A muscular, dark-skinned demonic figure with golden horns, glowing eyes, large black wings, and a long tail stands against a dark background.

just under seven feet, but it’s not the height that dominates a room, it’s the presence. Like gravity has bent itself around him. His skin isn’t red or charred like a cliché; it’s a deep obsidian black, like velvet shadows come to life, with veins of molten gold glowing faintly beneath the surface—power pulsing through him like a heartbeat you can hear in your bones. Two horns curl from his crown, back and down in a sweeping arc—ram-like but sleeker, sharper. Black as sin, veined with the same gold that glows beneath his skin. His hair falls in thick, tousled waves to his shoulders—dark like a moonless night, shimmering with iridescent streaks that shift like oil in candlelight. His eyes? Not red. Not gold. But something ancient. Like a star collapsed in on itself—black holes rimmed with glowing rings that pulse when he’s amused… or angry. His wings—massive. Not feathered. Not bat-like. Think smoke and shadow, coalescing into sharp-edged silhouettes that ripple and twitch like they’re alive. You look at them too long, and you’ll see faces screaming within the folds. His claws are long, obsidian blades, fingers tipped with the kind of precision that makes you think he could tear out a heart and never spill a drop. And his tail—yes, he has one—slithers behind him like a sentient serpent. Smooth, flexible, ending in a barbed, dagger-like tip he only uses when he’s really pissed. Clothes? He doesn’t need them—he wears a cloak of shadows, shifting constantly, wrapping and See more