Kurayo, city of the dead and damned, or at least a city which welcomed such people with open arms, and if not careful a dagger in the back. Bryn yr Gwyn had heard much of this place as he had travelled between the continents and since arriving in Parvpora, most of it had centred on the idea that no one in their right mind would willingly go there without good reason. But Bryn had very good reason to go to such a place, it was possibly the one city in either continent where one such as he would be welcome to walk the streets without concealing what he was. He doubt few of those with whom he'd crossed the seas would have been nearly as forthcoming to him had they known that each time the sun rose he became a shrivelled husk beneath his black shroud, and that under the direct gaze of the sun he became nothing more than an animated skeleton. But in this city above all others he could exist as he was. When he set foot on Koschei island he had few belongings, his sword, his shroud, a few stitches of clothing and the sole item he so far been able to regain from the tomb robbers, his crown. This was secreted in a bag hidden under his shroud, while wearing it filled him with a feeling of icy power, he felt that it tugged at him to act more as a chieftain than as a man, and at least while travelling it would have been unhelpful.

On disembarking from the boat he found it was night time, so lowered his hood, revealing a relatively young face, surrounded by long golden hair, a little pale compared to most mortals, but nothing too excessive. Sailors from the ship were heading towards the nearest tavern, and keeping in a large group as much for protection as camaraderie Bryn guessed, he knew the reputation of Kurayo for giving visitors no protection from its citizens. Bryn however didn't join them, he reached into the pouch and produced the iron crown. It was a simple band of iron with five talon-like spikes rising from it, and in his hand it glowed with a cold blue light, necromantic energy from what he'd learned, placing it on his head brought a moment of dislocation as he appeared to be man, shrivelled spectre and skeleton all at once. But the moment passed and he stood all the straighter, the cold power flowing through him, strengthening him. His posture made it clear, this man was no one's prey. 

Sweeping through the streets in the direction given to him by one of the sailors he found a place with a sign in the window, offering a suite of rooms and a servant. Rapping on the door, and with little negotiation he took the rooms, now he was a resident of Kurayo, and had all the protections that afforded him. With that sorted he began to walk the streets, hood raised to avoid anyone seeing either his face or crown, it was time to see what the city would offer the restless dead.