radio414

Chris didn’t see whatever had caused the giant to stumble to its knees again, but he sure did hear it and he sure did feel it. It was a minor miracle that he managed to hang on to his sword through all of that, though, of course, since he could, so could the thing chasing him up the monster’s back. “Fine,” Chris muttered, “since you want to be like that…” He got to his feet, grabbed his sword, and started running -- away from the crawler, this time. Stabbing this stupid crawler wasn’t going to be enough. That much had been demonstrated to him so far. But there were other ways to use a sword besides running something through and then continuing to run afterwards. He just needed the right spot to use it. The spot Chris chose to make his stand was in the middle of the monster’s neck. As far as he could tell, it was the thinnest part of the body -- unless he wanted to climb to the thing’s wrists, but there was no way he was going to get the solid footing he needed out there. The possibility of the neck twisting was risky enough, even with the monster stunned. Chris turned around, planted his feet, raised his sword, and waited for the crawling monster to catch up with him. The moment the crawler was in range, Chris swung his sword into the side of its head. But he wasn’t trying to slash it -- he’d already seen how that didn’t work out -- he was trying to use the flat of his blade like a club, and whack the thing off the larger monster entirely. It was a task that took all his concentration, which made it all the more disappointing when it didn’t work. Or, well, it worked in that he hit the thing. That was technically the important part, but the crawler remained stubbornly attached to the bigger monster. Back on the good news front, he had stunned it, though it recovered more quickly than Chris would like. He managed to get another swing in, but that one also didn’t manage to separate the crawler from its larger kin. The second swing didn’t even phase it as much, and it reached out to grab Chris again. Chris had seen enough, though. He was already running again, further up the huge monster, up to its head, both to avoid the crawler and to find the best place to plunge his sword in. He picked out a spot at the base of the skull, leaped as high as he could, and drove his sword into the monster.

[…]he said, “Listen to my words: “When there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams. -Numbers 12:6 (NIV)Melissa didn’t realize exactly when she had fallen asleep, but she could recognize a dream when she saw one. This one was a swimming sort of dream, a vast ocean of blue, light diffusing in the water but still giving everything a soft, cool glow. Zadkiel and Sandalphon giving off light of their own certainly helped, too, though Melissa was pretty sure that even if the ocean were pitch black, she would still, somehow, know where everything was. A school of fish swam by underneath her, species Melissa had only seen in books or an aquarium… or perhaps her subconscious had just made something up -- a simulacrum of aquatic wildlife, or something. She didn’t twist around to face either of the angels, she just kept watching the fish for a while, before finally she asked, “Did you do something to me?” After a moment’s silence, one responded, Aside from joining ourselves to you, you mean? A fair question, Melissa thought, though annoyingly glib in that way that they often were with her. She knew why they were like this. If she pressed them on it, they would say something like, “We would not mean to presume,” and that would be the end of that line of questioning. Part of her wondered if they were taking advantage of her nature, but, then again, that was what she actually wanted to ask about. “I mean, I notice I’m holding my own more. I’ve done things and had conversations that I would have shrunk from in the past. I don’t think I fully noticed what had changed until today, what with the amusement park. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of that before. It still wasn’t great, but…” That was the end of that sentence, it seemed. “…anyway, I wanted to ask. It’s not even a problem, I guess, as long as I know about-” We have noticed this as well. It is part of the reason we have not further updated you on your biometric spikes -- they are simply less prevalent. To answer your question more directly: no, this is not our doing. “Oh,” Melissa said. She hadn’t really been expecting that answer, but she supposed she had no reason to disbelieve it. She floated along a little further, catching a current that pulled her deeper into the water. She could have fought it, but it felt like this was where she wanted to be anyway. We do have a theory, however. Would you like to hear it? This question was a bit less fair, Melissa decided. Even if she said no, her actual answer would eventually become yes anyway. Just by having the statement linger in the water, they had prompted her assent. Thankfully, she was trusting enough of her guests (not to mention curious enough) to nod her head yes. What is happening, Melissa, is a confluence of factors, some of which we believe were already coming into place before we even encountered each other, although suddenly finding yourself in a new location sans the weight of one’s reputation would certainly help. In fact, your new, assigned reputation as a Guardian of Prana is something you perceive as an authority. With our introduction and comingling, you even have the ability to back up this new reputation. Should a situation escalate, you have demonstrated your willingness to call forth our avatars, a notion that remains even in moments where we are proven unnecessary. “Well, now hold on,” Melissa said. “It sounds like I’m implicitly threatening people into being nice to me.” Perhaps that is how Guardians are perceived by the general populace, the voices said, but they were quick to follow it up with, however, that is not how you have operated in practice. For a better example, consider the reporter, or that photographer. In both cases, you found yourself overwhelmed, and allowed us to step in and assist you. Neither interaction was violent, nor was there ever the implication of violence. If you treated us as weapons, perhaps it would be more true, but you seem to treat us as confidants. Is that a fair assessment, Melissa? She supposed so. Wasn’t that what she was doing right now? Melissa had even looked forward to this meeting even before Kasayee had slung her over her shoulder and marched back home. Put more simply, you have made some close friends, and that has measurably improved your mental health. So perhaps our answer is yes, we have “done something to you,” although not in the sense that you mean. “I see,” Melissa said. But she caught something in there that finally got her to turn around and face the angels. “Wait, are you calling me your friend?” Melissa, wake up -- you are about to fall off of the couch! And before Melissa could even react, her body jerked and her eyes snapped open, just catching herself before total disaster. Bartleby, somehow, remained asleep cuddled next to her, still off in his own dreamland. The voices hadn’t actually answered the question, and she could have called them on that if she wanted -- it wasn’t like dreams were the only times she could talk with them -- but she supposed she already knew the answer. Melissa sighed and scritched Bartleby’s neck, evoking a pleasant hum from the Pokémon. “You count too,” she said. She stood up, careful not to disturb Bartleby further, before going to the laundry room to grab a lint roller and get all of the Slakoth hair off. Kasayee was not inside the dryer, as she had insisted she wouldn’t be, but she was still on top of it, asleep as well. It reminded Melissa of those moments during the Vylon Delta fight where Kasayee had turned into a cat. It was a very cat-like place to sleep. She wasn’t about to scritch Kasayee’s neck, though. The promise of food would probably wake her up later, once Fen and Trevor got back from wherever their carnival adventure had taken them.

