“But picture this!”  Nisk Tanner swept his arm through the air,
fingers splayed, as if setting a scene.  “The guard arrives at Fatman’s to
quell a disturbance of the peace.  Not an unusual situation, am I wrong?”
Cato nodded agreeably.  “As I thought.  Yes, well, two large ruffians are
pummeling each other with the gusto that such ruffians exhibit when they have
imbibed too much alcohol.   Now, they could pull them apart, and maybe get a
fist in the eye for their troubles.  OR,” Nisk proclaimed at high volume and
with much excitement, “they could throw THIS!!”  He held up the bag as if it
were the culmination of months of questing.  “Just hit them in the head with
THIS, it explodes in a cloud of powder, they breathe it in, and BAM!!”  The
alchemist slammed his foot into the floor for emphasis.  “They’re both out
cold!”