Main Camp (Camp Proper)

A low-lit cluster of shelters pressed into the belly of a cavern, where muted lamps and occasional fires puncture the stone gloom. People move through routine—sentries, traders, technicians—while a suspected generator coughs somewhere beneath tarps and scavenged gear. Damp air carries metal and oil; echoes swallow whispered commands. From concealed cover, Riker studies pathways, watching daily patterns become tactical hazards. The space feels claustrophobic and improvised, where civilian motion cloaks strategic targets and surprise remains the only advantage for an insertion force balancing military precision against political consequence.