Ferix opened his jaw and let loose another torrent of flame, the yellow pegasus galloping out of the way as the surge followed after her. He was laughing, mostly at how all this was almost too easy. The sphinx had already fled, helped out of the arena by an orange mare who had lifted the injured creature out. The deer he had already thrown to the flames. Now all that was left was this yellow pegasus with her singed wing with no help from the griffons above. The sky was choked with smoke. A few crossbow bolts pierced the roiling darkness, impacting the ground around the dragon. One even glanced off of his breastplate, but otherwise none hit their mark, and none of the spear griffons dared to dive in to attack, his occasional random blasts of fire keeping them at bay. Little miss Masquerade down there was on her lonesome, and he was just about done backing her into a corner.