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Geralt of Rivia

Midgar- Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (152/90) -> +11 encounter XP Lvl 9 (164/90)

Word Count: 733 words


Well, the good news was that Khamsin did, in fact, have things handled. The bad news was that he was so efficient at 'handling' things that he destroyed a huge portion of the construction site, angering the G-Men in the process. Geralt went from 'glad he's on our side' to 'this thing is a threat that needs to be destroyed' in a split second as Khamsin's hammer instantly destroyed one of the two G-Men after his furious rant. Geralt's lips started peeling back in a silent, feral snarl as the massive mecha-piloting cyborg slaughtered Manananggal. It took nearly all of his self control to not say something, turning away from the murderous machine and looking at Raiden. Only once he heard the movement of Khamsin's mech starting to leave did he speak. "Can see why you hate them so much, if that's how every conversation goes." He was no fan of the G-Men himself, but they were ostensibly on the same side here. Just killing one because it dared to speak back against him made Geralt compare the cyborg to Radovid.

He just hoped there'd be less of a mess if they decided to kill this madman.

"We're in a better position to scout them out than to stand around here talking and waiting for the rest of the G-Men to show up, that much is certain." Geralt bit back at Benedict alongside Giovanna, shaking his head. "Whatever we do, it needs to not be here. Might as well be conveniently outside their bunker. No laws against tourism in that part of town as long as we don't try to break in, is there?" He snarked, taking off just after Poppi and Tora.

The run, along with a clear and obvious view of Khamsin decidedly not rampaging through the streets despite the fact that it would be as child's play for him, made Geralt second-guess his earlier anger. Not the judgment about Khamsin, but whether he was really in control of himself. For the first time since absorbing the Orphan's Spirit, he wondered if his mental state truly had been affected. He'd noticed some minor changes from the Harbor Demon, sure, but they amounted to little more than personality quirks. Now, though, his judgment, or perhaps more importantly, his self-control, were under question. Had he the chance, though, he wasn't sure he'd ask Peach to remove it. Monstrous fury clouding his mind or no, the others...might even have it worse. He was an old man, with decades of experience tempering his mind and his expectations. His Witcher mutations would also prove a boon in dealing with any mood issues the foreign Spirit caused. He couldn't foist that upon others, especially not when there were still plenty more Guardians to absorb.

He followed after Blazermate and Poppi, not quite able to keep their pace, but never out of sight of both of them, and when they finally reached the Bunker, Geralt unceremoniously dropped into a wheezing heap, sucking in massive breaths and squeaking out, "You...robots....pissing me.....off...." before outright giving up on speech for a good minute or so.

After a few minutes to catch his breath and return to the land of the living, Geralt stood up, stretched a bit, and looked around. The Bunker itself was...well, it looked like a modern castle, to put it simply. Minimal windows, clearly designed from a practical standpoint than to look in any way appealing, given that it was a disgusting hunk of metal and stone. What he had no reference point, for, however, was the strange canopy overhanging the surrounding area. "What the hell is that?" He asked, pointing up at it. He spent a few more moments looking it over, but ultimately decided to keep looking around.

It was Armstrong's posters that caught his eye. "So this is what the brute thinks would make a good leader? He'll bring them 'freedom', that guy said? Freedom from what, the Ever Crisis? Have to be a hell of king to pull that off." Something about the man, the grandiose promises on the poster, about keeping the 'war' off their shores, made Geralt narrow his eyes in distrust. It was easy to promise things. Radovid promised things. Even delivered on plenty of them, and it was those things that had earned him a dagger in the back.

"Don't like the look of him." Geralt simply stated.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (151/90) -> Lvl 9 (152/90)

Word Count: 366 words


Things were starting to get wild, now. As Geralt joined the ranged battle, careful to not let himself be plugged by the shotgunners, though he soon found it unnecessary as the Engineer's turret was putting out far more damage than he could with its much higher rate of fire. He could use his bow, but the smaller hand crossbow was still more familiar to him at this point.

TNT Randy was quick to turn on him and the immobile gun, however, tossing out sticks of TNT towards them. Geralt saw the explosives coming and guarded himself with Quen, though he didn't rely on it to protect him, leaping out of the way before they went off. Before he could return the favor and put the hurt on him, though, Tora and Poppi rocketed down, taking Randy's attention off him. While they fought, Geralt found himself a couple of rough-housing thugs to take care of, being careful to avoid the G-Men as they rampaged through anybody they could get their hands on.

