Chapter Twenty-Three: There Be Dragons (Among Other Things)
Excerpt from the Book of Days:
There on two opposing hills stood Our Creator and his wicked brother. Lo, between them lay the Citie of Sodoff, awaiting judgement.
Thusly Our Creator spake: "Fie on thou and thy wicked deeds! Blood of mine blood, what is the meaning of this perfidy?"
(Translation: Little bro, what the Hell?!)
The Destroyer replied forthwith: "Brother mine, my reasons lie with me, thou hast no need to know of it."
(Translation: I do what I want)
Thusly the Wicked One smote the Citie of Sodoff in his terrible wrath so that only a dustbowl remained of it.
For this misdeed, Our Creator frowned upon the Wicked One but forgave Him, for He was His own flesh and blood.
(Translation: He would have grounded Him but was too scared to)
His companion was scared of the dark. He didn't blame him; so was he, until somebody had thrown him into it.
Then he'd found out that the darkness had a face, therefore meaning it had a head that could be cut off, so he went ahead (excuse the pun) and did it.
Now the darkness was scared of him.
He waited until his companion had caught up, wheezing in exhaustion. He had made him cast a Sól rune a while back, for light. Perhaps it was a little cruel of him, but Nature didn't leave room for the weak and he had high expectations for him.
He stepped out of the shadows silently, startling his companion into a whispered cursing fit. There was a poison arrow trap a few paces in front of them. And the an enchanted golem that could only be deactivated by a certain cantrip. And then the checked floor that pitched unwary travellers into lava pit- or was it the spiked ceiling? Human minds were not designed to hold millennias' worth of memory. Human minds were fragile.
A whisper of air. He absentmindedly swiped an arrow out of the air before it made contact with his companion, who was still nattering at him for stepping out of the shadows so suddenly before. His companion did not notice the deadly point so close to his person, and he made certain to discard it before he did. Three times now. The first was a scorpion. The second a spiked chain. He flicked the scorpion away with the tip of a boot when it got too close, and he had stepped closer to his companion, forcing him to move away out of discomfort before the spiked chain swung through.
His companion was wary of him. Discomfited by his presence. That was to be expected. At least his survival instinct was intact, despite what he had to say on it. He was an unhealthy influence even when he wasn't putting capital letters in his pronouns.
He snapped out of his reverie just in time to give his companion a sharp kick to the shin, forcing him out of the way as a small shiny object spun out of a slot in the wall and buried itself in the opposite wall with barely a sound.
His companion complained. He replied smoothly that he must have made a misstep, and apologized, stunning his companion into silence.
Apologizing. That was a new thing. He didn't understand why people needed them so much, but it made them happier, for some reason. Humans were so hung up with words that they forgot it was what trapped their minds. Anything that could be defined with words were real. Other things became background noise.
The runelight flickered feebly. His companion didn't have the energy for a recast, and his own reserves were suffering as it was, not that he was willing to admit it. The poison worked on the magic first. And the God-Essence sword would not work here. He'd made sure of that himself.
Without warning, the light gave out and died, plunging them into pitch darkness.
Brushing aside the stuttered apologies of his companion, his withdrew a delicate silver pendant from a pocket. The light it emitted pulsed softly in the darkness, like the waxing and waning of a miniature moon, only sped up.
(would you rather have the moon in a locket or stars on your ceiling?)
He caught himself mid-flinch. It was like a leaking dam. Once it started cracking in earnest, he could do nothing but stand back and watch, and hope the flying shards of memory wouldn't do too much damage. Any attempt at fixing it would bring it all tumbling down around him. Again.
He just had to hope he had enough time to see it through.
But the truth was, he had run out of Time long ago.
When I mention the floor is lava, I don't mean the game. I mean it in the most literal sense, as in the floor is lava and I am about to burn to death in it.
"To your left."
I yelled something unintelligible and leaped for it, just as the tile I was on sank beneath the bubbling magma. I think I'd already lost all my leg hairs and half of my left shoe, though how I managed to notice that amidst all the blind panic, I don't know.
"ohshitohshitohshit-"
"Straight ahead."
"-ohshitohshitohshitaaAAARRGGHH-"
I made the leap. Screaming incoherently, I landed on a tile that had just risen out of the lava like a hyperactive growth. I briefly wondered how the heated stone wasn't eating through my soles and burning me alive, then had to hop sideways to avoid becoming instant barbecue.
