Centaur or Ethereal Horse Monster

The Beast trod the ash planes; drank of the brimstone lakes and fed on the fire spewing from within the mountains. Long ago it had been one of many - a lick of crimson fire within a raging inferno. Now it was of a dying breed, an ember pettering out among those most stubborn of ebony coals.

It had been decades since men had dared wander into its territory, the land itself was poison to them, longer still since there had been those foolish enough to try and tame them. In days long past many had tried, as a stead of fire showed strength greater than even a crown of gold - Few were successful. They would be ridden down into the sulfur muds or scorched by the thundering heat of their bodies. However these men were different.

They rode within a beast of their own; Steel bodied. It churned through the ash like a shark through water and roared like a vengeful storm.

For a full day they danced across the wastes; taking turns to try to run the other down. A hunt across the worst the land could muster.

Eventually, with deep ragged breaths of blue flame the Beast tired and slowed.

Men leapt from the steel mount; clouds of grey ash swept up and clung to their sweated brows. The Beast roared and snapped darling to stamp out any life that dared approach.

Nets of spun copper swept through the air dragging into the beast’s fiery skin. The beast made to run, but the steel stead took hold of this new reigns. It dug into the earth and dragged its beast back down to the earth.

As it struggled there, still, in the ash of its home, the creature wondered which of these men would become its master. Would it be the brave one who approached it with bit and bridle? The strong one who held it still within copper bondadge? Or the skilled one within the steel beast who had guided them all towards this capture.

For days the beast was led; from ashen wastes to stoney shores. From hovels of dirt to fortresses of stone. In these days it bucked and stomped; flared at the slightest provocation but it could not escape. None dared to ride the Beast, and it wondered who was master to these men, both capable of capturing and holding one such as it.

Finally brought before a throne of polished silver, the beast had its answer. A sickly old man hobbled from his chair and peered with glassy eyes at his prize. The Beast knew that it would delight in the searing of his flesh; but with a flick of the man's wrist; the men left him away.

A sealed box of copper waited, vented to the outside air by thin tubes and immersed in water. The beast could not comprehend its new home but it is known to be a method of heating water. A proud beast when tamed, burns an even and tempered peel.

The beast would have to bide its time.