[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]The Maw [/center]
[center]Lvl 7 (49/70) -> Lvl 7 (50/70) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 300 words[/center]

Geralt cursed as a massive red light appeared from the center of the domed room's roof. While the gargantuan hand that came down to capture them failed to do so, Geralt's heart was pounding as he and Blazermate got their bearings on the bookshelf. As the light shone over Nadia, Geralt turned towards the darts slapping against the wall of the bookshelf and quickly began hauling himself up. It wasn't particularly difficult, even for a child of his size- and wasn't that weird to think about?- and in a few scant moments, Geralt was on top of the small bookshelf. 

Frantically looking around, the once and future Witcher spotted a nearby end table with what appeared to be a massively oversized shirt on it. Shrugging, he took a running leap, landing softly on the bunched-up fabric, and quickly pulled it over himself, forcing his breathing to still as he hoped and prayed that whatever the [i]hell[/i] that thing was didn't see him. He couldn't see much through the fabric, and it stank, but he'd endure whatever kept him from being grabbed by that giant hand and presumably crushed. 

That presumption was proven shortly after, when a loud ringing noise rang out for a few moments before a crunching noise took its place as, hidden from its sight, the creature destroyed the alarm clock Peach had thrown as a distraction. Geralt had no idea what to do now. He could only tell that the light probably wasn't directly over him, but he didn't know if it was nearby, or if it even accurately represented what this thing could see. All he knew is that was probably safe here. 

Probably. And when did that ever not work out for Geralt of Rivia? 

He should probably have written a will before leaving...