Quinn did not notice that Bridget had fallen behind until he had poked her head through the latch at the top of the lighthouse. The world at the top seemed much brighter than it had at the bottom. Quinn had to squint even when not looking directly at the sun, and looked back down as well to let their eyes adjust, which was how fae noticed in the first place. It was not the only thing that Quinn noticed, however -- there were two other new predicaments to face. Well, that was a bit rude to think. The lighthouse occupant (first impressions of the boy did not strike him as a “keeper”) was not a “predicament” unless you were socially unable to meet new people. Quinn was perfectly able in that aspect, and so really the boy was more like a “thing that needed responding to.” “Hello, yes, just give me one moment,” Quinn said. The boy had an accent similar to Bridget’s, though much denser and even harder to parse than Bridget’s ever was. Part of Quinn wanted to wait until Bridget caught up so she could act as an intermediary and translator. The other predicament was truly a predicament, however. As Quinn had shifted hir bag in the final ascent, it had noticed that the bag was lighter than it was previously. Part of Quinn hoped that, if there was a hole in zir bag, at least Bridget would find whatever Quinn had lost while catching up, but that hope was lost when Quinn discovered no holes anywhere in eir bag. Worse, there were, in fact, things missing that would have resulted in a lighter bag. Quinn no longer had either his dozen or so Sitrus Berries nor her satchel for Normandie’s berries. Disaster! Quinn had already excused xyrself, and yet Quinn felt the need to do it again. Quinn could imagine Normandie finding out later, in a moment of weakness, and reacting badly. Maybe Quinn would say something like, “I never knew the right time to tell you.” That could not happen. The temporal gap in the information exchange would be more frustrating than the information itself. Quinn’s relationship with zir Pokémon had to be based on mutual trust. Quinn fished around in their bag again, once to make sure that he had not missed anything, then again to pull out Normandie’s Premiere Ball. “Normandie, listen to me,” Quinn said. “Listen to me. My berry pouch has either been misplaced or pilfered, and yours has gone missing as well. If the fault is my own malfeasance, please allow me to remedy that. We can procure more berries for you. And if the fault turns out to be someone or something else, at least allow me to facilitate your vengeance. Either way, I am at least somewhat at fault for not noticing earlier, and you have my apologies.” The Premiere Ball shook, but not in a manner that suggested aggression, or, at least, not immediate aggression. Not that Quinn had been nervous otherwise. Quinn and Normandie had reached an understanding before, right? This was a trial, but no more of one than ones they had already faced together. Quinn stood up straight, and finally crossed the threshold to the lighthouse’s platform, and faced the boy, who had been watching Quinn the entire time. “Apologies to you as well, and greetings,” Quinn said, dusting herself off. “My name is Quinn, and I am a ghost! Of course, given the circumstances, I have to wonder if I am meeting with a like soul.” Part of Quinn wanted to poke the boy to check, but Quinn knew from experience that that would not prove anything.

