Gember Does Not Know Anymore

Strength 2
It was freezing, but not uncomfortable, up here in this weird new paradise. It didn't look like there were too many blobs around to rough up with some friendly hijinks. The classic strategy of "punch wall" to train was always an option, but Gember had done it so many times, and was starting to get stale. "Ain't nobody," he whispered. "Whole big new world and ain't nobody around."
An idea hit him like a mound of sand.
He could go down and try to lift up the mountain itself! Blobs naturally lived in caves, so there must be some burrowed up underneath the surface. Sprinting down the edge of the mountain, he almost instantly tumbled head over heels, crashing to the frigid ground unceremoniously. Carefully getting to his feet, he glared at the formation. Well, here goes nothing. Squatting down as much as he could, he clapped his hands into the sides, and let out a furious yell as he lifted with all his strength. pop pop! The sound shocked him, but what was even more alarming was the Both Arms that happened to be lying in the snow. If anyone was in the vicinity, they would hear a high-pitched screech with enough force to strike the stars. Absolutely startled with the new lack of extremities, He ran in tight circles, screaming his head off, until a second idea came into his brain.
He could lift it,
With his legs.
Lying his torso on the snow, he slapped his opposable toes on the rock, just like he did with his now very cold arms. He could still feel them, but there they sat. Focusing on keeping his legs on his body, but taking the cavern from the ground, again, he lifted.
Pop pop!

<- We'll be right back

Strength 4
Oh, fucker. There was finally a blob on the horizon, but Gember could tell by the way it moved that it wasn't quite… correct. He knew in his heart that there was no way that all ferals were because of his influence, but that STUPID COWARD-
He had to calm down. He HAD to calm down. Just do it a favor. Put it out of its misery quickly and decisively. He didn't actually know if that worked, if it would immediately reset on it's own, but it might. And that had to be enough.
He ran as fast as he could down towards the shape. A little red clawed creature. He could feel the anger and fear seeping off of it in almost visible waves, and it made him want to gag. That bitch. That army. Forcing his emotions down, just like old times, he took a deep breath. Target practice for the rest of them.
He thought about the walls of flesh, closing in on the deep pit just for him, thought of the pain of Vermin's shifting claws digging deep into his flesh, of falling so fast, so far, that the dull thud of the ground had left a slight humming in his ears, even as he heard the three-toned voice and was suddenly free.
Whatever death entailed was a better fate, and he'd get to experience what it meant for them firsthand. Popping off a hand, just to gage a reaction, he slapped it lightly in the face. It flew at him, teeth gnashing, aiming straight toward his face. "Not the moneymaker, bro. Try again." With his grasper still separated, he lightly knocked it out of the air, and prepared to step on it. "This is for Vermin." Tiny teeth collided with the bottom of his foot, latching on tight. Stifling a yell, he shook as hard as he could, launching it backwards and into the snow. While this was fun, it needed to be put down. Picking it up gently, staying away from all the attacky bits, and without really thinking, he dropped it gently into his mouth.
Bit down as hard as he could.
He had learned that blood had flavor, and had to admit that there was a taste for it. Letting the limp elastic body fall out of his mouth, he let the lemon-and-hot sauce blood just kind of sit there for a while before spitting it out.
One down.