyranny hatches. With that in mind, I will decree the following:

  • At any time, the Citizens Council of the RNCR can call for a referendum on any political action conerning the governance of the Republic. Any matter relating to trade, diplomacy, law, operational direction or the president himself may be undertaken by the Council with a quorum of 75 percent of voting members. A vote may be called for referendum by this quorum and be passed by 2/3 majority. The president will have the ability to veto this action however his veto can be overruled by the council with a unanimous vote. In the absence of a unanimous vote, a new motion for referrendum must be called and the process begin again. This is to ensure that the Office of the President has no supreme power and will serve the best interest of the Republic.
  • At any time, the Citizens Council of the RNCR can call for a recall of the president with a quorum of 100 percent of voting members and approve such vote with 100 percent unanimous vote. If such an action os objected by the sitting president, the Council is empowered by law to enjoin the assitance of the General of the Army to forcibly remove the president. The same voting will apply to the Commanding General should he refuse such an order and new General appointed by the council. In the event of such a complication, the power of the president will immediately be transferred to the Chairman of the Citizens COuncil of the RNCR for a period not to exceed 30 days in which time a vote will be held to name a new president. In thevent the Chairman exceeds the 30 day limit, the Ranking Officer in Charge of the Army will assume the role of Regent until such time as the Citizens Council is stabilized by the citizens of the RNCR.
  • Any and all actions voted on by the Citizens Council of the RNCR must be approved or vetoed by the President before they are signed into policy or law.
Citizens, we are standing at the threshold of what has never been done in the wasteland. We stand now with the ability to govern with the voice of the people, the citizens of the Reformed New California Republic, as the driving force behind our policy of growth.

As for the immediate direction of this government, I propose the following:
  • Trade must increase and we must gather treasure to fill the coffers of this Republic. WIthout currency, we are nothing more than mouths who will bite the first hand that offers a solution to starvation. As the Council is made up of industrialists, I beseech the Council to enjoin trade agreements that will benefit the Republic immediately and fully empower the industrial base of the RNCR to begin working in that direction.
  • A great author of the 20th century said of history "If we dwell on the past, we lose an eye. If we forget the past, we lose both eyes."
       We will not be blind. But, in the same vein, we will not allow the loss of an eye to cloud our vision of the future. Factions across the wasteland have sought to make our capitol city - Shady Sands - a target. The ripest piece of fruit is always the most desired by anyone. However, we must show that we are not simply an object which can be taken at any given moment. With that in mind, I propose all enemy factions be cleared from the rolls. All factions will be given the ability to enage in fair trade, access to the trading center and the caravn masters who provide the blood of trade that keeps this wasteland alive. This will be seen as many to be a contemptuous slap in the face to the honored dead who gace their lives to defend the capitol from those that sought to plunder and pillage. No. This is a measure of new beginnings. We open the gates and allow any and all to come and partake in the entire meal we lay before the wasteland. But know this, if you come to make war; if you come to raid; if you come to disrupt or lay waste to our vision; you will be forever banned from this table. In perpetuity, forver. There will be no negotiation, no diplomacy. The door will shut until your faction no longer breathes air and the full claw and teeth of the bear will come down on you. This is a chance to open ourselves to you and if you betray that, doom upon you.
Lastly, I want you to know that I am an available President. Your voice is what I wish to hear the most. I have made a career out of listening - be it to the almost-silent headet in a soldier's ear to the roaring generators in our power plants - I listen and I wish to hear more. Talk to me, tell me your ideas. Share with me your vision. Speak to your Citizens Advisory Board members and tell them what you want from this government. Your voice is the driving force, for the first time since the last government failed us.

President ClegDos

General Discussion / Re: Fallout 4 is coming!
« on: June 03, 2015, 16:13 »
Well, this just happened.

So, we got that going for us....

