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At your request, the thing looks the demon egg over for some kind of satisfying answer; meanwhile, clouds materialize and merge into a family-sized cavern storm. Stolen by a gust of sudden wind, the egg whirls into the sky and is either struck by lightning and then breaks open, or breaks open and is then struck by lightning. Smoke puffs out of the shell and sooty thighs begin to take shape.
  1. Harness the lightning.
  2. We've got to get indoors.
  3. I don't care what you say about those dirty old legs.