Frozen Highlands- Krat Zoo Lvl 15 Geralt (202/140) +3 Collab XP -> (207/140) 200% OL Charged (Lvl 1) Word count: 770 words
Geralt only had to tread water in the freezing-cold pool for a few scant moments before Ace arrived gallantly, offering a hand to each so that he could keep them up with his water-walking rigging. As Blazermate once again took to the air, Geralt simply leaned against his fellow monster hunter, letting out a long sigh. “F-f-fuck, that’s cold. Thanks for the s-save.” His teeth were chattering and his bones were already starting to hurt from the bitter cold that had seeped into them. As he guided the pair back to land, Geralt pointed back to where Mokou was beginning to reform, grunting for Ace to turn his head. “T-There. The girl’s fine. Just…came back from whatever she did.” He wasn’t sure if it was anything like Ishmael’s Identities or if she simply had abilities like phoenixes were mythologized to in his world.
Once they were back on relatively stable footing, Geralt released his hold on the Ace and shook himself off, splashing some ice-cold water on his rescuer before giving the man a sheepish grimace. “Sorry. Just…so damned cold.” He complained, before transforming into Ardor Blossom for a brief respite from his wet armor. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he began the walk forward to where the stagecoach had gone, though the relief provided by his transformation would only last a brief thirty seconds.
Once they caught up with the rest of the Seekers, Geralt wasted no time in trying to find a warm spot to recover. As he did, Mokou approached him with an offer of a tiny flame that he could magically guide with his own hands. Nodding at the newest addition to their party, he raised his hand to take the fiery feather. “Appreciate it.” While he warmed himself, he took a moment to perform the armory incantation to send the hexabarrel repeater he’d gotten from Eryk to the armory. While Edward or Sandalphon might have been able to make use of it, he just wanted it off his hands. They seemed to be armed with higher-quality gear as it was. If they needed a sidearm, they could check later.
His eyes travelled to the greenhouse, into which no obvious entrance presented itself. As Sandalphon announced both the inevitable arrival of stew (to which Geralt had nothing to add) and her intent to begin exploring the building adjacent to the warm-looking area, he sighed. Best to go in a group, which meant he had less time to warm up before moving again. While it was certainly wise not to sit and wait to freeze to death, unnecessary expenditure of energy also hastened the chill of hypothermia, so he’d been hoping to sit with Mokou’s flamefeather a bit longer.
Still, he rose to join the group entering the botanical garden, letting the little flame drift off and snuff itself out against the group as he began moving.
The warm, humid air of the botanical garden was a blessing and a curse. While the higher temperature was certainly welcome, the humidity meant that the chilled water still stuck to Geralt’s armor and clothing wouldn’t readily evaporate. The sheer variety of plants around them had Geralt’s interest piqued, though he doubted many of them would be useful for alchemy. The existence of a “bomb spore plant” made him rethink that assumption, but he wasn’t willing to mess with potentially-volatile plant spores to discover just how useful it might be, though he joined Ace in gathering from the less-explosive botanicals within the garden.
It seemed the only danger present were the humanoid figures roaming the area, metallic in form and patrolling for intruders. Thankfully, their fairly predictable patterns and gleaming bodies made it a fairly simple matter for the Seekers to evade detection through keeping their distance and only moving when they turned away. When they reached the raised perimeter, evading the patrolling puppets became all but impossible, but they proved little match for the assembled Seekers.
While the ruckus caused by the fighting did attract a few further-off Puppets, each was dispatched with such haste that they never got the opportunity to gather in a group and put their more advanced tactics to the test. Between Geralt, Ace, and Sandalphon, they had all three range categories easily covered, while any others who joined merely added to their ability to carve through any comers.
“Let us know what you find.” Geralt answered the Ace, turning to give Sandalphon a nod. “Gonna go with him once he finds a way in, but for now I’ll keep by you. Not keen on running around and getting lost in all these plants.”
Esaka, The Tiered City Lvl 9 Zenkichi (67/90) -> Lvl 9 (69/90) Word count: 773 words
The Mid Tier of Esaka was a nice place, much more reminiscent of the modern Japan that he knew than the Lower Tier, but not quite as busy or wealthy as a city like Kyoto or Tokyo. There were plenty of people around, giving Zenkichi a sense of calm belonging that he’d been missing since Meridi-at-Han. While he was more than used to subterfuge and hiding having worked with Public Security on cases that required discretion, he was more used to being surrounded by people and simply one of a million salarymen that nobody would afford a passing glance.
Rather than interrogate the locals like Big Band sought to do, Zenkichi simply blended in and kept his ears and eyes open to hear the natural chatter of the town. He meandered through the markets of Chinatown, listening to the hustle and bustle of the Mid Tier, occasionally casting a glance upwards. The four towers for the Four Kings, the alleged Guardian of Esaka. Of course, they’d have to defeat all four into order to claim victory, but boy were their odds low. Many of the Seekers, he feared, might suffer in a one-on-one brawl against opponents with the busted-ass moves fighting game characters could be known for. Thankfully, he knew at least Sakura stood on a level playing field, being a Street Fighter character herself.
