Two Pyrrans were rolling out drums of napalm with reckless disregard for their own safety.
Clenching the gun in his teeth, the Pyrran clutched a barrel of napalm with his good hand and hurled it over on its side.
The napalm caught, tongues of flame and roiling, greasy smoke climbed up to the sky.
Burning wax was hotter than melted lead, and it stuck to anything it touched, worse than napalm.
The napalm drums were unloaded without his help and the truck vanished for more.