Then they burst instantly, rupturing into violent plumes of thick, gray-green smoke that swallowed the battlefield. The fumes rolled outward, enveloping the remaining goblins in a choking cloud.
Inside the haze, the enemy broke into coughing fits, their snarls cut short by gagging gasps.
They stumbled, clawing at their throats, their eyes streaming as they swung blindly, unable to tell friend from foe. The battlefield's din shifted from coordinated cries to chaos.
Dribb coughed once, grimacing, but the retreat had carried him far enough that only the edge of the odor reached him. His voice rasped, hoarse and heavy.
"What… is that?"
Flogga, still clutching her satchel of reserves, smirked despite the tension.
"Stink gas," she answered curtly. "Smells so bad you wish you couldn't breathe. Burns the eyes, scorches the lungs. Makes even the strong fight like children."
