Allanea
15-12-2005, 14:52
Ted Nugent Joint Military Facility, New-Vermont, Allanea
‘As you know, Troop Leader, the Facility is the second-oldest, and the best-equipped, training facility in the Confederate States. It stretches out over an area the size of Old Delaware, and includes training camps for the Army, Navy, and Marines. Most importantly for you, it includes Allanea’s largest and best Boy Scout training camp.’
‘Umm, yes.’ – Troop Leader Johnston had no idea why the Colonel was explaining this to him. Ever since he quit teaching and became an employee of the Boy Scout Association, he knew all that there had to be known about the Scouts – and about their main training facility, Camp Baden-Powell. But perhaps it simply HAD to be that way – every time a newbie came to CBP, someone would give him the same old speech. Oh well. He’d just settle in place and listen.
‘While we’re at it, Troop Leader Johnston, we’re currently entering the facility.’
Yeah. Like that was unexpected. The gravcar slowed down smoothly and inaudibly – Cerambus/Allanean Arms quality at it’s best – taking them towards the gate at tolerable speed. The Colonel whipped out some shiny magnetic card with a photo on one side, flashing it gleefully at three boys in beige uniforms – none older than fifteen – that approached the car with rifles at the ready. Immediately, they froze at attention, the rifles posed crisply at one foot, giving crisp salutes as a fourth, invisible Scout pressed some button, opening the gate. The Colonel’s car ‘swam’ slowly through.
‘Camp Baden-Powell is capable of housing up to sixty thousand Scouts. Currently, as it is summer, it is filled to capacity. Fifty thousand regular Scouts and ten thousand Naval Scouts are training on the grounds. There’s no facility similar to this on this side of the Haven Straights. ‘
The car slowed down again, swooping to a halt in front of a large building – something like a… what was it, exactly?.
‘And, most importantly for you, this here is the mess hall for the Tim Watters Naval Scout Wing.’
‘The Tim Watters Naval Scout Wing, composed of approximately three hundred Boy Scouts, is one of the best units of the Naval Scout Corps. Trained in the best traditions of the Confederate Navy, the TW-NSW is equipped with the best ships, best gear, and best facilities we are able to provide. Look – they even have forty-inch televisions in their mess hall!’
The Colonel kicked at the door, entering Johnston into the hall. Dozens of Scouts scampered away from their tables, as they rose to attention, leaving unfinished plates of hormone-enriched oatmeal on the tables. ‘Good-day-SIR!!’ screamed out several hundred testosterone-soaked voices.
Later, Johnston would discover the acquisition of the huge screen was the Colonel’s personal accomplishment, one of which he was disproportionately proud. Now, he just marvelled at the expensive LCD television positioned on the wall of the huge room, and the ultra-violent movie that was shown.
On-screen, Duke Norton, a famous Allanean actor, stared down an evil Communist double agent. The agent was sprawled on the floor of a warehouse, splattered with the blood and guts of several of his accomplices. Norton spoke: Well, I kinda lost count in all the confusion… did I fire nineteen rounds? Or twenty? Either way, this is a 20mm Desert Seagull, the most powerful pistol on Earth. Now, tell me… do ya feel lucky, comrade? Now do ya?
‘Good day, Scouts. Dismissed.’ – smiled the Colonel. ‘Welcome, Scoutmaster Johnston. You’re now in command of the best unit in the Naval Scout Corps.
It is this unit that you’ll be commanding during joint training exercises with Territorial experts.’
Now it was time for Johnston to be really shocked.
‘As you know, Troop Leader, the Facility is the second-oldest, and the best-equipped, training facility in the Confederate States. It stretches out over an area the size of Old Delaware, and includes training camps for the Army, Navy, and Marines. Most importantly for you, it includes Allanea’s largest and best Boy Scout training camp.’
‘Umm, yes.’ – Troop Leader Johnston had no idea why the Colonel was explaining this to him. Ever since he quit teaching and became an employee of the Boy Scout Association, he knew all that there had to be known about the Scouts – and about their main training facility, Camp Baden-Powell. But perhaps it simply HAD to be that way – every time a newbie came to CBP, someone would give him the same old speech. Oh well. He’d just settle in place and listen.
‘While we’re at it, Troop Leader Johnston, we’re currently entering the facility.’
Yeah. Like that was unexpected. The gravcar slowed down smoothly and inaudibly – Cerambus/Allanean Arms quality at it’s best – taking them towards the gate at tolerable speed. The Colonel whipped out some shiny magnetic card with a photo on one side, flashing it gleefully at three boys in beige uniforms – none older than fifteen – that approached the car with rifles at the ready. Immediately, they froze at attention, the rifles posed crisply at one foot, giving crisp salutes as a fourth, invisible Scout pressed some button, opening the gate. The Colonel’s car ‘swam’ slowly through.
‘Camp Baden-Powell is capable of housing up to sixty thousand Scouts. Currently, as it is summer, it is filled to capacity. Fifty thousand regular Scouts and ten thousand Naval Scouts are training on the grounds. There’s no facility similar to this on this side of the Haven Straights. ‘
The car slowed down again, swooping to a halt in front of a large building – something like a… what was it, exactly?.
‘And, most importantly for you, this here is the mess hall for the Tim Watters Naval Scout Wing.’
‘The Tim Watters Naval Scout Wing, composed of approximately three hundred Boy Scouts, is one of the best units of the Naval Scout Corps. Trained in the best traditions of the Confederate Navy, the TW-NSW is equipped with the best ships, best gear, and best facilities we are able to provide. Look – they even have forty-inch televisions in their mess hall!’
The Colonel kicked at the door, entering Johnston into the hall. Dozens of Scouts scampered away from their tables, as they rose to attention, leaving unfinished plates of hormone-enriched oatmeal on the tables. ‘Good-day-SIR!!’ screamed out several hundred testosterone-soaked voices.
Later, Johnston would discover the acquisition of the huge screen was the Colonel’s personal accomplishment, one of which he was disproportionately proud. Now, he just marvelled at the expensive LCD television positioned on the wall of the huge room, and the ultra-violent movie that was shown.
On-screen, Duke Norton, a famous Allanean actor, stared down an evil Communist double agent. The agent was sprawled on the floor of a warehouse, splattered with the blood and guts of several of his accomplices. Norton spoke: Well, I kinda lost count in all the confusion… did I fire nineteen rounds? Or twenty? Either way, this is a 20mm Desert Seagull, the most powerful pistol on Earth. Now, tell me… do ya feel lucky, comrade? Now do ya?
‘Good day, Scouts. Dismissed.’ – smiled the Colonel. ‘Welcome, Scoutmaster Johnston. You’re now in command of the best unit in the Naval Scout Corps.
It is this unit that you’ll be commanding during joint training exercises with Territorial experts.’
Now it was time for Johnston to be really shocked.