New California Republic / Re: HISTORY NOVEL FOUND
« on: June 03, 2015, 06:07 »
Part Ten
   The old man sat facing the door, as usual. The brahmin-skin chair he occupied was comfortable enough and the warmth of the inside of his living area soothed the age that permeated his body. Floding past another page in a very old book, he looked up at the young man seated in the opposite chair. The younger man wore the uniform of a soldier in the army of the New California Republic. Nestor had blossomed under his guidance and his time to serve the Republic had come more than two years ago. With a wealth of knowledge and training already under his belt, he had marched to Shady Sands - like so many before him and joined the army. Now, nearly three years since that day, he had returned again to rest and relax as soldiers often do. His tension in the very relaxing room was evident.
   "You're worried," the old man said turning his eyes back to the book.
   "I'm not worried,"" Nestor said, never taking his gaze from the gas flames in the fireplace. "Worry is for those who cannot embrace the present and are restricted by the past as to what their own future can hold."
   "Ovid," the old man muttered. Nestor nodded.
   "Cautious concern is what occupies my mind," Nestor said. He shifted slowly and removed a small metal box from the front pocket of his tunic. He opened it and withdrew two bronze oak leaves - the rank of Major in the Army of the New California Republic. "I am cautious as to where I make my steps. These, these are symbols. They appear to me as symbols of  a future which I do not know and have no diea how to plot, regardless of any chains I may have cast off."
   "Those are not just symbols, boy," the old man said. "Those are weights. They will serve to keep your head anchored at your neck at all times. You earned them."
   The young man stood, swiftly and snapped to his feet. He removd the sunglasses he wore nearly constantly and the blue and yellow flames reflected in his eyes.
   "I earned nothing," he exclaimed. "I am not a fool to have my hands tied to twine and be led about like some damned marionette or child's puppet!"
   The old man cocked a single eyebrow - the scar on the side of his head wrinkled at the facial nuance.
   "Sit down, boy," the old man growled. "You are no one's puppet and never will be. You have served that army better than most soldiers have in the history of it. Your actions have brought honor and stability where there was once none of either. Your work has produced commerce and encouraged peace."
   Nestor slumped back to the chair and looked again at the fire still reflecting in his eyes.
   "Peace? Hardly. I have shed more blood than water. My orders were not always clear," he said. "But I have always done what was neccessary, to the order. I cannot help that I am better at being a soldier than a root farmer."
   "Nothing wrong with being either," the old man said. "Many days I wished I would wake up and be 15 again and working on a farm somewhere in the northern wastes where the corn still grows wild if you let it."
   "But, fact of the matter is, we have to be who we are destined to be," he continued. "And you, boy, are not even close to what you must become."
   Nestor looked over at the old man.
   "I will become what I decide I will become, not beholden to you or anyone else," he said coldly.
   The old man smiled slightly.
   "If I had wanted it any other way, boy, I would have shot your pale ass out of this bunker a long, long time ago," he said. "You and I both know you weren't meant to fulfill your destiny as a soldier. You're too smart, too cagey, too much going on in your head. A good soldier only has one thing in his head and that is his current order. You've always been too intrepid for the army. You, you know what comes next."
   Nestor sat back and relaxed his tension for the first time. He put his sunglasses back on and laid his head back against the top of the chair.
   "I suppose," he said calmly. "There is so much that needs to be done. So much."
   The old man rose, slowly, not as fast or as fluidly as he used to, and replaced the book on the shelf. He withdrew a leather-bound tome and handed it down to the young man.
   Nestor took it in his hands. He slowly and gingerly moved his hand across the faded gold inscription on the cover - A Way of Hope, By Lech Walesa.
   "Have I not read enough of these books, old man?" Nestor asked, gingerly opening to the inscription page. The age of the book was told in the fragile paper that made up it's pages. Only the most devout steward of the old ways could keep it preserved as such. The inscription was done in fading ink. It read: "There is hope in every road taken, Mr. President. - Regards, LW".
   "You likely will never have accomplished that," the old man chuckled as he returned to his seat. "The choices you make are yours as they have always been, Nestor. There is a storm coming, and through the wind and rain, you will find the man who you are supposed to become. He may wear a uniform, he may wear a robe, but you and only you will discover him when the thunder passes over the mountains."
   Nestor was silent. He held the book in his lap and enjoyed the quiet that followed the old man's statement. The only sound was the hissing of the gas fire. He broke the silence and rose to his feet.
   "There's one last thing I want to know before you return, the old man said as he rose to walk his protege to the door.
   "Is this a final philosophical query, old man? A mythical question that I must again search the wastes for the answer?"
   "No, this is one I have been wanting to ask since you first returned on your first leave from the army two years ago," the old man said stopping with his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Why did you pick that name?" He pointed to the fabric name badge on Nestor's uniform pocket.
   "It was the name of my father," Nestor said, his face softening a bit and smile creasing the seldom used corners of his face.
   "You never knew your father," the old man said. "You never spoke of him more than once or twice."
   "I know his name and I know that part of the reason I am the man I am is because he once was a good man," Nestor said. "He had to have been. I would never have lived as long as I have without some foundation of genetics. And, of course, there had to have been honor and good in his blood, else mine would have never flowed."
   The old man smiled.
   "That, my boy, is the type of thing every father would want to hear," The old man said. Both hands on Nestor's shoulders, he looked him in the eye. "I am proud of you and what you have done. Your father - in heaven or hell - is proud of all you have accomplished. Make both of us proud of what you will do."
   "I will," Nestor said and stepped from the old man's hands and to the door of the bunker.
   The airlock made its familiar sound and, for the last time, the young man stepped through the doorway and up the stairs into the harsh sun beating down on the wasteland. He took a last look at the closing door behind him and turned his face to the surface. As he stepped over the metal threshold and his boots touched the sand, he gazed over the mountains and to the horizon lying in a straight line over the harsh desert. He paused for a moment and then took the first steps in the journey that would be the ultimate fulfillment of his destiny.
   Not needing a compass, Major Nestor ClegDos made his way toward Shady Sands and his future.