A burst of cognitive dissonance slammed into Zenkichi, forcing him to pivot that tangential thought. Sakura may have been a fighting game character from his world, to his perspective, but maybe he’d been considering that existential question from the wrong angle. To him, she was a video game character. To Galeem, and to the World of Light, she was a flesh and blood human being (with some superhuman abilities, sure) the same as he and the Phantom Thieves were. And, if what they’d learned about the nature of the world was true, they were all just copies of an original template. None of them were the real deal, so to speak. Their lives would come, go, and come again until the end of the World of Light. The fact that Terry had apparently died defending their old base, yet was alive and well and helping show some of them around was evidence enough.
He had to stop thinking of himself as real and them as just characters. He certainly didn’t think of himself and Sandalphon in that way, despite the fact that they were all born of the same system. He felt like he’d done a good job of outwardly acting like nothing was wrong, but if he kept piling on secrets and things to hide he’d snap. He was never one for true subterfuge, preferring to directly address the situation and get to the bottom of things. Blending in with the crowd to get a feel for the vibe was one thing, but when he had a target, he did his best to dispense with pretense. Tonight, he’d bring up his concerns with Sandalphon and try to put his unease to rest, or at least get the extremely cursed knowledge off his chest.
Zoning back into his ‘patrol’, Zenkichi meandered back towards the temple that he saw Big Band’s unmistakable figure approaching, which hosted quite the array of Yokai. He hadn’t gotten the best impression of the region’s benefactors, owing to the Seethe that the Seekers ran into earlier, but he knew that people could get wild when it came to sports or fandom. K-pop was far from the only form of entertainment that caused its fans to get aggressive, even if it was hitting a period of extreme popularity back on Earth before everything started going down. It didn’t mean that all K-pop fans were raging psychos online, or that J-pop fans were better (especially since he had to deal with them a lot more often in person).
He gave Band and the others a nod, rolling his shoulders and looking up towards the higher tiers. ”People are excited about the tournaments, obviously. The only thing that caught my attention was the fact that nobody seems nervous about their favorites in the Mortal Kombat tournament. Somebody even mentioned somebody who got Fatality’d last week and how they were looking forward to seeing them fight again. So, either the Heavenly Principles keep them from actually dying, or…well, this place churns out fighters even faster then we thought.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Zenkichi jerked his head back in the market’s direction. ”I also overheard some people talking about a place we might be able to stay. It’s called Banishing Flats, sounded okay but not super fancy, either.” He reported.
When blazermate yanked Geralt out of the water and caught him, the Witcher breathed a cold sigh of relief. “Thanks.” He grunted, looking around to try to find a good place for the Medabot to set him down. Unfortunately, between his fairly large frame and metal armor weighing them down, Blazermate’s maneuverability was not quite as good as it would be had she been flying solo, and that allowed the gigantic alligator to catch up with them and swallow them whole.
Luckily since it was so huge and they were small comparatively, there was no injury going inside the creature. And considering how inside the alligator seemed to be even bigger than the outside things were essentially really weird. ”So… Things usually don’t want to eat robots. Can’t say I’ve ever experienced this. You ok?” Blazermate said, not needing to breathe and immune to the toxic environment they found themselves in.
Groaning as he pushed himself to his feet after being eaten whole, Geralted shook his head. “Never been better.” he grunted in frustration. “Just nearly got us both killed by a giant aquatic reptile.” His nose wrinkled from the stench, which bordered on overwhelming to his enhanced senses. “Ugh. Fuck, feels like I’m about to vomit.” He said, covering his nose and taking a deep breath. Taking a look around to get a good idea of what exactly they were dealing with, he took particular notice of the thorny vines that blanketed the inside of Tom’s stomach, as well as the sloshing stomach acid that threatened to melt them both if they made a wrong move.
“Getting around’ll be a lot easier in here for you than it will for me. Can you scout out a good path for me to take to get to that?” He asked, pointing at the coalesced mass of thorns across the stomach from them.
Blazermate looked around and while on the outside she really couldn’t find a weak point, on the inside, there was a massive, massive one in the core of the thorny vines that were all around the stomach. ”Well, I found the weak point of the creature, I think. It's that knot core of these weird vines. ” Blazermate said. ”As for crossing…. Uh…. I don’t really know how far you can jump or anything. I can uber you through a quick swim but thats only a few seconds. But yeah, we’ve gotta make it to and destroy that thing. ”
“Can jump pretty far now that I've gotten used to the Orphan's strength. I'd say around a twelve-foot standing leap. If I get room to make speed, easily thirty or forty feet.” He responded, looking around. “Though given how cramped this place is, we'll say no more than ten on a standing jump and maybe twenty-five with a good run up to build speed. Can't afford to go too far and overshoot.” He corrected, not relishing the idea of an overshot directly into roiling stomach acid.
”Well, all we need to do is get to that knot over there and beat it up. Maybe we’ll kill it from the inside or something.” Blazermate said, making sure Geralt was fully healed before they continued.
