[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Devil's Casino[/center]
[center]Lvl 4 (16/40) -> Lvl 4 (17/40) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 328 words[/center]

The trio's victory was just a bit anticlimactic, to be honest. The best fights were, though. A long, drawn out epic battle was more often than not two people slugging out a grudge and not fighting to kill, but to make the other person suffer. Geralt, the Courier, and his Gaige-thing were fighting to kill. Or, well, to maim. Wound? Knock out? Win. 

They were fighting to win, and win they did, handily. As the oversized liquor bottle fell, the Courier exploded at Geralt, yelling about how he "had that hombre", but he was quick to reign himself in. At first, Geralt only offered a raise eyebrow as a response before understanding reached him as the Courier mentioned that this "Inferno" made him too aggressive. Along with balancing some ingredients? He wasn't sure what "serotonin" or that other thing were. "Huh, would've said you'd drank some Thunderbolt if I didn't know better. That'll really drive you mad." He commented, heading out of the portal. For once, Geralt didn't hate going through a portal. It was...less disorienting than portals usually were. Small miracle, he figured.

Geralt didn't object to the Courier taking the lead and hitting the die without even offering to let Geralt. There was no way the other man had worse luck. Such a thing was simply not possible. Whatever the result was, Geralt could see that they were in the final stretch. A few fights were still going, and the count was already at 6 out of 13 before the Courier smacked the die. 

They were winning. Geralt looked up at their massive adversary and crossed his arms, an unimpressed look on his face. "There's gotta be a catch here." He spoke out loud, as much to Gneidxick as to his allies. "Just haven't quite figured it out yet. That, or he just really underestimated us that much, but I'm not the type to assume things will go [i]well[/i] if there's a chance they won't."