He is hungry, so hungry, his mind consumed only with the thought of the child he reaches for, seeking to pierce through flesh and bone with the deadly points of his bloodied fangs that have slain so very many before. Salvia leaks readily from his jaws, his mind fixing upon only the memory that lingers within. The small ones are tender, the small ones do not struggle, their blood is rich and hot within his throat and he seeks only that, seeks to fill that gnawing, burning emptiness within himself that tortures and pulls at his mind with vile demands. He pays no heed to those around him, cares little for the squeals and screams of those to small to matter, there wretched lives no more then a weakness to be taken when the one he seeks is made devoid of life between the power of his jaws. They may call themselves Demons, they may seek to parade as such and yet still….they bow to another, they are bound by laws that have no hold on the blackened hellion that has so long plagued Moladion since the day of his birth and Jaidah could not bring herself to crush the weak child within her jaws as well she should have. It was weakness that allowed him to live, that allowed him to survive and grow in strength and power until it rippled and gleamed beneath the ebony of his pelt, the darkness draping his form like the kingdom of shades he resides within. It was weakness of his Mother that saw him live and it is weakness he seeks to destroy now. The strong have purpose, these vile, fragile, breakable puppies do not. They will feed only his strength and yet- it would seem another has come.

The shoulder of another comes against his own, hot flesh and fur blending with the dark thickness of his own obsidian pelt until those lighter hairs are lost within the dark expanse and wild fur of the demonic creature. The words mean nothing, they are no more than hateful sound upon his ears. He cannot understand them, cannot perceive them, they fuel only his anger as his fangs deviate upwards, taking full advantage of the foolish males desire to remain close, seeking to fix those dangerous fangs under Beowulf’s jaw, seeking to puncture straight though his fleshy throat while biting down atop his skull, wrenching his powerful jaws in a savage twist filled with fury and hate and anger and nothing more, seeking indeed to tear the other males head from his very neck and throw it atop the ground like a twisted plaything. The small ones are forgotten, his mind fixated upon this new target he seeks to savage and maul. This one will feed him longer, this one will spill heated entrails twice the size of the small ones. The other does not understand what he does, he is foolish to believe Tobias can be commanded, he has placed himself between the nightmarish plague and his meal and indeed the dominance of his nature coils tightly around the aggression and need to feed that already coarsely thickly through his veins as he attacks with destructive, horrific force.

He will not stop. He cannot be stopped unless his victim proves entirely too much effort, for nor will he waste his energy on one whom fights to hard for life as he seeks to crush his jaws down upon whatever he may hold, seeking to puncture the soft flesh on the underside of his opponents jaw, to crush his skull, tear off his jaw, snap his neck, rip clean his head- it does not matter, he cannot be challenged and Beowulf has sealed his fate this day. Let them see a true Demon. Those emerald eyes show nothing, they remain blank, devoid, reptilian and free of emotion, staring blankly as his mind turns and coils within and a snarl is ripped free of his ravaged throat, the children ignored, his attention moved and focused upon only the one who sought to so foolishly deny him as heckles raise once more and that thickened black tail lifts like his own personal banner of depravity, demanding submission, forcing it as lips peel back from gleaming fangs once more and a violet promise of death to come simmers within the blackness of his throat, that hulking dark frame twisting into a stance of dominance, demanding Beowulf yield less he desires to die before his children this day as Tobias moves forward once more, seeking to press him back, demanding he yield and perhaps- save his life.