That all-clar screech from Gwyntaan was a lifesaver for Tesla—those rats were starting to clump up, but that dragon had managed to herd them towards a larger group—they were clustering well around a semi-circle of nests, some feasting on their fallen brood members, some fighting with one another, some  vying for the top spot to have a midnight snack on a little dragon or captain. The disgraced airship captain grinned, although it was not visible under the mask he normally wore. He tossed the grenade with a passion, and it landed exactly the way he would have wanted it to.<br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">BOOM</span></strong>...<em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">hisssss</span></em>.<br/><br/>The steam erupted out and sent dirt, rats, rocks, and gleaming cacti flying...which was a good thing, because Tesla could see that the roots of the plants were moving and writhing like enormous tentacled vines, the steam wilting them and making the glowing tendrils sink back down. He could swear he almost heard a plaintive humming from the plants, as if they were unhappy. All Tesla knew was that this world was apparently a hell-hole. It certainly didn't carry a torch compared to home, to the big cities and civilized nations he was used to.<br/><br/>He shot a good many of the stunned rats, and he fumbled about and pulled a few more of the steam grenades out to toss in the rat nests—the sheer heat from the chemical reactions in the grenade would probably finish solving this rat problem...although he wasn't so sure about these funky green plants. He whooped triumphantly as he lobbed those last grenades out, and he saw an opening to dive out of the main swarm of the rats to a safer distance.