Rolling his shoulders, Geralt nodded and took a deep breath, nearly gagging from the stench of Tom's insides. Staring at his target, a large piece of concrete that the alligator had swallowed, he made a running leap, easily clearing the gap and landing on the makeshift platform. It rocked under the impulse of his landing, forcing Geralt to adjust his position lest he be thrown to his death in the acid bath below. “Ugh. Like I'm on a boat in a storm.” He complained, looking ahead to the knot across the stomach from him. He could try Quen, but even if the shield actually protected him from the acid, he doubted it would last long. If he could find a stable enough spot, he could cast Holy Lance on the knot of vines and likely be done with it, but his current position wasn't stable enough to maintain concentration long enough to channel it.
Seeing Geralt having a problem, Blazermate had an idea, although it’d be risky. But it’d get them over there right away and there was a nearby car they could swim to. Well, Geralt could swim too. ”Hey Geralt, I’ve got a crazy idea, but it’ll get us over there really quick. Just get ready to swim to that floating car there.” Blazermate said, pointing out the ‘stationary’ platform. She made sure her healing beam was attached onto Geralt before summoning Armstrong to punt Geralt across the stomach to the knot, Armstrong making the concrete even more unstable especially as his eruption caused an explosion within Tom’s stomach as his kick launched Geralt over to the vine knot and Blazermate with him. And much like she had the idea for, she grabbed Geralt midair and slowed down his descent as she ubered the two making them immune to the acid for a bit as she helped him get to solid ground next to the knot so they could do something about it.
Geralt gave Blazermate a somewhat confused nod when she told him to be ready to swim. He assumed she would be using her invincibility spell on him, so he braced himself for a jump as soon as he felt it on him, only to be punted in the back by an overly-muscular former congressman and launched halfway across Tom's stomach. He barely had time to react before Blazermate ubered him and caught him out of the air. Once they were settled on safe ground, he let out a frustrated sigh. “A little warning might've been nice, but frankly I'm not sure I'd have agreed with the plan anyway, so at least it worked out.” Turning to the knot of vines, Geralt narrowed his eyes. “So, what do you think? Fire? I've got plenty of that.”
”Sure. I’ll blast it with holy light and my projectile shield too. That shield should make it sizzle nice and quick. Uh… just don’t fall in the acid now. ” Blazermate said, zooming up to the knot and deploying her shield. As the shield made contact with the knot, an audible electric hissing sound could be heard as the plasma shield started to do its work on the knot. While not having much else in the way of damage herself, she could throw out those healing divine stars from time to time, as the initial projectile did do some damage.
Transforming into Ardor Blossom, Geralt got to work as well, charging up fireballs to launch barrages of flame at the knotted vines, individual sections slowly catching and beginning to burn.
As the flames spread and Blazermate's shield and projectiles slowly carved away chunks of the thorny vines within Tom's core, smoke slowly began to fill Tom's stomach, rising to the top of the space the pair were trapped in and filtering out towards the alligator's esophagus. A sharp exhale pulled a long plume of black, acrid smoke out of the colossal beast's nostrils as a signal to those outside that something was happening.
When the tangled knot of cursed vines was finally consumed by flames, Tom's stomach began to rebel. Muscles contracted along the walls of Geralt and Blazermate's fleshy prison, sloshing around burning acid before they were carried up and out on a wave of bile and debris, upchucked by the magical beast into the freezing water once more, much to Geralt's chagrin and Blazermate’s…. Disgust? Her expression was hard to read as she only had eyes to emote with.
Naturally, the two had every right to be worried about Tom simply snapping them up again, but after a few moments it became apparent that Geralt and Blazermate were no longer under attack. Blinded, badly injured, weakened, and now drained of his will to fight by the destruction of the malevolent Tangle inside his guts, the giant albino alligator could struggle no more. With a pained rumble, Tom sank down beneath the icy water to the bottom of the flooded safari zone, even the trees on his back submerged. The stagecoach would find no further opposition on its course toward the tunnel to the next area.
Frozen Highlands Lvl 15 Geralt (201/140) -> (202/140) 200% OL Charged (Lvl 1) Word count: 629 words
Geralt gave Edward a nod as he got back in the stagecoach, sitting down on the bench. “Just don’t go messing with anything that looks normal.” He reminded the general, resting the back of his head against the stagecoach’s wall. Closing his eyes, he willed himself into a short meditative state, half-aware of the trundling of their transportation as it carried on through the zoo. When Heismay, Roxas and Mokou rejoined the caravan, his eyes opened when the stench of burned flesh tainted his nostrils.
Turning to the group, his eyes narrowed at Mokou, the apparent source of the stench, then he shrugged as she climbed on the stagecoach without a hint of hesitation. Just another stray the Seekers had picked up. He only wondered how long this one would stick around. He closed his eyes again and rested his head against the wall of the stagecoach, silently listening to the others. Not long after, Sandalphon called for the group to stop and look around the food court, which Geralt took as an excuse to stretch his legs again. He didn’t go investigating like Edward’s golems or Mokou, instead deciding to simply look around the area and give the birds flying around nasty looks. No point wasting ammo on them and risking a flock of parasitic birds attacking, but he didn’t trust that they weren’t more than met the eye.
