The cracked ground lined with light sand yearned for moist as heavy hooves galloped against its hard surface. On top of it was a man with a sword holstered onto his back, technology and guns rattling on his leather belt. As the high steel walls of the Dojo approached steadily he looked to the doors with hesitance for what would lie within. For all the times this man had trekked through uncharted fringes of space and realities alternate to his own this place had to be one of the most daunting he'd ever encountered. As the heavy doors of the Dojo, sealed shut by great locks stood in front of the man he slid his weight off of the horse's saddle and firmly planted his feet onto the ground, the soles of his heavy boots crunching against plates of dry rock. The man licked his lips but the gesture hurled no relief, as his mouth was still as dry as the desert he'd stood in, no saliva left in his own mouth. As the sun beat down on him whoever would have watched his approach had a better look at him; black curling hair like cherub's own, a beard under his face, ice blue eyes, with a tan face from the twin suns that beat down on him and scars curving across the contours of his face. His leather jacket bristled in the light gust that had swept by. A line of smoke rose from the fat cigar that sat between his crackled lips as he waited for a challenger to approach, preparing himself for a hard fight. [spoiler]Open to challengers. Let me in![/spoiler]