[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia [/center][/h2]
[center]Midgar- Seiran, Abandoned Subway- Overgrown Transfer [/center]
[center]Lvl 9 (172/90) +9 collab XP -> (184/90) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 1,567 words[/center]

Goldlewis' verbal bombardment on the group's return was...fair. Generally unappreciated, the Witcher suspected, but fair. They had survived, but not by their own talents. He wasn't sure whether Goldlewis was being literal when he mentioned that the Psi-fish would pop their heads with their powers, but he'd seen enough strangeness in the World of Light that it probably wasn't worth taking that chance again. Had the reservoir been slightly less busy, he likely could have used the Breaching Bastion to put some serious dents in the wildlife population, but ultimately that was the crux of the issue: there was too much there to get anything properly done. 

Taro being shuffled away for treatment was...unfortunate, given the likelihood of him being arrested for being Fused, but the man was in no shape to join the Seekers proper. Unfortunate as it was, hopefully his jailers would still allow him to receive treatment. Staying down there, continuing to suffer physically and mentally...it would do him no good. 

Geralt didn't respond to Goldlewis, but the half-hearted frown on his face indicated that he was, at least, [i]somewhat[/i] chastised, even if he damn well didn't like it. 

Especially given that they had to go [i]back[/i]. A bit of a shame that they hadn't done any proper scouting, but Geralt wasn't going to lose sleep over it. The journey to the tunnel system was fairly uneventful, thankfully, even though they had to use those damned ziplines again. At least these ones were less circuitous than the ones in Detroit. 

Casting Quen once they entered enemy territory proper, Geralt stayed towards the back, all the better to get a good look at their enemies before engaging. The Others were a bit more tricky than the average thug, he'd heard, and he'd prefer to not get caught off guard by anything they might be able to do. 

Such as explode in your face once they got in close proximity. That was...oddly terrifying. And unnatural. No creature threw itself to death like that unless it was serving a greater purpose, some higher cause. All living beings held within them a sense of self-preservation, be it as basic as 'move away from large predator' or as complex as 'I need to work to eat, and eat to live, even if I hate the work I have to do to eat.' 

That these...things...so casually disregarded that basic fact of biological function...disturbed him. Yes, the Abyssal Fleet was similar, but his experience with Rika and Bella indicated that they were somewhat incomplete. Hollow creations, with only the most bare-bones souls within them. The Strikers he'd bonded to from the Fleet were little more than automatons in his eyes. Their lack of self-preservation made sense: they were not created with it, all the better to wage a ceaseless war. 

But the Others...they had been presented as a biological phenomenon, an eldritch and foreign one, but living creatures nonetheless. 

Shaking his head to clear the disturbing ruminations, Geralt took Goldlewis' offer of protection and stayed behind the man, his giant coffin, and the massive shield he summoned, endured the wave of self-destructive monsters handily. Geralt sighed when it was over, shaking his head at his own sense of helplessness. He certainly could have fought, but being caught in the explosion of even one of those monsters...could have had catastrophic results, especially if it left him vulnerable to other attacks. "Thanks." Geralt simply stated when the coast was clear, giving Goldlewis a nod. Even if he wasn't exactly thrilled with the man at the moment, there was no grudge being held. He understood why he had been upset at them.

As they continued, Geralt renewed the shielding of Quen, keeping his breathing steady and his pace solid. He knew that wearing himself out would come back to bite him in the ass later, so he made sure to conserve his stamina as best he could. Even with his enhanced abilities, he was not a workhorse nor a limitless font of energy. 

Coming out to the train platforms, Geralt scowled when he saw the Saliva Santas. "What in the..?" He mumbled, still not quite used to the unusual forms the Others took. He went with Goldlewis to the right to attempt to attack the thing, only for the pair to be blasted back by an explosion of warm saliva, Geralt shaking off a glob from his arm. "Disgusting..." He muttered, drawing his bow. "Looks like a blade won't help." 