Sandlaphon found a curious device under the half-frozen corpse of a man, which gave Geralt pause. Was his body brought here by Galeem? Was that order of monks responsible for his body being left? Or was this some other phenomenon that he was unaware of? Until they found the order, he supposed that it didn’t actually matter.
Climbing back onto the stagecoach, Geralt sat more normally this time, hunched forward slightly as they trundled along. When they started to be pelted by the mandrills, however, Geralt took action. Climbing out the back of the stagecoach, he hefted himself atop it and drew Oddysseus’s Bow. He fired at each mandrill until it either repositioned or died, then moved on to another, but he did not have long to do so before the colossal alligator burst forth from the water below. “Shit.” he mumbled, as the stagecoach’s roof became a bit more crowded with Sandalphon’s addition. He did the opposite of what she did, climbing back inside the stagecoach and joining Edward at the front. With the mandrills ahead slowing the stagecoach, Geralt chose not to risk firing upon and accidentally hitting one of the still-Gleaming Reindrix, instead transforming yet again, this time to Molar Boatworks Fixer, and intercepting the oversized beast directly. Even as the flaming barrel crashed into its maw, it charged for one of their Reindrix, and Geralt leapt into action.
His pneumatic pile driver charged, he landed atop the beast’s upper jaw and punched its eye as hard as he could, the explosive force of his attached weapon spearing into the fleshy orb. The alligator was successfully distracted, halting its attack on the stagecoach in favor of thrashing about to dislodge the Witcher. Despite his best efforts, Geralt was thrown from its body and landed in the water with horrible force. Thankfully he was wearing a wetsuit in this Identity, but now he was in the water with an aquatic reptile that could quite easily swallow him whole.
Treading water, he put a finger to his ear. “Sandalphon. I fucked up.” He reported quietly, before turning to swim towards the nearest tower and climb it to safety. If the others could buy him the time to do so, he could make his way across the boardwalks back to the stagecoach in short enough time. And if he got eaten…well, they’d see just how unkillable he really was.
Esaka, The Tiered City Lvl 9 Zenkichi (66/90) -> Lvl 9 (67/90) Word count: 330 words
Zenkichi depressedly picked at his food while Xilgrev spoke with the other Seekers, though the Nobody didn’t stick around much longer. With an ominously vague warning that defeating Galeem would not set things to right automatically, and that their journey would require much more power than even they believed it would- and that was a lot.
How unpleasant. The others started up talking again, Nadia asking about ways to get money before the tournaments started officially, through her usual lens of less-than-legal means. Though, in the grand scheme of things, participating in an underground fight ring wasn’t the worst thing. In a place like this, there might not even be any drug or human trafficking involved.
When Sakura replied to mention a group she knew and could introduce them to, Zenkichi released a bit of tension he’d been building up. No way that ray of sunshine was involved in anything truly unsavory. Mostly harmlessly illegal, sure, but actually malicious? Not a chance. Taking a few more bites to eat, Zenkichi sighed at the pleasant tingle of gochujang on his tongue. ”Okay, Terry, you picked a really good spot, I have to say.” He complimented their unofficial guide (Sakura was great, but she’d understandably been more focused on getting signed up and helping others sign up than showing them a good place to get food).
As his meal reached its end, Zenkichi took a long drink of his water, letting out a sigh of contentment. ”Hey, band.” He called out to his fellow detective. ”We could absolutely take a little tour of the place, see if we can’t get a good idea of how this place is run. Uh, no offense to you guys,” he offered to Sakura and Terry placatingly, ”it’s just that the perspective and demeanor of a cop offers some…unique insights and reactions into and from the locals. Like, who clocks us immediately can give a good idea of who doesn’t want to be found by the cops.”
Esaka, The Tiered City Lvl 9 Zenkichi (64/90) -> Lvl 9 (66/90) Word count: 846 words
Sadly, Roland made a good point, which Zenkichi conceded with a few resigned nods. Pit’s own addition to the thought was a bit more strange, but he supposed it was also possible that they would simply need to go through the Kings to find the information they needed. ”Eh, yeah, it probably wouldn’t go too smoothly, huh? Well, this way we get to do some mostly-friendly sparring, I guess.” His minor disappointment abated, Zenkichi got back to the conversation as a strange individual arrived in the black cloak that marked them as an Organization 13 member.
He listened intently as the mysterious figure revealed that the Guardian was actually the…idea of the Four Kings? ”Huh, that’s…kind of dumb?” Zenkichi muttered. Just how abstract could it get? Could the concept of fish be a Guardian? Band seemed to be just as incredulous, prompting a scornful retort from the shadowy figure. He’d never met any of this Organization himself, but if they were all this unpleasant, that might have been a blessing in disguise.
As the conversation continued, Zenkichi found himself getting frustrated with this person, especially once they started cutting up and eating their pizza with a fork and knife? Who does that?! Roland’s attempts at getting more out of them were like talking to a brick wall, and Zenkichi wasn’t keen to do the same.
