❅❅Gazing out over the seemingly never-ending fields of grass, Obsidian couldn't help but feel a little bit out of his element. It was the first time that he had ever truly left his home territory of the Brigade, and it had left him feeling a little lost for a while, especially as the landscape continued to shift and changed the further he got. Leaving the only place he had ever called home, even if it was only temporary, had left him with a sense of...longing, he supposed, a longing to return back to that one place he belonged as soon as his business was concluded. Trekking through the wilderness to the Wild Peninsula had been quite a journey, enjoyable, for the most part, until he had to skirt around the Exiles territory, that had easily been the most stressful part. One sleepless night on the beach, far too close to their borders for comfort, had left him with an urge to get as far away from that hellhole he had once called a prison as fast as he could, and he was not looking forward to having to go back that way on his return trip.
Turning his attention away from the empty, fairly bleak landscape, the bandage coated hellhound continued onward towards his destination, that being the office of the Capo of the Militia in the Cartel. Swords, spears, daggers, none of them really suited him all that well, which was why he had come here in the first place, to get a weapon that was a little more personal, and unfortunately since no one he knew in the Brigade was capable of any kind of smithing, the journey had to be made. Weaponry was what he had come here for, yes, but hopefully he would be leaving with more. He would admit he didn't know all that much about the Cartel, outside of the basics about their rankings, so it had come as a bit of a surprise to him when he had heard that he could not only obtain weapons here, but information as well. So, he found himself directed, oddly enough, straight to the head of the Militia division of the Cartel. Well, if you wanted something done, then starting from the top and working your way down did seem like a fairly decent stratagem.
Finally coming to a halt in front of his destination, the door to the office of the Capo in question, Asimov apparently, Obsidian took a moment to collect himself, opening his maw to take a deep breath. A paw reached up, straightened his tattered cloak, patted down his bandages, and gingerly touched the featureless, black scarf around his neck, then reached out to give a firm knock on the office door. "Hello? This is the office of Asimov, right?"
( ASIMOV )