[center][h1][color=firebrick][b]State of Franklin[/b][/color][/h1][/center][center][img]https://www.collinsflags.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Chattanooga-Flag-Old.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][h2][color=firebrick][b]Envoy to New Vegas, I-15, just north of Primm[/b][/color][/h2][/center][center][sub][color=indianred][b]7:35 PM, Month Unknown, 2090[/b][/color][/sub][/center][center][img]http://thepopbreak.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/tr_08122014_pg_0465.jpg[/img][/center]
The infernal heat bore down as dusk crept over the extended line of 200 or so men. Their cotton and linens were long-since soaked in sweat and the encroaching darkness bode well for them, if not because camp would be made soon. Though most of the ragged company hung low on their horses, only strapped in by the grace of their stirrups, the flag they waved bore high, the bearer at near-exhaustion as the shaft was hoisted each step, bright blue flag with a single star on its face and gold braid on its borders fluttering in the dry wind.

The head of the column was staffed by those most senior, among them Xavier Connor, the lithe Franklinian ambassador to the Far West. He bore a formal suit one would consider of pre-War fashion, with the suit coat hanging off his mount and his vest and undershirt exposed. He glanced at his pocket watch lazily, horse plodding along. He glanced up to the man at his side, still stiff in the saddle. Captain Aldebert Riley, First Rangering Company, commanding. An older gentleman with thick scraggly beard, he wore a plain red plaid shirt and cotton trousers, suspenders attached. His head sported a tan slouch hat, and his hip a Colt SAA.

"Say, Captain?" Connor rasped in a dry and drought tone. The Captain regarded him with a nod, shifting his gaze over. "When shall we make camp? And, uh, may add, where?" The politician inquired, gentlemanly accent in play. The Captain nodded, replying in his own low and gravelly tone. "In due time, Mr. Connor." He paused, extending a hand, index finger erect. He pointed to monstrous hills at their front, a valley and railroad tracks running between. "If'n my intelligence should be correct, that there is Sloan Canyon. Up'n to the left a tad, right.." He shifted the finger and arm left. "Over yonder is New Vegas. Scouts be tellin' me that the casino-spire the locals call the 'Lucky 38' is visible just behind th' hills around Sloan. We make camp in view of the 38 spire, just outside th' slums I'm told litter the place."

This evokes a surprised expression and exasperated sigh from the good ambassador, who pockets his watch and looks ahead. The horses plod on, the lonesome clopping and distant coughing being all that sounds as the sun straddles the horizon.

And the Captain speaks, voice now booming as he communicates to his men. "We make camp at halt! Now quickly, before we must ride by moon! At the double quick.." He pauses, the order moving down the line by Lieutenant to each platoon. "MARCH!" Riley whoops, spurring his own horse as the order moves down the line, and the horses move at double the pace, quick trot as they force ride to camp.
[hr][hr][center][h2][color=firebrick][b]Envoy to New Vegas, I-15, just outside of the Vegas Ruins[/b][/color][/h2][/center][center][sub][color=indianred][b]8:33 PM, Month Unknown, 2090[/b][/color][/sub][/center]
The hard ride proved well-timed, for they made the journey in half the time. The First Sergeant returned from the rear to proclaim camp, his bugle blaring one of many calls learned, namely the [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQZb0_6t5Kw]'Call to Quarters'[/url].

Men dismounted en-mass, driving stakes into the earth and tying their horses. Blanket-bags, tents, stakes, and wire all in jumbles as camp was made. Enlistedmen camped in twos, in a small tent of which each possessed a half for, their Lieutenants camping in larger tents of themselves only. Finally was the tents of command, of which in one slept the Captain and his First Sergeant, in the next, the Ambassador and his aide.

Finally, into the center of the camp, a large modular metal pole was erected, and a large flag of Franklin hoisted high. The sun was long gone now, and the men had no sooner made their fires before [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WChTqYlDjtI]'Taps'[/url] was played. The call to extinguish. The men doused the fires and retired to their tents by light of lantern, which soon extinguished as well. All was dark and silent as they closed for the night.