The oaf was the first up the stairs, and got the ball of magic slush straight to the ugly mug. "Gold? You think of coin now? Your measely lives are forfeit, at the behest of a coward whose arm I took off in our first and only exchange, before he ran like a BITCH! Now your deaths will be slow and agonizing, and that is if I feel merciful! Your souls will be harvested to be broken down into..."<br/><br/>He ducked under a meaty hand trying to grab him, and bathed the oaf in flames. "EXCUSE YOU! I am TRYING to monologue here!"<br/><br/>touch attack [slush] 14 (+1)<br/>damage 12 (3d6 cold)<br/>flame breath 12 (dc16 ref, 40ft line, 3d6 fire)