Name: Otto von Dresden Date of birth: Born in 800 A.S. on the 10th of July. Location of birth: Strausberg-Kassel Marital status: Engaged... Children: None Nickname: The Colossus' Reaper Affliation: E\V/, former Red Hessian (updated 06/10/835)
Biography:
I was born amidst the smoke and asteroid dust of the Dresden system, raised among the Red Hessians.
From the start, my battle was clear — against the ruthless greed of Daumann and Kruger, for the liberation and betterment of our people.
I knew exactly who my enemy was.
But everything changed the day they appeared — the Nomads and their monstrous puppets, the Wild.
They held no interest in our struggle, our ideals, or our lives. They took everything, without mercy.
They took her. Lea Richter, my partner, my companion, my future.
One moment she was beside me, fighting bravely during a raid;
the next, she vanished in the firestorm of a Nomad attack, leaving nothing but a void.
I've witnessed firsthand the husks left in their wake — emptied bodies and shattered lives.
Fighting corporations and oppressive regimes once defined my purpose, but now a greater hatred burns within me.
This is not merely about justice or freedom anymore; it's personal vengeance against the monsters who stole my future and my love.
From: Otto von Dresden Subject: Otto von Dresden - Log-06/05/835
I named the vessel after my grandfather — Otto von Baden — a quiet homage forged into hull plating and memory.
The stars don’t care for sentiment, but I do.
Maybe that’s my flaw.
Somewhere in the cold drift of Omicron Delta,
I crossed paths with a Zoner ship — Man’s_Express.
He said little, but what he carried spoke volumes: Kemwer Technologies.
His route traced a jagged line —
Fort Carthage in Omicron Mu to Omicron Minor,
then Omicron Delta where we spoke.
But his final destination lay in the mists of Dublin,
and I know the shadows that linger there. Probably Arranmore.
After he vanished into the darkness of Omicron Delta, I wandered again.
Patrol turned to aimless drift — until I found something.
A structure. Hidden. Silent. Not on any chart. I stared at it for too long, trying to decide what to do.
I will return. But not with a mining ship. I'm bringing the fighter with me. And something sharper than weapons:
The iron will to uncover the secrets of this base.
Time frays out here. I’d been patrolling Mu for what felt like hours, maybe more.
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
Just me and the dark.
Eventually, the silence broke.
E\V/-OCV-Shadow-Walker came into view — her silhouette all angles and shadow,
like something carved out of deep space itself.
Her commander, the second-in-command of the Eclipse Vanguard, hailed me.
He didn’t ask.
He gave me a mission.
We engaged a nomad fleet.
It was inevitable.
These things always are.
The void lit up with pulses and screams,
steel and ether tearing at each other in silence.
We were battered — rattled to the core — but somehow we pulled away,
not untouched, but unbroken.
For now, the enemy was stalled.
But in the Omicrons, nothing ever ends.
It only recedes... and waits.
They brought in E\V/-OCV-Dim-Mak — another warship with a name like a whisper before death.
Its arrival signaled one thing: the E\V/-OCV-Shadow-Walker’s crew needed rest.
You could see it in the way they moved — like men who’d walked too close to something they weren’t meant to survive.
My own crew, Hessian through and through, remained on duty.
Stubborn pride.
Or maybe just denial.
They’d pay for that soon enough.
We returned to the battlefield.
Whatever drew us there, it wasn’t strategy — it was gravity.
We weren’t too late.
But we were just in time to see what we weren’t ready for.
The fighting was brutal.
Long.
Something primal clawed at the edge of our minds the entire time.
Still, we held.
Still, we endured.
And when it was done, we turned our broken hulls toward Fort Carthage, dragging the silence with us.
He spoke to me again.
The Vanguard commander.
No persuasion this time — just inevitability.
I submitted the application.
Not for duty.
Not for the greater good. But because something in that blackness took Lea from me.
And one day, I will find it.
And I will make it remember.
From: Otto von Dresden Subject: Otto von Dresden - Log 06/10/835
I am accepted into the Eclipse Vanguard.
I made myself aware of their protocols and ranking system.
I now fly under the name of E\V/-O.v.Dresden.
Sector H4, first patrol. Six Wild Rheinland Gunboats.
My torpedoes tore through them. Then, another half-dozen emerged from the void.
My Hessian temper, a burning fuse, met their reinforcements with the last of my ordnance.
Quick, brutal work. Fort Carthage offered a temporary reprieve.
Transit orders received:
Planet Thebes.
Commands' orders awaits me there.
My rendezvous: Sector C7, where a squadron was already tearing into a Nomad installation.
Fueled and rearmed, I launched. My torpedoes gutted the structure, swift and precise.
What followed was slower, more deliberate work, as I scoured the void, ensuring no Nomad fighter escaped to breed again.
In the end, only our victory remained, cemented by the arrival of E\V/-OCV-Saartha once the installation was dust.
From: Otto von Dresden Subject: Otto von Dresden - Log 06/11/835
The waking world was a dim memory. The bar, a brief distraction.
Command's voice, a cold summons to a new hunt.