Roland’s story tangent where he rambled on about a strange food giving people religious experiences, he grimaced at the point that angel wings was a serious suggestion as to what had caused that. While Sandalphon didn’t have wings like typical depictions of angels, he still didn’t like the mental image. ”Jeeze, dude, your world was super screwed-up, huh? Every time you bring it up it makes me realize Earth was pretty great, all things considered…”
After Pit’s own questions about the kings, Zenkichi was starting to really get bothered by Xilgrev’s attitude. The shadowy figure just stood there, monotonously mocking them (even if his reply to Pit’s question had been the most genuinely helpful he’d been since arriving).
”So, I assume you’re just going to be evasive and aloof because oooh, spooky shadow organization that makes the CIA look benevolent, but what is your actual deal as a group? We’re kind of just a band of people with a vague desire to overthrow the status quo, so maybe I’m not one to talk, but it feels like there’s no…consistency to what you guys do. One of you tried to kill a bunch of Seekers the first time they met, some of you are genuinely helpful, and you’re kind of…just an aloof jerk. Forgive the insult.” Zenkichi added that last line almost mockingly, with his best recreation of Xilgrev’s own attitude.
The Organization member seemed to brush off his derision. "Your incivility is unwarranted, and futile." By now, only a few strips of his pizza were left, and after eating one he continued with an air of nonchalance. "The 'deal' is that certain sacrifices must be made to join Organization XIII. For some, the losses are severe, and the dissonance tends to drive them to...pretensions." He shook his head. "Why that buffoon Gneidxick was chosen I cannot imagine, but rest assured, he has been dealt with. The goals of the Organization and the Seekers of Light are now aligned."
Thoroughly deflated by the response, Zenkichi almost started to feel bad for Xilgrev, and the other members of the organization. Taking that as the closest thing to an apology the Seekers as a whole would get, Zenkichi decided to eat the crow on this one. ”Ah. That, uh…makes sense.” Mentally categorizing joining Organization 13 as a Big No for Sandalphon, he continued, offering a seated bow of the head. ”I apologize for that. We have a member with…we’ll say a bone to pick with your Organization, and it colored my perspective. Your more aloof demeanor gave me the wrong impression. You’re just a straight to the point kind of guy, then. I can respect that. Let me ask you one more question: Do you know a way to get around the ten-year limit? I don’t want my daughter to have to die over and over and over again anymore. If…we fail. I want her to have a real life.” Left unspoken was the other reason he needed to know.
Xilgrev slowly set down his utensils, then pushed his empty plate back. "That was a quick change of tone," he remarked offhandedly. "The number-one way is to be born naturally, but if she's already been made by the system, your best bet..." He reached for his glass of water. "Is to destroy Galeem, of course."
If Zenkichi was deflated before, he was utterly dismayed now. Swallowing dryly, he nodded. ”I…I see. Thank you…” He muttered, picking at his meal half-heartedly now. Another dead end. Maybe the Four Kings would know. If he, Sandalphon, and others could somehow split the Guardian Spirit like them…would that work? It wouldn’t matter much if they were killed fighting Galeem, but…he supposed any idea could at least be explored.
Frozen Highlands Lvl 15 Geralt (198/140) -> (201/140) 200% OL Charged (Lvl 1) Word count: 1,568 words
Sandalphon, unfortunately, was not immediately able to ascertain the nature of the curative dart that Geralt had found. It was natural enough that, in a completely foreign world, such a simple answer would be hard to come by without either explicit knowledge or one of that world’s denizens. He hadn’t bothered to ask the other man about it, given that he had taken what amounted to poison in the false hope of curing himself and likely was not a physician based on that.
Carefully stowing it away, Geralt took note of Sandalphon’s comment that it looked to be used with a firearm and resolved to keep an eye out. As the stagecoach continued on the path, it passed by the remains of many strange and exotic creatures, though one gargantuan animal stood out from the others in that it was alive and, seemingly, in perfect health. Geralt was a mix of suspicious and surprised. Whatever had slain the others might have ignored the giraffe or, if it was a disease, it simply might not have been able to infect the massive beast. He’d seen and read about diseases that could only infect certain species, no matter how close a host got to, say, a human.
He started away from the stagecoach in the direction of the enclosure, calling out to the others that he was going to check it out. The enclosure holding the giraffe was larger than the others, for obvious reasons. Finding no immediate method of entering the enclosure, Geralt instead grabbed the bars and began climbing them, using his boots to anchor himself in place as he pulled himself upwards. Once at the top, he swung over and jumped down, rolling as he landed and springing to his feet.
The giraffe watched him warily, sniffing in his direction as he slowly approached, one hand out towards it. “Easy. Easy, not gonna hurt you.” As he approached, the giraffe sniffed deeply again, lowering its head towards him slowly. He stayed put, letting it get close and sniff him from point-blank range, at which point its neck rose, taking its head with it. Geralt approached a little closer, earning a wary huff from the giraffe, but it made no move to back away.
