[There's a piercing smell, recognisable as burning hair and meat but with a distinctly metallic edge. Apparently, the answer for the Rats on the front line is that they don't survive long enough to feel much of anything. The luckier ones huddled behind them seem to lose their nerve; they disperse, a panicked mob rather than a unified wave, some of the more singed-looking stragglers trampled as the rest of the Rats scatter beneath the smoke. Within seconds, the ruins are as silent as they've ever been.
The smoke itself is another matter. Down here, in the depths of a cavern that may not have felt a real breeze in hundreds of years, it lingers, clinging to clothes and the omnipresent, choking damp. Nobody's going to be smelling anything useful for a long while unless they clear out of here fast.]
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The smoke itself is another matter. Down here, in the depths of a cavern that may not have felt a real breeze in hundreds of years, it lingers, clinging to clothes and the omnipresent, choking damp. Nobody's going to be smelling anything useful for a long while unless they clear out of here fast.]