This thread is a blight upon the fair citadel of Strolen, and must be purged!
*Collects the nearest flammable device - namely the grog-saturated captainpenguin, and clicks his fingers together repetitively, as though attempting to ignite an empty cigarette lighter* Darned, rotten... Goodfornothing... Ah! *A weak flickering of flames abruptly bursts from between Shadoweagles fingers and dances on the tip of his index. Shadoweagle lowers his finger down to stroke against the feathers of the captain, a maniacal glint reflecting from his eye*