Just before he could make contact with its body, he noticed something…wrong…with its legs. Namely, that there were more of them, thin and spindly. Before he could react, his vision went black as the parasitized giraffe’s horrific, fang-laden mouth closed around him from above. “Fuck!” He cursed, thrashing and wriggling to try and free one of his hands even as he was lifted upwards, the monster giraffe crushing him in its mouth. He planted his feet in between a pair of massive fangs, using one arm to hold its upper jaw away from him as the other fished for his hunting knife.
Freeing the blade from its sheath, Geralt plunged it into the parasite’s oversized tongue, dragging it out through the side and causing a roar of pain as the monster let him go. He slammed to the ground like an anvil, having fallen from about twelve feet up as the giraffe’s puppetted corpse lifted him from the ground. Staggering to his feet, he sheathed his knife and drew his steel sword, sighing as he cast Quen.
With far too many legs and an incoherent rage, the mutated beast charged Geralt, aiming to trample and consume him. He rolled out of the way, pulling his hand crossbow and loosing a bolt into its neck. The monster roared again, this one more angry than pained, and ran further into its enclosure and around a series of large boulders that managed to hide its bulk.
Sighing and shaking his head, Geralt rolled his eyes. This thing was an ambush predator, of that there was no doubt. With its spider-like form wearing the giraffe’s corpse as a flesh puppet, he couldn’t assume much about its mobility, except that it was faster and more agile than it looked at first glance.”Nothing to it but to spring the trap.” He grumbled, summoning Tartaglia’s hydro twinblade.
“Monsoon, flush it out.” Geralt ordered as the assassin appeared before him, nodding gravely as it rushed after the giraffe, disappearing behind the boulders. He followed behind at a decent distance, giving the monster plenty of time to break its ambush to attack Monsoon. It came into vision a moment before Monsoon vanished, stopping in confusion before spotting Geralt. He was already closing the distance, lashing out at its legs with the twinblade, spinning to avoid a vicious kick from one of the giraffe’s muscular legs.
He raised a hand to draw Igni, causing a Vaporize reaction and momentarily stunning the monster. Geralt took advantage of the temporary opening and dismissed the Hydro construct, drawing his steel sword and violently hacking off one of the thinner, spindly limbs of the parasite’s true body. It screamed in pain, lashing out with its legs before attempting to retreat again.
“Oh no you don’t!” Geralt called after it, sheathing his sword and chasing after it. To the monster’s shock, he was managing to keep up, so it climbed the massive rock to get some vertical distance. Geralt skid to a stop, looking up at the mutated beast, frowning. He knew what was about to happen. As the thing launched itself from the boulder at him, Geralt dove forward, trying to get as far towards its rear as possible.
Flipping onto his back as the monster above him readjusted, Geralt thrust his steel sword up into its bottom. Standing and pulling the blade out to leave a long gash in its body. The parasite shuddered and roared again, thrashing its limbs wildly and slapping him with one of its thinner limbs. Braced for the attack, Geralt only had to take a small step back to keep from stumbling. He slashed out with its sword to counter its desperate flailing, the beast having seemingly abandoned all strategy. Its trampling charge had failed, its ambush had been triggered by another person who simply disappeared, and its leaping ambush attack had been foiled.
It turned to him, lowering its body and splaying its spider-like limbs out in an aggressive display. Geralt matched its eyes and stepped forwards, prompting a vicious slash of a blade-like limb. With a flash of steel, the limb was severed, and the giraffe roared in fury again, charging Geralt. Rather than trying to trample him, it simply launched a mass of attacks with its spindly limbs, slashing and kicking at the Witcher, who sidestepped and parried blows with ease. Against a semi-intelligent monster like this, he was more than fine. With its ambushes defeated, blood slowly leaking from its wounds, and unable to escape due to Galeem’s curse, at best it could attempt another doomed trap.
It did not, and instead continued its desperate flailing. Geralt retaliated by systematically carving its limbs off, leaving it too wounded to even attempt another ambush. It brought its oversized neck around for a last-ditch attempt to bring him down with it. Finally, the moment he was waiting for. Geralt let the blow hit him, Quen shattering and releasing a bolt of lightning that stunned the parasite. He held tightly onto the giraffe’s neck, stabbing his sword into it and slicing down, tearing apart the heavily-muscled throat and spilling torrents of blood to the ground of the enclosure.
As a gurgling roar attempted to escape the monster, Geralt gently touched the back of its neck, stroking it gently. “Shhh. It's over now.” He didn’t know how much of the original animal remained, but he hoped that its death would grant it some kind of peace. As the giraffe began to dissolve to ash, Geralt frowned when he saw movement. A tiny thing, maybe a foot in length, was wriggling in the ash. It had many spindly limbs, like the giraffe had, and turned to Geralt with a shrill screech, jumping at his leg.
Purely by reflex, he kicked out and launched the thing across the ground, where it rolled to a stop with about a third of its limbs broken in some manner. It limply lifted itself and tried to shuffle towards him. Geralt frowned, stepping back and lifting his hand to his ear. “Sandalphon, this is Geralt. Let everybody know that I’ve found a parasite in what looked like a perfectly normal animal. It waited until I got close to attack. The animal is dead, but the parasite is still alive. It’s a pathetic little thing, barely a foot in length. I could try to capture it if we have something to store it in, though I’m not sure we have the facilities to study it now.”