After a moment, the ground started to quake and Geralt bit back a curse, wondering just what it was now.

It was somebody from Desporhado, calling themselves one of the 'Winds of Destruction.' Though, given what he was in...that might have been a fitting title. That wasn't even a suit, more like a walking siege weapon. This was not somebody whose bad side they wanted to be on. The good news was that Blazermate almost immediately flew up to him to try and convince him not to slaughter them, and the two spoke for a few moments before he started going to work, starting on one of the Misconducts that was desperately, and fruitlessly, shooting at him.

It was quick work, and the thug was dispatched before Geralt would have had time to load an arrow, taking with it a huge chunk of the support pillar. Geralt took a step back, looking Khamsin up and down, before nodding his head and thinking 'Fuck that' and getting well away from the rampaging maniac.

On this day, he chose life. "I think he might have the rest of this handled." He admitted to the others.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (149/90) -> Lvl 9 (151/90)

Word Count: 812 words


Geralt followed along on the sky-rail as the rest of the Seekers descended, managing a landing somewhere halfway between Tora and Poppi's roll, and Giovanna's semi-elegant slide. Not quite tumbling head over foot, but definitely not coming to a smooth stop, the oversized Witcher grunted as he stood back up, looking around to make sure they'd all made it in one piece. Patting himself down to ensure he hadn't lost anything, he gathered with the others to take a peek at their target.

That these thugs were much more prepared for a fight was unfortunate but inevitable, given that they were actually attacking a building site. What they were after, he really wasn't quite sure, but it seemed the Seekers were all of one mind: they had to be stopped. Unbeknownst to him, Giovanna was having similar, if not more thoroughly fleshed-out, thoughts about the mystery of their motives. He wasn't thrilled by the prospect of once again having to remain stealthy, but he was forced to grin and bear it. Or, more accurately, mildly scowl and bear it, but he was a grumpy old man, that was allowed.

Giovanna quickly gave the order to move in, and Geralt charged to cover and hid behind a metal panel, before making a short hop and pulling himself up to the second, and in short order the third, floor. Keeping low, he shuffled to hide behind a hanging tarp, keeping his breathing slow and steady. He doubted anybody could hear him over the talking and yelled orders below, but given his size it was better to be careful. He waited for a minute or so, wondering when something would happen, when the talking quickly cut out, and not long after, a familiar and concerning voice spoke. A G Man. Sighing, Geralt stood and moved to a better vantage point, looking out for another Seeker to see what they were doing.

He did not have time to find one before the blast of a shotgun rang out. Cursing, he moved from his place of cover, making the drop to the ground from where he was, though not without being sure to lower himself a bit first to help mitigate the fall, landing as TNT Randy's dynamite exploded and caused the other G-Men to enter their combat forms.

Quickly casting Quen to protect himself, Geralt grunted as a gunslinger opened fire, and charged forward, letting the magical shield he'd summoned take the damage, tackling the Misconduct to the ground and delivered a pair of brutal punches to the man's face, rendering him unconscious. The feeling of a hockey stick hitting him in the head, breaking the shield, was all Geralt registered for a moment as he fumbled off the gunner, shaking his head as the improvised weapon swung towards his head again.

Without a thought, a massive arm thrust out, catching the hockey stick mid-swing and snapping the tool with a clench. Geralt rose, and to his assailant's credit, they were not cowed, lashing out with the ragged edge of their weapon. Geralt merely raised his arm in a block, catching the weapon on his armor, and grabbed the thug by their neck, lifting them and tossing them at an ally roller blading over to their rescue, knocking the two over. He strode over to the pair as they scrambled to get up, tearing the roller blader's hockey stick from their hand and quickly bashing them in the face with it, turning to the other and jabbing the end of it into their gut, before flipping the stick in his hands and smashing it over their back, shattering the wooden hockey stick and knocking the hoodlum to the floor. Kicking them once in the ribs, and probably cracking a few, he turned and lashed out with a kick than knocked them back to the ground.

