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</div><br/><br/>There was a particular distinction in disembarking from the military transport. The train of proper military convoy being deployed with supplies out to this remote region was its own rite, but now having passed within the confines of the facility, the world was possessed of a heightened gravity. The glances were an interesting disparity. Most split plainly betwixt a complete lack of concern, or an excess thereof.<br/><br/><i><span style="color: #ccff99">I wonder if my superiors will have seen a Hobb before.</span></i>Thought Wiglaff Magnusson to himself. His strides were long, and his posture may have well been carved from rock. His eyes did not distract nor entertain the myriad expressions cast upon his initial entry, wearing the coat that designated him as having been an auxiliary squad leader; a leader amongst the unterelfe, an oxymoron to most, assuredly. The coat was presently the only testament to this, with his weapons safely deposited 'for him' where they may be retrieved for the glorious operations ahead.  As such, not even once did Wiglaf consider visiting the armory, if only to avoid sending the wrong message to the wrong people.<i><span style="color: #ccff99">Though, if my handlers would be so worried about my having a weapons, they would likely have thought a need to bind my hands.</span> <span style="color: #ccff99">No matter, we'll call it a courtesy.</span></i><br/><br/>Familiarity sorely lacking, Wiglaf found himself possessed to wander the cavernous belly of the great Reich stronghold, those chambers that he could access freely that is. Such as they are, Wiglaf found his pace carrying from one hall to another, his appearance likely passing beyond the care of some, and smacking some others in the face. For the glory of the Reich elves, Wiglaf's full head of hair and equally vast touch-of-grey beard must have been a thing of dispossessed urban-legend. The fact that they were both kempt within reason, with bangs braided behind the head and beard braided for efficient spacing, may have been just as shocking. All finished off with the typical military cap atop his head. An animal playing at prestige maybe?<i><span style="color: #ccff99">If so, so be it.</span></i><br/><br/>The displacement Wiglaf contended with in navigating the facility was not without some purpose. Familiarity was a good thing, but so too, was he on the lookout for something. With somewhat of a lack in direct orders, Wiglaf felt it as pertinent to report to the established commander that he would be serving under. Suffice to say, her name was not unknowable, and her persona even less so. With a long-standing military career, it was not infrequently that her prestige reached far enough to find Wiglaf's own ears. Though troubled in easily reading words, especially with a name as daunting as her own, Wiglaf knew who to look for; none other than the Rittmeister.<br/><br/>In the end, the woman's office was not hard to find. Though, the complication arose in that it seemed to distinctly lack occupancy. Conforming to the standards of the situation, Wiglaf recognized the impasse. In such a case, he was tempted to endeavor a visit to the gym nearby that he'd witnessed in his sojourn. That being the case, thoughts of responsibility immediately rang out. Thoughts that he should commit fully to integrating with the unit that he was privileged to serve with. In such an occasion, duty won out. And in what could be described as his full dress, standing firmly in great poise with arms folded, Wiglaf began to wait.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>