[ WP ] `` I 'm on fire ? ''

There were ten of them, dressed like charred corpses or else smoking demons from the darkest reaches of the galaxy. 
 
 They wore ragged clothes of scorched leather and pitted armor plates, mud-stained puttees wrapped round their legs. Their helmets gave them the appearance of half-melted human skulls, the dark gaping grins lending a maddening aspect to their visage. Red rags were tied around their sleeves and legs, and hung from the slings of their demonic looking weapons, their color due to to being dipped in the blood of their foes. Saw backed blades lay sheathed in scabbards at their waists and tucked into their boots, fearsome looking things that only enhanced their reputation for mindless violence. On several of their backs were tanks of super-concentrated fuel, the means for giving their flamethrowers terrible life. Others carried rocket tubes or heavy demolition charges; weapons against any vehicle or emplacement they might come across. Their leader was dressed much like the rest of them, only the amount of trophies and the deadly looking Long Lance fusion blaster labeled him as the senior Pyro-Drake of their number. He pushed up his helmet at the sight of their pilot descending down the small staircase into the hold. 
 
 `` Should n't you be flying this thing?'' Asked Verien Oshen of the Molten Anger Monastery, his helm pushed up to reveal scarred flesh. 
 
 Tomess Ghast smiled from beneath the pilot's helmet he wore, dark green with the Alliance Starbird in yellow. 
 
 `` I'm letting Lieutenant Nay'tu try her hand at the controls.'' 
 
 The burned Pyro-Drake raised a brow, the actually hair long scorched away. 
 
 `` You're letting the lass fly the *Red Wake? * Either you've gone soft over the years or else you've truly lost your mind. I though you said you'd never let a single man touch her.'' 
 
 `` Emphasis on *man, * Ver. She's a female, and a Bothan to boot. But forget what a drunk man once said during a Thirsty Taungsday. You ready?'' 
 
 The senior Pyro-Drake laughed, an antithesis of the stench of burnt meat about him. 
 
 `` Does an arsonist like matches? Of course, say the word and it'll be on fire, have no fear.'' 
 
 The white haired pilot smiled at his fellow Ord Ivrishman. 
 
 `` Good. You know the drill, burn th-'' 
 
 `` Burn that which resist, spare those who do not. Relax, Ghast. This is n't my first barbecue you know.'' He pointed at a blackened piece of an AT-AT to make his point 
 
 `` Fair enough, we'll be over the drop point in twenty minutes. Your boys and girls know how the drop-packs work?'' 
 
 The Pryo-Drake scoffed at the khern turned Rebel and motioned over his nine warriors who laughed at unheard jokes or else talked quietly. 
 
 `` We'll be fine, Ghast, have no fears. We may na' be Death-Falcons, but I dare say we'll reach the ground in one piece, just do n't crash us with that cat o' yours at the helm,'cause once we'd be reborn in metal, I'd thrash your tin ass until oblivion.'' 
 
 Commander Tomess Ghast laughed at that and clenched the forearm of his friend and comrade. 
 
 `` Die well.'' 
 
 Verien Oshen returned the handshake. 
 
 `` As should you.''
