[b][u]Arsonist's Lullaby | Dojoville[/u][/b] [i]When I was a child, I heard voices Some would sing and some would scream You'll soon find you have few choices I learned the voices died with me[/i] The being walked through the carnage, and with it came fire. A devouring swathe of cobalt flames ravaged the earth it walked upon with scorching embers, reducing all it touched to ash. Grass was fossilized in cinder, earth was razed by fire; it was a walking apocalypse. No civilian was harmed by the devouring inferno - but on each side, both defending and attacking the Dojo, flames struck up their body and reduced them to pure ash that added to the firestorm following the figure. [i]When I was a child I'd sit for hours Staring into open flames Something in it had a power Could barely tear my eyes away[/i] It was tall, about 6'11. A being clad in pure armour, an old VINC exosuit with each armoured plate engraved with symbols that told the same story in a thousand tongues. Each symbol burnt brightly as if written in magma, coursing like a demon's lifeblood throughout each of the walking pyromaniac's armour plates A set of massive burning wings stretched from its back, each ashen feather burning intensely and adding more gales of flame to the storm. Two large arms extended from the figure's lower middle back - amalgamations of other arms, burnt to a black crisp but mashed together to create massive limbs. [i]All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach[/i] The walking manifestation of destruction held a blade in its hand. It was etched with the same symbols as its armour, each one glowing with a fiery blue hue. The spine was not of the same material as the blade - it was made of a polished human spine, broken in several places but part of the blade nonetheless. It was as if a self-contained inferno burned along its edge. In its other hand it held a grenade launcher with its stock removed, making it a more mobile weapon. Smoke and ash curled from the barrel as if it was a hungry dragon, waiting to be fed. On its shoulder was an M134 minigun that shot at any surviving warriors that his flames did not consume immediately. A quick roar of the barrels was the herald of their demise. [i]Don't you ever tame your demons[/i] It finally looked up. For those who were near, they would be able to hear a single voice from within begging the walking armour to stop. From each tongue of flame, they would hear the scornful whispers of everything the fires have devoured. Its helmet has a single, blue optical at the centre of it like a twisted Cyclops, the bottom part of the armoured mask being that of a gas mask's. Within the circular visor-piece burned a single flame that reflected every ember that surrounded the figure. [i]But always keep them on a leash[/i] A flame that was the manifestation of exile, resentment, and the greatest love turned into the deepest of aberration. A flame full of hatred. [spoiler]Open to any side, attacker or defender. For those who remain. [/spoiler]