[@Letter Bee]

The Blade that Ends Misery would appear in your hand with your mere will, hardly a thought or a movement required, but it would be different than before. It was an instinct, but one that required practice, and the sword did not appear the same. It was both more and less real than before, it's weight corporeal where there was none, it's shape smaller and more solid, with a less archaic design. Through it you would sense Hope like a diving rod, filling the minds of childre  nearby who could greet a new day, and the freed cultists, who's Only purpose now was service to that which would give them new life, Hope.
[i]
Mik-I-el[/i], the voice would sound in your head, not yet familiar, but still calm and warming, and a rapping would issue at the door, a clear of the throat, and you would here the same voice with a stranger, reaper depth, though still not quite one that belonged to a physical set of vocal cords, more like a clear speaker. "May I come in, Squire? There is much to speak of."

Once Mikhail had undoubtedly allowed him entry, Hope would stride in. He would look strange, as if he were a holograph of a man, not quite there, blue splotches of shadowy color sometimes moving over him. He would be a tall, broad, long-haired blonde man, in a very nice business suit. 

Quietly he would shut the door behind him and stride to the couch, where he would sit quite soft and primly next to you. Being near hear fills you with the same energy as before, his presence calm and serene, and already he seems like a simple, but great man, who speaks and acts gently, but posses a force within him the world could not quiet when unleashed.

"Mikhail, Squire- the Peacemaker, we have much to discuss. I know that you have many questions, and you may ask them. I will answer to the best of my ability." He would say to you with a serene smile.