>Mama bird: Go hunting, getting food for your master would save your egg from his hunger. Maybe catch him a small lizard or mammal.
You couldn't possibly do that because you are clearly a herbivore!
You wouldn't know the first thing about hunting or even personal defense really. You are, unfortunately, a bystander in the situation before you, bereft of any potential for any possible meaningful influence you could potentially have on your master or his actions.
>Big dino: Wake up and steal the egg.
Unfortunately you are too deep in sleep to wake up, much less partake in criminal activities!
What could you be dreaming of that is keeping you away from conscious thought?
>Big dino: Dream big.
It appears that you are dreaming of being a sick-ass dragon.
It doesn't get any better than this.
>Caveguy: Calm the fuck down.
You... you guess you did go a little bit overboard.
You think you'll try to get back on track now...
Geez you're still shaking. You hope that it's just your nerves and not the malnourishment taking hold. You don't want to be a corpse just yet.
>Caveguy: Use the hilt of your bone shiv to crack the egg open.
>Caveguy: Close can to keep valuable cargo secure.
Hey yeah good idea.
Don't want any of this golden (well at least the yolk is) nectar to accidentally ooze out.
You go ahead and close up the can as best you can, given the fact that you lack the ability to weld metal. Probably for the best that you don't seal it completely anyways. Don't want to make any egg bombs.
Actually that sounds like a really cool idea. You make a mental note of the possibility.
>Caveguy: Cook the egg. Fufill GOOD EATS.
Ok. You are ready.
This is the moment you've been waiting for.
IT IS TIME.
TO THE FLAME.
>Caveguy: Use a Y-shaped branch or two sticks tied together on one side to hold can over fire.
Where are you? Why does your head hurt? And why did you just think your name was Skelly? You refuse to be indignified by such a disrespectful name such as that, even if your brain thought it up all by itself.
>Skull guy: Take off your skull.
You don't really think it works like that.
Your head is still very firmly attached to your body, as skeletal as it may be. You're pretty sure that even if you were somehow able to remove your head it would still kill you.
You make a mental note to be sure to let others know of your condition so they do not make the very understandable mistake that your head could be used to scare small children and weak-hearted adults. You just don't have that kind of power sadly, and you aren't sure if its an ability your lost crown could provide.
Wait a minute. Why the fuck are you trying to decapitate yourself after just waking up?
Where are you?
>Skull guy: Look around surroundings.
You might as well take stock of your surroundings. The sooner you figure out where you are and what your situation is, the sooner you can take revenge on you assaila-
>Skull guy: Curse old lady with all known expletives in your vocabulary.
Such a graphic outburst of hostility has no place in this good Christian adventure. The expletives are censored to protect the eyes of all readers, regardless of personal sensitivity.
No one deserves to witness this uncouth diatribe, target or no.
>Old lady: Run, or you could have a heart attack!!!!
You so dearly wish you could run, but even if you were free, your frail bones likely wouldn't be able to take you far. Besides that, you're still trapped in your cell and so is your rather rude captor.
A small man in a suit came a while ago and plopped the poor fellow in here alongside you. You fear what he has planned if he needed to leave your assailant in here with you, jailed.
>skully bully mr sir: stop screaming no
Why is your brain thinking up these sequentially worse names? Why is it doing this?
You must've hit your head harder than you thought. It's the best explanation. At the very least, the alternatives aren't very reassuring if true.
>Skull guy: Try to recall your name.
Recall your name? Ha. Child's play.
Yeah it's on the tip of your metaphorical tongue...
You know what? You'll think of a new one. Yeah!
A name that displays the communion your wield between you and your lost headpiece. A name that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies! You will call yourself...
>Old lady: Apologize for driving poor skelly insane.
You do fear that you may have had a rather large role in this man's descent into madness. No, you do believe that he is significantly more unhinged than he was at his introduction.
You think it would be only right to apologize to him so that he doesn't kill you in a fit of psychotic rage should he later snap completely. You've got a son to get back to, and you can't see his face again unless you get to him in one piece.
Old lady: Excuse me sir.
Mammon: What do you interrupt me and my rebirth for old woman peasant?
Mammon: If you're here to ask for me to let you go you've got another thing coming.
Mammon: Some nutter's clocked me over the head and thrown me in here alongside you so I'm just as stuck as you are.
Old lady: Oh no no no dear, I'm here to apologize to you.
Mammon: What for?
Mammon: ... Did you orchestrate my capture?
Mammon: You better not be leading me on lady or I swear I'll-
Old lady: Oh no, I meant to apologize for my banging all this time with my cup.
Mammon: Ah yes, the cup.
Mammon: I had almost forgotten about it, but the silence was leaving me with a weird feeling that something was missing.
Mammon: At least now I know what it was.
Mammon: I suppose I should apologize as well.
Mammon: It wasn't very gentlemanly of me to have had you bear witness to my tirade a minute ago.
Mammon: Oh and also the kidnapping.
Mammon: That too.
Mammon: Ah well, the past is the past.
Mammon: I don't have much to gain by holding a grudge against you in here, 'specially when I've needed you for my plan to take place.
Mammon: Though let's not talk about that now, alright?
Mammon: In the slim chance I get out of here alright, I still need you alive to do what I need to do.
Mammon: Can't have you knowing what I'm doing if it comes to that.
Mammon: It'd muck me up, more than likely.
Old lady: I suppose that's alright then.
Old lady: So long as I can see my son, I'll be just fine.
Mammon: I assure you; If everything goes how I need it to, the both of you'll be just fine.
Mammon: Insofar as fine can be stretched out here in the Cretaceous Era.
>Mammon: Barter with the old lady, you'll give her her freedom if she frees you in turn.