Brian did not immediately follow Carmen out of the bedroom. Instead, he exhaled and remained on the bed a little bit longer. Having properly demonstrated that he was not a ghost, he took the seal off of his body and put it to the side. “God,” he muttered. There was a part of him that, like Carmen kept insisting, wanted to get out of this stupid house, for the same reason that he wanted out of every other part of this job every time he did it. But he was also unhappy with the compromise that he himself had just set up. After all, why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he want to stay and figure out who needed his help so badly? That was what good people did, and he was a good person, right? Not perfect, sure, but good enough. He was about to get up when he heard the voice again. “Help me!” it said. But it was different this time. For the first time, it felt like Brian knew exactly where it was coming from. It was coming from the bed. Carmen was busy, and this would just take a second. Brian reached out and grabbed at the covers, tearing them off and making another heap of fabric to go with the rest of the mess on the floor, leaving just the undersheet, the pillows, and the source of the voice: a small hand mirror. It was old -- Brian could tell just by looking at it that it was the kind found in antique stores that was just a polished slab of metal instead of the more traditional glass inlay. But that didn’t stop it from talking. “Please,” the voice said. “Help me. Take a look and save me.” It hadn’t even finished its sentence before Brian had it in his hand. Instinctively, Brian wanted to cradle the thing, but he knew that wouldn’t actually keep the mirror safe -- he’d drop it for sure. That was the important thing, though, keeping it safe. It would fall out of his pocket… he’d probably get into another fight with a ghost or something, so it couldn’t be in his hand… What he ended up going for was tucking it directly into his pants, using the tension from his belt to keep it from slipping further down his leg. That way, it was pressed against his skin, too, which felt right. He wiggled his leg a little to make sure it wouldn’t slip or anything, then went to see if Carmen had actually done her job properly.

what you will and get a Winter 2026 waifu

What Chris needed to do right now was hang on. He saw the thing approaching above him, but he didn’t want to try another stupid maneuver when he didn’t have to. So instead he bided his time, waiting for the right opportunity. It finally came when Ziun got the monster’s attention, sending both a series of icicles and some sort of flock of birds at the monster’s head. The thing leaned over to swipe at Ziun, and suddenly what had seemed like a sheer cliff became a more reasonable hill. Chris wrenched himself to his feet and ran at the crawler. He was still expecting it to do something aggressive, something he could respond to, but it just kept coming at him, limbs contracting and expanding in what could almost be described as an approximation of motion. You know, if it wasn’t actually moving -- if it wasn’t already coming at Chris. In the end, it was Chris that blinked first, launching himself into the air, jumping above the monster and jamming his sword down with all his weight behind it. He’d hoped to catch the larger shadow monster in the process, but the crawler had thicker skin than Chris had expected. Worse, Chris’ jump had put him in prime position to get grabbed by the ankle, and Chris felt his strength leaving him, sucked out through the monster’s grasp. It was all Chris could do to shake free and clamber away, further up the larger shadow monster they were standing on. It was just as well -- the monster was standing back up and Chris had to stab the monster again to make sure he didn’t fall down. The crawler though, he tried to make fall in his place, kicking at its limbs and disrupting its grip. It almost worked. The crawler did take quite a tumble, but it just ended up further down, grabbing on to the larger monster near its knee (if it had a knee joint?) and starting its crawl back up. Chris looked up at the larger monster’s neck and considered making a play for that, maybe even climbing higher, maybe to the top of its head, but right now, he could only hold onto his sword, hardly pull himself up further. He hoped that the rest could give him the recovery time he needed. Chris looked down at the crawler, still climbing its way up. “Yeah, come and get me,” he said. “I’ll be ready for you.”

