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You wanna tell me how come there's a statue here, lookin' at me like I owe him something?


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In a shanty bar on the outskirts of Canton

A man walks into the bar wearing a dusty brown longcoat and hat. He stops just inside the doorway giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the change in lighting before making his way to the bar. Setting a satchel down on the bar with a thud, the man orders a drink and turns to look out over the locals gathered through the rickety building. Spotting what he was looking for he turns and grabs the drink, throws his head back and empties the dirty glass, then sets the glass down while grabbing the satchel and makes his way to a table seating a small gathering of men.

The man extends his arm to one of the others around the table and they shake hands before he sits down and places the satchel near his feet. Removing his hat his hair falls about his face and his eyes scan the others seated with him. He smiles and nods as he glances at each of the men gathered with him. He knows them all and knows why they are there. The man lifts his hand in the air and calls for glasses and a bottle of their best liquor and engages in small talk with the rest of the group while waiting for the order to arrive.

"So I heard that they caught another one out here in Canton the other day. Gettin' to be a might iffy for those of us plying a trade ain't none too keen on keepin' hush about. Day will come when we're left to our wits and own devices to earn a honest or dishonest coin."

"I heard that they got rovin' squads checkin' fer the likes of us now 'bouts the Core and outlyin' areas. Can't say I'm too happy about that what with a lot o' fine jobs bein' held Core-side."

"Someone said ol' Bagger got cuff'd when he was tryin' to shake a tail at a Fed squad as he was tryin' to break atmo and finish a job."

The bartender arrives with a bottle and several dirty glasses and sets them on the table. The man in the longcoat places a few pieces of cashymoney on the table for the bartender and motions him away. Once the group are alone they change the topic of discussion. The man looks around before beginning.

"This the way I heard it told. Alliance is gettin' a might tired about havin' to chase us down to shuffle us off this mortal coil. Far as I'm concerned they can chase us to the corners of the 'verse and never lay a finger nor hand on any us that are tryin' to keep their crews fed. But that ain't the reality of it. Seems them purple-bellies are gettin' smarter about how they wait and flush us out and we ain't been quick enough to catch on to 'em. Now either we ain't thinkin' with our brain pans or we got us a mole in our little ring o' friends and I ain't one to keep appearances up for sake of safety. We need to find out who's done what and who's gabberin' to who so we can see what bugs are playin' in our pipeline..."

The sound of scuffles and yelling begins outside the bar and grows louder as it gets closer. Voices can be heard and orders barked as the sounds get ever louder.

"Je shr shuh muh lan dong shi?"

Just as the words are uttered the door to the shanty bar is thrown off its hinges and a Fed squad pours in through the door way. The squad is covered in riot armour and armed with standard issue stun batons. They scan the bar and fix their sites on the group sitting round the table in the back of the building.

"Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng!! Gorram Fed squad in Canton?!? Wuh de tyen ah how the ruttin' hell they know we was here? Break up an' meet at the ol' square in the middle of that place we always play fetch at..."

Kicking up quickly while grabbing the satchel the man jumps over the table and throws it on edge. Ducking behind it he looks around to see some of the men running out a back door while the rest slide up beside him behind the table. Yanking his gun from his holster he peeks over the top of the table and watches the squad spread out and begin the slow march towards their location. Letting off a few rounds into the squad the man slinks back down behind the table and looks to his left. His lieutenant, Veneke, smiles broadly while reaching into his duster, producing a few grizwalds and a mischievous look in his eye.

"Cap'n, you always said that I should be more prepared for when things go sideways. Well, would you consider this one o' them times?"

Laughing, the man nods and grabs one of the small objects and looks to his right. Looking at the men next to him, he nods and points towards the back door.

"You'll be wantin' to make a heavy flash t'wards that doorway in about five seconds time..."

With a grin and a shout the man turns and flips the top off the small grenade and throws it quickly over the table at the slowly approaching cadre of Alliance soldiers. With a startled look the squad disperses throughout the bar as the first of several grizwalds begin exploding. The men behind the table make a quick dash from the table to the doorway and out the back of the shanty bar. As they make their way to their own vehicles for quick departures the man can be heard yelling:

"I told you ain't nothin' but another day in the life. Always something new and shiny happenin' when we're about! See you at the ol' square..."

Laughing the two men in longcoats make their way towards their rendezvous point hoping it hasn't been discovered by the Feds.



The Canton Cooperative


Proximity Alert. Must be coming up on something.


Oh my god. What can it be? We're all doomed! Who's writing this thing!? Oh right, that would be me. Back to work.

The people of OTF and the 57th Overlanders have a long history of sitting quietly in the corner until the last minute, and then proceeding to pounce on events like a maddened tiger. It usually works out relatively well, as we'll see in just a bit.

Article I. Sovereignty

This rum is mine, and that rum is yours.

Both OTF and the 57th agree that we each have separate store-houses of rum, and, while we're at it, separate houses. We therefore promise not to treat ourselves to the other's secret stash without asking.

Article II. Non-Aggression:

See how I'm not punching him? I think I've grown...

OTF and the 57th agree not to punch one another without using their words first. There will also not be any attempt at trying to get the other side punched by proxy, because... well... that's just mean, and we don't like mean folk, not unless they're our mean folk anyway.

Individual members of the 57th and OTF promise not to start randomly shooting each other, and further will make great pains to ensure that the safety catches on their guns are off before they get too drunk.

Article III. Cooperation:

There are times, when you just have to share the rum.... and sometimes even the telly...

We've agreed that we can share each others supplies during times when we have to do important stuff, containing buzz-words such as, "economics", "defense", "diplomacy", and, "intelligence".

If we spot or hear of anyone trying to take the other out, we promise to tell our friends before the ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng actually does it... cause, you know, it's only polite.

Article IV. Defense:

We've got some local color happening. Your grand entrance would not go amiss right now.

In the possibility that we manage to find ourselves in a bar, with a bit too much drink, with just the wrong kind of folk about, and the game goes badly, or the company really is just too much, we're saying right here that we'll watch each other's backs as we fight our way out of that mess.

Just so we do it right, we'll make sure that we develop highly complex game plans, and specially choreographed moves, so we don't hit each other by mistake, because, as you know, friendly fire isn't.

On the off chance there's any confusion, an attack is any action by a foreign alliance that threatens or violates the sovereignty of either OTF or the 57th, either through espionage, direct assault, or a number of other actions that our commons sense sees as being an "attack".

Article V. Cancellation:

Well, my days of taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle.

Sometimes, it just doesn't work out... and we can't take each other seriously, either jokingly, or with actual serious faces on. When this happens, we promise to give each other at least 72 hours notice before we cut the tie for good.


Signed for the 57th Overlanders:

Mechanus - Captain

Veneke - Lieutenant

HollowEyes - Quartermaster

Signed for OTF:

President: finneys13

Prime Minister: King Goon II

Forgot to mention this is a treaty upgrade from our previous treaty held with OTF. :D

Edited by Mechanus
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Yes, yes we do.

Better yet, we make even better friends to show off our epic treaty writing skills.

All in all, OTF are good folk, can't ask for much more than that, not that you'd want to... look, they're good people alright? Sheesh...

*Veneke chuckles

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Congrats to out allies at the 57th

And too congrats to old friends at OTF. May you all have a great time together and this treaty will prosper into a new...

Hell with it just congrats.

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