MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Limsa Lominscuttle- Kanzuki Beach

Lvl 9 (71/90) -> Lvl 9 (72/90)

Word Count: 597 words

As the other Seekers napped, frolicked, fought, and explored, Geralt found himself half-relaxing, half pondering the most daunting task ahead of himself: Finding Ciri. Again. Damn girl couldn't keep herself still, and knowing her, she'd be off fighting just as hard, if not even harder, than he'd been, unable to ignore a cry for help. It was a skill Geralt had forced himself to learn over the years, when answering the call would either be more dangerous than beneficial, or he was on business too urgent to interrupt. Whether others agreed with his definition of the latter wasn't his concern or his problem.

The smart thing to do would be to draft up posters, and hand them out to the guard and leadership of every settlement he came across, directing them to steer Ciri to Alcamoth when she was found so that he or Yennefer could find her. When they returned to Alcamoth, he'd have to speak with Peach and the others about it. The logistics of that endeavor would be better suited for the burgeoning army that was Smash City. Geralt wasn't dumb enough to pretend that only warriors and soldiers mattered for an army. The Moogles, their runners, Isabelle and their hospitality staff, Vandham and his people, their logistical and strategic staff, were all absolutely vital to making sure the Seekers' goals were met. If he could get them all helping, finding Ciri and getting her pointed in the right direction could take only days instead of weeks or months, even in this new insane world they were shoved into.

He'd do that tonight. He'd been stressed enough that he wanted to actually enjoy this day off, not spend it worrying. Ciri was worth worrying about, of course, but a few hours' delay in starting the official large-scale search shouldn't have too major an impact on their ability to locate her safely. She was tough. She'd be fine. She survived as long as she had already avoiding the Wild Hunt, and now they weren't even a threat.

So it was time to enjoy the beach. Standing up, Geralt stretched his back with a satisfying pop, then looked to Yen. "I'm going to take a walk. As nice as it is to lounge for a bit, I need to get moving."

Yennefer replied with a nod and a dismissing wave, eyes still closed as she basked in the warmth provided by the sands below her and the shade from the umbrella over her seat.

As he walked down the beach, he didn't pay Blazermate and Nadia's conversation much mind, but noted that the two seemed to be having more than just a casual chat. He got a glimpse of Bowser and Junior fighting some guy with those strange, obedient monsters that Junior palled around with. It seemed more like a spar, albeit a completely one-sided beatdown of a spar, given their attitudes, so he didn't pay it much mind.

He wandered the beach for a short while before circling back as Karin announced that she'd be creating a "sand castle", whatever that meant, and inviting people to socialize with her.

Wow, that was...kind of sad. Who actually said it like that? Even the high society types that Yen spent much of her time around would at least pretty it up with some flowery language about getting to understand one another.

"Hello." Geralt plainly greeted as he approached. "I have no idea what a sand castle is." He added, almost as an afterthought, inviting her to explain just exactly what it was she was doing.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Limsa Lominscuttle- Kanzuki Beach

Lvl 9 (70/90) -> Lvl 9 (71/90)

Word Count: 507 words

While the others went off to play some sort of ball game further down the beach, Geralt and Yennefer had a quick chat with Karin. "Oh, Miss Kanzuki, your estate is simply marvelous!" Yennefer's cheer was real, but overplayed just a bit. It really was a wonderful place that she'd offered. "We're ever so grateful for your invitation. Yes, this is Geralt. My name is Yennefer. It's very kind of you to allow us all to visit and relax."

Geralt nodded with an appreciative hum. "Yesterday was rough. It's nice to be able to just...relax for a moment. We'll be going back out soon enough, depending on how the folks from the other team work things out on their end. Thanks for all this."

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Yennefer effortlessly slapped Geralt on the shoulder. "Always so focused on work, Geralt, even at a party! Some days I wonder if you even know what the word relax means!" This earned a roll of the eyes from Geralt.

"Oh, trust me, I'll be relaxing plenty once I get some drink in me." That much, Yen knew, was far too true.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Stay out of my wardrobe this time would you?" Yennefer teased, earning a sigh from Geralt. If he hadn't wanted to be teased about it, he shouldn't have done it. "I'm certain we'll see each other again, Miss Kanzuki, but for now I fear Geralt's going to lose himself if he doesn't get any food in him. He's been irritable since getting back."

"Just haven't quite filled my stomach is all. That curse must have had some lingering effects..." Geralt justified, acting far too casual about possible long-term effects of being cursed of all things.