Geralt used Midna's assault on the singular Other as an opportunity to attack the pair on the other side, the special power of Odysseus' Bow triggering and spreading lightning between the two, though he focused his arrows on one of them. Doing his best to avoid being hit by blasts of water, Geralt nonetheless took a few hits, re-applying Quen midfight to keep himself sturdy. His other Signs lacked the range to deal with the Santas, so he focused on shooting with his bow, calling upon Panther to launch a few blasts of his laser weapon alongside Geralt. One arrow managed to trigger the missile launcher on his shoulder, which certainly helped deal some major damage to the Santa it hit, but even that was not enough to fell it.

Overall, it wasn't quite as clean as Midna's efforts on the solo Santa, and he most certainly had not slain his by the time she was done on her side, but he was assuredly wearing them down for the others to assist with a cleaner finish. It was times like this he missed the open ocean, being able to bring the Breaching Bastion to bear on foes, though it was only reasonable that it wouldn't last forever. 

Once they cleaned up the rest of the Santas, Geralt and the other Seekers followed after Goldlewis, and saw the results of...something...having been freshly killed. Two equine Others, one with leaves on its branch-like antlers, the other without, stood among a pile of ashes, the leafed monster cleaning blood from its nails, the bare one still eating. They'd interrupted quite the fresh kill, then. 

The Slippy Chinery covering itself in oil made Geralt hum. What were the odds that igniting that oil would harm it, and what were the odds that it would only become a flaming, rampaging nuisance? He wasn't sure he wanted to test that just yet, but perhaps when it was suitably weakened he would. The Winery Chinery he wanted nothing to do with, what with using metal swords as his primary form of combat. Sure, he could stay back and shoot the thing with his bow or crossbow, but after having just done so with the Santas, he was less inclined to ignore a chance to use his silver. Once more applying Quen to protect himself, Geralt moved to color, mimicking Midna's attempt to locate the Slippy Chinery via smell. It looked like the Twilight Princess and her hound were a more appealing target, though, and Geralt's witnessed the train she perched upon being crushed by the thing's assault, running to her aid as she was launched by the follow-up attacks. 

It was incredibly difficult to properly see the beast as it attacked Midna, but blasts of sand gave Geralt a good idea of where it was, and by the time it was clashing with her Darknut, Geralt had clambered aboard the damaged train, slashing his blade across one of its hindlegs as it reeled, quickly repositioning his blade to deflect the retaliatory tail strike. Sensing Midna as the greater threat, the Chinery continued attacking her, and she responded by trapping it in swarms of grasping vines, rooting it to the body of the train. Giving the Princess an appreciative nod, Geralt plunged his blade into the Chinery's side, calling forth a spray of blood, before moving out of the way of the cyborg bear's swoopin stu cannon. As the Other burned and thrashed, Geralt added to its misery with a concentrated stream of flames from Igni, covering its side with flames in addition to the ones on its front. 

Unfortunately, the Slippy Chinery also broke free as Geralt was dousing it with flames, and with Midna retreating to be healed, that left Geralt as a perfect target for a body slam. Unable to react in time, Geralt was bodily launched from the train, silver sword clattering and sliding along the ground as his Quen shield explosively shattered, and the oversized Witcher crashed to the ground and rolled for a good twenty or so feet, crashing hard into an advertisement stand. Groaning, he forced himself to his feet and clumsily shuffled towards Blazermate and Midna as the Slippy Chinery came at them, summoning the Judicator behind him. "F-fuck...need help here..." He groaned, and the massive monstrosity screeched, beginning to self-flagellate to heal its summoner while he stumbled to his sword and grabbed it. 

Geralt fished in his pouch for a dose of Swallow, quickly swallowing it and standing to his full height as the potion quickly began hypercharging his already-good regeneration abilities. He wasn't back to 100% instantly, but it would allow Blazermate to focus on Midna while the Judicator and Geralt turned towards the Slippy Chinery and began a renewed assault, Geralt calling for backup from whomever was free to assist. The thing was burning, bleeding from Geralt's stab wound, and angry, but still standing. It likely wouldn't last for much longer, but for now...it was still a threat.