Horus watched me disinterestedly from the other end of the lava pool. He had already gotten across, and the bastard made it look easy. Here in the middle of a pool of liquid intent on turning me into a lump of charcoal, it was anything but.
Something moved under my feet. I looked down in horror as the tile started to slowly sink toward the superheated rock. There were no other tiles close enough for me to jump on.
Time seemed to slow almost to a stop. I could hear my heart beating frantically between each panicked thought.
Knew this was going to be how it ended.
BA-DUM
Not in so many words, of course
BA-DUM
It's goddamned charcoal time
BA-DUM
Who's that screaming idiot? Oh wait. Me.
BA-DUM
"-front of you!"
"WHAT?!" I screamed.
"Jump, you cretinous Neanderthal." Something about his tone of voice carried the suggestion of invisible guillotines snapping shut around what could soon be my neck.
I took my chances with the lava and jumped with my eyes closed.
Still screaming, my foot hit something that didn't pulverise it. I opened my eyes and recovered my balance before I managed to skid over the edge of the tile.
On a surge of pure adrenalin, I managed to clear the rest of the lava pit in record time and clung to the wall like a determined barnacle. The world was shaking. Oh wait, no, that was me. My shoulders shook so hard I doubted I'd ever be able to un-jellify my insides again.
Something landed on my shoulder. I looked around and with some surprise, noted it was a hand.
Horus looked just as surprised as I was and proceeded to nonchalantly withdraw the hand as if it had never been there. "There is not much distance left to travel," he said tonelessly. With that, he turned on his heel and proceeded to stalk away.
I scurried after him. "Hey!"
"What is it?"
"You said I wouldn't die here-"
"Which you did not do," Horus interrupted with a pointed look. "And anyway, if it came to it, I would have teleported you."
"Wait, why didn't you just do that in the first place?!"
"Too much effort."
"Bastard!"
"Could be. I never knew my parents."
The scholars said Hell was empty and all the demons were on Earth. I threw a nasty look at the sorcerer's back. Well, not all of them, apparently.
Andras looked glumly out of the window, a glass of water in his hands. The bartender was studiously trying to avoid eye contact with Alex, ever since he had made the unfortunate mistake of making a remark about how she'd look in a dress and suffered the consequences.
Alex glanced his way and Andras immediately took a course on Advanced Water study. The inn was crowded like a hospital lobby on Booze Sunday, but there was a five-block radius of no-go zone around their table. People who were normally beating other people with their own arms at this stage of the night seemed to have no interest in doing anything of the sort tonight. Probably had something to do with the bodybuilder guy who got carried out of the bar on a stretcher after telling Alex 'this ain't a safe place for a weak little gal like ya'.
People drank and got drunk quietly, cautiously keeping an eye on the ginger girl who was reading a book with a general deceptive air of harmlessness hanging around her. The inn was dead silent. The barkeeper had given up on polishing glasses because it made too much noise.
It seemed to the universe that the period of calm had lasted too long.
Loud footsteps outside smashed into the silence and crunched it to bits. Everyone in the inn jolted in their shoes and simultaneously broke out in a cold sweat. People who were used to wearing each other's teeth in their knuckles at the end of the night clung together in terror.
The doors blasted opened and knocked against the walls so hard a couple of nails escaped from the hinges. A huge man with a morningstar in hand struggled to fit through the doorway. He was wearing the kind of armour that had muscles shaped onto it. As far as that man was concerned, they hadn't managed to get them all in. He looked like he had a boulder somewhere in his family tree, and that the boulder had killed a lot of mountaineers. By squishing them to a grease spot with its little finger.
Two more men just like the first rumbled in after him.
Everyone in the inn relaxed. Big, heavy monolithic barbarians who would make normal humans into something flat and unrecognisable at the drop of a penny. They were used to those. At least all they did was dash you over the stones until you became a stringy red smear. The drinkers turned an eye to Alex and shuddered. At least they weren't her.
"Dis is a robbery!" The biggest one boomed. The soundwaves were shaking tables two miles away. "Your money and your life!"
One of the others whispered something into his ear. Then the boss corrected: "Er... dat is, I meant your money or your life."