---

With drink in hand and half a plate remaining of a heavy assortment of food, Geralt was contentedly laying on a beach chair next to Yennfer, both in the shade to protect their pale complexions from the sun. "This really is nice." Geralt admitted before taking a sip of his drink. "Just wish it could last."

"Oh, don't be like that Geralt. I know we're old, but there's no need to be so pessimistic all the time. We've had some things truly work out for us, haven't we? We don't have to worry about the Wild Hunt at least. Wherever Ciri is, I trust she's handling herself quite well. I do miss her, still, though. After all that time, to barely get to spend any with her is far too cruel."

Geralt took her hand, squeezing it as a silent comfort before speaking. "But we'll find her. Always."

"Always." Taking a sip of her own drink, Yen hummed. "It really is quite a delightful drink. I can barely taste the alcohol. I may have to visit here again when I get the chance." That got a laugh out of Geralt.

Ahh, this was nice. And for once, they weren't being interrupted by some imminent danger or something going terribly wrong. Truly a miracle.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come -> Smash City: Alcamoth

Lvl 9 (38/90) +30 XP Fight Reward -> Lvl 9 (70/90)

Word Count: 954 words

Sleep came quickly once Geralt was in bed. It was a heavier sleep than he often got, though he'd spent much of his time the past months on the road, preparing a war, among other activities that didn't lend to sleeping deeply or soundly. Sadly, his favorite activity that interfered with sleep had not been, and still was not, on the menu.

Yennefer woke before Geralt, slipping free from the bed with a sorceress's ethereal grace and quickly clothing herself before setting about cleaning the armor he'd left for her magically. It was a simple task, thankfully, although the strange window over his chest confounded her somewhat. She'd have to make him get that fixed, or find something to cover the gap. He'd do it himself, to be sure, but a reminder wouldn't hurt. It didn't hurt that this gave her the opportunity to joke about how impractical it was. He and his Witcher friends ever did go on about how important it was to keep practicality in mind whenever choosing their gear.

As the task at hand finished, Yen set about procuring breakfast for the pair. Some sliced fruit for herself, and an omelet with bacon for Geralt. Between his now-thinned physique and the unholy sounds his stomach had been making, she knew he could use something heavier. And if he wanted more to eat, he could get it himself.

It wasn't much longer before the man stirred, sitting up with a yawn and looking over to see a plate of food on a small table and Yennefer sitting in a chair, one leg over the other and a half-content look on her face. "I'm just glad you don't toss about in your sleep. If you'd pricked me with that horn of yours, I'd have thrown you from the bed."

Raising an eyebrow in response at her choice of words, Geralt got up and took the plate from the table without a word. He had a feeling she wasn't quite up to his "juvenile wit" given his late return. Ravenously tearing through the omelet, Geralt sighed in relief when he finished, before frowning. "Damn, still hungry..." He complained, looking up at Yennefer. "All you thought to bring up for me?"

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, he realized at the look on her face. The pit in his stomach demanded it, however. "Yes, you're quite welcome Geralt. I wasn't quite in the mood to carry a ten-pound tray of whatever pleased you after you interrupted my sleep last night."

Rolling his eyes, Geralt started putting on an outfit that had been laid out at some point for him, his stomach still the only thing he could think to give any care to. "Came back when we were done, is all. I'll go and get something else, then." He didn't respond to Yennefer's silence, making his way to the door.

"I'll be back once I've eaten a bit more." He curtly reported, opening the door.

Only to be faced with a bipedal dog holding a letter. "Ah, Mister Geralt!" Isabelle greeted, peeking into the apartment before realizing she might see something she regretted when she remembered the Witcher's relation to the apartment's official resident. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything, I can come back, it's just that I have a letter for you!" The poor thing seemed torn between running and fulfilling her business, but she visibly relaxed when Yennefer appeared at the door fully clothed.

"Ah, Isabelle, good morning. I didn't see you this morning for breakfast. A letter, you say?" Yennefer plucked the envelope from her paw, easily breaking the seal and retrieving the letter. Isabelle looked between the two nervously, sensing the unhappy energy they were giving off, and gave a nervous smile. "It seems you've been invited to a party, Geralt. At a beach, no less. They'll have food all day, and plenty of alcohol, it seems. I suppose we'll have to get you into something fitting for the beach, then. I'm sure they have something here for you. I already have something, thankfully."

