Gildentongue shouted something in a tongue that Toede did not recognize, but that the hobgoblin assumed was a curse. The draconian dropped to his knees, attempting to roll the fires out, but instead succeeded only in picking up more oil to feed the flames.

"It’s almost beautiful," said Groag, watching the aurak’s agony.

"Beautiful like a dagger in the dark," said Toede, grabbing his companion. "We have to get out of here before…"

Groag was transfixed. "Ooooh, the fires are turning green."

Toede cursed loudly. "That means Gildentongue just died."

Groag smiled. "So he’s dead."

Toede nodded. "So now he’s really steamed."

Groag looked down and saw that the burning form of Gildentongue was rising from the ground in a parody of its former self. Its head had already been charred to a blackened skull, wrapped in pale tongues of green fire. The beast began shambling up the right-hand stairs, leaving a scorch mark in its passing.

It croaked a single word from its useless throat: "Toede."