Something moved in a shadowy corner of the inn. It wasn't so much a movement as a continental drift-ment. Then what the three had initially taken for a small enclosed part of the inn rose up and became vaguely humanoid. Vaguely, because no humanoid could possibly be that humongous.
The three robbers suddenly found themselves at the center of a very large amount of attention indeed. And most of that attention had been looking for something to stomp flat all evening.
There was a quick revising of the game plan.
A fist the size of a prize-winning ham clapped onto Alex's shoulder and dragged her out of her seat. She dropped her book on her table calmly and rolled her eyes.
"Nobody leave dere seats!" one of the robbers shouted. "We gets out, or der girl don't!"
Somebody in the back of the inn sniggered.
Andras carefully marked the page Alex was on without putting a dog-ear on it. She hated it when people dog-eared books. There had been a very extended lecture on that.
The robbers, aware that something was up but unable to crane their necks far enough to see it, backed out of the door holding Alex out in front of them in case anyone suddenly had second thoughts.
The bar crowd watched them impassively. Then it returned to what it was doing before.
There was a moment of deceptive calm before the screaming started.
"You think we should help?" The barkeeper asked tentatively.
There was a thud, and a heavy dark shape slithered down the foggy window, groaning.
"I don't think she'll kill them," Andras said bleakly. "But you might want to get some stretchers ready. And plaster. Possibly light a fire in case you need to cauterise something. Get a surgeon on site and give the mortician a heads-up, just in case."
An ominous cracking sound came from the outside and somebody howled.
"Oh," the barkeeper nodded carefully, and went back to polishing glasses.
Something hit a lampost, and everything went quiet.
All noise ceased in the the bar as heads turned to the door.
"Heya, Moron," Alex hopped down from the windowsill. "Get yer stuff ready. If we dally any longer those idiots will get themselves killed. Again."
Pyrien was sure somebody had applied a jackhammer onto his frontal lobe, with extreme prejudice. There was something funny stuck between his teeth. Something reminiscent of... seat leather?
Cue snuffling sounds.
His seventh sense told him there were toxins in his bloodstream. Oh, yes, he had a bloodstream now. He winced a little as the pain spiked and proceeded to wash the alcohol out of his system. Being a moving mass of concentrated thought given form will let you do that.
Barking noises nearby. Pyrien ignored that for the moment being.
Something was tugging insistently on his earlobe. Pyrien reached up and yanked a small crab out of his ear, before tossing it back into the surf.
He blinked as he took in his surroundings. Apparently he was now thousands of block away from where he had started out, having cross the Boundary Wall illegally. Going by his rather blurred memories, twice.
A few feet away, a small dog was watching him, wagging his tail innocuously. It had patchy fur, bright black eyes that positively radiated harmlessness, and one soft ear folded in a hideously adorable manner.
Pyrien made a face. "Oh, it's you."
"Arf,' said the dog. It sat on its hind legs and cocked its head in a way that would have made people who skewered other people for a living adopt a new religion. One that involved lots of doggie treats.
"Living it up down here, eh? How many cities have you destroyed since we last met?"
"Arf arf. Whine."
"Really? Consider me shocked."
"Woof."
"Very smart of him, I'd say. Still, he let you out, so probably not too smart."
The dog whined, a sound that could have reduced even axe-murderers to a whimpering puddle of goo. Upon seeing that it would get no sympathy whatsoever, it gave the canine equivalent of a shrug and barked.
"What am I doing? Old Brainy's sending me on a quest. Gotta save the world. Again. Seriously, it's getting old. The world always needs saving. Can't those supervillains take a break or something? When they coined 'evil never rests', they sure weren't kidding around. When was the last time those guys had a beach day? Or movie night? Geez."
"Arf."
"Oh, pardon. Wrong century."
"Woof woof."
"The weft shakes? Everybody felt them. Only reason Notch hasn't already mobilized the Aether is because he's skipped town. No, I don't know where he went. And before you ask, nobody's seen Herobrine in at least a millenia. I'm off to bring about a family reunion. It's kind of a kill or cure thing, you know? Either they save the multiverse or they destroy it. Or maybe they save the multiverse and then destroy it. Or maybe the other way around."
"Arf."
"Yeah, I know it's crazy. Want to join?"
It was raining in the Arcopolis. Parts of it, anyway. The ACIS wasn't having any of it and the Hydromancers couldn't get enough of it, which resulted in clear, sunny weather in one section and torrential downpour in another.