Turning to observe the rest of the battle, Geralt drew his crossbow and quickly shot one of the Misconducts that was trying to return to position after Poppi's scattering attack. The bolt didn't manage to pierce the hockey pads, given their bulk, but it certainly scared the thug, who turned to Geralt and opened fire with their shotgun, whiffing badly. As they tried to correct their aim, a blast of unseen force launched them backwards into a beam, giving Geralt time to close the gap and tackle them into the beam, crashing their skull into the metal and knocking them out cold.

"What are we doing about the G-Men?" Geralt called out, watching as the monstrous enforcers fought the Misconducts, tossing a charging stick-wielder over his shoulder. Part of him was missing using his swords, but leaving a trail of corpses would be...perhaps more conspicuous than they were looking for. If Raiden wanted to, he could go ahead, but it was probably better not to piss off their hosts.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (148/90) -> Lvl 9 (149/90)

Word Count: 365 words


Getting the rest of the way out of the brewery had taken a few minutes of waiting, but once Geralt was sure he found a breach in the barrel creatures' patrols, he took full advantage of it, hooking onto a rail and riding it around and tangential to his final goal. Dropping off the rail into a quick roll (which hurt his knees a bit but he would never admit it), he ran to his next target and leapt, hooking onto the rail and being pulled right next to his goal: the orange tower. Clambering upwards, he hooked onto the rail leading out of the brewery, and in short order he and the rest of the Seekers were free.

It wasn't much longer to reach the rendezvous point, and once the sky-hooks they had gathered for the others were handed off, they mused on their options. Unfortunately, it looked like they would need to collect more gear, especially if they had any desire to go into Quarantine Valley and deal with the Hermits. Geralt was less than enthused about going into that place, but he'd been one of the ones to suggest they trade with the Hermits, so he accepted that they'd likely need to take an unfortunate path to get to them.

Absent any actual ideas on how to proceed, they followed Giovanna's lead of hoping trouble would run into them. Taking the sky-lines was rather convenient, if a bit odd. They passed a fight below, but at the sight of what was likely G-Men and that strange gas...no, not a good idea. Geralt's stomach protested the loops they took on the way there, but soon enough they were deposited onto the roof of a factory.

As the group got to looking around, engaging in the ages-old practice of "Leave me alone and I'll leave you alone" with the hoodlums drinking nearby, Poppi located some suspicious individuals attacking the construction site. Geralt followed Tora to the edge of the roof, looking down on the thugs with a sneer. "Well, then. Looks like we have some more work to do." He commented, following Giovanna and hooking to a sky-line to make his way down.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (147/90) -> Lvl 9 (148/90)

Word Count: 609 words


As Giovanna handled the ringleader and the getaway driver, Geralt set about collecting the sky-hooks and grabbing the Spirits of the gang members he'd killed, crushing them with little in the way or mercy or thought. Raiden's less-than-stellar fusion results made it clear these were not worth considering, especially not with the caliber of Spirits he'd already fused with. In a way, he'd become a bit of a snob about it, though given the consequences fusion could bring, he felt it was justified. Both the Orphan and the Harbor Demon had given him powerful tools in exchange for the great physical changes they'd caused him. Whatever Raiden got out of a simple thug...he doubted it was on the same level, though there was never any telling.

He didn't overtly react to their guide's...unenthused reaction to their bloodshed, either. It wasn't necessary to do so, though he supposed it wasn't necessary for them to kill these people, either. Especially when it only took him one or two punches to incapacitate them. He'd have to think on that for later, as things weren't quite as simple as "monster" or "enemy army" here. Wanton slaughter would cause more trouble than it was worth here.

When Giovanna mentioned that she had called the police, Geralt nodded. Their job was done, and now it was time to be far, far away from here. Handing everybody a sky-hook and following after the woman, Geralt had to admit it was...almost thrilling, riding these rails. Less thrilling, however, was the sudden stop their ride came to, depositing them into a large walled complex, apparently a brewery. He managed to make a...passable...landing, crashing onto hands and knees and rising to a crouch with a groan and an accusatory look at Giovanna. "Nice one..." He grumbled, looking around. The place was surprisingly heavily protected, with strange, barrel-headed creatures patrolling around and odd-looking devices with blinking red lights on the outside walls. He wasn't sure what those did, exactly, but he figured it was best to stay away from them.

