The sparks take effect on the cider vat, and the green fog vanishes, replaced by the steady flame of burning alcohol, gnomad frowns. "Well that's a bit of a waste, but I did warn no sparks..reminds me, I meant to keep back a bit of that grappa for lighting the primus stove..still waste not, want not."

He approaches the sword-wielding barbecuist "Would you like to take over this here fire-pot? You will be able to cook a lot of sausages, and can drink the fuel if you're careful. What is that thing anyway, some kind of black pudding?"