#baronyofthesilverwolf

Briar gives the stump a little kick.

Thistle crouches to look it over. Is it dead and dry? Dead and soggy?

Dead and mostly dry, half rotted - that explains why pulling it out didn't work, it was more likely to crumble then pull out like a nice hard chunk of wood.

"Yeah, not sure if rot will burn. Maybe if the dry part catches?"

"Hey, what if we soak it with gas? I can siphon some from the trucks..."

"Nah. Flamethrower."

"Yeah!" Briar squats right next to the stump. "Let'r rip! I wanna see it work."

"Cool, c'mon back here so you can see it work."

"I can see better from here..." She argues. but begrudgingly takes a few steps back.

"If it works on this, I wanna try it on a side of hanging venison..."

"To cook'm? Maybe. But see, standing.. uh.. there, you can see how the thing works AND see the stump both at once." She points at a spot that should be a safe distance from said stump.

A grunt, and she moves. If this HAD been meat as the focus, it's unlikely she could have been convinced, but stump is stump.

A few last minute futzes and....

FWOOM.

The principle is simple enough - hairspray, lighter, fireball.

Most of the engineering is to keep the explosion an armslength away from the nocker's flammable self. Marigold's grabber sets off a pulley system of paperclips and twist-ties to activate the lighter and then depress the aerosol.

A blast of sudden hot flame spits out and engulfs a portion of the stump! Aimed at the driest part, the aerosol fueled flame licks over it and singes it black...

It doesn't CATCH on fire, though, other than a few shredded bits of bark that spit and sizzle, turning red-bright for a moment before fading.

"Seared but not cooked. Needs more gas?" Briar suggests. "That's okay by me, I like things RARE. Sometimes still wigglin!"

"But it made an awesome fireball!"

"It did!" Had Briar stayed closer, she'd likely be fine, but perhaps missing eyebrows.

"Might need to set something up to burn that stump. Probably less fun, though."

"What if... OH OH! It won't burn... but we could blast it out?!"

"There's LOTS of chemicals around. You can make a boom I bet!"

A pause, and she tries a tactic. " Wanna get a hank of venison and put it on the stump?'

"Yeah!!" She scrambles off! Thistle is given a bit of time to tinker...

Briar returns with two hunks of meat. One is dropped on the stump, and the second - she rips about half of it off in one bite and chews noisily.

Thistle looks mildly horrified, likely to Briar's amusement

"I gotchu one too."

CHOMP.

HIGH praise from the redcap.

"That's... wow. Thanks. So.."

"Char it up. Not everyone is tough enough for raw."

Licking her hands noisily. Slurp smack gulp.

FWOOM

Sputter sputter - is the hose clogged, or run out of hair spray? The nocker taps at it and then it SPITS out a final gout of flame, a small fireball that engulfs the meat - and singes Thistle's nailpolish on one hand - it's gone fast enough that it's just a shock of heat and not a burn, but there's a cool melty pattern in the polish now.

The meat sizzles! A char crust on the outside, still cold on the inside. Briar visibly salivates.

"*&@#%^&!!" She sucks on her hand.

Briar sniffs at her, and scoffs. "YOUR meat didn't cook. Walk it off."

When Thistle looks, it's actually a really cool effect. And she wasn't actually hurt.

Briar takes her distraction to take a chomp out of the meat. She coughs. "It tastes like chemicals." A second bite though, chewing thoughtfully.

"Well, there were furkin' chemicals."

"Listen, how bout you eat that - I got BookBinder to finish. Plus, I think this *&%^ is spent." She holds up the esrtwhile flamethrower.

"Want me to eat the evidence?" Eying the flamethrower curiously.

"No shit, I gotta see THAT."

"Gimme." Briar takes the device, turns it over and over in her hands a bit, then - there's a flicker of glamour spent! But she CHOMPS right down through the middle. The canister hisses and snaps, luckily it was empty, or it might have exploded in her face. CRUNCH CRUNCH, GULP.

She belches, and it smells like roadkill given an 80's hairdo.

"Holy *&^$%$&."

She tosses the 'leftovers' back to Thistle. "Here, keep the change."

"...Thanks?"

Another burp. "Don' mention it."