Nomad installation C4. Rearmed, refueled, and ready to launch into the void once more.
With the squadron's added might, the installation crumpled under our combined fire.
The fighters took time, a slower, satisfying grind, but every last one was eliminated.
Now, we course for Taba Starbase and the promise of rest.
Executed a trade run in my transport.
Encountered Outcasts, near-misses that left a chill, but no serious engagements.
Above Akabat, I linked with fellow Vanguard.
Our quick supply run through challenging territory felt, deceptively, like a "walk in the park" on the way out.
The return was anything but.
We were ambushed by Outcasts.
This was no accident; the La.Dominadora, Canaris, and HS>Meteora attacked with fierce,
cold vigilance.
Two of our ships were lost.
We can only hope their lifepods remained intact for retrieval.
But three of us survived to carry this grim tale.
I never thought I'd say it, but as this alien crisis mounts, we are actually still forced to fight other humans.
I plead again: humanity, abandon your hatred.
Unite.
It's our only hope.
My cargo made it, sold at Fort Carthage.
Now, I seek only the oblivion of rest.
My Hessian crew, abandoning the RevengeForStrausburg-Kassel in Rheinland, journeyed to answer my call.
At Fort Carthage, we were entrusted with a "Geb" Order Assault battlecruiser, named the E\V/-OCV-Grabesrufer.
After thorough preparation, we were dispatched to Omicron Mu, tasked with a system sweep alongside an Eclipse Vanguard Capital fleet.
Nomad encounters were plentiful, and we purged the system.
But today's combat lingers: mostly cruiser and dreadnaught-class entities.
Should I be concerned?
The future will tell, but Sirius feels poised for a grim twilight.
From: Otto von Dresden Subject: Otto von Dresden - Log 06/12/835
An old Hessian crewman found me after lunch. He spoke of a surprise, directing me to the Akabat hangars to meet the rest of the crew.
What awaited me was staggering: my old cruiser crew, and behind them, the Loki Mk.I, Thor Mk.I, and Odin Mk.I—my vessels, abandoned in Dresden.
These loyal men had retrieved my last remaining possessions.
More than that, they had salvaged the fragile echoes of my Lea.
I dedicated the rest of the day to preparing my fighters, the familiar rhythm a stark counterpoint to the bittersweet memories shared with my crew.
We reminisced about Bautzen and Strausburg-Kassel, places now tainted by absence.
The Nomads ripped those lives from us; they owe a debt that can only be settled in blood. And I will collect.
From: Otto von Dresden Subject: Otto von Dresden - Log 06/30/835
I woke to a blaring summons from High Command, a grim mission that cut through the silence.
Without hesitation, I called my crew.
My Hessians answered, their loyalty an iron-clad truth.
The E\V/-OCV-Grabesrufer was ready in no time, a warship born for the void.
We made haste for Omicron Zeta, chasing a ghost of a distress call from a research vessel. Time was a luxury we couldn't afford to lose.
We cut all non-essential power - weapons, life support, even the toilets.
The entire crew held their breath for the two minutes it took to breach the minefield.
Every ounce of energy was funneled to the shields, a single-minded defiance against the void.
The jump was imminent.
We ripped through space, all systems back online, the monstrous warship settling into a deliberate cruise.
In moments like these, I was thankful for my crew, for their grim determination in this godforsaken part of the sector.
After what felt like an eternity, we reached the Pohnpei Edge Nebula.
Suddenly, the lights died.
Red emergency strobes flashed, and sirens screamed through the corridors, calling us to battle stations.
This was not a drill.
We finally locked on to the source: a "Corvo" research vessel, surrounded by a swarm of Nomad fighters and… a Nomad Dreadnaught.
My pilots, cold and precise, drifted the ship into position.
The Firing Officer primed the Avalanche Turrets.
A blue rain of lasers tore through the Nomad fleet, turning their vessels into dust.
The Dreadnaught was history in minutes, a testament to our firepower.
We then turned our attention to the lesser vessels, a systematic slaughter.
Our shields absorbed the relentless barrage of shots and torpedoes, sustained by a dwindling supply of emergency shield batteries.
After an eternity, the Nomad ships were annihilated.
But the victory was not without cost.
Loss of life and accidents resulted from the massive vibrations and shocks caused by the torpedoes of the bomber-like nomad vessel and the heavy fire of the nomad dreadnaught. Their memory will be honored at a later time.
Our mission was not yet complete.
We hailed the vessel, but received no response. I ordered a boarding party.
Their report was… unsettling.
A woman, badly injured, lay in the wreckage.
I ordered her brought to the med bay, sealing off the area with her and the "doctors" High Command had assigned to us.
All I was told was that she was some kind of researcher, but that the information was classified.
My rank wasn't high enough, they said.
My men, sealed off with them, simply looked at me and said they couldn't speak.
We set a course for Planet Akabat.
As they took the woman off the ship, I asked her how she was doing. She simply looked at me and said one word: "Summer."
![[Image: 8PXFnkt.png]](https://i.imgur.com/8PXFnkt.png)