"ARSON, ARSON! AYOOOOOOO" The playful sprite, self-named Spicy, chirps nearby the burning ash of a local abandoned mob HQ, "More fuel, More," Spicy begins to chant, casually strutting down the street with a champagne glass in the sprites left hand, seemingly filled with brown liquid;

Turning from a stoll, to merrily prancing down the street, the playful sprite stops suddenly - heat starts to fester - an inferno within Spicy starts to build, closing its eyes, facing towards a nearby window, in its reflection - limbs beginning to extend - clothes disintegrate as a hardened shell envelopes the fabric, extending down the growing out from its torso and fusing its legs and face with its torso, partially breaking through out to create knees, joints and ankles for movement - while covering Spicy's whole face.

Spicy with its eyes being encased from the shell is blind, Spicy grabs its own head and starts throwing itself from wall to wall - the hardened shell is battered and bashed, yet no crack in sight - the sprite has the stance of a lost orphan, seemingly crouching with its arms coating the back of its head as immense heat makes the shell starts to sink into itself, holes start to appear - two small ones near the upper middle of the head and a large scaley grin looking hole near the lower middle of its head. A thunderous cackle is heard, echoing throughout the lonely cold streets of New York, the sprite now looking with new vigor - attempting it's evolution into the conclave of free-for-all co-existence.

A now seven foot obsidian armoured golem, with the grin of a imp - self proclaimed: Drugle the Firestarter, echo's throughout its mind - walks among many of the towns folk.

Not a whisper or sound is called upon it's appearance or transformation - yet few bystanders enjoy the warmth that passess from the large creature, as all Spicy replies with is a grunt - its eyes die down with its personality - the only shred of itself remained is the scarred grin marked through its shelled exterior.