[b][i]From the Fatherland to the Desert to the East; to the Jungle and to the Dojo[/i][/b] [b]Dojo Gates, Nightfall[/b] [i]The soldier approached the gates, intrigued by the great structure that stood before him. He'd never seen anything like in in all his forty-seven years, not in the USSR, not at El Alamein, and not in his homeland. It was an architecture he was unfamiliar with, for he had never been to the Orient, only to Rhodesia and the Congo, and African culture was far removed from that of Asia. To the more well-equipped and powerful individuals, he perhaps did not look like much, a soldier simply wearing combat fatigues and his bandoliers, a rifle on his back, the weapon a British L1A1, a pistol on his left hip, a P08 Luger, a machete on his right, and a knife in a sheath on his bandolier. He bore camouflage face paint, a jungle scheme, his pants bearing a jungle scheme as well. However, his shirt bore a rather interesting brown pea-pod design, something that looked older than the pants. He had the sleeves rolled up, his arms dirty, as if he had been in combat recently. What stood out, however, was the patch on his collar and the pin on his hat. Two Armenian runes, lightning bolts, white on a black background. The pin on his hat a silver skull and crossbones. The hair that stuck out from beneath it was a greying blonde, slicked back almost formally. He was a large man, muscular like a soldier, his eyes piercing, his face sharp and angular, showing his age and all that he had seen. Looking to the wall in amazement, he shouted, his voice carrying his German accent clearly, though he spoke in English.[/i] "Hello? [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]