Grunting, Geralt nodded. "Don't suppose the others would ignore that. Alright. After I get something else to eat. I don't know how long it's been since I ate anything that wasn't that omelet you got me. We were captured for a while, in some kind of cursed or enchanted ship. Feels like I've been without food for days." Sighing, Yennefer waved him off.

"Yes, Geralt. When you get back, we'll get you looking presentable in something that won't leave you sweltering."

---

And she'd done just that. Unfortunately, owing to Geralt's tall but slim size, they didn't exactly have the luxury of choice with the outfit they'd gotten. A pair of plain blue swim trunks and a two-sizes-too-large button-up t-shirt in a floral pattern covered his scarred, lithe body as the two arrived at Karin's beach party. Yennefer herself was wearing a white sundress with a much more subtle floral pattern than Geralt's shirt, with a two-piece swimsuit underneath that. Her arm around Geralt's as they approached the relaxing Seekers, Yennefer greeted them with a combination of familiarity and politeness that Kamek might recognize from a diplomat.

"Hello there! Geralt tells me you're the ones he's been traveling about with, hunting down Galeem's guardians? I fear we've not been introduced. Yennefer of Vengerberg."

Nodding, and in a much better mood thanks to having eaten properly, Geralt continued. "She wanted to come along and meet you all. We've been busy, so relaxing like this...it's nice."

"Ever the wordsmith." Yennefer chuckled. "It's simply wonderful, Geralt! We must thank Miss Karin for her generous invitation! Would you perhaps be able to point us in her direction?"

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come -> Smash City: Alcamoth

Lvl 9 (36/90) -> Lvl 9 (38/90)

Word Count: 897 words

Geralt was a bit surprised, but not entirely shocked, that many of the other Seekers wished to stay on the island and rescue some of the more sane denizens of the place. Geralt, however, was tired. Bone tired. He could force himself to keep going, for sure, and with even a few hours of meditation he could get even more without proper sleep, but the luxury of going to Alcamoth and sleeping, not to mention seeing Yen again, were right in front of him.

Geralt often said he wasn't a hero, and despite his best efforts few believed that, often teasing him about his tendency to stick his nose where it didn't belong. It was when he went through the portal to Alcamoth that Geralt told himself yet again that he wasn't a hero, that the real heroes were mindlessly trudging through that dank, dark cave to save whoever they could, while Geralt trudged through the Seekers' home base to sleep with his wife. That being literal did little to change his mind about the fact that he was choosing comfort and sleep over action.

He didn't feel particularly guilty over it, though, honestly. He'd earned a rest, as had all the others. They wanted to strike while the iron was hot, however, and keep the island from exploding into chaos while they had the best chance to do so. He understood that, and from a tactical perspective it was brilliant. He'd leave it to them if it was so important to them.

As he neared the residential spaces where he remembered Yennefer's room being, he slowed. His new appearance was much better than returning as a giant unicorn man, but he could feel the gauntness of his new body in places he wasn't used to. It didn't seem to be impeding him as he walked, however, and new callouses would quickly form to protect his skin where it would rub a little harder without as much fat cushioning the pressure from his bones. Still, he wondered what Yen's reaction would be. Especially due to how late, or early, it was.

"Who in the bloody hell is knocking this late at-Oh!" Cutting herself off as she opened the door, Yennefer looked Geralt up and down, taking in his new appearance. "You look like shite." The appraisal was accurate, at least

"Feel like it, too." Geralt admitted, walking in as Yen turned to grant passage. "Want a bath, then to sleep. We took down another Guardian, but it was hard fought. Fused with its Spirit, along with another along the way. All things considered, I came out of it alright. Thinner, hair's a little messier, certainly lost some of my rugged good looks," Geralt joked, "but my mind's intact, which was the biggest question considering how it behaved."

Yen hummed, looking over her sort-of husband a bit closer as he started pulling his gear off, pulling a few towels into a makeshift mat for him to place the dirtied gear on, with a quiet "thanks" in return.

"What next? After we get some sleep, that is, since you so rudely interrupted mine." Yennefer punctuated her statement with a yawn.

"Meet up with the others, probably return to Limsa for a bit to let their leaders know what happened, assuming the others haven't done that yet. Was going to see if the other teams needed a hand, then, I suppose." Geralt shrugged, pulling off a boot and wincing at the tar that dripped from it. "Damned tar..." He mumbled.

"I see. Yes, I suppose that makes sense. You've become quite the politician, Geralt. Meeting with Emperors, assassinating kings, now this?"