Extended Field Nobody reacted to Thessa’s proclamation -- at least at first. Then, a red flare erupted from near the base of Project Rubicon. It hung high in the air, almost exactly over Thessa’s head. From that flare, a man suddenly appeared, and he fell, making adjustments to his trajectory until he landed in front of Thessa and Lex, no worse for wear from the trip. He was dressed as flashily as his power might have suggested, with a glint in his eye that confidently ignored how unmemorable his cape name was. “Hello, Scarlet Flare,” Lex said. “Good to see you.” “Good to see other people had the same idea,” Scarlet Flare said. “That means it’s got to be a good one. He pointed up at the flare, still high up, practically motionless over everyone’s heads. “Hopefully that helps too.” The second person to heed Thessa’s call was the flier the fog had been chasing. Just like Scarlet Flare, she ended up high in the sky above the meeting point before breaking into a dive towards Project Rubicon’s body. The cape managed to pull out of the dive in time. The fog chasing her did not. “That’s how it’s done!” she whooped as her fog doppelganger dispersed and retreated back into the main concentration, before she floated down to join the group. She did an exaggerated salute. “Firefly, reporting in as requested,” she said. “Happy to be of service.” Like Thessa and Lex, the third and fourth responders came as a pair -- one carrying the other. Keller’s visor was distinctive enough to be recognizable from the moment it peeked over the fog line, and it was Spotlight that was carrying him on his back. They landed about as gracefully as could be expected, and Keller immediately marched over to Thessa. “Do not think that I am unfair,” Keller said. “I’ll commend you for organizing the rendezvous point, and I’ll even let bygones be for as long as we’re dealing with this crisis. Afterwards, though, someone -- whether that’s me or Ray or Director Sekelsky himself -- someone is going to have words for you.” With that courtesy delivered, Keller turned, strode into the center of the rest of the group, and addressed everyone present. “G3 is calling this an A-Class emergency,” he said. “So not as bad as when this fucking thing was alive, but not exactly a walk in the park either. First thing's first: evacuation. I’m sure you’ve all encountered the Changer-type properties of the fog down there. Fortunately, it’s not going to follow its match outside of its influence, but -” “Won’t follow for long, anyway,” Firefly interjected. Keller looked Firefly’s way for a moment, but otherwise ignored her. “The point is, there’s a shelter-in-place order out, and we need to get everyone who hasn’t yet followed that order out of the fog. Either into a building, if that works, or up here.” After a beat, he added, “The first step is making a plan. Any suggestions or experiences will be useful here.” Suspension Nobody reacted to Sibyl’s challenge -- they were all busy with their own battles. That said, Sibyl’s victory had shifted the balance of the fight. Those on the aerial assault force who had been fighting the two Sibyl had just dispatched moved to help the others in their engagements, and the rest was a simple numbers game, never mind how many Sibyl probably counted for. Meanwhile, Arcturus just managed to avoid the brunt of Override’s assault, but she still got sent tumbling to a dangerously low altitude, well within the range of the water spewing out of the hydrant if Tidebinder wished to step in. But it seemed she either didn’t or was distracted, because the water flow did not change and Arcturus was able to right herself, shooting a snarling glare right at Override as she recreated her light array. Moments later, everyone found out why Tidebinder had not seized her opportunity. Again, the loudspeakers crackled to life, and even through the speakers’ sound distortion, everyone could still hear Tidebinder’s withering tone. “We here at Hell’s Inferno would like to offer our amenities to all facing down this A-Class threat, though, of course, restricted areas must remain off-limits.” Overrided received a page from G3 Headquarters. It had four simple words: “Get everyone inside. Now.” The fog was coming. Up on the roof, many of the Gibbons goon grumbled and groused, but they all dropped out of their respective fighting stances and lowered their weapons. There was more than a little mistrust from the combined Arcturus/Moray Clan fliers, but anotherGibbon came out onto the roof carrying a flag of truce and started to wave everybody in. Again, Tidebinder’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Our patrons should keep advised of the casino’s fire suppression systems. The sprinklers tend to malfunction, especially in the presence of rowdy guests.” Sibyl’s bosses also sent her a series of text messages. The first two were just one word each, and they were barely even words. lol lmao The third message, though, had something actionable. Once we’re inside, keep this Override guy away from Arcturus. Don’t gotta fight him, but, like, keep him busy so our people can work. And one final message: don’t gotta fight him *yet lol OOC

