A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
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April 8th, 2013 (12:05 PM).
Gone. May or may not return.
The Misspelled Cyrpt
> First things first, asses the level of the threat. Is it a Krabby or a Kingler? Try to maneuver yourself over to the door, then flee and try to lose it. If that is not possible try to recall how they see the world around them. Do they primarily use their sight, smell, hearing, or something else? Then you could try going for the eyes if it seems possible to do without getting hurt.
You could tell whether or not it was a Krabby or Kingler if you checked your Pokédex – it's so far altered that you can't work out which it's meant to be – but you can't really do that, since you have your hands full and the Pokédex is in your Bag. Either way, you're assuming it's probably pretty capable of hearing you.
You do know (because you are, despite appearances, a reasonably competent Trainer) that both Krabby and Kingler have tough carapaces punctuated by enormous, fragile eyes, which they usually close in battle in order to prevent them being horribly damaged. This is probably why you can't see its eyes right now: it's closed its armoured eyelids to protect them from your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing. As a crab, it has an excellent sense of smell, although this works best underwater. It also has a highly efficient ability to sense vibrations that kind of approximates to human hearing; it's this that lets it know when prey is passing its little pit – and lets it know exactly where you're standing and how you're moving at any moment in time.
Despite the closed eyes, the crab knows where you are better than you know where it is. It's also standing in front of the door, so escape that way isn't possible.
So that's all pretty encouraging, isn't it?
> A Krabby or a Kingler, it doesn't matter. It's weak to grass-type moves, so...
Quickly attach the leaves of the potted plant to your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing to add the grass-type effect on it.
...it works like that, right?
You wish it did. You really, really wish it did.
> So here's this giant enemy crab...
Real-time weapon change
Flip over this crab on its back
And you attack its weak point for massive damage
You attempt to work out how to follow this command – how can you change your weapon when you don't have any others? How do you plan to flip a crab the size of a pickup truck on its back? How will you spend US dollars in Johto? – and then realise with some relief that it doesn't apply to you, since you don't live in feudal Japan.
Whew. That's a relief.
> Which is closer the stairs or the door if it's the door do as the one above said if it's the stairs run upstairs, sure it's great for tunneling but how good is it going up? If you can make it upstairs to just go the full lighthouse gauntlet there's things like jumping out the window to the lower landing to climb up higher that you could use to lose it
You know, some crabs live in trees – they can climb straight up the bark. Don't knock a crab's climbing abilities. In fact, don't underestimate crabs in general. They can do a hell of a lot more than most people think.
Hum. More sea creature knowledge. Where
all this stuff coming from?
The stairs are tight, though. Say what you like about crabs, they're not known for being able to turn tight corners in spaces smaller than their legspan. You could lose it there.
The beast clicks its mouthparts and lunges with a pincer; you step swiftly out of its path, only to be hit in the belly with the side of the other claw. Winded, you stagger back and almost fall; the thing can
Christ. These Eldritch Pokémon really are smart.
Emboldened by this success and your lack of retaliation, the crab edges forwards, clicking and popping like a demonic typewriter; feeling that you really need to do something to discourage it before it slices you in half, you jab at it with the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing – which skitters harmlessly across its carapace. There isn't even a scratch to show for your effort – though it does strike an attractive line of sparks.
The crab pauses and taps its face carefully where you hit it, perhaps to confirm that you really did attack it.
You take this opportunity to run.
Down the hall, towards the stairs, the muted clatter of pointed feet on the carpeted floor in your ears and the wind of heavy limbs swishing through air blowing against your back—
The elevator doors slide open with a
You don't stop to consider how, why, or whether or not more evil awaits within: you fling yourself inside just as the crab makes its last leap forwards. One thrashing pincer makes it through the gap between the closing doors, snapping wildly; you press yourself into the far corner to avoid its scything sweep. Its bladed tip lightly brushes your arm, and a red line opens up where it passes.
