The samurai packed his things. Two canteens full of ice cold water, and some ice to boot. His sword shined gallantly in the light that peeked in from the window. He tucked it away in his sheath, and opened a drawer. Rifling through it, he removed a sword sharpener. Dogura turned, and was out the door. He walked around his home's perimeter, and opened the beautiful wooden shed that he had recently built with a portion of the money he had been payed to sign the contract. It was of the finest wood, and looked as if it were proud of it's own beauty. Entering the shed, or more descriptively, the memorial, he grabbed the only scroll he had, and a his wolf-head dagger. Grabbing it's own sheath, he put it in it's place, and tucked it into his belt, opposite hip of where his sword rested. Finally, the samurai grabbed two oddly placed handles on the wall, and opened them. They swung outward, revealing a shining pair of red and black armor.

Dogura returned to his home, and made a few last checks, before he remembered that the note mentioned to bring his special fireworks. Opening a few latches on the floor, he opened the secret door, which revealed a set of stairs. He crept down the stairs, being careful not to wake Darkin, who was only separated from Dogura by a wall. It was still very early in the morning, and every stair seemed to want to put in it's own words, as he skipped steps, and gently touched down on each stair. Finally making it to the pitch black bottom, he cursed the stairs. His eyes being attuned to the darkness, were still very useful even in the darkest of corners. He made his way to a secret door, which he slid back, revealing the fireworks among many other things. He grabbed the small magically enhanced crate of fireworks, and tucked them into his side pack. Closing the door, he crept back up the noisy stairs, cursing them the entire way.

He grabbed the note, and read it over again, checking to see if he forgot anything. Thinking every last detail out, he grabbed a spare rubber band to keep his hair in place, in case his current one was to snap(which it was due for). The vagabond thought over and over again, before he finally decided that he had packed everything he would need for the mission. The samurai looked at the note in discontent. As much as he hated warping, he didn't feel like walking the entire way either. "Well... I guess I'll meet you there Dark Angel..." he added, before finally taping the symbol on the note; and vanishing into thin air, along with the note he previously held in his hand...



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Just like always, the samurai couldn't seem to get the hang of warping. It spat him out like fat guy spitting tobacco. However, he landed with a mouthful of sand and grit. He felt sick to his stomach, just as he had last time. For once, however, he didn't regurgitate whatever he had eaten the previous hours; as he had not eaten breakfast. Dogura cursed under his breath, and stood up, still a bit dizzy. Brushing the sand off of his otherwise shining armor. He brushed his hair off, and spat the remaining sand out of his mouth. He knew the disgusting taste would continue to linger, until long after this moment. The samurai grabbed one of his canteens, and took a swig. Swirling the still freezing water around in his mouth, he spat it out, forming a darkened spot on the sand. Dogura always enjoyed Parapa Desert. It was never too hot, and it was never too dry. The wind always carried bits of ocean water, which also irritated Dogura's skin, due to the mass amounts of salt within the water.

Still, the cool wind from the seawater refreshed him, and he felt better already. Suddenly, the man slapped his forehead, and uttered a small cry. They failed to tell him which direction to proceed in after the warp. As he looked around, he saw nothing but barren sands, and a vast sea just over the horizon. He could almost swear he could see the other continent on the other side of the mass body of water, but he wasn't here for sight seeing, and he knew it. He hadn't been made a captain, and payed so many rupees to slack off on his work. He knew they wouldn't completely abandon him in the middle of the desert. As a ranger, he did one of the many things he knew how to do best. He searched for anything that might have been left behind by say, a traveler, a merchant, a warrior, a beast etc. [Track]

He found some tracks, left by a high quality military boot, maybe a size 11. They were the only fresh track, and they lead south.

OOC: Don't go south on the compass, but go south in your post.

The samurai could only see the faded footprints in the sand, if he looked at it from the right angle. He stood up and smirked. "I see..." He muttered, as he traced the footprints south. Walking along the tracks left by someone(most likely large from the shoe size), he was careful not to cover them as he walked. He wanted them perfectly preserved. The sun didn't seem to bother him. His armor gleamed in the light provided, which would probably be seen from miles away. After a long trek, and a few gulps of water, he came to a strange hill...

OOC: A hill right? Thats where I was supposed to stop?