[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Edge of the Blue- Limsa Lominscuttle Town- The Bismarck[/center]
[center]Lvl 6 (50/60) -> Lvl 6 (61/60) [/center]
[center]Word Count: ~688 words[/center]

Sighing in relief as he removed himself from Bowser's grasp and seeing that the battle ended just as he was doing so, Geralt first set about collecting his dropped sword and checking it quickly for damage. Not noting anything that worried him, the Witcher looked about, frowning. They'd certainly made a mess of the place with their little rescue, though some of that damage was undoubtedly not their fault. Not like the locals would care, they certainly never did back on the Continent. Bracing himself for the upcoming bluster, Geralt pieced through his bag and pulled a few of the Spirits of the Abyssals free. From what he remembered, these poor saps didn't even know that the Abyssals left behind Spirits when killed, and they'd been fighting as long as this place existed. Hopefully, it would be enough to turn the conversation the way he wanted it to go.

As expected, not only the presumed owner of the restaurant, but Admiral Merlwyb herself came storming over, the latter with backup, to tell them off. Once Frog was done with his own bit about how she could trust him, Geralt stepped forward and lobbed the Spirits at the Admiral. "[i]That's[/i] what I have to say for myself. Those were Abyssals. Your little army here's been fighting for how long, and they didn't know something as basic as what happens when you kill them. They turn into those, then get pulled out deeper into the ocean by the currents and by creatures manipulating the flow of the water. From there, they'd be rounded up and either brought back to life, or turned into equipment or extra power, and sent back out to fight." Removing the Spirit of the Shipgirl, Hermes, he held it with a bit more care as his tone gained a bit of sympathy, but still held its critical edge.

"I also recovered one of your lost. I'm not one to use Spirits lightly, especially not on myself like some people, though our Princess has her ways of undoing the damage they can cause." Geralt let that hang in the air, the implication that hap hazardously using Spirits had consequences. Part of him wondered how much of a spectacle this silver-haired stranger's transformation would be. If this Admiral was worth that title, she'd realize that she [i]needed[/i] them and what information they could give. "There's a lot more to this than I care to explain staring down the barrels of your cannons and spears." 

Pointedly ignoring the furious figure of the owner, Geralt continued. "I can't speak for how this whole thing started, but I can guarantee you that everybody still alive here was doing their damndest to keep the bystanders out of the line of fire, which is more than I can say for [i]her[/i]." He didn't even know the name of the sorceress, not that it mattered to him. Having a name to put to the face usually only made killing them harder. "Now, Admiral, I have a question for [i]you[/i]: What are you willing to give, to do, to put an end to this war once and for all? Because those little things, right there, are your key. For every one of them you kill without losing one of your own, which, if you check with the girls you had on that sortie, we were quite capable of doing in a ship not even designed for combat, you can deprive them of power while making your own army stronger. And any good tactician will tell you that finding and exploiting your enemy's weakness while shielding your own is vital to waging war." 

Geralt stood there, between his party and Merlwyb's, ready for what their response. He was loathe to repeat Blaviken, especially knowing that Sakura the budding hero was waiting for them, but he wouldn't let some blowhards who couldn't get their heads out of their asses long enough to see what was right in front of their eyes stop him. He hadn't then, and he wouldn't now. He was ready to draw his sword once more, but his hands didn't move quite yet. No need to piss them off any more.