Geralt sighed. "Believe me, it was miserable sitting in that war room only to give a few sentences explaining what we could do, and spend the rest of the time watching generals bicker over their troop placements. Just read my memories and you'll see." The Witcher cocked an eyebrow when Yennefer looked away, almost embarrassedly.

"Were I able, I'd have been doing so already." She admitted, drawing another sigh from Geralt.

"Took me a while to start using Signs again, as well. Senses were dulled for weeks, as well. This place...took something from us all. We've been hard-pressed to get it back. Fighting, using my skills, though, seemed to accelerate the process. Might for you." He brainstormed.

"Hmm. I'm not particularly fond of the idea of hunting monsters, of whatever kind this place has. And I've had enough war and killing, thank you." Yen rebutted. Geralt just nodded.

"They might have something else you could do, but I suppose it's not terribly important. We'll be done with Galeem soon enough, I'm sure. Rather have Ciri back before then, though..." He grumbled, fighting with a buckle on his armor before finally releasing it.

"As would I." Yen simply replied, before yawning. "I'll be in bed, Geralt. Don't waste time cleaning your armor, I'll tend to it in the morning. I can still do that much. Just use the shower, and join me when you're done." Nodding, Geralt slipped the chest piece off and turned to watch Yennefer return to bed, a small smirk on his face.

"Never get tired of that..." He said to himself before returning to his work. There'd be plenty to do in the morning when he met the others. He could relax for now, at least.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

---

Knowing that there was a specific way out that they were headed towards was a major relief, Nick would have to admit. As nice as a nebulous 'Sure, we can leave!' was, knowing that there was a set destination that would get them out of here was much better. It sucked that they had to traverse a literal and also metaphorical battlefield to get there, though.

As their break ended, Nick joined the others in looking forward to returning to their metaphorically hellish normal lives as opposed to the literally hellish place they'd been dragged into. Looking over to the battlefield as they passed it by, Nick had to suppress a shudder at the things he saw. Spindle's bit about asking for help being just as tough as getting it hit like a truck, as well. He still held things back from the school therapist, though that was for a number of reasons beyond just being afraid of the vulnerability.

Being afraid of getting put on a damn psyche hold being chief among them. Now? That almost seemed favorable to coming back here, so he made no delay in following after the group. A quick thank you to Barney for holding the door to the apartment building saw him jogging inside the place. Looking around curiously at the MC Escher-like construction, Nick nodded appreciatively at the complex. It was certainly interesting, though the Shadows sitting around gave him the heebie-jeebies. This place definitely fit into the uncanny valley. Almost domestic enough to be normal, but just wrong enough that he was on high alert the whole time.

Of course, as they came to what would be their exit, they found it blocked by a group of kids. Playing. Because that wasn't super fucking creepy at all, watching shadow children play with their toys. Nooooo. Not weird at all. Even worse was the fact that they transformed into more of those friggin monster things as soon as the group approached. Sighing, Nick let the pulling inside him do its thing and stuck out his hand in what he hoped was an appropriately dramatic pose. "Dark Watcher!" He yelled, mimicking Barney's calling out Gregor Samsa earlier.

P-90 appearing in hand as the massive silhouette appeared behind him, walking stick brandished like a club, he turned one of to the flying fish-like things and yelled out the word that he just...knew?...was right?

"Eiha!"

And then he opened fire.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come

Lvl 9 (30/90) -> Lvl 9 (36/90)

Word Count: 1,327 words

Gunshots rang out all around as the Seekers continued their attacks against the Colossus that had taken the place of the Orphan. Geralt kept the Breaching Bastion firing as often as it could, but each time one of those golden creatures slipped past and crashed into it, Geralt winced just a little. He knew that this thing didn't repair itself, and while he might be able to work with Blazermate and that Engineer Striker of hers after the fight to fix it, that wouldn't help them if it got destroyed in the middle of the battle. So when the Guardian's massive hand came sweeping in, ready to potentially crush the Bastion in its grip, Geralt dismissed the cannon platform with a small bit of reluctance and looked down at the package he'd been given.

With his enhanced senses, Geralt managed to get a tiny whiff of the odor that the matured blood gave off, and he wrinkled his nose at it. "Yep, blood. Why in the hells would they give me this?” There had to be a reason, of course, so Geralt shrugged and decided to give it a shot.