When one of the barrel creatures was walking away, Geralt moved. His size, along with his already-powerful muscles, let him cross the distance to the wall he was aiming for in moments. Double-checking to make sure he was clear, he crouched and jumped, grabbing onto the lip of the roof above him, his absurd height making it a simple matter to catch the roof and pull himself up the wall, boosting himself with a firm foot planted against the brick. He kept low, looking around for a rail to catch or a way to cross to the orange tower that looked like their best way out. He didn't see anything that'd be quite so simple, but found a path that'd at least get him closer. Hooking to a pipe above him, Geralt zoomed across a short gap, landing carefully on a semi-raised platform and quickly scaling upwards once again and surveying from his new vantage point.

He saw more barrel creatures patrolling the place, as well as more numerous rails criss-crossing along above and around him. None lead directly to his goal, but a couple went near and curved away from it, continuing into either a loop or heading to a completely different section of the complex.

Taking any of them could risk alerting the patrollers if he dismounted improperly and landed too close or in their sightlines. And he didn't want to risk trying to destroy one, for a number of reasons. No, for now...he would watch, and wait, looking for a lull in their security or a blind spot he could exploit while the others carried on.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (146/90) -> Lvl 9 (147/90)

Word Count: 706 words


That circumstances forced them apart so early was a small surprise to Geralt, but he had truly no idea what stances different societies took to what his might call a sentient golem, so while he took Midgar's approach in stride, he still frowned at the idea that they weren't people. "Seems a bit reductive..." he grumbled, but not putting up an actual argument against it. This was a philosophical field he'd prefer to stay out of. Plenty of people couldn't understand why Witchers refused to hunt true dragons, and he was a bit tired of explaining that as well, given that they were so rare anyway. In hindsight, he hadn't stopped to think about the Enderdragon, though it being one of Galeem's Guardians meant that he wouldn't do so now, either. They, and it, had to be stopped.

Shortly after, once they'd decided on finding the Hermits, Giovanna lead them around the city within Sector 8. It didn't take long for the SOU operative to find what she was looking for, some drug that was commonplace around here. Her companion, Rei, took a few sniffs of the stuff and took off, leading them to the source. Geralt was thankful for that, as he wasn't sure he wanted to take a whiff of some strange place's drugs. Whether it affected him or not would be up in the air, but if it did, he could very well be rendered useless.

It didn't take long to find their destination, and they even got to witness the sky-hooks in action on the way there, a group of punks zipping by above them as they followed Rei. It looked simple enough, though he imagined that would change once he was up there himself.

Just across the street was an abandoned building which had fallen into disrepair, holes visible in its roof. Geralt shook his head at the lack of care for the city, though he wondered how a place of this scale could even operate. Did they focus so much on controlling individual travel to make up for the fact that they couldn't actually run the place right, shoving the dregs below to be hidden and forgotten about? It wouldn't be the first time.

Once they were all ready, they made their way across, Geralt following Giovanna's footsteps and using his enhanced size and strength to easily clear the gap, quickly leaping from the air conditioning unit which groaned unhappily at his weight.

Once on the roof, they all took a quick look at what they were jumping into, before dropping.

Raiden went for the ones armed with guns, while Geralt went for the ones with more up-close-and-personal style weapons. Not even bothering to draw his swords, Geralt buried his fist into one thug's gut before they even had time to react beyond shock, and when they charged, Geralt hefted and tossed the winded body of the gangster into one of his buddies, sending the two toppling to the ground. Baring his claws, he turned another thug into a pile of bloody ash while one tried to stab their knife between the plates of his armor, only for Geralt to crush their arm with an elbow. As the mook screamed in pain, the Witcher ended their agony with a fistful of claws to the gut.

The two he'd knocked over shakily stood before charging at him, and Geralt lashed out with his leg, launching the one with a bat back into a wall, knocking him unconscious. The other thug swung their crowbar, but he caught it and mercilessly tossed the weapon aside, lifting the woman by her throat and punching her in the face, breaking her nose and sending her to the ground, senseless, incoherent, and unable to keep fighting as blood poured down her face and her skull pounded with a migraine. It was practically a miracle she'd survived the punch in the first place. He ignored the moaning and looked out over the carnage they'd unleashed. Raiden had gone outright lethal, using a pair of blades that folded out of his robotic arms to carve through their foes with no concern for their lives. Geralt just nodded at the cyborg.

