Three Decades after London fell, the airwaves in the cavernous neath were thin and empty and silent. This all changed when a creatively derranged citizen of the Neath took it upon himself to change all that. Funded by Never-cold brass periously borrowed from the Brass Embassy he purchased a pair of phonographs and enough wirless telegraphy aparratus to build his dream.

Few know the exact location of the commodore's hidden parlor, but from somewhere in the city his pirate signal broadcasts tirelessly. He endeavours to deliver only the finest in recorded sounds to his fellow the citizens of the Fifth city.
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