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He felt hazy as he awoke, the loud, quick-rhythm of the music was imposible to ignore even when one was out cold, it seems. With a weary groan he pushed himself up from the ground, feeling the warm texture of the sand on his palms. “Where..” was his first thought before he recalled moments later that he did choose a beach to be the place where he begun his…excursion. Once he stood up he was forced to shield his eyes as the blazing sun was keen on shining its light upon his poor eyes before he had a chance to adjust. With a sigh he rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other one grasping at a rod of solid metal which, oddly enough, felt comfortable to the touch. At least for him anyway. Once his eyes adjusted to the new lighting of the scenery, Tarum had a chance to inspect himself and his surroundings. Indeed, he was at a beach, with warm sand, a clear blue sky which mirrored its color into the vast ocean and the sound of the waves lapping at the land only to be obscured by the deafening sound of music. For whatever reason, Tarum rushed to the waterside, throwing a gander at where the surface was more calm and clear…where he could see himself.

The poorly mirrored image of himself in the water was enough to distinguish his new features. His hair was long and lush, the color of hot coal, a feature shared by his long goatee which matched with the blazing orange color of his eyes. His skin appeared pale yet was covered in what one could only call ‘war-paint’ of dark crimson in interesting patterns all over his face and chest. He seemed well made, his body presenting an athletic build yet nowhere near as large and muscular as to be called ‘bulky’ or ‘buffed’. The most interesting details where his sharp, facial features, his clawed hands, two sets of black horns sprouting from under his mane and the heavily fur-covered goat-like legs he had, marking him as one of the so-called ‘Beast-Folk’ species. For clothes he sported a simple vestment of green silk with golden embroidery which covered his pelvis and draped down to knee-length, leaving his torso and arms exposed with only a long scarf of matching fabric and design to ornate his upper-body. A wicked smile creeped on his face as he gazed upon himself, completing the grim visage.

“YES!” he spoke out-loud, feeling ecstatic with his new form. New form? Ah, yes, that’s right. He vaguely recalled that he had a past-life of sorts, yet the details were hazy at best. He decided not to contemplate upon it, what is past is past and it matters not to him who he once may have been, what matters to him is who he is now and what he will do. He was fully aware of his status, his powers and skills and of his ambitions. The past may be lost and nigh-on forgotten, but Tarum’s future was planned out by him. The music behind was a clear sign that, wherever he was, he was not alone. Turning around, the Chaos-Weaver saw an amalgamation of people of different races and species apparently enjoying a party, complete with dancing, exotic beverages and a… Beast-Folk DJ? Well… he certainly picked an odd place to awake didn’t he? Just before he could interact with anyone, a dwarf beat him to the punch by approaching in delivering a jab regarding the fact that he, and apparently others, had trouble holding their liquor. The short, bearded man even offered a strange pill which was supposed to help in that regard. Tarum considered for a moment…one moment was all it took as he snatched the pill from the dwarf’s hand and inspected it for a brief moment until he finally threw a glance at the short man and said “Well.. Don’t mind if I do, short-pants” after which he opened his mouth and swallowed the pill with his pointy, elongated tongue, akin to how a frog would catch a fly in mid-air. And why not? He was going to bring chaos and destruction to this new world but perhaps debauchery also had a place on his list. Regardless of what would happen, one thing was certain : Tarum will be maniacally laughing through this whole journey as he was right now while making his way to the dance floor, grabbing someone else’s drink and downing it like yesterdays’ ale on the way. The rush of life felt exilarating. He couldn't wait to experiment more with what this world had to offer before drowing it in flames.