"Let's get those hooks, then." He simply stated.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit

Lvl 9 (144/90) -> Lvl 9 (146/90)

Word Count: 823 words


That the forces running and protecting Midgar knew of Spirit Fusion was a surprising and somewhat concerning revelation to Geralt. Where had they gained this knowledge from? Was it one of the Consuls, using their knowledge to buy influence? That would make sense, though to what end? They were clearly working for Galeem. Was their lord not granting them enough power? Were they to gain it themselves as some sort of test? Or did Galeem even care, instead selecting a few powerful beings to guard its guardians, then just...letting the world go as it did? The possibilities, and the fact that Geralt had simply no idea of what Galeem wanted or how it did what it did, were still growing. How frustrating.

It seemed, however, that some of their allies knew people within these organizations. Raz knew and worked with people from the Pysch-OSF, while Raiden had a very adversarial past with Desporhado. Enough to outright demand a fight with them, in fact. Geralt's fists clenched, but Goldlewis managed to help remind him that not only were they on the same side, but they didn't have the opportunity to just go in and start a fight, given that it would make everybody around them instantly an enemy. That was a great way to get killed.

Their newfound allies took some time to address their concerns, and described the way the city was laid out, and Geralt had to avoid trying to wrap his mind around the sheer breadth of the city, because he simply couldn't. Eight sectors, each divided into top and bottom, each with their own societal ecosystem. He'd take what info he could and use it, though. Sector 3, on top, was where Raz's friends were. Sector 8, down below, was where Desporhado's Bunker was located. And Sector 4's top section was where Neuron was headquartered.

Soon enough, the group were getting their metaphorical handcuffs put on. Devices that told everybody who they were, held their identities inside them. That were required just to get around. It reminded him too much of the Nilfgaardians. Travel papers. Transit passes. Permission from the people in charge just to go where you wanted to go. He glared at the offending bracelet as they were on board the train, trying not to focus on just how badly it annoyed him. To be shackled.

Part of him was even surprised he cared this much. The solution had practically been handed to him. No necrophages to slay, nobody to bribe to get it, it was just...made by an ally. He wasn't forced to pay or work for it. But the physical reminder, the feel of it on his arm. He didn't like it.

Eventually, he was pulled from his thoughts by the group's arrival in Detroit. Apparently, it was a den of scum and thieves, who wouldn't let you have shit. They'd even steal directly from your GridLink if you had money connected to it, whatever the hell that meant. Geralt wasn't sure he was the best fit for this place, but that would be the case wherever they went, whichever group they investigated or tried to join. This city was full of advanced technology, far beyond what he could easily understand. An elevator without visible pulleys? Fine, he could accept that. Odd, somewhat fanciful, but they just got better at hiding the pulleys, he supposed. This? No, it made no sense.

Still, he steeled himself as they were on their way. Giovanna was quick to show them the Qaurantine Zone, and Geralt's hackles raised quickly. A massive chimera outbreak left the citizens infected, and quickly abandoned. He understood the need for Quarantine, especially against something as virulent as the Redshift could apparently be, but...how terrible. "Poor folk. Didn't do anything to deserve it, just...existed in the wrong spot. Left to fend for themselves." He was feeling melancholic for a moment. He couldn't see them, but he knew it must have been a great number of people suffering in there. All the more reason to stop the Ever Crisis, find the Guardians, and destroy Galeem, wasn't it? So much to do.

When it came time to decide which tree they should bark up first, Geralt found himself similarly indecisive. Raiden's intent to hunt down Desporhado seemed to be tempered for now, and while he somewhat agreed with Benedict, Geralt couldn't help but be skeptical of just how willing he was to really help them. It wasn't necessarily anything against the man, but he'd been essentially forced out of his government job by rebels, then press-ganged to join them. Hard feelings would be reasonable. Still, the logic was sound. "For now, might be best to keep a low profile, like he says. Not keen on dealing with those G-Men again so soon, or getting Desporhado's attention before we're ready. Any chance of tracking down any Hermits here, or is that a lost cause?" The Witcher asked of Giovanna.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar

Lvl 9 (135/90) -> +6 XP Reward Lvl 9 (144/90)

Word Count: 1,329 words


Geralt listened to the explanations of the Ever Crisis and the situation around the city of Midgar with rapt attention. This megacity was vaguely reminding him of one of the many places Ciri had found herself in during her travels through different worlds, and frankly, in a place so large, with so many people? It wasn't hard to imagine her being somewhere among them. Finding her, as ever, remained in his mind. Though, now that they had more allies, perhaps he could press on them the importance of finding a woman who was a direct conduit of immense magical power.

