Dull and dreary, that's all it was right now.
It was getting to be the evening, not that you could tell time very well right now. The dark clouds above were spilling forth a downfall of collected tear drops, and every so often the sky would be lit up with an enormous bolt of lightning, and then a rumbling heave of thunder to split the dim sound of rain smashing against rock. All in all it was a rather beautiful display to watch, though mostly it was only nice to watch inside. If you were in the Thunderblacks, there were few and far between safe places to watch such an awesome spectacle of nature.
Between caves inhabited by Dragons and bears, you had to hope you really came across a nice place to rest your weary legs. Of course, there was one place that few knew about, a place that was really quite a dangerous place to venture into. Carved out of a mountain side, deep in the Thunderblacks was the Castle of "He Who Walks Both Worlds." Of course, most who knew him would call him Lord Zekyllot out of fear and respect for the creature.
Born of fire and darkness, of hate, rage, and disgusting lies...well, one could understand why he was such a powerful creature. He took hold of such emotions, of such falsities and embraced them at birth. A true power to be reckoned with if there ever was one. However, one of reserved glory though, hiding in the depths of the mountains. A Daemon was never satisfied with what power they had, they always wanted more, and that's where the humanity came in...the realization that too much power wasn't always a good thing. It could lead to hubris, to a downfall of epic conclusions...to the loss of all that power.
So nestled away he sat, his seat of power a small one, but one that would not earn him destruction. The Lord Zekyllot, his skin a dark burnt colour strode effortlessly through his castle. Golden irises with dark red pupils gleamed in the torch light of the magnificently crafted halls as he walked. The whole thing had taken years to construct properly, had taken many lives, and much magic, but it now was more castle on the inside than most castles actually were. His long wavy black hair flowed backwards as he walked, poking up from the dark locks was a broken horn on the right side, though destroyed it still looked as if it were quite sharp.
He walked with no purpose at this time, he could feel the daemonic heritage in his body wishing for more, for a wanderlust, to seize more power...and at these times he could be his most irritable. Perhaps he would seek out one of his servants and put the boot to them...though as he looked down at his finely crafted leather boots he decided against it. His outfit was composed of a regal doublet of black with gold trim and splashes of a deep crimson, and a pair of white silk leggings that disappeared into his boots. He did decided on a waistcoat today, one of drab grey just because he could.
No need to look too regal today...it was just him and his servants after all.
He did decide to go and investigate the front gates however, he always loved a good storm, and while there were two sort of balconies at the upper levels, they were being rained on, and he didn't much care for that. The front gate however was well into a bit of a tunnel, which would provide some cover to watch the storm. Once outside, he found himself sitting on a rock just near the mouth of the small tunnel...ahh...so beautiful. Here has able to survey a good portion of the Thunderblacks, as well as the winding path that eventually led to his little domain.
A perfect night so far.