General Discussion / Re: Fallout 4 is coming!
« on: June 02, 2015, 17:29 »
Choo Choo....choo chooo....chooo choooo.....

Been down this road too many times to even get excited until the announcement is official

New California Republic / New Council Members
« on: June 01, 2015, 18:54 »
It is with great pleasure that we announce the latest additions to the Citizen's Council of the RNCR

Roland Kemper is well known to the citizens of Shady Sands and the surrounding areas as one of the largest suppliers of metal parts int he western wasteland. The owner of five claims in the Reformed New California Republic, Kemper oversees the daily operation of ten mines all refining iron ore into metal parts at a rate not matched since the pre-war era. Although Kemper is viewed as one of the most industrious men in the RNCR, he is quick to dispute that.
"I am not a man of industry. I am a man of simple means. I started as a miner and I will end as a miner," Kemper told members of the RNCR at the last council meeting. "I am very interested in the direction of the RNCR and I want to make sure all citizens are represented - not just the ones who make their living with caps."

Clel Rossovich has never remained in one place for very long but calls Shady Sands home. A frequent guest of New Reno, Rossovich told the council he sees a need for a different element to represented on the board.
"For every two honest, hardworking person in this city, there are five of us who make our living working smarter and not harder," Rossovich said. "I work, don't get me wrong. Professional gambling is a trade that brings as much stress and sweat as digging ore out of a cave...just...with fewer critters involved."

The next scheduled meeting of the Citizen's' Advisory Board will be in two days. At which time, the proposed agenda includes new trade agreements, the looming presidential void and reccommendations to the army involving recruitment and supply.

Roleplay / Re: Concerning Officer Butthurt
« on: May 31, 2015, 20:47 »
Drot, ISNH, all the rest of you. Keep wasting your time but you will no longer waste ours.

Roleplay / Concerning Officer Butthurt
« on: May 31, 2015, 20:26 »
Congratulations, Officer Butthurt. You have won the distinction of being nullified on the RP section of this forum.

It has been determined after a review of your post history that you have posted 1 comment that did not involve idiocy and 79 posts that did. With that in mind, we wish to inform you that all posts you make to the RP section of this forum will be deleted.

Call it censorship, Gestapo tactics, bullhsit, whatever. We are past the point of caring. We hope this action serves as an example to everyone that we will not tolerate complete and utter shitposting on this forum. We are here to enjoy the Role Play aspect of this game. You are here to cause constant irritation. You are a cancer and - from this section - you have been removed...surgically.

Have fun on all the other sections. But, the RP forum is now a real wasteland for you.


Well organized and presented case, Szela.
I will add my few thoughts.

This is a fluid thing - like water - in the hands of hobbyists. It is unsanctioned, unsupported financially and without infrastructure beyond personal hardware and sheer determination. Because of these facts, the type of player it attracts is myriad and undeniably a magnet for the broken.

Imagine this: imagine this game, as-is, offered up for sale. Imagine the IGN reviews. Think this forum is rough? Think of what r/gaming or /v/ would do with it. Imagine for a single moment, what this would be like if thousands of players just grabbed it in pre-order from their seat on the hype train (CHOO CHOO) and how they would react to how the developers are still ironing out the details. Mother of God, they would shred this game from every possible angle.

