Book One, Chapter Two, Post Two

Even as fire bursts to life on the other end of the table and the air fills with panic and confusion, Flynn is on his feet.  As his head whips around to search for additional threats, he lifts his chair and smashes it down, trying to break free some sort of weapon.  A chair leg cracks and comes free in his hand. He believes it will do well enough as a club.

Del stands, bites her lip, looking at the waiter that Tyrects has in his grip. She grasps her malachite fox pendant with one hand and raises the other. An blue beam of light hurtles toward the waiter and strikes into the man’s limp form, boring a hole in his head.

Most of the guests didn’t even see what happened, it happened so quickly.  The flames lick higher on the walls, threatening to catch the structure itself.

Quiberron attempts to leap over the flames to get to the kitchen; instead, he slips on the blood from Roland's wound and goes falling head first into the fire.  The heat bites at his skin and lights his clothes.

Sabal also goes running for the kitchen. He manages to jump over the flames and slam open the door, only to immediately be faced with a hulk of a man--perhaps an ogre by the sheer size of its body and distortion of its facial features. The humanoid blocks the exit, pressing into the room. The ogre pulls a club through the doorway with him as he stoops under the frame and squeezes his shoulders in.  In a heavy whir of motion, the beastly man swings his weapon and slams it into the Pale Elf, Sabal’s, side, almost winding him.