Stepping up next to the warforged with an uncertain look on his face, the elf slings his bow as he pushes up his sleeves a bit. "So much for sewer gases... I didn't come down here to be eaten alive by this host of walking teeth. I don't suppose anyone brought any flasks of oil with them into this dank dark hole in the ground?" Thalmarose reaches into a pouch and draws out a pinch of something or other that he spreads over his hands and waits as the clacking carpet approaches.
OOC-Ready action to cast burning hands, until he gets as many as possible in the area of effect.