Now look at what you see every day. Look beyond the forum trolling, look beyond the petty in-game bickering inside factions. Leave the small details of misspelled dialogue and syntax errors out of it. Look at what we are....

I have said this before and I will say it now with all seriousness. We are the center of this game. We are the driving force behind it. We, the players, are the ones who want it the most. We are the ones who need it the most. We are the ones most affected as much by its growth as its loss. We want this SO BAD that it hurts and it fucks with our feelings. Jesus, man, when is the last time a game got you this angry? When is the last time you waited, like a child, for something as simple as a tiny game development? When is the last time you NEEDED this work?

We are passionate about this because this project is what we always wanted from the beginning. MMO Fallout is something we dreamed about and now, even in this grass-roots, basement-level aspect, we have it. It is a drug we have been waiting for and now we have it and we are all hopeless addicts.

Everyone who has invested more than a day of gameplay here knows what I am talking about. We are the lost, the disappointed, the let-down. We stumbled blindly through trillions of bytes of data on the internet before we finally found this...this ridiculous, time-consuming, rage-quitting, trolling, T4-promising, player-killing, caravan-grinding wonderland where - no matter how much we want to - we will always come back to.

I know there is purpose here. I know the developers have plans. I know there is an endgame. There has to be. For the sake of all that is right, there has to be. This is the test of faith. No one is asking us for money, they are asking for faith. And faith is all some of us have. And that's enough. When we will have all the answers?


It's not going to be easy. It's not easy. If it was easy, everyone would do it. 

by googling "kurwa"