Most of the other factions had already requested that the Hydromancers call it off, and it hadn't even been ten minutes after it started that the Ferromancers accused the Hydromancers of building a weapon of mass destruction out of all the stored rainpower (translated to magic, a good storm was worth around 3,000 merlins, which could create a brand new Atlantis with a single well-aimed blow). The Fire quadrant had built a solid obsidian shield over all of its gateways, while the Cryomancers had already started constructing various objects of deadly intent from the frozen water, as well as a very big roof. As usual, the Necromancers had remained ominously silent, probably because they were drawing up plans for a genocide of magicians. That was usually the case.
The city waited with baited breath as several factions made ready to hex each other until one of them exploded, or dissolved, or both.
In the sunlit area that contained the ACIS facilities, there was a cafe in a square that offered a splendid view of what was going on. Outside this cafe, a man with remarkably colourless skin sat, twiddling his thumbs experimentally and pondering upon the deeper meaning behind why humans twiddled their thumbs.
The Wither did not routinely make trips out of the Nether. That was because They usually forgot to go back in, and the Wither skeletons were a suspicious bunch. For good reason. If they weren't, they'd have been speaking Blaze by now.
Ah, yes, the Blazes. The Wither suppressed a mild migraine that had sprung up at the mere mention. They were like the Nether equivalent of honey badgers. They had tried, many times, to explain that you couldn't really kidnap a Primordial being of Creation. It was like trying to kidnap a tsunami, They said. Unfortunately, nobody in the Nether knew what a tsunami was. Hurricanes, then. But the Nether didn't get hurricanes either, being underground. They then proceeded to go through every single unstoppable natural disaster that caused massive collateral damage and loss of life - or in the Wither skeleton and Zombie Pigmen's case, un-life. They were pretty sure they got the point across at 'Herobrine', but if They did, the Blazes didn't remember it for very long.
The Wither had explained also that They would not help them take over Creation, not even if they had successfully managed to eradicate the entire un-race of Wither Skeletons and capture Them. Taking over Creation was not a moral thing to do, They reasoned. People might get hurt. Besides, what would you do with Creation once you'd taken it over?
That got the Blazes stumped. Eventually, they agreed on taking over more of Creation. Wasn't there supposed to be multiple Creations in a line, or something, something to do with probability.
The Wither was not happy with that. The Infinite Probability Axis was Their theory. They came up with it. Did those flaming gentlefolk never hear of 'copyright'? Then They realised that they hadn't. They'd have to get around to introducing more human things in the Nether. Like coffee. Humans, as a race, were beyond hopeless, but at least they made tasty food.
Ssssup.
The Wither pulled out a chair next to Them. "Hello, Namoros," They said, marvelling at the way each syllable rose from the throat. It had been a long time since They had last taken a human form.
Alekssssesss. The Elder Guardian acknowledged as He maneuvered Himself awkwardly into the chair. He did not work much on his human form, or behaviour, and it was obvious. The skin was too pale, the eyes too dark, and the limbs too gangly. Limp brown hair hung in ratty strands to the shoulders. The mouth was a permanently drooping slash set in a face that was artificially smooth. The Wither suppressed a sigh. He had forgotten the eyebrows again. It reminded Them of a stranded fish, but then again, that was basically what the Elder Guardian was.
I shouldn't ssstay for long, the Elder Guardian said silently. The sounds registered in the Wither's head but the Guardian had not moved His lips. There'ssss ssssome diverssss sssscrummaging around my Temple. Annoying thingsss. I've told the little onesss not to kill them, but sssometimes they forget themselves. Do you know where the Dragon isss?
"I am not Her keeper," the Wither answered. "But as I recall, She is usually very punctual. Perhaps She had something to attend to."
I should not think there is anything or anyone who could keep the Ender Dragon'sss attention for long, the Guardian said dryly. She dealsss with thingsss very quickly. And very... Finally.
"True," the Wither agreed. The Ender Dragon's temper was nothing to be monkeyed around with. "But He won't show up unless we're all here."
We'll be waiting a long time, believe you me, the Elder Guardian said gloomily.
"Perhaps not as long as you would think."
The temperature dropped abruptly. Ice crystals formed under the Wither's nose. Nearby, a group of ACIS students veered sharply away as a sickening feeling of dread settled inexplicably in the pit of their stomachs.
