G'day, gents. This is Peter Brown, and I'm (you guessed it!) more than a bit disgruntled as an ex-BMM employee. See, I say "ex"-BMM, 'cause I'm getting quite tired of their antics, thinking that they can get away with anything just 'cause they can afford to, financially speaking. Well, no-sirree. Leaving Graves Station unmolested by both ex-colleagues and those Mollies who don't care who they kill so long as they get their rush. Bloodthirsty mongrels, I say.
Ahem...
Sorry, I've gone quite far from my reasons for this transmission. Y'see. a man has to make a living one way or another, and mining's just in my blood. My father was a miner, as was my grandfather before him, and my great-grandfather before him, and so on for generations almost all the way back to the founding of our great nation. However, I can't help but feel repulsed by the idea of going back to work for those tyrranical scum at Bretonia Mining and Manufacturing, not to mention that they probably wouldn't appreciate having me back anyway.
Anyhow, I've left Graves Station and reached the Battleship Hood, on which I was able to dock by passing myself off as just another gambler. True, I don't mean any harm and bear no hatred to the IMG; quite the contrary, in fact. Still, you can't expect for everyone to know that, so I'll just suck it up and play the role for a bit, I guess. It'll be a sacrifice, but I'll manage, no doubt.
*Noises of suppressed laughter*
Erm... Back to the point, before I start drifting any further off. Guess those two glasses of whiskey were stronger than I thought. Anyway, I was looking for a new employer, as I was saying, and I figured that since I was here on the Hood, and that I hold no love for Graves nor the BMM, perhaps I could serve you all in the Independent Miners' Guild well enough for it to go 'round. If not, I can't say I have much else to turn to, in Bretonia or otherwise.
Bah, I need another drink. Hey barkeep! How 'bout another whiskey over here?