A man by the name of Jordan Nowell docked his Clydesdale with the Trostky. He, a man in his early thirties with long brown hair, wasted no time in leaving the docking bay to the recruitment office. As he entered, he looked around, noting all the people he saw. He walked up to the receptionist's desk, nodded to the woman, and picked up a pamphlet. After reading through it briefly, he took off his jacket and sat in a chair closest to the desk, waiting for his turn.