“Nasty habit you have there,” Verne remarked as he winked his left eye, “could be the death of you.” The ember from the pipe burst into a bright torch of flame, rolling from the goblin’s hand to his arm. Bright yellow and orange flames spun around him and consumed the smoker where he stood. The fire leaped, dancing from one goblin to the next until all were flailing about on the ground in an effort to extinguish the flames.
Smoking kills...
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