Ziun had glanced where Chris had been, but Chris was no longer there. The moment the colossal monster went to make its throw, Chris had disappeared, only to rematerialize -- where else? -- at the other end of the string. The string attached to the icicle. The icicle attached to the tree. The tree that was raised above the monster’s head, high in the air. An older Chris would have seen this as a phenomenally stupid idea. In fact, the moment Chris appeared in the air, he recognized just what would happen to him if this didn’t work. At the same time, Chris realized there wasn’t a way to take it back. All that was left, then, was to do it. Chris stashed his magic spool away and pushed off of the tree. Mid-fall, he seized his sword with both hands, and plunged the sword into the monster’s back. The impact felt like it nearly tore Chris’ arms from his body, but he managed by some miracle to hold on, and from the dark ichor leaking from the gashed wound, it seemed like the monster was hurting too now. He had a brief moment of respite, then, just hanging on the monster’s back. Chris didn’t know why, but he’d expected the monster’s flesh to be hairy. Instead, it had a consistency not unlike clay. It was difficult to grab onto (hair would have been easier -- maybe that was why he thought that?), but not impossible. If he jammed his boot the right way, he could even make a foothold. It was good that he tried, because it turned out he needed leg strength real quick. Chris’ presence had not gone unnoticed (why would it have?), and now the monster was reaching for him. Chris yanked his sword back out of the monster and pushed off of his one good foothold, again going airborne but parallel to the beast this time -- a sideways leap so he wasn’t in the way of an incoming slap. It was another chance to stab the monster, too, and more black ichor spilled from under its skin. Chris braced again, clutching against the monster’s back for dear life. He’d fallen further than he’d have liked, but he still looked up. “What if I hit the right spot?” Chris asked himself. “If you’re gonna react like this to a few pinpricks on your back, what’ll happen if I get up to your head?”

Princess Tomato in the Salad Kingdom

“I wonder,” Quinn said. “Not being good with stairs would be the expectation, after all. There is precedent for traumatic experiences producing negative reactions even when temporally separated from the event. Even subconsciously, memories could start boiling up, encoded within the physical body until the worst possible moment. Then again, of course, I imagine my form is less and less physical by the day.” Fae took a first step up the lighthouse staircase. “Well, that is one down, and no ill effects at all.” The lighthouse did not seem so tall compared to the rest of the city, and indeed, on the times that Quinn did look down, the ground did not seem so far away. Quinn had learned from experience how short it would take to reach the ground from seemingly high places when he had fallen out of a tree later in her life. Still, Quinn figured it would do good to keep further thoughts at bay by forcing itself to the front of the two-person expedition (to dampen the flight impulse) and to instead focus on further expositing to Bridget behind them. “This is my first time seeing a lighthouse up close,” Quinn said. “I believe I mentioned my hometown of Eterna City to you before. It is not waterless -- there is a spring where Water-type Pokémon occasionally congregate -- but it is nevertheless landlocked on all sides, and certainly more known for the mountain it neighbors. I have seen depictions of lighthouses, of course. Many of them in documentary form in preparation for this adventure we are now on, though some fictional as well. I remember one rather vivid filmic depiction of a lighthouse that seemed to erode its keepers’ sanity, just as waves might erode a shoreline.” All at once, Quinn burst into an old mariner's hymn: Doodle let me go, me girls! Doodle let me go! Hurrah! Me yaller girls, doodle let me go! But two things prevented the young ghost from continuing past the refrain. The first was simple memory – they did not remember any more, and Quinn considered hirself polite enough to not drill it into eir companion’s head. The second was a shift in focus, back to the lighthouse they were ascending. The continuous close proximity had only amplified Quinn’s feelings towards the thing, an intense curiosity that could not be sated. Even as their other hand gripped the outer railing of the staircase tight enough to whiten Quinn’s already quite-pale knuckles, ae still reached out with its other hand to touch -- almost caress -- the lighthouse exterior. It felt cool to the touch. Quinn felt a touch on his shoulder and turned around. “Hm? Did you need something, Bridget?” Bridget, for her part, also seemed to have been relying on Quinn’s one-sided discussion to keep her attention off of stair-climbing. Quinn watched her eyes refocus back onto Quinn’s person. “What? No, I didn’t-” Before Quinn could react, Bridget was pointing at her. “Oi, there’s a hand on you!” Quinn’s eyes snapped to zir shoulder, only just catching the hand before it faded from view. “A fellow!” Quinn said, eyes growing even wider with each passing word. “Hello! Well, it is good to find something empirical, especially in the light. Perhaps I should point any future nonbelievers of my condition in the region this way. And here I was worried that we might have to wait around until nightfall to encounter anything ethereal or astral in nature.” The best part was, the apparition was not immediately hostile or preventative. Nothing stopped Quinn from taking a further step up the lighthouse. Whatever fear Quinn might have had was gone. “Just think, perhaps we might find this hand’s owner at the top! Come!” And despite their size, Quinn started taking the stairs two at a time.

