A beam shifted, and the well-muscled Thomas pushed his way out of the debris of the inn. Smoke and cinders were all around him, but thanks to the spell that the halfling had placed on him the fire was not touching him. Had Thomas been on the top floor when the first explosion hit, he probably would have died even with this protection spell, so hot had that been. But for now he was alive.
He began to help throw buckets of water onto fires. For once no one gave him grief about his eyestalk.
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