Savant of a Hundred Flashes

She grabbed the hilt of her swords, slowly unsheathing them. 

"Put your swords away, there's no need to bring them out in front of me."

As the storm grew in the distance, the man turned around, revealing himself to her. 

"Hello there little one, welcome to my floor."

He smiled, standing there with his hands behind his back. 

Dressed in green and yellow robes, this man looked at her with a smile though his face was frightening to say the least. He seemed to be in his fifties or sixties, having a few wrinkles here and there. His wild, unkempt hair was long enough to cover his back and stuck out in every direction. The color was golden, glowing, and producing sparks.

It was as if he had been struck by lightning. 

He had no eyebrows though the ridges protruded outward. His eyes were piercing and his smile was more like a grin. And while this man wasn't particularly large, he wasn't small either, a well-built body with broad shoulders.