General Danon B. Brie squinted up through the sweat and heat, his vision heavily blurred. Smoke filled his lungs, coaxing rough coughs out, shuddering his motionless body. He hadn't really understood how it had ended up like this- their army hadn't even suffered a dent from the last monster attack, and he had been told he need naught but sit back and let the spellcasters weaken the beast for them, before they could come in and sweep up the leftovers. But this- this did not happen like it should've. He could clearly remember the very moment it all went wrong.

His unit of troops had been exchanging idle conversation, spears hanging limp from relaxed arms. Though slightly more on guard, Brie still expected very little resistance from this 'monster'. He could go on for quite awhile listing off the fairy tale beasts that were supposed to be challenging, and ended up on someones mantlepiece. But when Ifrit's head rose up above the hillside, and smoke blotted out the sky, fear pierced his heart, as well as those of everyone else in the army. Happy spirits died down, as a solemn look passed over even the brave hearted spellcasters. As the smoke slowly rolled around the soldiers, chaos erupted.

Terrified, and unsure what to do, one lone soldier charged the beast, armed with naught more than a spear, and a seemingly massive amount of courage. This angry mosquito did naught but end his own life prematurely, and give the beast a reason to unleash it's full force. Within moments, no one could see through the smoke that rose from thin air, the smog alone bringing many to their knees. Cutting through the forest of blackness were long, flowing jets of flame, scalding the flesh of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast of searing flame. As General Brie stumbled blindly around, he himself could feel the heat, as the bright blasts billowed before him, briefly brightening the blistered faces of his battered battalion.

Even through this chaos, though, the spellcasters fought valiantly, their magic soon cutting through the smoke, to shudder the bony hide of Ifrit. Though the shots managed to slow the assault of fire, many missed, to fizzle uselessly on the hard packed dirt, sometimes hitting the armored foot soldiers. As the enslaught of arcane bolts continued, Ifrit trudged forward, taking the shots as his body shuddered and swayed. Each time a spell hit its mark through the smoke, the massive bony tail swept around, wishing to inflict some pain in penance for this sacrilage. How dare they harm the mighty Ifrit, scion of the Infernal king. 

A quick strike with the flaming tail was what floored Brie, and it didn't look like he would be getting up any time soon. Protruding from his chest was a splintered spear, impossible odds had thrown him onto this fateful spike, where he would surely take his last breaths. As the smoke began to clear around him, he could see more clealy those who had been rejected by fate as well. Scorched bodies littered the battlefield, others crushed beneath the massive bony toes of the creature. It seemed as though the spellcasters were not faring very well, not now that Ifrit was so close. Screams of pain echoed out from the smoke, some bodies being carelessly tossed aside, to crash on the ground with sickening thuds. Just before Brie slipped into the cold hands of death, he was able to through the now clearing smoke, that they had lost. The sun ran red with the blood shed tonight, another knife in their already dying dignity.

Ifrit let loose a mighty roar, proud of him having made short work of the army. However, beneath his blackened bones, the flames flickered, barely burning above an ember. He knew that he couldn't give up and show weakness now, a far larger part of the army lay in wait behind the city gates, watching. Though they were paralyzed with fear, Ifrit had very little energy to continue fighting. Indeed, Brother Ike had already weakened him with the magical mark- it was a miracle that he had survived this far. Yet before Ifrit could step to the gates of the city, he crashed to the ground, unable to stay up. Many of his bones splintered, as he looked up to the sky, hoping for some mercy, for his master to return and rejuvenate him, as he had done once, so long ago. Already he could see confused wizards popping their heads up, unsure of what to do, as fear still clouded their judgements, making them weak.