The description of the G-men was...well, frankly, horrifying. He had no desire to get caught by them, even if he was confident that he could lie his way out if they weren't particularly intent on keeping him there. It was the risk of them being that intent that he'd prefer to avoid. Death was unpleasant. He had no desire to keep experiencing it, even if it were so intent on seeking him out. That was the best explanation he had for his experiences: he was dying or coming damn near to it, but something, perhaps some remnant of the unicorn magic that revived him originally, or even the Spirit of the Guardian within him, was pulling him back from the edge.

The Ever Crisis itself...was even more complicated and worrying than he had feared. Three different types of enemies, ranging from the mechanical to the eldritch. The invisible enemies actually might be something he could handle, though Yrden might simply not work on them the same way it did on Spectres from his world. Still, it would be worth bringing up. "As for the matter of the unseeable enemy, I may have a...minor solution. Can't guarantee it would work, and frankly, it wouldn't work as a way to actually combat them on a large scale level, but if we get caught with our pants down, one of my spells is primarily used in my world to hunt and make ghosts and spectres vulnerable to physical harm."

The three branches of the army, each with their own specializations in dealing with aspects of the Ever Crisis, did pique Geralt's interest. Psych-OSF seemed most like the group that matched his own abilities, if they had to work together, though Neuron...seemed secretive. Perhaps it was just in the interest of not losing their edge, but there didn't seem to be much to go off of with them. It was good to know that Bridges were good at making connections and gathering information on account of their profession. Couriers always had their ways.

Some of the politics went over his head, admittedly, but it seemed like this Shinra group was de facto in charge.

Peach's apology to Benedict was something Geralt wasn't sure he agreed with, but he gave his fellow 'old man' a nod when she did. "Take a closer look around you, and think hard on where you're from. Things...aren't right here. And we're trying to make it right." Ugh, he was about to vomit just from saying that.

More politics. Different rebel groups in the city, and he wasn't sure he cared for any of them. Avalanche seemed like either the least or the most harmful, frankly. If they were intent on depriving the city of their main source of energy, how would they keep this city running? Geralt had no idea how they did it as it was, but without their fancy technology, these people would be slaughtered by the outside threat. He said as much. "Avalanche sound like a bunch of morons, frankly. Trying to burn their city because they don't like how it's run. Damaging the planet or not, there's bigger things at stake. Such as not being murdered by invisible beings from another world."

As for the Hermits, Geralt saw what Midna didn't. "Though, the hermits...they wouldn't happen to be open to trading, would they? Some coin for whatever they've got. That's assuming they actually have anything of value, though. As long as it doesn't mess with their safety, they might be open to it."

Geralt didn't bother to give the Reunion his thoughts. Midna was right, cruel as it was, if they were turning into monsters...better to put them down. He wouldn't say that, not in front of the others, especially Sakura, though.

Pretty soon, they got to introducing themselves and what they could do. Taking that as his cue to go into his own abilities, he explained: "I have a few spells, including the one I mentioned earlier. Yrden, which can either produce a field that slows enemies and renders spectres vulnerable to physical harm, or a trap that attacks enemies and projectiles like arrows. I'm not entirely sure it would reveal those Chimera things, but it also makes spectres easier to see, so perhaps...I also have Igni, which is a simple fire spell. It can be as tame as lighting a candle or as strong as to turn steel cherry-red. I can focus it into a small line, or send out a blast of flames to send foes running. There's Aard, which projects telekinetic force. I can use it to snuff out those same candles I lit with Igni, or knock a grown man on his ass. Benedict got a dose of it earlier. Didn't want to risk pissing off your G-men more and ruining the entire shop, but I knew I had to get me and the kid out of there, by the way." He added that last part for the Turk's benefit.