In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat--- for he grants sleep to those he loves. -Psalm 127:2 (NIV)The most fight Melissa put into avoiding getting swept up over Kasayee’s shoulder was an, “Oh! Um, okay.” But she also wasn’t about to fall asleep in all the jostling, especially when it became clear that Kasayee didn’t know how to leave. “I think we passed that scrambler already,” Melissa said the fourth time it happened. Of course, given the state of the rides elsewhere in the park, it was entirely likely that there could be four of the same attraction, perhaps even all causally linked in some way to provide maximum nausea across all instances, but, for her own sanity, Melissa chose to believe the simpler option that they were just lost. She couldn’t fall asleep being carried as she was; if Melissa wanted to get home to a proper bed, she had to be the one to get them both there. It took some finagling to pull up a map of the park on her watch. Some of that was, again, the physical position Melissa was in, and how Kasayee wasn’t receptive to any meek “Hold on…” protestations; and some of the finagling was because it seemed deliberately obtuse, like the map (and park it represented) wanted you in the park for as long as possible. Thankfully, both Melissa and Kasayee were so determined. “Oh, I see,” Melissa said. “If you take a left here, and then- no, your other left.” She kicked a foot across Kasayee’s vision. “That way, and then another one past the drop tower, and then another one, that should get us out of here, I think.” Thankfully, she thought correctly. Once they were out of the amusement park, things were a lot easier to navigate. Prana was much more sensible than whatever was going on in there, and the return back to their apartment building was one they had already made in reverse, right? Melissa still had to keep Kasayee honest, but she didn’t have to redirect or reverse after an errant direction anymore, at least. Finally, perhaps because they had finally reached their destination, or perhaps she was supposed to have all along, Melissa wriggled out of Kasayee’s grasp, less-than-gracefully picked herself back up, and brushed herself off. “I should probably check on Bartleby,” she said. She wondered if Kasayee still expected her to take a nap, even though they were the only two in the building -- not that Kasayee likely cared, but now it just felt like bad manners. “Um, if you also need to sleep off all that excitement, you’re welcome to do it here? I imagine one of the sofas pulls out, or I guess you can doze on the steps again if you want.”

The Mutant Virus: Crisis in a Computer World

the only thing i know about love is war is that the board game irish gauge appears in an episode and that the game's designer amabel holland occasionally uses this fact to pick up girls yo

Battletoads & Double Dragon: The Ultimate Team Galaxy 5000: Racing in the 51st Century Kid Klown in Night Mayor World Balloon Fight

Chris wasn’t sure his warning had been fully heard, but at the same time, things were heating up a bit already, so it wasn’t like he could belabor the point. Ziun was casting spells, and Lana was running ahead. Both were engaging with the zombies. They were busy, which meant it was up to him. Not that he had much of any idea what the “it” was in this instance. He had spotted the problem, sure, but not identified it. He didn’t even know if whatever it was was something that could be solved with a sword. It would be just like the dungeon to do that to him -- not that it had done so so far, but it would be in-character for how people perceived it for sure. Chris alternated between their two flanks, left and right, trying his hardest to get another glimpse of the thing. That was when the screaming started. It didn’t sound like Chris’ scream, but it sure felt like it. The scream reverberated in his head, a maddening cacophony that drowned everything else out. It was the sort of thing that nearly got him to scream in real life too. As it was, he could only gasp, double over, and try to clutch his head and chest at the same time. He managed, though. It felt like an eternity, but Chris managed. Then he finally saw it. Chris realized he had fallen for one of the classic blunders, one that had saved his own skin many times in the past. He had been looking left and right, but he hadn’t looked up. The principal monsters on each floor were just getting bigger and bigger. This one was huge! Almost indescribably so, even if thinking about it chipped away at that particular descriptor with each passing moment. And yet, Chris was already replacing the scream in his head with thoughts of how to beat it. His first thought was a simple maxim: The bigger they are… Chris was already unwinding his string. How best to go about this, though? It was definitely a two-person job (at least!), which meant he also had to properly communicate the scale of the job to his friends. “Ziun,” Chris said, “how hard would it be to tie some string to an icicle, do you think?” The problem with this, of course (there were many problems with this!) was that if he gave the string an errant pull, he risked teleporting off into the forest and probably having to fight through a horde on his way back. But that was a step two problem. He wanted to make it through step one first.

has maddy taught you how to double-jump yet