The Elder Guardian lurched out of His seat and looked around wildly. Void dammit, where isss he?
The Great Wolf, the Arch-Nemesis, the Destroyer of Worlds, etc, etc, leant back in the seat the Elder Guardian had just vacated and crossed His legs. He raised an eyebrow at the flustered Guardian, who hurriedly found another chair.
"How long have you been here?" The Wither demanded.
"I have always been here," Herobrine responded calmly. "I invented the concept of space. I can un-invent it whenever it suits me to do so."
Co-invented, technically, the Elder Guardian grumbled.
The Wither almost slapped Him. They didn't talk about co-invention. They generally steered clear of the Aether altogether, and they never, ever, ever, with the complement of a few trillion 'ever's, mentioned The Name in His presence. The Co-Inventor. For one, They didn't know what He'd do. They understood that His memory lane was less of a memory lane and more of a memory highway, where there weren't any pedestrian crossings or islands and you were stuck in the middle of it. Also, there were landmines all around, and if you didn't trigger one, one of the passing cars were bound to. They also understood that the only thing stopping Him from turning the world into a bite-sized pile of ashes was because He couldn't see the point in such an action.
Having realised His mistake, the Elder Guardian desperately tried to blend in with His seat. The Wither started making plans to evacuate the Nether.
"Technically," Herobrine agreed evenly. "But I came up with the idea first. Life was more His thing. Space was mine."
In the stunned silence of the other two gods, He continued: "I am sure you have both noted the absence of the Ender Dragon."
Yesss. Hasss sssomething happened?
"The End is compromised."
The Wither blinked. "By what? What did She do?"
"She failed to protect Her territory," Herobrine said flatly.
There was another round of shocked silences. The Wither tried to wrap Their head around it. The Ender Dragon was the strongest of them. She was His first creation. If They didn't know Herobrine better, the Wither would have thought He was proud of Her. If not for the fact that he had the emotional range of a watercress sandwich.
Sssso... What do we do?
"Us?" Herobrine shrugged. It was such a human gesture, the Wither noted dully. Every single detail and mannerism of His human form was perfect. He had invented them, after all. Or rather, co-invented.
"You will stay at your posts. It does not concern you. It is the Dragon's business, and Hers alone."
The Wither started. "But-"
"I will see to it that the contamination does not spread," Herobrine said coolly. "I am certain you recall the weft shakes from the day before."
Both entities gave a nod.
"There is something... unsavoury encroaching upon the Worlds. Something that has been here before, a long time ago. It has already taken the Dragon out of the equation, so to speak. You will remain alert and prepare your respective domains for battle."
And you? What will you do? The Elder Guardian asked.
"Improvise." Herobrine replied impassively. He gave a slight nod in Their direction. "Good day."
Then He was gone as if he'd never been there.
The Guardian shivered. Bit unsssssettling. Nice chap, though, He added hurriedly.
"Careful," the Wither said gloomily. "He might get offended. Nice chap, my foot - er, tailbone. I don't have feet. Anyway, I think He likes a bit of blasphemy now and then. He's used to it. Call Him a malicious bastard to His face and I bet you one of my skulls He won't even blink."
There was a slight pause as They waited for a bolt of lightning to strike Them dead. When it didn't happen, the Guardian said: Ssso, what now?
"Well, you heard Him. Go do this, get that done, leave it up to Him and don't interfere. He's not exactly a team player."
But what if He failssss?
The Wither waited for the other to drop dead on the spot. It didn't happen. "I don't think He will. It's not Good Guy versus Bad Guy here, you know. It's Bad Guy versus Badder Guy. He's ruthless. And He's always been a bigger and more malicious bastard than the other guy."
But what if He does? The Guardian persisted.
The Wither shrugged. "Then we're as good as dead anyway. Either way, there's no point worrying."
And here it was. The culmination of our entire hellish detour. The Unholy Grail.
I observed that it looked like a stone wall. I reasoned that it might not be just a stone wall. I imagined that there might be something behind that stone wall. I then assumed the stone wall was an illusion.
I prodded the stone wall.
I returned to the observation that it was, in fact, a very solid stone wall.
"It's a stone wall," I observed aloud.
