It was beautiful, in a way. The shifting colors the blaze painted across the landscape. Unfortunately, Nathaniel did not have the time to appreciate it, however, focused as he was on avoiding being killed. He frantically worked the crank on the small device in his hands, flame surging from the brass nozzle in torrents. Yet another moblin roared in pain. The white-coated man was stifling panic. He knew there had been six when he was accosted, but he'd lost track of his kills. He'd been lucky so far, but the tank of his weapon was growing worryingly light, and he'd still have to deal with the fire if he survived. "Back, beasts!" He roared with false bravado. "I can do this all day!" He lied.