Day 66, 21244 SD
[1]It's been several months since the great sandstone city of Seitch came back under its rightful custodians. In that time the evil wankers of the KDF have thrown attack after attack at us, beseiging us, probing us and then realising desert power is unbeatable and sodding off. Since then we've tried returning things to normal, children are beginning to go to school, old folks are getting a pension, and last night I went and had a pedicure. It just doesn't feel like a warzone. We've started to become soft, yes occasionally we wander on a patrol into the foothills, or down the mountain passes making sure the commies stay out of our beautiful fledgling nation but otherwise we try and be free. That sense of freedom, that sense of perceived safety today was brought to a crashing halt thanks to a chemical attack. Yes that's right, a chemical attack. The use of weapons outlawed by most right thinking nations and dropped on our beautiful home.
The sirens began and we thought the air would soon be full of jets. I grabbed my rifle and pack and ran to the basement thats my appointed position, twenty people, six children among them huddled in the darkness waiting for the world that is their home to explode around them. It never came, we heard the boom, braced for the shudder that would bring death but it never came. Slowly a few at a time we emerged back into the hot sunlight of Seitch and then we felt it, a wetness in the air, like a fine mist falling and then we hurried back inside. Over the next few minutes this mist settled, its on everything a fine wetness soaking the stone, the sand and everything and anyone out in the open. I ventured out when given the OK and we gathered in the old market place discussing what to do and already just moments exposed to this mystery mist we felt it, an itching, an irritation and then your eyes began to run. That was just minutes and we got back inside, we carefully cleaned ourselves off fearful of the unknown substance. The rest of the day has been spent inside, wondering what the long term horror of that brief excursion outside will do to us, will my hair fall out? Will my flesh bear the scar for years to come? Will I develop cancer? These are now the questions every young woman risking her life for freedom here now faces. The answers will be unknown for days to come, but rest assured should the need come to defend the city, our homeland and our people every Thruthsayer would gladly rip out their own hair, bloody their own flesh with their own crystknife and take whatever manner of death awaits be it a KDF bullet or the torture of chemically induced cancer, but in the end Seitch shall not fall. They can throw chemicals at us, bombs, bullets and gas we shall take them in our stride and we shall win. The world needs to know, they need to know the torment we face as we wait to see how the little children will react, and the world needs to take their precious Uppsala Convention and ram it down the throats of McPherson and his butcherous air force.