Horus melted out of a shadow and materialised at my side. "You are correct," he said dryly. "It is, in fact, a stone wall, and I have brought you all the way here, through the infernal regions, having suffered from monsters, lava, countless traps and your presence, to see a stone wall. That is all, we may return now."
"What?!" I exclaimed. Then it clicked. "Wait, no."
"No?"
"That was sarcasm," I said slowly. "My gods, you're actually being sarcastic."
"Yes? Have you not heard of it?"
I suppressed an urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "No, it's nothing. I was convinced you weren't actually human for a second there."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And sarcasm is human?"
"Yes, well, no- anyway, that's beside the point." I fumbled for words that didn't come and mentally backed myself into a corner. So I gestured vaguely at the wall in an attempt to change the topic. "What's that, then, if it's not a wall?"
"The buildup of dirt and dust over a millenia, calcified into a shell over the thing underneath it." The sorcerer rapped the wall with his knuckles. "Which is just as well, since the subject was never meant to see the light of day." He paused. "Well, it was originally intended as a weapon of mass destruction designed to eradicate the human race from the face of the Earth, but plans were changed."
I looked at the unassuming wall, and then back at my companion. "Plans were changed?"
"That is what I said, Steve. Do pay attention." Horus nodded at the wall. "Your pickaxe, if I may?"
Having lost my first pick, I had wasted no time crafting a second one from the spare diamonds in my Inventory. But that had been before I chanced upon him in the caves. I wondered if he'd simply forgotten that I'd lost mine.
I handed it over. "Can't you use yours?"
He gave me a sideways look. "I'm not going to use anything."
He ran a fingertip along the blade of the pick and then handed it back. I took it cautiously, in case it exploded. Or turned out to be possessed by a demonic spirit.
I looked down. The diamond edge of the pick was shimmering like a mirage.
"Dude!" I exclaimed. "Did you just enchant it? Just like that?"
He shrugged. "Don't get too excited, it doesn't do anything important." He gestured at the wall. "Take a swing."
I eyed the wall dubiously. I didn't know how many blocks there were, and I wasn't particularly interested in counting them. "All this? It's going to take ages."
Horus gave me an amused look. "Just take a swing."
I rolled my eyes and hefted the pick onto my shoulder. Mysticism, mysticism, everywhere. The guy probably never learnt how to give a straight answer in his life. I scanned the block in front of me. If I hit it in just the right spot, with just the right amount of strength, I could probably break it with one swing.
I swung the pick.
Instead of a single miniaturised block dropping out, I was rewarded by the sight of a cascade of tiny grey cubes descending all the way from the ceiling. The wave of gray loomed threateningly above my head, and then proceeded to tumble down upon me with a dull roar.
I responded the only way I knew how.
"YAAAAAAA-"
-Something twisted in my stomach-
"AAAAAAAAAAaaaa?"
I looked around me. Purple particles drifted lazily about me, before dissipating into the air.
A slow clapping sound.
"Well done," the sorcerer drawled. "A successful teleportation. The first one I've seen out of you, in fact."
"Thanks," I squeaked. "I have no idea what is going on, and I think I should make that clear. In fact, I haven't known anything about anything that is going on for the past month or so, and I think you should know that too, Actually, I've just reviewed my whole life in the last twelve seconds I was talking, and I've discovered that not once, since the day of my birth, had I known anything about what was going on, ever. That is all, thank you. Sorry."
I gave Horus an apologetic look. He was standing exactly where he was before, and either the light was playing funny tricks, or it had been too long since I last slept, or maybe I was really sick and didn't know it, but for a moment, it almost seemed like he was surprised. Which made me very surprised, because, as I probably said before, he had the expression range of a dead tortoise and had probably forgotten how to move his facial muscles a long time ago.
"I will take that into consideration," he said at last. "But I think you may want to see what we came here for."
I turned around slowly, shoring up my mental defenses for whatever weird fudgery I was about to encounter.
Where the wall had sat, there was now a vast expanse of shimmering red. Upon closer investigation, there seemed to almost be a pattern of... scales? overlaying the crimson swath.
I stepped back to take in the whole picture.
I regretted it instantly.
"What," I began incredulously. "What in the NAME OF NOTCH-"
"A dragon, Steve," Horus sighed. "The Red Dragon, in fact. Honestly, I cannot fathom how you people have the energy to act so dramatically surprised all the time."