He is a raging sea.
He is a sweetly destructive summer storm.
He is a child born of fire and brought up inside a hurricane.
A green-eyed fright: a concentrated madness and a wild precision.
Whispers of fabled names and legendary curses follow him, the train of a cloak worn on shoulders set with morbid determination.
Death's master.
The arms of fear.
The reach of hell's hand.
Worst of all fates.
The Righteous Man.
He is the definition of beauty and violence that they whisper to themselves and each other across dim fires that must not burn bright in fear that he will see them and come running.
He is the thing they dream of and have nightmares about.
He is the thing they would risk everything to lay eyes on.
He is what they have lost everything to catch a glimpse of.
They are all monsters here.
And he is the most terrible and wonderful of them all.
(rk)