[b]Moreland[/b]
Approximately 2045 Hours
Warpath National Park
Whitetail Run

Along the hills of Appalachia, small dots of campfire light glowed among the thick woodland and lit up a largely dark, cold night with their warm orange radiance. There were few out at this season and with good reason as it was not all too pleasant with the stir of the wind, the same that carried between the trees and down the mountains. While it was not whipping, it was far removed from the best seasons of the year here, and it dissuaded enough to make it more quiet than it could be. The song among the branches, however, did not go ignored as some invisible element whispering on the wind spoke back from one of the rocky outcroppings.

At first there were no lips, no mouth, no face to even say anything at all but there clearly was a voice. It said quite plainly, should any have been there to hear it, [i]"You called?"[/i]

The wind spoke back, the soft sway of some of the boughs above stilled without warning after and a calm fell upon the mountain. A certain peculiar stillness that would have made the hairs upon the back of the neck stand on end. That is, of course, if the voice from nothing was not enough.

Upon the outcropping the voice came again, alongside teeth as long as a man's forearm from the darkness, [i]"I had been waiting, you know. Waiting for a very, very, very long time."[/i]

Each ghostly limb tensed its digits upon the stonework as it took form until in a single exhale made it flesh again. Living, breathing, and clearly from some other time and place. It stood in the darkness, seeing it almost as if it were day, and more importantly, the place for which it was called to act; the glow of a city. Both piercing eyes blinked softly as the tremendous figure turned to leave, yet it was stopped in its tracks, an ear swiveled back.

"Is that so?" The dark jowls questioned as they carried out each word before ending with, "I had high hopes it was time enough but if that is the way it will be done..."

A kneeling man slowly stood with a visible wince where the beast was, looking no worse for wear on this cold night alone. He looked over his palms, articulating his fingers before he shivered and breathed out a cloud of steam. It was clear he was not dressed for this environment at all, no jacket to turn the worst of the wind aside, and in slightly worn clothes, down to the damage of his jeans even.

"... then that is the way it will be done."

The wind around the rocky perch stirred as it raced to life once more and he disappeared from sight. It was not long before he stood again in the heart of the city. The sort of thing that would be missed in the blink of an eye, just another nameless person among the streets. For him, however, that was another story altogether, and the moment he arrived he was on his way, following behind the last person to step in front of him. No one would notice or come to think of anyone in the masses and that was one of the first key steps to getting to where he needed to go. His eyes darted back and forth, seeming to look around for the first sign and indication he could get what it was he needed to better get by in the living illusion. 

When he finally spied it, he moved on it, slipping his hands from his pockets and narrowing his eyes; it was not that being in the city had already soured his mood but it had not helped at all. So by the time he turned down the walkway toward the people gathered near the underpass, what would come next would be brief, very brief at that, and more so than ever as both parties looked at one another.

"You want something?" One of the four asked...