Or, more accurately, a toss. As the pungent blood cocktail flew through the air, Geralt wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell he’d been pulled into. Tossing vials of blood at weird floating jelly creatures and gold humanoid missiles? Not to mention the absolutely gargantuan tar monster that was slowly ambling towards them, being beat on by what was left of the expanded Blue Team. A few had come and gone, but the team had overall grown in size and they were about to be finished with their job.

The vial hit into and exploded upon one of the floating gas bag creatures, spraying shards of glass and blood all about the place, causing it and a few around it to pop like the others all had when damaged. Geralt hummed at that, before running and leaping from his building to another in order to dodge a massive sweeping hand that looked to take hold of him.

Landing with a grunt, he looked back at the colossal monster and grabbed another vial of blood, throwing it at the Guardian BT with the hopes of doing something. What he got was a section of the tarry body boiling off violently and being covered over with gold. “Ohoho.” Geralt breathed upon seeing that. “Blood hurts, huh?” Armed with new knowledge, he tossed another vial at the giant Guardian before dodging out of the way of another golden projectile-person, getting an idea.

“Gonna stink, though…” He muttered before smashing a blood cocktail against the floor beneath him, blood splattering his legs and leaving a powerful odor to assail his senses. Geralt had to suppress a gag for a moment, before drawing his crossbow and dipping the bolt head in the thick, goopy substance. Letting loose the bolt, he nodded as it struck true into the Guardian’s form, turning a small section gold. It certainly wasn’t enough to make the time investment worth it, so he left the rest of the blood on the floor to serve as a deterrent for the enemies and simply let loose a somewhat slow volley.

The smoking, volatile barrel that Ace tossed at the thing, however, made the fight turn quite heartily in their favor. The massive eyeball on its chest shut and retreated, being replaced by a field of gold crystal, before reappearing on its shoulder. That wasn’t all, though, as the buildings they were using as shelter began to collapse beneath the tar, new structures even more dilapidated and unstable as the last appeared.

Following Nadia’s path roughly, Geralt bounded off the roof of a small shack to reach the stone wall she sprung to, then charged across the makeshift bridge she created. When the hand-tentacles came swinging, the giant Witcher threw himself to the ‘ground’ to avoid it. The other two took some doing, and Geralt’s fingers barely brushed against the last tentacle as it passed, but he avoided being pulled into its grip and crushed. The Hat Kid, however, did not have such luck, and Nadia leapt into action to rescue the child.

Taking advantage of the Guardian’s proximity, Geralt hurled the last of the blood cocktails he’d gotten from Djikstra’s package before cracking open Vesemir’s and tossing another pair at the colossus before drawing his crossbow again and firing more bolts at the open eye. He wasn’t willing to risk the Bastion in such proximity, especially with their enemy so clearly on the brink. Instead, he summoned the Imps and Fizz to attack while he turned his aim towards the gas bags and shot them from the sky.

Before long, the combined efforts of the Seekers felled their quarry, and Geralt let out a deep sigh of relief when the wave of darkness swept over him. That marked their victory this time, well and truly.

“It’s done.” He stated. Simple. As the Seekers gathered, Geralt looked over the others. It had been a tough ride for them, but Blazermate did a damn fine job of patching them up. Speaking of which, Geralt summoned the Judicator for a quick round of sickening healing to help ease a bit of the burden on Kamek, who’d run dangerously low on magical stamina, and Blazermate, who could only heal so many people so quickly.

Peach’s ultimate declaration made Geralt chuckle. That was how they all felt, he was sure. He was tired, his armor would need hours of work to even remotely resemble what it once looked like, and somebody needed to deal with the Spirit.

Might as well be him. He wouldn’t admit to a small bit of reluctance, and even a bit of annoyance at the idea, but not only did he have trouble imagining the others taking it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them take it. As much as he didn’t want to become a literal monster, he didn’t want to see it happen to the others. His point about mutation was part of it, of course, as well.

Crossing the chiralium field, however, was an effort that took much more than it seemed at first glance. Each step weighed on him like an anvil. A near century of regrets, pain, loss, all sought to drag him into the sand and suffocate him. He grabbed the Spirit and turned around, forcing himself to move out of the field quickly.

As the others watched, he plunged the thing into him, facing the familiar light of Spirit Fusion. When it ended, Geralt noticed that the others looked taller than they had. Which, of course, meant that he’d shrunk.

He noticed a few other things, as well. The first was a noticeable irritation at the slightly empty feeling in his stomach. Now that the battle was over and the adrenaline was fading, he was damned hungry. Whether the Spirit had given him a ravenous appetite, or it was a mere coincidence, he couldn’t tell. He could also feel the presence of…something…inside of him. It felt almost natural, having surely come from the Orphan’s Spirit, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, nor was he in the mood to find out just yet.

