[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2] [center]Bottomless Sea -> The Maw [/center] [center]Lvl 7 (46/70) -> Lvl 7 (48/70) [/center] [center]Word Count: 791 words[/center] Among the many things that happened before Tyl Regor's return, the conversations that took place seemed to get them nowhere. Such was the downside to their decision to agree on matters of such import before acting. If nobody could come to an agreement, progress would stall. Still, as it was, things were alright. Nothing was forcing their hands quite yet, even if that freak had expected them to have made some sort of decision in the time since he'd- Ah. Of course. As soon as Geralt thinks 'We'll be alright, nothing horrible has happened to force us to do something', that [i]exact fucking thing happens.[/i] He barely even spared the giant, monstrous [i][b]thing[/b][/i] a glance, worried that he'd either stop and study it, or that its strange glowing eyes would focus on the Seekers and destroy them personally. Even as it was, that wave of energy had shut down anything that worked on electricity, the main power source of many of the worlds that composed this place. That was bad. That was, in fact, [i]extremely bad[/i], as it resulted in Blazermate 'falling unconscious' (Geralt did not want to contemplate that she might be dead just yet), and the Atomos becoming little more than a decoration. Oversized legs and arms pumped as the MegaWitcher sprinted towards the Maw, diving into its maw (pun intended) and rolled along the wooden floor. They were in some kind of parlor. Quickly getting up and looking around, Geralt found that the place was actually decently decorated. He could only assume it was to make the victims of this place feel more at ease before their inevitable demise. Peach took the lead when a figure appeared before them, wearing a porcelain mask and rail-thin, before admitting to them that it was the master of this ship. Geralt's hand strayed to his sword, but unless things got worse, he'd let Peach handle this. Things got worse. A silver blade sang as it flew from its sheath and Geralt stepped forward, drawing the Sign of Axii to induce one of the monsters to distract its friend and turn this fight into a cleanup. But as he pushed power into the Sign, nothing happened for a moment. And then the backlash came, the spike of pain into his mind that came from trying to overwhelm a mind much too powerful, only this creature didn't even seem to blink. Ah, so that's how it was. They were experts of this craft, and Axii was merely a brute-force application of an art they'd perfected. Or perhaps, one that their very nature granted them mastery over. All these thoughts and more crossed Geralt's mind as darkness overcame him. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Waking with a start, Geralt looked around to find himself lying on an oversized bed, the others stirring and trying to figure out what happened. It took a moment before he registered that they were either extremely small now, or that this bed was [i]excessively[/i] oversized. He hoped it was the latter, but he wasn't dumb enough to hold onto that hope for long. No, whatever strange force controlled this place had clearly metamorphosed them. "Oh, fuck." Oh. [i]Fuck.[/i] That was not his voice. That was the voice of a squeaky, snot-nosed child! He sounded even younger and higher-pitched than Ciri had when they first met. This was bad. This was [i]very[/i] bad. If he was that young.... "I'm not a Witcher." He wouldn't be able to utilize his Signs, he wouldn't even be able to properly swing a sword. Where were his swords? Geralt patted himself down- He was wearing.... This was much worse than he thought. Much, [i]much[/i] worse. This outfit was something Vesemir had given him as a child. It was nothing special, just some decent clothes that wouldn't wear quickly for the little bits of training they'd allowed him to do as a youth, which in retrospect was more like structured play. Geralt almost wanted to join Sakura in her panic, but he took that feeling, buried it behind his experience, his knowledge, and his stoic facade and carefully stood up. Link was already taking a position to calm the others and get their attention, and Geralt nodded at the boy. "Oh, I'm Geralt by the way." It took him a moment to remember just how different he probably looked. The others he could, somewhat unsurprisingly, pick out well enough, but his own appearance was drastically different due to the mutagens that were part of the Trials. He just wanted to be sure they didn't waste time trying to figure it out. "So this whole thing is fucked." He figured he'd say what they were all thinking, at least. "So what's the plan?"