Then the lift is rising, and the claw abruptly sinks towards the floor, caught inextricably between the doors; the crab lets out an almighty chattering squeal – and with a sound like an oak tree snapping in half, the ceiling, doors and gravity all combine to wrench the claw clean off its arm.
You have no chance to marvel, though: the claw, no longer rooted to the spot, is bouncing wildly around the lift, propelled by massive muscular spasms. Bluish ichor sprays everywhere; the back of the upper pincer smashes you across the face and knocks you back. Without thinking, you fall flat on the great claw, pinning it down; it bucks and kicks beneath you, snapping like a crocodile, soaking your dress in gore and gushing blood down your legs – and, little by little, it dies. Its spasms slow, its snapping weakens; gradually, the life ebbs from the thing, and that would be an end to it if your elbow wasn't slipping on the slick carapace, and sliding between the two weighty claws—
For a long moment, the lift is full of the sound of hideous screaming.
Then the claw relaxes and lies still beneath you, and you flop back against the far wall, clutching your arm and breathing raggedly. Vesta's jar rolls away from your limp, useless hand and bumps against the claw on the carpet.
Othodox is Pretty Seriously Wounded!
You are aware that you ought to do something. Are you bleeding? You're not sure. Does it hurt? Again, difficult to tell... the world is kinda dark around the edges. Fuzzy.
The smell of cooking eel drifts incomprehensibly to your nostrils as your eyes slip shut.
When you regain your senses, the lift has stopped moving.
You sit up slightly, wincing in pain. You hurt all over: aches in every part of your crab-blood-soaked body, from face to hips to legs. It feels like you got run over by a lorry – which then reversed. Slowly. After most of its load fell out of the back onto your head.
However, you are alive, and that, after the beating the pincer administered in its death throes, is more than you feel you deserve.
cries Vesta happily, from somewhere near your feet.
“Yeah,” you reply. Your voice sounds like you borrowed it from someone with a punctured lung, which worries you for a moment until you realise that you can breathe fine, and therefore do not have a punctured lung. “Yeah, just about.”
You feel your face with your right hand – not your left. You don't want to try to move your left arm. Not yet. You don't want to confirm what you suspect.
You finger your nose, and wince as part of it that definitely should not move shifts perceptibly. Yep. That's broken.
Your hand moves down to your chest, which is bruised, scratched and bloodstained but not, thankfully, badly injured; your legs likewise.
You close your eyes and swallow loudly.
The first touch of your fingers causes such an eruption of agony that you have to withdraw immediately. The memory of how they felt, brushing the puffy flesh of your forearm, lingers in your mind with the pain.
A little while later, you try again.
This time, you force yourself to hold your hand there, and to look.
There are two deep notches in your left arm, just above the elbow; they don't break the skin save for a few tiny pinprick holes, but they have crushed your muscles to the bone. Beneath them, the skin is stretched taut over swollen flesh; in places it has split, and leaks a strange whitish fluid – presumably some kind of venom. Your hand lies at the end of it all, bloated, pale and utterly motionless.
You try to wiggle your fingers.
Othodox is Crippled!
The noise that escapes your lips is not a noise that you knew humans could produce.
You wish the claw hadn't weakened. Losing the limb would have been kinder.
After a while, you struggle to your feet. You retrieve Vesta with your good hand, and stuff her into your Bag. You pick up your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing with the other, and look over the dead claw. The lift doors have opened, revealing darkness beyond; you do not know how long you have been unconscious, but the lift has definitely been here a while.
To the south is the topmost floor of the lighthouse.
There is a Giant Crab Claw here.
The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World
The Rocket Case
The Rocket Revival
Neither Here Nor There
Coriolanus Rowland's Guide to Pokémon Husbandry
Robin Goodfellow's Christmas Carol
Stranger Than Fiction
My Trip to the End of Time, by Pearl Gideon
A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
For information about A Grand Day Out, a bizarre short story in video game form, click
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