As he looked himself over and started taking stock of his new, leaner, appearance, Geralt frowned. Was that all? He looked a bit uglier? Wow, that…so much for the horrific ramifications of fusing oneself to an eldritch monstrosity. Walking over to the others, Geralt rolled his eyes. “Aside from the obvious, physical changes, I honestly barely feel different. Maybe a bit annoyed at the anti-climax, if anything.” He joked. Shrugging, he turned his head to Peach. “The Princess is right though. Let’s get the hell out of here. Same way back, I take it? Is the Atomos still shrunk down?” The last question was directed at Junior and Kamek.

It was time for them to leave.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come

Lvl 9 (24/90) -> Lvl 9 (30/90)

Word Count: 1,062 words

The Seekers delivered their flurry of blows onto the Orphan, keeping sure to cover each other as they slowly carved away at the Guardian of the Blue. Geralt slashed and sliced, dodged a counterattack, and stepped back to give the others a clear avenue of attack. He hadn't predicted, however, that Sakura of all people would take advantage of it.

But take advantage she did, rushing back in like a woman possessed, bouncing off the monster high into the air and returning with an impossible amount of momentum, as if she'd been launched from a catapult, and decapitated the damned creature with a kick as she slid along the viscera-splattered sand.

Geralt watched as it dissolved, only letting out a breath of relief when the ash settled and blew away. He lazily drew a cloth from one of his many pouches, carefully cleaning his bloodied silver sword. Once he was satisfied with the job he did, the tension left his body with a deep breath, and he lowered himself to a sitting position.

He half-listened to Peach's speech, only focusing when she asked Nadia if anybody had taken the Orphan's Spirit. When nobody answered in the affirmative, catlike eyes narrowed before widening and Geralt exploded upwards, breaths still a little heavy. "Dammit!" He cried, looking around before noticing the floating crab as the others did. Following the supernatural umbilical cord to the water, he noticed the numerous other corpses rising into the air as if gravity had lost its hold on them.

"Oh. Oh, fuck." Geralt cursed, before looking down as tar began creeping up, covering his boot. "Move!" He yelled, pulling his foot out of the substance and towards higher ground. His relief lasted barely a moment, as the tar consumed everything around them, and more structures rose out of it to replace the relatively solid ground that the beach had provided.

As others started picking the smaller members of their crew up and out of the substance, Geralt prioritized his own survival in a return to old instincts. Pulling himself onto a rising building and rolling to his feet, Geralt took in their new surroundings. The battlefield had been replaced by an ocean of tar from which various platforms jutted out seemingly at random, and off in the distance their foe (or at least what Geralt assumed was a final, radical transformation of their enemy) reappeared.

"Figures." He said simply. It had already slaughtered one of them after nearly killing another, only saved by the timely rescue of Ace's felyne friends, why not make things more interesting?

To say that the largest moving...thing Geralt had ever seen was before them was not an exaggeration. Some castles were taller, but they were quite obviously not living, mobile things. To say the monster before them alive would be a liberal application of the word in his mind. Yes, it moved, but there was something profoundly wrong about it.

Resolving to dismiss the philosophical question for later, Geralt did the only thing he could think of in this situation: He summoned the Breaching Bastion.

Having been unwilling to use it against the Orphan's erratic movement and risk harming his allies, he absently wondered if the others were relieved to see the cannon platform or annoyed he hadn't tried to use it sooner.

The main gun thundered like it had each time it fired before, oversized shell aimed to hit the eye directly. The smaller guns targeted the eye as well, but Geralt quickly halted them when he saw Nadia flying in on a boulder that he assumed Link had launched at this thing like he did earlier.

"Dammit, Nadia..." He mumbled, but instead looked around while he waited for her to get clear of the gun's line of fire. The last thing he wanted to do was blow her to smithereens.

When the strange, jellyfish-like creatures began appearing, Geralt turned the smaller guns on them, still keeping an eye out for Nadia, which proved wise as she burst from the thing in a shower of watery blood, smacking into one of the floating creatures on her way back and being stunned.

Geralt's large stride length made it simple for him to maneuver himself into Nadia's path, catching the girl like one would a cat and setting her down with an eye roll at her comment. "Yeah, yeah, just be careful next time." He snarked back, returning to a defensive position near the gun. His ears would not be happy with him after this battle, but the damage wouldn't likely be permanent, between the healing he could receive from Blazermate and his own enhanced regeneration.

