03-09-2024, 12:47 AM
9th March, 834 AS, Omicron Iota
Yet another usual day for the busybodies of Altair, ferrying supplies back, forth, up and down along the many corridors and hallways of the enormous complex that housed The Wild's one true 'home'. From afar, it looked little unlike the shipyards of New York or New Berlin -- ships operating as usual and with great care; but this did not truly fool the attentive eye, for, beyond the first docks, lay a score of Scorpion drones and even further, beyond these, the dark silhouettes of several voidforms appeared, in close resemblance to those very same that Schatten housed decades prior. One could truly wonder what the far-reaching goals and intentions of the Nomads were for the future, as the prior years provided little in the way of new prospects. Would they succumb to the very same, endless, fights as their Nemesis, the Houses? Or would they become an unstoppable force, slowly whittling down the likes of The Core and The Order down into dust?
These questions persisted, looming in the minds of those present after the events of recent cycles, as another distant silhouette made its presence; that of a Donau, escorted by a pair of drones much alike those moored at the complex. The cruiser had, on its right side, a still intelligible writing: RNC Einbeck, while the opposite side had little more than half of that still visible, as battle scars instead replaced it.
The Rheinland capital ship made a short stop several clicks from its destination, ordering its escorts to change course and return back where they came from. Then, in an instant, its engines powered up and made way for docking point 4, situated just a close distance away from one of the main docking berths of the complex. All these moves -- completed in no more than a matter of minutes -- were in antithesis to the 'human' nature of the station; all these moves were alien, robotic, lifeless; little about them was 'human'.
And yet still, the cruiser's doors opened to reveal a group of Rheinland Military personnel, ranging in dress 'codes' from lowly recruits and fighter pilots to the commanding aura that the foremost figure of the group presented. This man was Fynn Meyer, a veteran of the Colony Wars and several dozen raiding parties into Rheinland's core regions many years prior and even into the current day; his face was scarred from all these very battles and he spoke is a calm, but decided, voice. Despite all this, by now he was little more than an empty husk, puppeteered with little will by the Nomads, which used his past memories well to coordinate further devastating attacks.
But, much alike the outside of the station, events within kept the same nature -- few, if any, moves by these people resembled human actions. They were there and yet they also weren't. Time, however, was still an element of importance even to them. Having spent only a mere several moments elaborating details about their return to the initial guards present, they ventured through and disappeared into the depths of the complex' vast rooms.
Only now could they rest, awaiting their expected guests.