Snippet #2710901

Alam carefully rebalanced and took in what he had done to the library. The lava, even with their attempts to put it out, had managed to gut a good chunk of the building, and what was left was burning beautifully. That many books would require a much more directed stream to put them out than slinging water about haphazardly. While taking over the school would have been nice, it was low priority in the grand scheme of things. Still, the library destroyed would make it difficult for the mages to learn here, and he was reasonably certain no one had died. That would please Matu, when she heard the news. She always did care about the lives of those less than her.

The clay mixture was inconvenient, but it was the work of a thought and magic to be standing on top of it, anchored to the more solid ground underneath. Bored of these two defenders, he ended it. Unfortunately, Matu was sure to be disappointed with him for this one, but they had attacked him, after all, and that certainly changed the rules of engagement.

He held up his hand to his lip, formed a loose ‘o’ with his fingers and breathed. A billowing yellow-brown cloud flowed from his hand, heavy in his magic, held down by his will, unmoving in the wind. It smelled of mustard, perhaps with a hint of horseradish, and it flowed over the battlefield, forming a dense cloud easily seven feet high, and 40 feet wide. Those exposed to it would find it hard to breath as blisters would rapidly form in their lungs, the beginnings of them on their skin making movement painful within minutes. The blisters in the lungs though would take all of thirty seconds to take effect.

It was a deadly attack, that lingered, causing chemical burns hours after it’s victims assumed they had washed it away. He had heard of a modern version of his attack, or more modern at least. They called it Mustard Gas, a cute term for an ancient, yet once forgotten attack.