The guns continued firing away when Geralt noticed a familiar shape appear in his peripheral vision, though nothing else about the figure was recognizable for a moment, given that it was made out of the same tar that they were all surrounded by.

He'd recognize that gut anywhere, though. Letting out a wistful laugh, Geralt shook his head. "A ghost, huh? Never thought you'd be tied down enough to leave a specter behind. You trained us well enough, Vesemir." When the specter tossed a package his way, Geralt caught it easily, a small smile on his face.

His free hand lashed out and caught another package that had been thrown from a different angle, and he turned to see the receding outline of an old friend. "Didn't have to die, Djikstra. But Roche was a friend, too. Couldn't let you kill him..."

Both were gone in moments, though, and when Geralt looked at what his old friends had given him, his eyebrow rose. "Is that...blood?" The thing in his hand was clearly no wine, but he had trouble imagining what blood would do for them. He could toss them at the floating things, sure, but unless this was more acid than blood, he couldn't see it doing much.

Shrugging, Geralt turned back to the battle, targeting the Bastion's smaller guns at the golden humanoids that were being launched at them. He put the containers down and drew his silver sword again, sidestepping and cutting at one of the living projectiles that got a little too close for comfort.

Spinning and pointing his blade back at the colossus, he commanded the Breaching Bastion's main gun to fire once more, ears ringing a little once the shot rang out.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come

Lvl 9 (20/90) -> Lvl 9 (24/90)

Word Count: 530 words

As Nadia flew towards the Orphan, Geralt drew his silver blade yet again and rushed in, circling around to a safe area once Blazermate put her Medaforce beam into action, launching an absolutely devastating blow against the Guardian that easily beat out any single shot even the Breaching Bastion could deliver. While he was unable to advance during the duration of the beam, it did give him a moment to re-cast Quen, shielding himself yet again.

As he closed in during the moment of vulnerability, he caught not only the bolt of lightning that slammed Blazermate into the beach like a fist from the heavens, but Link's own charging barrage. The Shipboy hero rode the goop that Junior had laid down as an obstacle for the Orphan, unloading his guns into the thing before engaging in melee with speed that was hard to believe. As his Ro Cestus counterattack slammed into the Orphan's face, Geralt's blade carved a bloody line through the back of its neck, failing to deliver the decapitating swing Geralt had hoped it would, but still managing a painful blow.

With a curse, he lifted his blade and deflected the blade which spun around at him, thankfully devoid of much of its momentum after Link's blow slightly stunned the creature. As the organic weapon crashed into the sand, Geralt sliced and diced at the monster in between the two Seekers, only barely reacting to the backhand he got in retaliation. As it hefted its blade and leapt away, taking a swing at him, Geralt moved through the attack, dodging forward and past the blade, closing the distance yet again as the Orphan landed and spun its blade about its body, centripetal force giving the incoming blow significantly greater power.

The clash of mysterious material on silver let out a shower of sparks and a hideous noise, and the shield granted by Quen flickered and shattered as Geralt full-on blocked the blow, his bones aching but unrelenting. As he pushed the blade back, he quickly spun his much lighter weapon in a practiced maneuver, scoring a trio of lighter but true cuts against the Guardian's upper and lower torso as well as its thigh, before rolling under and away from the follow-up blow that he didn't have the protective magic to tank.

Moving back in, Geralt swung again and again, the proverbial clock ticking towards Blazermate's destruction under the unstoppable waves of lightning spurring him to do his old job yet again and kill the monster. He tried to avoid blocking or deflecting attacks whenever possible, but this more aggressive style meant he was taking greater risks with the hope of ending the fight sooner rather than later.

With the support of the others, though, he knew this could very well be the end. This thing was bleeding, charred, smoking, just littered with wounds.

They could do this! Geralt grunted as he dodged another blow, his stamina finally starting to flag. His breaths were coming quicker and heavier, but he was still going. A little soreness never stopped him before. He'd get plenty of rest and meditation once this was over with and they were safe.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come

Lvl 9 (16/90) -> Lvl 9 (20/90)

Word Count: 535 words

As the Orphan ripped out another placental grenade and detonated the beach in front of it, Geralt dove away from the front of the Orphan, rolling over his shoulder and forcing himself back to his feet in barely a moment, blade still at the ready. He avoided the follow-up cluster of grenades as well, though it forced him further away than he'd have liked, some of the more agile Seekers closing the distance as he was still making his way to the Guardian. Ironically, this helped him keep close when the Orphan leapt up and above those attacking it, throwing still more grenades that Geralt was forced to dodge.