Sandalphon responded immediately, and pragmatically. "Kill it." Geralt wasted no time in doing so, a bolt piercing the parasite’s body and destroying it with a second of the message ending.
“Geralt again. It’s dead. Figure we ought to be wary of anything else that looks mostly normal now. It didn’t put up much of a fight, but if it hadn’t tried to swallow me whole as its ambush, that could have gone much worse.” Grabbing the Spirits left behind by the things, he returned to the stagecoach, climbing inside for a few minutes to rest, but not before casting a quick First Aid on himself to soothe his minor wounds from the fight.
Frozen Highlands Lvl 15 Geralt (204/140) +3 Collab XP -12 Friend Heart XP -> (198/140) 170% OL Charged (Lvl 1) Word count: 2,155 words
The conversation with Sandalphon and Edward had Geralt’s thoughts a bit scattered. A lifetime of hunts and murders weighed him down at the worst of times, but being reminded of the scenarios he often found himself in was never fun.
He sighed, dispelling the melancholy from his mind as he walked away from the cart. “Gonna clear the area we came from, make sure none of those things we might have missed decide to come check the cart out while we wait for that door to get opened.” He announced to the other Seekers before setting out, fiery katana drawn.
As he wandered, he came across a trio of mutated wolves, and took a slow, deep breath before approaching, making sure to maintain eye contact even as the wolves began to split up and flank him. “Not gonna work.” He muttered, hopping backwards as the two on the flanks leapt forward. They were careful not to crash into each other, but a blast from Aard knocked them over all the same. The third rushed in to cover their rise, and Geralt pirouetted to the side, lashing out with his katana to draw a line across its flank, what little fur remained singed by the blade’s fire.
The wolf yelped in pain, but did not relent, especially not now that Galeem’s curse held it in thrall. Geralt might have felt bad, were it not for the fact that these things were already dead, or damn enough near. His hand crossbow flashed out as he drew the weapon, a bolt deftly lodging itself into the beast’s skull before it could react. As expected, it did not die, but instead growled deeply before barking angrily.
All three wolves exploded forward, and Geralt broke right as they did. They quickly corrected course, but the change in angle meant that one arrived before the others. Geralt kicked as the wolf closed the distance, knocking its head aside as he stabbed his katana into its side and ripped it out, carving a burning gouge through its body. Undaunted, it rejoined its fellows in their charge, forcing Geralt on the proverbial backfoot. He cursed, unleashing another burst of energy from Aard to get some breathing room.
“Enough!” He yelled, calling down the Orphan’s eldritch lightning, which spread from him and coursed through the monsters, shocking them and buying him yet another moment. He used that moment to transform into his Ardor Blossom Identity, draconic wings of flame bursting from his back as his armor transformed into street clothes. He raised one hand, a ball of fire coming into existence and growing in size before he hurled a wave of fireballs at the approaching wolves. Each hit caused the monsters to burn, but their undead vigor kept them from succumbing to the flames.
Vaguely resembling Edward’s hellhounds, the three wolves charged again, now with flames licking away at their bodies. Geralt leapt to the side to dodge two, closing the distance with the third and grabbing its throat in his great hand, lifting the beast and slamming his horns into its chest, tearing them out to the side and dealing a grievous wound. Still, the beast thrashed in his grasp, desperate to clench its jaws around his flesh. His grip tightened until he heard bones snapping, and hearing the other wolves fast approaching, he whipped around to toss the paralyzed wolf into its kin, forcing them to split their charge again.
Geralt charged at the one that went left, closing the distance in a pair of long strides, and slammed a huge fist into its skull as it bit at him. The wolf yelped in pain as the blow connected, and Geralt felt a weight on his back as the other wolf reached him, biting into his jacket and trying to sink its teeth into his scaly skin. Between his coat and the draconic scales, its teeth could not find purchase, and Geralt reached over his shoulders to grab the monster, slamming it over his head and onto the wolf he had attacked.
Their bodies crashed together with a violent cracking of one of the wolves’ legs, but Geralt did not let go. He kicked the wolf that was not in his hands in the jaw to keep it disoriented as he lifted the one he was holding again. Like the other before, it thrashed in his grip, desperately trying to escape and bite at him, but Geralt adjusted his grip to hold it by the hind legs and use it as a club to bludgeon the other. Bones crunched and broke both in his grip and with each impact, and when the wolf he was beating finally succumbed and dissolved into ash, Geralt gave its kin mercy with his claws.
This left only the paralyzed wolf, which was somehow still walking his way, though its movements were disjointed and uncoordinated, as if each leg was acting independently of the others. Its head dragged along the snowy ground, growling in what might otherwise be a menacing manner. As he transformed back to his natural Identity, Geralt drew his silver sword and finally finished the beast.
He returned to the cart with their Spirits for Edward to crush with that strange hat. The actual fight took less than a minute, with him having spent more time walking out to find them and walking back. “Killed a few more wolves out back.” He advised the others. “Don’t think they’d have bothered us, but didn’t hurt to make sure. Undead, infected, whatever they are, they’re better off gone anyway.”
