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Torrens watched as the rabbit jumped up the walls and used, ironically, height to his advantage, traversing the alleyway above the reach of the flamethrower, covering his final approach with smoke bombs and then swiftly dispatching the dwarves. Torrens had already started walking up the alleyway even before the flamethrower had stopped, and as the smoke cleared Torrens gave a curt applause. "Bravo. Well done indeed. The Master will likely be pleased to have a fighter of your skill on our side. I'm Torrens, by the way."
As Torrens emerged, he noticed a contingent of dwarf soldiers heading their way, obviously coming to try and cover the breach in their defenses. Torrens glanced down at the flamethrower strapped to the now-dead dwarf and had an idea. "Stand clear. I've got this one."
The flamethrower had a metal tank of oil worn on the back of the dwarf, with a pump which could feed the oil through a pipe and out the end of the flamethrower, where it would be ignited by a small pilot light. This tank was Torrens' point of focus. As quickly as he could Torrens removed the flamethrower from the corpse. Finding it rather heavy and unwieldy to lift too high off the ground, Torrens lay it on the ground. He rolled it so it was pointing at the incoming dwarves, unscrewed the cap on the top which was used for refilling the tank, then shoved his incandescent fist into the tank full of oil.
Instantly the oil which came near his hand vaporised, and any oil or oil vapours in contact with the air immediately combusted, raised well above its flash point. This expanding fireball had nowhere to go but out through the single opening, so a roaring jet of flame erupted at Torrens. As a consequence of simple physics, the tank of burning oil shot out in the opposite direction, straight at the dwarves like a rocket. Unlike a rocket, however, the flamethrower was completely unaerodynamic and unbalanced, so instead of gracefully flying into them it instead tumbled and span, throwing burning oil across the street and over the dwarves.
Torrens laughed at the success of his cunning and the damage it had wrought. Torrens hurried into the crowd and inhaled deeply, causing the flames burning the dwarves and from what remained of the oil to flare into unnatural intensity as Torrens fed off their heat. As he feasted, however, the survivors- those lucky enough to avoid catching on fire or those who had splintered off from the group before Torrens entered- made their escape around a corner and deeper into the outpost. Torrens didn't care about their escape, though. They could be dealt with later, or by someone else.
As Torrens emerged, he noticed a contingent of dwarf soldiers heading their way, obviously coming to try and cover the breach in their defenses. Torrens glanced down at the flamethrower strapped to the now-dead dwarf and had an idea. "Stand clear. I've got this one."
The flamethrower had a metal tank of oil worn on the back of the dwarf, with a pump which could feed the oil through a pipe and out the end of the flamethrower, where it would be ignited by a small pilot light. This tank was Torrens' point of focus. As quickly as he could Torrens removed the flamethrower from the corpse. Finding it rather heavy and unwieldy to lift too high off the ground, Torrens lay it on the ground. He rolled it so it was pointing at the incoming dwarves, unscrewed the cap on the top which was used for refilling the tank, then shoved his incandescent fist into the tank full of oil.
Instantly the oil which came near his hand vaporised, and any oil or oil vapours in contact with the air immediately combusted, raised well above its flash point. This expanding fireball had nowhere to go but out through the single opening, so a roaring jet of flame erupted at Torrens. As a consequence of simple physics, the tank of burning oil shot out in the opposite direction, straight at the dwarves like a rocket. Unlike a rocket, however, the flamethrower was completely unaerodynamic and unbalanced, so instead of gracefully flying into them it instead tumbled and span, throwing burning oil across the street and over the dwarves.
Torrens laughed at the success of his cunning and the damage it had wrought. Torrens hurried into the crowd and inhaled deeply, causing the flames burning the dwarves and from what remained of the oil to flare into unnatural intensity as Torrens fed off their heat. As he feasted, however, the survivors- those lucky enough to avoid catching on fire or those who had splintered off from the group before Torrens entered- made their escape around a corner and deeper into the outpost. Torrens didn't care about their escape, though. They could be dealt with later, or by someone else.