The right flank of the southern valley was unrecognizable. The jagged volcanic rock was entirely melted. A massive lake of bubbling, glowing orange magma covered the ground. Standing perfectly in the center of the liquid rock was Ignar, The Raging Fire.
The Warlord did not look like a traditional demon. He had no thick iron scales, no massive horns, and no bat-like wings. He was a towering, ten-foot tall humanoid silhouette constructed out of rigidly shifting, roaring dark red fire. He was a walking, breathing nuclear bomb.
"My turn," Daemon Sylphyros grinned fiercely.