"I also have Axii, a spell that assails the mind. It can be used to issue commands, though more often than not I use it to calm my horse. Or giant murderous bird, on one occasion. I can, however, use it to overwrite a foe's mind in the midst of battle and turn them on their allies, as well. I...try not to do that as often. Cruel. More likely to use it to overwhelm their mind and stun them for a bit, or have them turn tail and run. Finally, I have Quen, which projects a protective field around me. Can take quite a beating, as well. Underneath, I'm still...somewhat human." Looking at his claws, Geralt frowned. "Even before the Spirits I've fused with, I wasn't quite human. I'm a witcher, an alchemically enhanced human with powerful senses, I'm stronger, faster, and much more long-lived than normal people. I can race with wolves, track like a hound, I can take a blow from a troll and keep standing while my body regenerates itself. I'm damn near immune to poison, though this amulet I'm wearing makes that less effective. I'm an expert at swordfighting and fistfighting, though those girls exist on a level I couldn't hope to reach. I have two Spirits inside me, which let me summon a massive gun platform while near or in water, and the Guardian of the Blue. That one...mostly lets me summon lightning. Either around me, or onto my weapons. It also gave me its weapon, though I won't show you that, as it would require me magically ripping it from my own body. Have a few summonable Strikers as well, mostly focusing on offense, though the big ugly one can heal those around it as well."

Nodding as he just about finished, he pulled out Odysseus's Bow as well. "I also have this magical bow, that sends lightning travelling between enemies after a few hits. Rather useful."

Finishing his self-explanation, Geralt looked to their new allies. "I...actually have a favor to ask as well. Don't expect anything to come of it, given how large this place is, but...I'm looking for somebody. My daughter, Ciri. Ashen hair, scar on her left cheek, fair skin. Just under six feet tall. Carries a sword like mine, as well. Figure I'll let our friends and Bridges know as well, but wanted to ask while we're all here."
Geralt of Rivia

Kunad Highway-> Midgar

Lvl 9 (134/90) -> Lvl 9 (135/90)

Word Count: 505 words


As the battle raged on, Geralt scowled when Bede giggled at his decorated form, though he could feel the associated power boost. He wasn't exactly sure how, but he could. It had to be something with Pokemon and their fantastical abilities, but he didn't question it. He kept up his fusilade, before breaking off when the call to alarm was given. Ahead of them were trucks moving in....frankly absurd ways. They looked almost alive the way them charged around, rather than a mechanical carriage powered by...whatever these trucks were powered by. He was sure it was different in most places, anyway.

Rushing to the front of the trucks, Geralt took cover behind Pit as he watched Raz and Roxas apprehend their assailants' leader, giving the boys a quick nod, and Benedict a look that he was watching him. No escape attempts would be allowed by this wolf.

As the trucks came closer, Geralt watched in no small amount of awe as the collisions occurred, Giovanna and a metallic-looking man with whom Tora was apparently acquainted literally running around on the colliding vehicles in a display of superhuman acrobatics that even he was envious of. The four machines flew overhead, safe from the collisions while he and others without any absurd maneuverability or vehicles (He was pretty sure Midna and Sakura were still in that smaller vehicle he'd noticed earlier) were taking cover with Pit, whose flying shields protected them and the truck they were on. Thankfully, their pursuers were both beaten rather badly thanks to the others, and also suffered from the pandemonium, being thrown about as the trucks collided.

When the dust settled, Roxas used his keyblade to...do something to Benedict, that cleared Galeem's influence from him. Resolving to question him about that later, Geralt picked up the unconscious teen while informing Benedict that they had a lot to talk about, but that somebody else would have to give him the details.

In short order, they were recovered by the flying vehicle that their allies informed them of, and Geralt did his best to quell the unease at going up in what looked to be a steel vehicle that was flying. Utter madness. Still, he kept his cool, and watched for any signs of Roxas waking up, though that didn't end up happening until they reached their destination and began settling down.

Geralt took a seat when offered by Goldlewis, who some of the others who were on Yellow team recognized. Nodding as the man and their allies introduced their areas of knowledge, Geralt leaned forward and nodded.

"Simply put, I'd like to know it all. But let's start with this Ever Crisis, as I believe that's your most pressing concern. The rest can come after. What exactly is it, to the extent of your knowledge, how are you dealing with it, and how effective are those tactics?" It was, after all, why they were here in the first place. The more they knew, the sooner they could deal with it.
Geralt of Rivia

Dystopiascape- Gutsford -> Kunad Highway

Lvl 9 (132/90) -> Lvl 9 (134/90)

Word Count: 879+ words


The chase was on, Geralt and Bede speeding their way along to catch up with the Seekers, the former pausing a couple of times to place a slowing Yrden trap, just to be sure. They passed even more G-Men on the way, and Geralt cursed the first time they did, being forced to navigate around them lest they be caught. These things were proving to be quite the pain in the ass. Though, because they apparently had not yet gotten the word that the Seekers were to be detained on sight, they got away without causing much more trouble.

