[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2] [center]The Maw- The Kitchen[/center] [center]Lvl 7 (95/70) +15 XP (collab) -> Lvl 7 (111/70) [/center] [center]Word Count: 676 words[/center] [hider=Upgrades] Power: To Be Determined, banked. Strength: Famine- While hungry, gain speed boost and stamina regain that ramp up the hungrier you are. Strength: Protective Instincts: Geralt's time in the maw has reawakened the instincts that once drove him to wage a war to rescue his daughter. When an ally of Geralt's is in danger (by his perception, so just fighting a few weak enemies wouldn't suffice as a trigger) or has been previously harmed by an enemy, Geralt is strongly motivated to protect or avenge them. He becomes faster, stronger, and more resilient (mentally and physically) when he is fighting directly on the behalf of or for the safety of others. Weakness: Fear of Starvation- Geralt's experience with starvation on the Maw was harrowing to the Witcher. Despite his outward nonchalance, losing consciousness mid-fight due to not eating enough has left a growing seed of doubt in his mind. Geralt becomes constantly way about having enough to eat, to the point that lacking some kind of reserve of food will result in him growing irritable, and arguing for a course of action that is more likely to allow access to food, or an opportunity to rest. Combined with the Famine strength, Geralt becomes more and more manic as his speed increases and his hunger grows. Geralt's potions provide the bare minimum level of comfort, as they are more supplements for his abilities than actual food. In a pinch, he will use them to satiate his fear rather than for their stated purpose, though that will ultimately result in him feeling even worse for wasting after a short while if he's not able to reach some kind of food for relief. [/hider] The assault on the Maw's Helm passed quickly, and though Geralt was glad to see the Hat Kid again for her triumphant return, he was less glad when they all realized that she had completely and utterly sabotaged the ship, rendering it essentially inoperable. He refrained from scolding or otherwise insulting her decision, however, as it was both pointless (as this ship did need to be destroyed) and too late (as the Seekers were being hurtled about the bridge like a child's playthings). The last thing he thought before unconsciousness took him was [i]I really hate this place.[/i] [hr] The next sensation he experienced was the stench of rot and decay forcing its way into his nostrils, a quick surge of adrenaline forcing the giant up, head turning this way and that before quickly scrambling to his feet. He noticed something off about the movement, however, and looked down at himself-and everybody else-before realizing that he was once more giant. "Ah." He breathed, nodding and looking about once more. The place they'd wound up was disgusting. But it was also vaguely familiar. Not in the sense that he knew this specific place, but in the sense that he'd spent enough time in corpse piles that a sense of calm flowed through him. Not peacefulness, but the calm a practiced warrior feels against an opponent he understand intimately. His breathing deepend as trained muscles prepared for combat, his unconscious mind ready to face off against Drowners or Ghouls. None came, of course, but Geralt was ready nonetheless. When he finally really took a look at the others, he was relieved to find that all that went into the final battle came out (minus the pig-like creatures that the Cadet and Junior had taken along, but those were of minimal importance to Geralt at the moment). So, they'd survived the Maw, with only Glenn as a casualty. Not ideal, of course, but within expected parameters of success. Huh. That might be a warped outlook on things, Geralt pondered for a moment. Was he cursed to be surrounded by misfortune and death, or was he simply just that competent at what he did? Or was he blessed to live and experience the joys he had with his family? A philosophical matter for another time. They had matters of actual importance to attend to. Patting himself down, Geralt found that his equipment had been returned to him in much the same condition he last remembered it being in, though he found the lack of the Nail to be a big of a let down. He went about searching for the weapon, and after a short while managed to find its sling. Humming at the good fortune, Geralt gave a quick whistle and held out his hand, the Nail obliging and flying directly into his outstretched, oversized hand. "Ah, right. We were small in there." Looking at the diminutive weapon, Geralt shrugged and left the wreckage. He could hand it off to one of the others at some point and let them use it. Joining the others, Geralt frowned at the state of the group. Physically they were doing well, but there was one thing missing. "Do we have any other food? That won't last very long at all." Junior's stash was pitifully small for a group of this size, and while Geralt knew that it wasn't intended to be more than for Junior, their situation would likely demand that it be split among them. Delsin's offer of firewood was quite helpful, and the overhang that the oversized coral provided allowed them to make a small fire. "Do you know if that village is safe?" He asked the Conduit. It would only make sense to check there, following the river upstream. Frankly, the place looked ominous, but Geralt had conversations with Werewolves and all sorts of "monsters" before, so he wasn't as quick to judge on appearances and aura of ominousness. They could find out about just how horrible it was through direct experience. That was how it usually went.