[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]The Maw- The Depths[/center]
[center]Lvl 7 (83/70) -> Lvl 8 (84/70) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 412 words[/center]

To say that the plan worked would be quite the understatement. The plan managed to distract the entire floor after Antoine's outburst caught the staff's attention. "Alright, let's get moving!" Geralt whispered, taking the lead. It was mostly out of necessity, as the legend had stayed back a moment to make his shot, and Link had some food in him. If things got hairy, Geralt couldn't afford to hold anybody back by being both behind [i]and[/i] slower. Every second might count with the girls being held captive who knows where. 

Mirage quickly managed to catch up, however, not that Geralt was particularly annoyed at that. He paused, holding out a hand to ask them to wait while he checked to see if this plan was even viable or not. The rotund chef had taken a moment to yell down and insult the other chefs, inadvertently delaying the rescue squad. It wasn't a long delay by any means, but it was frustrating to have to pause for even a moment. 

Mirage then set up a platform using his dart gun, then grabbed one of the kitchen hooks and hoisted himself onto the sausage links. They seemed to be holding the boy legend, so Geralt shrugged and followed after him. It was...certainly an experience, climbing an oversized rope made of sausage links. Geralt's luck at finding himself in strange, impossible-to-explain scenarios seemed to be holding, not that it was a pattern he was glad to have continued. [i]Rather be playing Gwent right now[/i], he thought miserably. 

Looking back on it, he'd spent a [i]lot[/i] of time playing Gwent, didn't he? He'd won a few tournaments, even. Might have been wise to focus a bit harder on the whole 'stop the end of all worlds' thing, but it worked out. 

Returning his focus to the here and now, though, Geralt frowned at the unpleasant feeling of climbing a sausage link. It was greasy, enough so that his grip was tenuous at best, his arms were already hurting from the strain and lack of energy, and he honestly didn't actually know what the hell he was supposed to do when they got up there. If that guy was just waiting up there with a cleaver for them, he could probably get a few throws of the nail out without collapsing, but any more than that was beyond him at this point. Even adrenaline had its limits, and Geralt was very nearly at his.