[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Pelagic Lake[/center]
[center]Lvl 3 (1/30) -> Lvl 3 (2/30)[/center]
[center]Word Count: 547 words[/center]
[center][@Gentlemanvaultboy] [@Lugubrious] [@Stern Algorithm] [@TruthHurts22][/center]

Geralt watched Linkle go about her business, as he cleaned the blood from his sword. It was a bit odd, honestly: she was touting the healing powers of milk, and throwing about giant hearts that magically appeared out of nowhere into the wounded boy. 

What was more odd, though, was the fact that it seemed to work. Gran looked like a new man after drinking the milk he'd been given. It wasn't instantaneous, but only a few moments ago he'd looked far worse. He was curious about that. [i]I'll have to ask about that later. If it works that well on regular folk, it'd be like Swallow for me. Probably cheaper, too.[/i] 

Following after Linkle as she gathered some of the fish-monster spirits, Geralt frowned. He still hadn't quite gotten used to all this 'Spirit' business: sometimes when he killed things he could just cut off what he needed, and sometimes it appeared as one of those little spirit things. Something to do with the worlds mashing together, he figured: different creatures from different worlds broke down differently. Some monsters seemed to dissolve almost immediately back on the Continent, after all. Back there it seemed more consistent, but perhaps to the casual observer the line between monster and animal seemed more arbitrary. 

He didn't suppose it mattered much. Gathering a few of those spirits, especially the one from the large monster he'd fought, Geralt headed to the edge of the lake to find his Chocobo, whistling for the bird. It only took a short while before the oversized fowl came to him, 'kweh'ing all the way. "C'mon, Roach, let's go." Geralt muttered as he tried to wrangle the bird around the lake to the others. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the group traveled back, Geralt paid attention to Linkle's conversation with the boy that had transformed into a dragon. Yet another instance of supremely powerful magic just....in casual use, by a boy barely old enough to be called a man, no less! These worlds were dangerous, and Geralt wasn't even sure they realized it. He wondered how many other horribly powerful people were out there, going about their day doing things maybe a dozen people could accomplish where he'd come from. 

Breaking from his thoughts for a moment when Din addressed him, Geralt nodded. "I know a bit about them. Powerful beasts, not the kind I like to mess with if I have the choice. They've got thick fur that can stop duller blades, a horn that could break bones without a second thought, and they're quicker than their size would make you think. Don't look forward much to dealing with 'em, frankly..."

Or was it the opposite? Was it merely the strongest or most able taken from each world, brought into this strange place? It couldn't be, plenty of the folk in Lumbridge were simple farmers and traders, lacking this kind of magic or raw power. 

It had to just be Geralt's luck at play, yet again. Shapeshifters, the Wild Hunt, other Witchers, the people he came across were [i]not[/i] the standard fare.

And then there was that guy who lost his shoe. 

"Hey. Shoe....guy. Boat guy? Yeah, boat guy. What in the hell were you even doing out there?" Something stupid, surely. Wouldn't be the first time.