New California Republic / Re: HISTORY NOVEL FOUND
« on: May 24, 2015, 22:11 »
The fire in the hearth was crackling. It was not supposed to be crackling.
   The old man sat stoically but allowed his eyes to look up from the book and over at the yound man seated on the edge of the fireplace. The young one was looking at three sheets of paper, brown and rough at the edges. He would read over the page, his eyes scanning slowly left to right and, when he was done, he would cast a page into the fire.
   "It's a gas fireplace, boy," the old man said as he returned to the book. "It is not meant to burn real fuel."
   "It doesn't matter," Nestor said. "None of this is real."
   That raised the brow of the old man. He slowly folded the book and closed it onto his lap.
   "Explain," the old man said.
   "This is a letter from my father," Nestor explained. "I have been carrying it around since I left home."
   "Whay re you burning it?"
   "Because it's horseshit."
   "Why is it horseshit?"
   "Because I wrote it myself."
   The old man stayed quiet.
   "My father died when I was six or seven. I wrote this letter last season because I was bored and missing my family...more so, the memory of what I wanted my family to be."
   Quiet radiated from the old man. His eyes never left those of the young pupil.
   "It was just something I did to make myself feel more like a person. I realize now it was just folly and I am erasing said I need to overcome my past to focus on the future."
   Slowly, with a creaking of leather and bone, the old man rose to his feet and turned to the bookshelf. He placed the book back in the gap on the shelf and walked slowly toward the door of the bunker.
   "Follow me," he said. "Leave the last pages on the chair." The old man reached to the top of the bookcase and took down a wooden box engraved with intricate tribal
   Nestor rose and followed the old man into the bright mid-day sun.
   The two men walked across the scrabble of desert undergrowth to a small field where an even smaller patch of corn stalks grew. Supplied with water from the underground pump, this was the wettest spot for a hundred miles in every direction. The old man turned to Nestor and handed him the box. Opening it, Nestor looked at what appeared - at first glance to be a pistol - but....
   "It is a special weapon," the old man said. "When I was in the army, we were patrolling the mountains near New Reno and found a big hole in the ground."
   "A cave?" Nestor asked.
   "No," the old man replied. "Like a cannon had fired a shell directly into the base of a mountain and made a perfectly round hole...but the hole went so deep that that our light couldn't reach the bottom."
   Nestor was silent, he knew a lesson was coming. It always did when the old man showed him something new.
   "We reported back to our commander and he told us to sit tight and await reinforcement and maintain radio silence. We knew something was different because that order never came without it being serious. We set up a temporary camp and waited for a day. The afternoon of the next day, a full battalion marched in. The Captain in charge was a mutant. He ordered us to set a defensive perimeter...around the hole. Now imagine this was a hole about fifty meters across and now he wanted a full battalion of NCR soldiers surrounding it with their rifles pointed IN it."
   For a second, the old man looked to the horizon, he returned his gaze to Nestor.
   "That's a lot of firepower, young man. A lot, of firepower. Five hundred rifles pointed downrange at one target. A family of deathclaws would run from it. But this captain had us hold that position for seven hours while he and three other men went down the hole," the old man explained.
   "When that captain and those men came up seven hours later, I swear I have never seen a mutant know they just kind of remain. They look the same after ten years or a hundred, I swear, but that captain had aged a decade from those seven hours. He came out looking like he had been shot at and missed and shit at and hit."
   The old man chuckled for a moment then composed himself.
   "When he reached the top he dismissed the battalion and told them to prepare to move out. He and the three men went to a tent and stayed there for a while. When he emerged, he asked me over. I was just a buck sergeant back then so I stepped to like a good soldier. He handed me a bag and told me to go alone to meet a man in Vault City and give him the bag. Don't look at whats in the bag, soldier, he told me. Just deliver it to the man in the Vault in VC. He said the man would expect me and to not waste time getting it there. That captain said report back to him when I finsihed and he would give me special orders to follow up. I was a good solider so I did what I was told."
   "So what was in the bag?" Nestor asked.
   The old man pointed at the box.
   "so you looked in the bag?"
   The old man clucked his cheek and shook his head.
   "I just told you I was a good soldier. I didn't look in the bag. The people at Vault City wouldn't let me into the vault. I tried to explain the captain's orders and they weren't having it. A security officer told me to get out and I did. Vault city is a city of creature comfort but it can be a very uncomfortable place for the unwelcome. So I left and marched all the way back to base at Shady Sands."
   "I found the captain and handed him the bag. He looked around his office and asked me if I remembered boot camp. Of course I did, he and I went through it together long before that moment? Did I forget to mention that? He just managed to advance quicker than me because he had a good way when it came to keeping his mouth shut. He told me to take the bag and hide it. Didn't matter where. He didn't want to know. He said the thing in that bag was too powerful for anyone to use responsibly and he didn't want the top brass getting their hands on it."
   Nestor looked down into the box at the object again. It looked like a pistol, it had a grip and a trigger but was made of a metal he had never seen before. The old man reached in and picked it up. The sun reflected off the surface of the object unlike anything he had ever see. Nestor watched as the old man flipped a small knob on the grip. The sound that came from it was a quiet hum that almost made Nestor cry. The resonance of the hum was calming him. The vibration it gave his body felt like a hug from a father....a father he had forgotten.
   "Feel that, boy?" the old man asked.
   "Yes," Nestor said, turning his head and his filling eyes away.
   "That's the real power. Oh, and it does this..."
   The old man snapped the object forward and pointed it at the cornstalks. He pulled the trigger and flash of purplish light atomized the stalks into a pile of ash and mineral."
   Nestor stared, dumbfounded.
   The old man toggled the knob and the hum went away. He placed the weapon back into the box.
   "That captain said this weapon was in the wreckage of some sort of flying aircraft that had crashed into the mountain. He didn't go into much detail but he said what was left came from somewhere other than here. He said this sort of power was not meant for this world. When I asked why, he said something I never forgot....
      'We had so much power so many times and look what we did with it?'
   "He knew any man that held a weapon like that or any faction that claimed it could rule the entire wasteland...hell, the entire world if it was weilded right."
   Nestor shook the cobwebs from his head.
   "Because it is capable of such destruction?"
   "Not only that, but ask yourself, when I switched it did it make you feel?"
   "Exactly. This thing is more powerful than any weapon because it makes you feel that you are just fine and dandy with having it even though it has only one purpose. This is the true nature of power. This thing, this thing right here in this box, is what poets and artists and priests and mullahs and rabbis have been trying to explain since the dawn of mankind.
   "And when someone or something shows up with the answer, well, maybe the reason we dont know is because we never figured it out for ourselves and weren't meant to.
   Nestor nodded.
   "Old man, I think I understand."
   "Do you?"
   "We can't hold real power because we don't understand the root of that what the captain wanted you to understand?"
   The old man nodded.
   Nestor stood quietly for a moment, lost in thought.
   "What ever happened to the captain? Did he get in trouble for not reporting it."
   The old man smiled.
   "No, he never got in trouble. Well, not from his commanding officer. The real trouble he got himself into was when he decided to get promoted."
   "To what?"
   "President of the NCR."

General Discussion / Re: Where is my robot?
« on: May 24, 2015, 21:22 »
Robot will be enabled for everyone to buy in next update.