Mammon: Hey listen.
Mammon: This guy that's got us both locked up in here's gotta be pretty slick if he got the jump on ME.
Mammon: So I'm thinking I might need your help, or at least the minimal amount that can be mustered from a senior citizen.
Mammon: And I know I locked you in here just like the guy out there did.
Mammon: But hear me out.
Mammon: If we get out of here, I'll let you go.
Mammon: Out of the prison cell I mean.
Mammon: I mean I still need you here at least until your kid gets here.
Mammon: But I won't keep you locked in a cell.
Mammon: And I'll let you both go when he gives me what I need from him.
Old lady: I'm not sure what use you'd have for an old lady like me.
Old lady: But if you're being sincere in getting us out of here, then I suppose I don't have much choice, do I?
Old lady: At least I'll be more comfortable out there, instead of cooped up in this small room.
>Mammon and Old Lady: Try preparing yourselves with weapons.
There is nothing in this room useful or otherwise!
You're gonna have to get inventive unless you plan on using your fists as guns.
>Mammon: Do you have evil fire powers to burn your way out of your prison?
Even if you still had your crown, you probably wouldn't be able to do "fire majyicks" as it were. The crown seems to grant themed abilities, but you haven't gotten acquainted enough with it to fully understand its quirks or nuances.
Even then, the situation remains that you are in fact crownless. So that plan was already out the window at the get-go.
>Both of yous: Experience interruption.
The two of you are rudely interrupted from your scheming by a loud knocking on the cell bars.
Short guy: Hey there buddy.
Short guy: Glad to see I didn't kill you because *I* need to ask you a few questions if you don't mind answering them for me.
Short guy: Though I think you'd be inclined to be cooperative given your position right now.
Mammon: What could you offer that would appease me enough to tell you anything, presuming I know anything? Hrmm???
Mammon: What, would you let us out of this cell?
Mammon: Why, I think we like it here in this cell!
Old lady: We do?
Mammon: We sure as heck do!
Mammon: (fucking play along)
Old lady: Oh!
Old lady: Oh yes I do so love being in this cozy cell!
Old lady: It has everything that a lady like me c-could need!
Old lady: Like uh... the floor?
Old lady: Oh how I love the wonderful, comforting floor.
Short guy: The floor is not exclusive to that cell.
Short guy: More to the point, you're stalling.
Short guy: We all know you aren't getting out of here until you tell me what I need to know, so spill it.
Short guy: Where.
Short guy: Is.
Short guy: The.
Short guy: Crown.
Mammon: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Short guy: Really.
Short guy: I suppose you look like you do through natural occurrence then?
Mammon: It's a medical condition.
Mammon: Runs in the family.
Short guy: Really?
Short guy: Damn.
Short guy: And here I thought I got the right guy.
Short guy: Well I see no recourse other then to let you go on your merry way considering your infallible alibi.
Short guy: Oh wait.
Short guy: I forgot I wasn't brain dead.
Short guy: Scratch everything I just said, because I, by mere happenstance, am blessed with the privilege of having multiple functioning brain cells left.
Short guy: Why, I'd say I have a plethora of them.
Short guy: Do you know what they are all collectively telling me?
Short guy: Do you?
Short guy: They're telling me, in the faintest, quietest voices possible:
Short guy: "we think he takes you for a dumbass"
Short guy: So please.
Short guy: Tell me.
Short guy: Do you think I am a dumbass?
Mammon: Yeah basically.
Mammon: Especially after i do THIS-
>Mammon: Begin kickass escape plan.
In this moment you know what you are doing more than at any other point in time.
You will succeed.
Because you believe you will. That belief will fuel you. Fuel you to do great things. Those great things, will be wrought into motion through this one precise strike.
The strike to end all strikes; the moment to reign over all other moments.
It is in this moment that you are sure.
You are sure that you will strike down your opponent and you will walk out of here a champion. Unopposed in your goals, and supported by all that surround you. You will take what you want, climb to the top, and succeed.
And in the end, it will all be traced back to this one tiny victory. A domino to topple skyscrapers, and the catalyst that begets godhood.
You're afraid you can't due that due to your overwhelming and crippling pain.
Maybe you can do something vaguely coherent when you stop being a big baby and put on your big boy pants.
>Mammon: Since you are a skeleton you don't need to worry about starvation or pain and since you don't have any organs you could magically scream for eternity and make that man go insane.
You are afraid you must contest this point considering your current bitchy writhing.
You very much do feel pain (as you are readily displaying right now for all bystanders to see). You wish you didn't though and you wish your skeleton body made actual biological sense. How are you even feeling this pain? You have no nerves. Maybe it's some sort of sensory magic given to you by your crown through your incomplete transformation?
Hell if you know, but you do know one thing.
Fuck pain magic.
>Short man: Be thoroughly disappointed.
This is just so fucking sad. You don't know what's worse. Exactly how easy it was to break his thumb (it was very) or how much pain he is feeling from it.
You aren't even sure why he's feeling pain right now. His thumb wasn't connected to any ligaments. You didn't break his thumb either you just moved it backwards toward him fully intact. You aren't really sure why it affected him. Look at him. He has to know how ridiculous this is. You have no doubt that he is aware how stupid it is that he is feeling this much pain.
He has that look in his eye.
The look of surprised bewilderment, like he didn't even see this as a possibility.
Really this is either a case of extreme stupidity on his part or unfortunate ignorance of his own self.
Either way, to you this whole ordeal is just so so miserably sad.
>Just oh so fucking sad.
What is this?
>What even is this.
Good to see nothing significant transpired during that short interlude.
Wouldn't want to move along the fucking plot along would we.
Let's all just be ostriches. Fuck it. Might as well.