Rothe stepped from the metal container they had transported him in. A little much he thought, but then again, how else were they going to transport him. Whoever they were.
In the darkness he had felt like he had been flying, had they tried to simulate him being swallowed by a dragon? Bah! Ridiculous! He of all people would know!
A soft breeze ran trough his hair and warm sand on stuck to his bare feet. "I better get myself some armor.." He thought aloud, all he could bring was his keepsake dagger given to him by Ryuuk himself. He walked over the beach looking for something, anything to interact with. Something to loot, something to kill, a welcoming committee?
Roth didn't even know what he was expecting. Who would 'they' even be? The strangely dressed men with the magic guns and the corrupt government of whatever backwater country he had landed up in? Was he even in the same country. The beach was white, not gray and there weren't any high cliffs directly in front of it, so this wasn't home. And he certainly wasn't in his flying metropolis either. That place was neatly paved and packed full of people. No.. he was definitely somewhere new.. His best bet was a small island of the coast of Yukai. This would mean the natives would speak draconic aside from their natural tongue. Rothe hoped that'd be the case, draconic was the language of his faith, so he might find like-minded people then.