This time, however, he was close enough to reach his opponent as Sakura, Peach, and one of Nadia's strange clones joined the attack. One of his swings managed to prompt the ATG Missile Launcher on his shoulder to activate, dealing a hefty blow to the Orphan on top of what he was already doing with his oversized sword.

As the Orphan continued its erratic, manic fighting, the Seekers continuously rushed it down, forcing the thing to constantly move about the area. The little hits it had gotten off on them over the course of the chase were starting to wear them down, slowly but surely, even with Blazermate's healing. They could go a while longer, especially after Geralt was feeling up to summoning the Judicator again for a quick boost of healing, but it wouldn't last forever.

Finally, the moment they'd been fighting for came, and Rika's whale reached where the Orphan touched down for a moment. In an admittedly disappointing exchange of blows, the Orphan destroyed the Abyssal creature while taking a massive chomp from the thing.

And the fight was back on, though only for a moment before being interrupted by the Orphan itself. The Guardian slammed its weapon into the sand, sending up waves of dirt and sand and staggering the incoming wave of fighters. Geralt was drawing circles with his blade to ward off a sneak attack while his other hand wiped the debris from his eyes. Getting the worst of it free just in time to watch the Orphan grab Sakura and slam her into the ground before striking her with a brutal overhead swing of its monstrous weapon.

Bella's sprint was the stuff of legends, the freed Abyssal spurred on by the same fear of loss that afflicted many of the Seekers, and Geralt could only nod in approval as she summoned a swarm of seaplanes to destroy the incoming grenades that had been thrown from on high. As he reached the pair, Geralt cursed when the Orphan landed not far from them. "Keep her safe," He grunted, charging after the Orphan and crossing paths with Nadia. "Nadia, I have an idea. Can you stretch yourself out to keep that thing held down for a minute, like a living rope?" Stowing his blade, Geralt readied himself to act.

With Nadia's flexible muscle fibers, he could throw her like a bolas and trip the Orphan up, buying the Seekers valuable time to heal Sakura, let Blazermate use her Medaforce beam, and otherwise keep putting the hurt on the clearly wounded Orphan.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

---

Okay, so mirror dimension wasn't entirely correct, but he was close enough with the basic premise. This world was a reflection of the collective unconscious of humanity. "That explains why this place is a prison..." Nick mumbled. You came here, did your time, changed and grew, and were sent out into the world.

Saddled with debt, trauma, hopefully powerful or lucrative connections, and a better understanding of what people were really like when they weren't held back by parents or the shackles of youth. Not a one-to-one analogy, of course, but enough that it was a fair enough fit.

And the only reason they were here was because they snapped. Nick almost barked out a laugh at that. The straw that had broken the camel's back was tripping, getting some crap on one of his jackets, an argument with some guy he barely knew, and thinking about his ex.

That was it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Hell, he hadn't even had to ignore a call from his dad this entire week, let alone today, and that was usually more stressful than half this day had been. Pathetic, the treacherous part of his mind thought.

Outwardly, he tried to hide his frustrations with himself, but still let out a wince at the knowledge that coming here had, in fact, been because they'd finally snapped.

At least he didn't get brutally murdered by his own demons and replaced, becoming nothing more than a flesh sack for the ugliest parts of himself that he hated. He'd need to find a way to more constructively channel his anger than snide comebacks and punching walls.

Spindle's comments about a war, though, made Nick bristle a little. It had felt good to finally fight back, to do something besides bitch and moan and talk to a therapist for an hour every few days, but could he really dedicate his time to this? He still had to prepare for his gap year and his LSATs in June. This was already an extremely busy and important time in his life, and if he wanted to follow his dreams, he couldn't waste time gallivanting around and fighting flesh-wearing soul demons...could he?

No. No, he couldn't. He had to prioritize, and his career had to take priority. He needed to prove to himself (and to his parents, his thoughts interrupted) that he could do this. That he wasn't a waste of time and space. He could do good, make something of himself, the runt of the litter. He could be better than a debt-ridden, washed-up financier and a failed trophy wife.

Nick nodded along with the others in expressing his interest in getting out of here.

He didn't say anything, though. He couldn't bring himself to admit, with words, that he couldn't-that he wouldn't-help.