Waves crashed upon the stormy shores of Thanatos. The storm didn't approach quickly, it had taken its time to make it to the island. Most people would believe the arrival had been natural, as was most of the stormy weather that visited from time to time. This however was more of an omen than just a build up of rain. The crackling electricity that broke the darkened skies caused thunderous booming in its wake. The rain came down hard, the wind while not at full strength was still present, causing a slightly chilling sensations in those who did not properly defend themselves against the terrible weather.
Waves rolled over the rocky shores and beaches alike, those were smart enough stayed far enough away from the water to avoid the wrath of the sea.
There were those who enjoyed it however.
A body moved through the water, tossed and turned like driftwood in the rough motions. Was it dead however? It be impossible to tell as it drifted inland, pushed by the waves until it crashed against the rocky shore. Again and again it was pulled outwards and then battered against the rocks, smashed against the hard surfaces. This happened a few times, until with a flash of gold, the body was attached to a large rock. Gauntlets around the hands and arms, smooth golden pieces of armour that had dangerously sharp and long claws, almost animalistic in appearance. They dug into the rocks with ease, gripping firmly to the shore as the body pulled itself from the water.
What stood up was an odd assortment of clothing. The shirt was no more than two long strips of cloth, wrapped from the waist upward, each going their separate ways to wrap down the arms into the gauntlets. A mask around the face, covering his nose and mouth, with a tight hood around the top half of his head covering it and hiding it from the world. The only thing one could from his head was the eyes. Terrible red eyes, staring, unblinking, filled with anger and hate.
The figure was masculine in appearance, not hulking but he appeared strong to a degree. His upper body moved up and down as he breathed, but not as if he were exhausted, but as if he was trying to calm a rage within him. Slowly he started walking, the mist stopped leaving his body, but it hung in the air behind him for a moment or two.
His walk was without purpose, he had arrived, and he had little idea where he was. What had been a swim, had become a ride over waters. He had been following a boat, but the storm followed him, and as such, the boat became lost. There hadn't even been a smell to follow, which angered him even more. This place however, he could sense life upon it, but a strange energy, a darker magic. Something he liked, something that called to his very essence.
He didn't tire, like a shambling zombie he crossed over hill, through plains and fields, following that pulsating, haunting call to him. It was as if he could see the aura, he could follow the trail of power, the one that told him to come hither.
Something that registered, as he passed by farmers and the like, he did not receive the looks that he got in some other countries. No one was looking at him like he was a monster, at least, not as much. People looked at him more that he was just a stranger, that he was unfamiliar, but not because his intimidating presence. If he had less concentration, he would have stopped and began a wanton slaughter, he wasn't sure why, but burning crops always looked so pretty, and more so when a storm was happening. He had very little concept of water and fire not mixing very well, his fire usually didn't mind or care about the water.
Still, the pulse called to him, the gathering of magic, dark and twisted, controlled but chaotic, it wanted him to come, it practically called his name. The whispers about him in the howling wind, the crack of lighting and the roar of thunder, it was all calling his name, to continue forward toward whatever it was that wished him to visit, to find it. When his feet finally led him to his destination, he found a city. It was the city that called to him, it was the city and the inhabitants, the magic that they used, that asked him to visit, that brought him this way. It had all been them, and he felt...special almost. In his mind, they had spoke for him to come visit, for him to join them in their wonderfully dark city.
So he did.
The small journey into the city had not been a hassle. Instead of going through some gate, he had scaled the walls. The wind and the rain caused the visibility of the guards to be lessened, so his climb was uninhibited by all. The storm would blow itself out, even the rain was stopping, though the wind did not relent as of yet.
Slowly he pulled down his mask, just slightly to show his nose, so he might take a deep breath of air. Yes. The smell. A good smell. What to do? Where to go? There were hints of death and decay, hints of blood, and he could have sworn he heard screaming.
That however was the wind, but it excited him even still. His arms dangled in front of him, limp and unused as he walked, his back slightly hunched. They swung back and forth instead of forward and back, his head turning and twisting as he looked at everyone who passed him. There weren't many people out, not yet, but as the rain receded and the wind started to die down, people began to leave their houses. Every sound of a door closing as someone left their house, or a window open, he reacted, his head snapping in that direction to look at it. He was a curious monster, hidden in a man's body, or what one could think was a man's body. The growling that occasionally left his throat was more animal than human, more feral. It got people to move out of his way at least, which was a goal. He also wanted to smell the fear from them. His favourite scent. So easy to find, so familiar, and easy to follow.
The question now, was what lay before him? This place was dark, it was a home to him almost, he liked it, and yet...what was there to entertain himself. Death and blood all around him, and he knew that a city of this power, of his size, would be dangerous. He would not be able to simply raze it to the ground.
A pity.
He wanted a fire.