Soon, they arrived at the trade depot, Geralt hosting the smaller Bede up the wall after the trainer had returned Ponyta to its Poke Ball, following after him.

The other Seekers had taken the hint from Peach firing the gods-forsakened gun of hers, and Geralt was just glad he wasn't anywhere nearby when she had. That thing was disturbing, not to mention loud. They didn't have time to celebrate the reunion or warn the others of what was after them, however, as the trucks started their engines and were making their departures, just in time to get them away from their pursuers. Convenient, but at least something was going their way. He wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth any time soon. Quickly making his way to one of the vehicles and climbing to the roof, he sighed a breath of relief. They made it.

For a little while, the witcher just relaxed, taking a moment to ask Bede more about Pokemon, since he was now the owner of some of the red-and-white balls that the Pokemon Trainer used for his own companions. There was...definitely more to this than he thought, but he could get the hang of it. Eventually. Surely. He was smart, he just needed some time to ruminate on his newfound knowledge.

Time that, of course, the world was not going to give him. A short while into their journey, the roaring of an engine heralded the arrival of their not-so-abandoned pursuers, and Geralt quickly got to his feet, drawing his bow as Benedict and the G-Men climbed from the hatch on top of the bus. What came after that, however, Geralt did not expect.

They doffed their hats, and in doing so, transformed. Into...well, a variety of things. A bull-headed man. A dark-clad woman with scissors and strange headgear. A man in a suit with a crescent moon for a head. A helmeted blacksmith. A tiny creature in a pot. A strange, floating man with a trumpet. And a demonic-looking creature on some strange white seat that floated with it. Of all of them, the large demon and the floating trumpeter stood out as the most problematic. The former for its built-in throne, and the latter for its flight and choice in non-weapon.

He still didn't like pitchforks, and this was a thematic similarity that was too great for him. While the woman with scissors gave the same idea, it seemed different somehow. He couldn't place it, but something told him the one with the trumpet was trouble.

Quickly, Geralt drew the Spirit of the feline assassin he'd slain in the Nyakuza Metro. "You tried to kill one of the kids. You seem like somebody who knows the deal, and while I have no love for your choice of actions, you didn't cry, scream, or rage when death came for you. You knew you walked beside it, and I can respect that. Join me, and you can do so again, with targets that will rarely be as morally dubious." He couldn't promise moral purity, and he wouldn't lie about it, either. "Fight by my side." He asked, looking up and drawing his bow.

As the fight began around him, Geralt noticed Trumpeter's relative lack of action. That was not good. No, it most certainly was not. He drew Odysseus's bow, firing as quickly as he could at the self-proclaimed harbinger of calamity. The arrows of light that Pit fired bounced off of it, but the more mundane arrows fired from the bow struck true, with the fourth arrow unleashing lightning on the Persona. It was, however, reflected back by something, and the feeling of electricity locking his muscles for a moment forced a curse out of Geralt. "C-careful! It just sent my bow's lightning back at me!" He warned the others.

Geralt tried to keep towards the back, somewhat near Raz, Pit and Peach, which proved somewhat unfortunate when the harbinger of calamity called upon its mass nuclear attack to drive the Seekers out of position. Geralt, perhaps somewhat unexpectedly, decided to take advantage of the forced reposition to begin a full-on assault on the musician Persona, stowing his bow and drawing a Dimeritium bomb from his pack. "No more!" He yelled, tossing the grenade directly at Trumpeter to prevent any further magic usage. Drawing his hand crossbow and firing, Geralt smirked when the bolt landed and finally triggered the ATGM launcher on his shoulder, dealing an even mightier bow than his crossbow shot had.

He kept firing, not resting on those laurels, and made the Sign of Yrden in its magic trap configuration, hoping to discourage any of the other enemies from attacking him, either by having their projectiles shot down, or themselves being blasted by magic. Even if it wasn't terribly strong, it would be a consistent thorn in any melee attacker's side if they closed on him.
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