Razormane raises his sword again, aiming for another massive strike... and the gout of flame punches through his armor and chest as if they were made of paper. The gnoll is dead before he can even make a sound, and crumples to the floor with a series of clatters and clangs as his sword falls atop his scale male.<br/><br/>Now that you have a moment, you are better able to look around the room, and see a small chest beside what appears to be three feather mattresses all tossed atop one another. Beside that, you see a pile of loot, ranging from copper wristbands to gold rings, and bottle upon bottle of that heavy Mite liquor. Apparently, it's good to be da king...<br/><br/>