And when will that be?

Wait for it......

Waaaaait foorrrrr iiitttttt......

waaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiit fffoooooooorrrrrrrr iiiiiiittttttttt..........

Sell / Re: WTA Sierra Holodisk: Holodisk Generous Clifton
« on: May 24, 2015, 18:27 »
Huntard i remember you sold this holodisk for 4 million caps.... control your greed man ^_^
i sold 3 of them.
Its not about money there...
just about face adding price.

Okay youre right mr. Watson, but he could say START: 3milions.

Not asking friend for bid.


Well done. Very well done. This, gentlemen, is how you are SUPPOSED to fight on forums. Huntard, you are 100 percent correct.

My apologies for not being able to attend. Life is busy this week with other affairs but I am very proud to see progress!

Thank you Der Amerikaner for your suggestion, currently Shady Sands only have a commerce tax. This tax is set in the constitution of the NCR and can not be altered at this time. Perhaps setting up an income tax could be arranged but that would defeat the purpose of benefiting the working class.

Walter Crowell

No, the poor have enough of a burden, but perhaps the NCR could consider a corporate gains tax. Such as multimillionaires, the tax would then be given as a monthly stipend to the poor citizens and the remainder could be put into public works projects, such as buying farmland and creating an affordable housing system(for the lower and middle classes). Then there is the matter of education, which I suggest starts with 5 years of Primary School, with 1-2 years of Pre-primary. If they wish to continue their education their parents could then pay a yearly fee(depending on teachers and resources), this will hopefully create a more educated populace and in a few decades the NCR's citizens could be the envy of the wasteland and even Vault City! Of course this would be hard to pass in congress, but I think in a few years in may become a reality. :)

While education is a primary focus of our emerging Republic, the choices of how we fund it are myriad.
While we will very soon work out any intricacies of economics, our primary focus is one of stabilizing the environment.
Surely the safety of our children as they learn must be of primary importance?
For the time being, there is a treasure reserve to fund our efforts however it does not prevent us from looking to the future for new ways to generate income and commerce and how to better the lives of our citizens and others.
War has taught us nothing because - as all can agree - war never changes.
But, the past has taught us something that we cannot forget: money is the source from whence the water of life flows.
We, as a republic, will build that headwater. Where we mine the spring is something open for discussion.

From the Desk of ClegDos

General Hubert,
It is with great pride and accolade that I introduce the first two candidates for confirmation on the Citizens Advisory Board of the Reformed New California Republic. After weeks of panistaking investigation and interviews, the following candidates have emerged. Please cosider them for immediate confirmation.

Dr. Justus Lovejoy
   Anyone who has ever limped into Shady Sands with everything from a bleeding chest wound to a crippling jet addiction have known the kindness and medical expertise of Dr. Lovejoy. A resident and citizen of the Republic for more than a decade, Dr. Lovejoy has served Shady Sands with a record unmarked with violence or perdition of any sort.
   Dr. LoveJoy has made his intentions clear: medical treatment and the access to good medical treatment is a benchmark of any society that wishes to advance from survival to flourishing. His position on stability is clear and without compicated balance.
   "First, do no harm," Dr. Lovejoy said - quoting the ancient Hippocratic Oath of his trade. "Everyone is a patient first. Hero or criminal. You are all patients. We, as a society, must strive to stop the bleeding and offer rest and recovery before we pass judgement on anything."

Walter Crowell
   A bit of a financial enigma, Walter Crowell is one of the top manufacturing tycoons in the Western Wasteland. He has made many, many caps and built his wealth base substantially providing weapons and ammunition to the Reformed New California Republic. However, he wishes to cast off the mantle of tycoon and return to his roots, or, rather: the tilling of the ground.
   "I have made my fortune making weapons," he said. "But I made my life making plows. Time and toil forces me to build weapons but I chose to build machines to help plant, water and grow. A reaping should come from a field flush with new growth and a bountiful harvest, not to take from this Earth the very precious lives that are it's guardians."
   Vowing to work tirelessly to rid himself of weapons manufacturing, Crowell believes that change will beat plowshares back into swords and bring his business as well as the Republic into a new day of growth and harvest.
General, these two people have the future of the Republic and not their own present at heart. Thier motivations are to serve and do so without hidden agenda. I very respecfully submit them for consideration.
We await your public reply.
Citizen of Shady Sands

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