He smelled of mud and rain.
He couldn't speak, only answering their hushed, urgent questions with guttural barks and animal snarls. He howled at the sky and gnashed his teeth, clenching and unclenching his big fingers, and when he moved, they noticed he moved with a strange rhythm, almost dancing but not quite.
A one-legged man offered him beer and he calmed down, gibbering gently into his glass. He tipped his head back and quaffed it all in three gulps, liquid frothing through the knots of his long, scraggly beard.
Reluctantly, the villagers gave him fresh clothes and a hut to sleep in.
In the morning, they heard him singing. Some say he sang dark songs, sounding like Nick Cave, or a young Tom Waits, or Johnny Cash as an old man. Some say that when he rapped he rapped deep like MF DOOM or jonwayne.
No one knew what to make of him. They told him to leave and go somewhere else.
So he burned the village down and left.