[Mikhail Vashael]

Mikhail Vashael was a calm man, but tonight he felt carefree and playful enough to hurt just for felicity's sake. The sensation running down his spine shot a shiver back up in response but he let the beast take him.. carry him forward with a cradle's sway.
Breaching through the city gates, his grey smirk widened as his eyes fasted. Could such monstrosity truely exist here? or was it all just longhand for the adverseness of humanity.. Dangerous grounds.. he winked towards the shape of a massive shadow with a lingering fingerwave from the grip of his stallion's kneck. Truely, Vashael was enjoying this experience.. Something niave and primal chuckled as he held on from the cold remains of his perch, watching the stones below him meld into a blur of speed and darkness. A rippling sunder.

Arriving at his stomping grounds, the wild eyed dog dismounted with a wave of energy and potent feral thrusting lust. He was alive.. and beating. No man could see him.. no man would now know him.. he lived and breathed in the temperament of some primeval, indomitable, and unsatiable conquering godking. Whatever he wanted, he would take. Whatever he needed, he would have. Nothing was now outside his grasping maw.. No single soul. Kidnapping, rape, murder. It all became nothing to this pure force. It was his.. There was no rule, nor law to bind it.. . He would sink his teeth and consume every last sweet drop. You are mine. You are all Mine. ..
'Just don't know it yet....

Taking the handed form of shale and shadows between three fingers, Mikhail elongated it into the makings of some bizarre and wickedly curved device. It became symmetrically sloped, binding it's self into the shell of a midnight glow exoskeleton. Shaved and shaped into the design of a mosaic of balanced spikes, the knuckle grip and handle pressed between his awaiting palm emancipated the thorns into full length blades, black and sleek in their repose. It all felt like some violent retraction of fangs as the Cerberus turned man howled full force at the devious merriment of his deadly mastercraft. Who knew if such imagination would hold under the bonds of terrestrial play, but as another curved relay of double pincers shimmered and shot over the plated guard he cared little. This creature could wither and die.. or perhaps be called back with fresh tempted skill.
Still the man did laugh, joining in tune with the child-shade.. As the final combination of clawed sabers locked outward, he raised the object into the sky like a trophy then leaped forward down through the hole without a word, providing only the faded whisper of release and inner mixture of taunt preparation.