As Ifrit made his way deeper into the forest, claws tearing trees from the path with a brutal savagery, he came crashing to a stop as he rammed into a much larger and sturdier tree, towering high above the canopy. With a growl, he looked up at the tree, a hunger for death in his eyes before he realized that the tree could feel no pain. Still, the mass of bark and leaves would make itself useful to him. With a rather unsurprising lack of agility, Ifrit dug his claws into the tree as he clambered up the side. As his claws scrabbled for a grip upon the rough bark, he peered out over the trees. Though very little could be seen out of the ordinary, he managed to see a small clearing.
Certainly, if there were to be war patrols nearby, he would find them at this clearing. Though a sneak attack would certainly benefit Ifrit, his massive stature and tendency to produce smoke removed that option. Surely, as he neared the clearing, any inside would know of his presence. Hopefully, they would stand their ground like good little morsels, rather than fleeing. But then, it was always much more fun to chase them down.
With an unearthly roar, Ifrit began slowly walking towards the clearing, his speed slowly increasing to a gallop. Trees splintered beneath his obsidian claws, making a rumbling noise echo all around the small clearing. Before he burst through the final line of trees, he paused, lowering his torso to the ground, ready to pounce. He let a silence fall over the forest, as smoke began to settle over the surrounding area, greatly lowering the visibility for all but Ifrit, a beast born into the harsh embrace of the smoke and smog.
Releasing yet another roar of monstrous proportion, Ifrit sprung forward, his massive hind legs propelling him up over the small line of trees. As he crashed down, he spun in a quick circle, his tail knocking down yet more of the trees in its wild flailing. Ifrit's amethyst eyes pierced through the smoke, allowing him to see a few figures silhouetted, wading through the heavy smoke with their weapons drawn. The scent of sweat and fear ran heavy through the air, mingling with the smoke to make a malady of smell to fill Ifrit's nose with pleasure. With a quick lunge, Ifrit closed his jaws around around the head of the first victim, making good use of the chaos that he had brought with him.
Ifrit swallowed, banishing the severed head to rest within the smoke filled cavern of a stomach deep within his Ifrit's flesh. He turned slowly to the next, disappointed that there were only four left to dispatch of. He lashed out to feast upon the closest man, his teeth sinking deep into the flesh, tearing away more body mass than he had hoped for. A sharp pain blossomed from his neck as a brave spearman managed to stab his weapon in between the hard obsidian shards that protected him from blunt attacks. Though nothing vital was pierced, an oily fluid began freely leaking out of the wound, clearly accompanied by pain.
A shriller roar was loosed from his throat, his glare turning to the man, who quickly cowered in fear. A quick swipe of the claw ripped a jagged tear through the mans flesh, spilling blood and organs across the once pure forest floor. Two men left- both armed with swords and small bucklers. Surely they could've made this a challenge? Not even a single spellcaster, nor a magically enhanced soldier. Still, given time, they would be forced to send stronger troops, in larger numbers. Shaige was a strong leader, one with great magical prowess, and he warranted a greater bounty.
For now, Ifrit would be content with dispatching of these smaller scraps. With little thought, he stepped forward, pinning one swordsman down. He shifted his weight to that foot, crushing the man. The crack of brittle bones filled the air, breaking the short silence. The lone scout screamed in terror, staring death itself in the face. Ifrit chuckled as he advanced slowly, flashing his razor sharp teeth, stained with blood. With a bloodcurdling screech, a jet of smog was blasted into the mans terrified face, choking him. Clearly surprised, the swordsman stumbled, dropping his weapons to cover his eyes. With the man thoroughly distracted, he brought down his claws with brutal force, just clipping the mans knees enough to cripple him. Though most smoke rises, Ifrit's magical smoke was heavier, clinging to the ground. When the swordsman fell, no longer able to make use of his legs, he quickly realized that he had been sentenced to a slow death, inhaling the deadly smog.
Proud of his work, Ifrit took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of the death and destruction he had spread. However, hidden deep beneath the scent of blood, he caught a whiff of something that he didn't like one bit. Someone was still alive. Head quickly twisting from side to side, he inhaled in small short breaths through his nose, the scent slowly becoming clearer as he took slow steps, nearing the source. He had hoped that this wouldn't happen. He could only imagine how he would be punished if any escaped on his watch. Ifrit looked around furtively. More smoke fumed from his pores as he got more frustrated with this game of cat and mouse. Despite his power, and how proud he was of it, a doubt lingered in the back of his mind that he might disappoint his master.
Having a freshly delivered pile of corpses from Stamrad, Viktor got to work, but was surprised to see that Stamrad had taken some alive, as prisoners. Without a thought, he turned them into Husks, removing their free will and ability to disobey orders. Though truly unnecessary, it would speed up his progress greatly. Thanks to his literal connection to the dungeon, he was able to keep track of, and speak with anyone in his dominion with ease. Speaking with the Husks as he worked away, creating more Broken Beasts, he ordered them to begin digging out the floor beneath him, to create a rather intimidating pit, as well as mine for minerals. By his design, a narrow path was to be left, leading to his worktable, as well as a pedestal for the glowing red rock to rest upon. He would prefer to keep it where he could work with it, and test it's capabilities without having to move it back and forth. Though he had not yet tried, he had a feeling the destructive aura of the foreign object would make it very difficult to move.
Viktor took a brief look down at his work, metal arms whirring as they quickly worked. Thanks to the corruption of the blueprint, he would be unable to restore his Broken Beasts to their former glory, but these weaker creatures were still rather valuable in battle, with all of their capabilities that had survived. So, he crafted quickly the sad creatures shrieking at their hideous bodies as he imbued them with life. After churning out about fifteen of these, he took two of the Husks, and had them leave to continue the work, and to not stop until they had another ten, at the least.
He then turned his attention to the destruction of his beautiful fort caused by the destructive rock. Though the angle had made the destruction centered in the ceiling, which shouldn't cause many problems, it had ruined the structural integrity of one wall, which would need repairs. He sent off four of the remaining seven to work on that, but ordering them to rebuild the wall anew, and deliver the old bricks to him, for his work. Already, his mind was working, clockwork gears quite literally turning as he began plotting a nefarious plot to prevent attacks from more onslaughts of magic, as his army would encounter great problems in this aspect of war.
"Weaklings, relying on magic to kill their enemies. True might needs not such theatrics." Viktor muttered to himself, before beginning his work.
3rd Construct: 0/3
Wall Repairs: 0/5
First Level of Oubliette: 0/8
Location: His Dungeon, North-West of Altearx
Dungeon: A small stone castle, armed with a summoning room, barracks, Heart, and prison.
Minions: 2 Imps, 9 Humanoid husks, 31 Ogres, 76 Skeletons, 101 Minotaurs, 5 Walking Ballistae, 26 Broken Beasts, Stamrad, and The Patchwork Man
Resources: Seemingly endless supply of stone, large amounts of steel. The village was equipped with a couple of farms which feed the army. He has a large pile of assorted organs, bones, and other various body parts, as well as exactly 76 skulls.