[b]"*huff**huff* Who's...who's idea was it to make deserts?"[/b] Tordavask asked to no one in particular as he clutched his knees as he stopped, the recruitment building for the Blazing Sands Recruitment Building dead ahead, if the word of that stranger was to be trusted. Overall his journey had been exceptionally uneventful, save for the sweltering heat and blisteringly cold nights of the desert, but at least he'd expected that. What he hadn't expected was a rather disgusting looking violet burn to appear along the bridge and tip of his nose as well as the entire back of both his hands from the sun; they almost looked like bruises, save for the consistent purple texture and lack of anything but the single color populating the burn. Luckily he'd avoided burns appearing elsewhere with a simple hooded poncho that he'd picked from the garbage somewhere along the way. The thing smelled of moldy cheese and booze, but beggars couldn't be choosers, he'd spent every piece he owned to get enough to convince them he JUST might be experienced. His Luger hilted at his left hip and his shortsword resting on the opposite, he felt confident that any pissant mugger would get more than they bargained for if he came upon them somewhere.

Rising from his stance, he confidently began striding toward the building; this was no longer a matter of choice, he needed to support his father, and if he needed to fight for his life to do it, he'd fight Asmodai itself. Before he came upon the door, he stepped onto what appeared to be some sort of wooden wreckage...looked like it could have once been a child's toy.Thinking nothing of it and simply brushing it aside with his foot, he stepped inside, removing his hood and glancing around the building as he stepped further in.