[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, Franklin Camp, 
Just Outside of Vegas Ruins[/b][/color][/h2][/center][center][color=indianred][sub]6:45 AM, Month Unknown, 2090[/sub][/color][/center][center][img]https://www.civilwar.org/sites/default/files/styles/gallery_item/public/thumbnails/image/nashville-union-camp-729_0.jpg?itok=M36apuEm[/img][/center][center][sub]Camp not to scale, only example[/sub][/center]
The canvas tents were quiet, few awake with fires crackling as the sun peaked over the horizon with its orange-red tinge. 6:45 came soon, and on the dot, the First Sergeant blared the bugle once more, calling [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83ozOX9l7M8]'Reveille'[/url], rousing the camp which soon came to life. Men emerged from their tents, packing their blanket bags and re-kindling their fires. They munched on hardtack and heated cans of potted meat and preserved fruits, among other things, as they filled their canteens from the horse-drawn water wagon that followed them all places.

The Captain himself, being so evident, had been up long before the bugle sounded, but had not emerged from his tent, rather now exiting to the sight of the Franklin banner upon its pole, dancing in the rays of light which encroached from the east. The Captain continued, towards one of the fires which housed his adjutant, 1st Lieutenant Nathaniel Hayes, his senior enlisted advisor and bugler, First Sergeant Max Oleary, and his color sergeant, Sergeant Hunter Lund. He bid greeting to them all as he drew a cigar from his pocket. Fine East Tennessee tobacco rolled in fine sun-grown leaves of Maduro shade. Riley bit the end off of the cigar calmly, and rubbed down the wrapper finely. He lit it with the fire quite briskly, waiting for the end to turn cherry red before puffing on the opposing end.

He watched the spire of the Lucky 38 as he smoked, judging its features well, and its visible surroundings additionally. Ambassador Connor approached as well, in absence of a coat and simply wearing a new undershirt and vest connected to his black trousers via suspenders. The two regarded eachother with greetings, and began to converse.

"So what might it be today, Captain?" Connor inquired, with the Captain glancing over with a brow raised, removing the cigar from his lips. "Headin' into Sin City. Might wanna pack your stuff and bring it with ya'." Connor raised a brow in return. "And why might that be?" Connor queried as he looked at the Captain. The Captain replied, but looked on at the spire which stood in the rays of dawn. "You've 'pparently been secured a room at that fancy hotel called the 'Ultra-Luxe'. Penthouse. Real pretty from the sound of it."

"Uh- Well, um- Hm." Connor began, flabbergasted at this apparently unknown detail. "Will you, or your team?" The Captain looked back over. "'Fraid not. We'll escort ya' in, share a few drinks, then mosey on out. Yer security's been ensured by House himself." Connor replied, still apprehensive. "Well.. Alright. I shall be ready within the next half hou-"

"No good." The Captain interjected, puffing on the cigar. "I'll get a few enlistedmen to get it done in ten minutes or so. Horses are bein' saddled as we speak, and we set off at 0700." The Captain added. Connor gazed on, in utter shock, and turned towards his tent which was now occupied by a detail which threw together his belongings at speed, ferrying them to and fro and packing them onto the horse in a manner which was achieved in six minutes flat. All that was left was for Connor to step into his tent and grab his coat, and no sooner than were the stakes of the tent struck down and the canvas and poles packed rather neatly into a tent bag.

Connor fitted the coat abruptly, and began to mount his steed, and the Captain beside him. The two were accompanied by an entourage of two Corporals and five Privates, all strapped down with respective rifles and carbines of varying action and caliber, salvaged pistols strapped upon their hips, and an array of finely crafted sabers and mounting swords strapped into sheathes affixed upon each saddle.

The small column started off and passed a camping group of Privates and Corporal around a fire, of which one had a guitar and leather case which he strummed upon as the exit from the camp was made. Solemn was it, a rendition of a pre-war song- [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcAp9ryNlRw]'Dixie'[/url].[hr][hr]
[center][h2][color=firebrick][b]Envoy to New Vegas, New Vegas Strip[/b][/color][/h2][/center][center][color=indianred][sub]7:15 AM, Month Unknown, 2090[/sub][/color][/center][center][img]http://www.nma-fallout.com/data/photos/l/3/3354-1273003242-1ca9e2dc994d2fe9bfaf35de7ad22659.jpg[/img][/center]
They made extraordinary time. Through the slums in a matter of minutes and through a brisk check with the securitrons at the gate in equal time. They made the Strip by 7:15 and awed at the towering casinos and hotels. Businesses bustled as their steeds plodded through, grunting and whinnying at the surroundings.

Connor let the Captain take the lead, and rubbernecked the entire route as he spied it all. The Tops, the Lucky 38, Vault 21, the Ultra-Luxe. It was all there, just as it had been described. He was like a child as his eyes grew wide with every neon light. But it was short-lived, as the call to dismount was there soon. The entourage dismounted and walked to the revolving doors of the Ultra-Luxe and entered, relinquishing the sidearms they carried as they did so. The Captain and his men took respective seats and ordered drinks of varying scope and strength.

Connor, meanwhile, approached the receptionist, briskly speaking. "Ah. I am Ambassador Xavier Connor." He remarked, introducing himself. "I am the current representative of the Franklin government for the assemblies and talks that are taking place here." After a brief series of questions and affirmations, Connor gained his room key, and approached the Gourmand to join the Captain, who had already ordered a stout pint of Guiness, with his men drinking other beverages of various alcoholic content.

"Welcome to Vegas." The Captain remarked, trailing off with cigar in opposing hand.