Edward was quick to use the Symbol of Avarice to destroy the Spirits for him, quickly returning the spoils.
Shadowpierce Fang x2 The necrotic, hyper-developed fang of a predator, useful for crafting wickedly sharp serrated slicing weapons. Draconic or poisonous properties can be coaxed from them depending on the final product
Bone Arrows x9 A number of bones whittled from animal bones. Their heads are sharp indeed, but they don't fly particularly true. These bestial projectiles are best used at close to mid range
“Thanks.” Geralt offered simply, pocketing the fangs and sending the arrows and masks to the armory via the spell Edward had taught the group. He had enough of his own crossbow bolts and arrows as it was, especially with Blazermate’s Striker engineer making dispensers here and there.
Once Blazermate had cleared the way to open the heavy doors blocking their way, Geralt joined the others in helping to open them, transforming into his Ardor Blossom Identity for the added size it offered. He wasn’t sure it actually improved his pushing strength, but it certainly didn’t hurt.
Thankfully, the obstacles on the other side of the door were easily managed: the broken bridge by a crystalline platform courtesy of Sectonia, and the zombified animals by Blazermate controlling a disgusting amalgamation of monsters to absorb the mutated animals in a truly sickening display of her control over the undead. “Ugh.” Geralt groaned, averting his eyes. He’d seen some horrible things, but unlife was too far, even for him. It reminded him of the way Skjall had agonized over every word he and Yen had forced out of his corpse.
Thankfully, a distraction came in the form of Sectonia blasting open the door to a hidden office, which Geralt gladly pounced on. Upon entering, the first thing he found was the business end of a Hexabarrel Repeater, the ornate gothic firearm leveled at him by a shaking hand. Against the back wall of the inner chamber slumped a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man in heavy clothes, his eyes veiled in shadow and his skin pock-marked by stony scales and crystalline protrusions. The blood seeping from his wounds was blue, and there was an odd quality to his ragged breathing. Nevertheless, when he realized that he was looking at a sane human, he allowed his arm to fall. His six-barreled gun fell from his nerveless grip and clattered across the floor.
"Ah...sorry. I thought...you were one of them..."
Looking around, this staff center seemed to specialize in medicine and veterinary care. Thanks to its hidden door and ID scanner, it was mostly intact, with a number of surgical tools and drugs scattered around despite heavy use during the onset of the zoo's sickness. One such bottle, labeled Clark Shore's Miracle Cure, lay empty near the suffering man. It was plain to see, though, that the drug had failed to live up to its name.
"Woah." Geralt said when he realized his situation, raising his hands and taking a step back. He could just disarm the man and be done with it, but the state he was as well as Galeem's curse could have left that with an ending he'd prefer to avoid. Instead, the other man simply lowered the weapon when he realized that Geralt was still alive, earning a nod from the Witcher.
Looking around the room, Geralt sighed. "One of them got you, I assume. Don't worry, I can heal your wounds, though if you've been infected with something, that may prove trickier to manage." Nonetheless, he stepped closer to the man, making sure to step on the revolver and kick it to the wall of the room as he took a deep breath and reached within himself to grab a Friend Heart, gently pressing it into the other man. "Take a minute to sort your head out. Name's Geralt. You?"
The sudden and unexpected restoration, just when certain words had been on the tip of the drifter's tongue, threw him for a total loop. His eyes, though still weary and tormented, widened as he realized that he could breathe and move without pain. "I...how?" When he pulled back his sleeve to check the skin of his forearm in disbelief, he found no trace of the new disease that had ravaged him. "Unbelievable. My thanks, stranger."
Gingerly, the drifter rose to his feet. "I am Eryk. My mind is swirling with strange memories...I can only say that I came to this place to wipe out the monsters. I've seen far worse than their like, after all. I did not anticipate contracting the Petrification Disease myself. And after I took such care to avoid contaminants..." He shook his head, baffled. "When I found this place, and the Miracle Cure, I dosed myself and locked myself in to await relief. At first, it seemed to do the job...but it was too good to be true." He clutched his heart. "I began changing, from the inside out. Into one of them. Too late, I realized that the zookeepers must have used the same drug on the animals when the Petrification Disease overtook them. It is no cure...Clark Shore, you devil..."
Eryk bent to retrieve the repeater, grasping it by the barrels. He then offered it to Geralt, grip-first. "Here. I'll be making myself scarce, so it's better off in your hands."
Medical Supplies x3 Strange Medical Supplies that are effective at treating Ulcer and Fracture. They don't heal Health.
High Grade Medical Supplies x2 High Grade Medical Supplies that are effective at treating Weakened and Depressed. They do not heal health.
Ergo Bag A small satchel containing 12823 ergo in crystals of various sizes, collected from the bodies of slain carcasses before disintegration. To those in the know, ergo is not just a precious currency, but a power source for special machines
Curative Dart A specially-customized tranquilizer dart containing a curative serum tailored for the disease being mimicked by certain parasites to avoid detection. Correct administration to a mutant parasitized animal will return it to normal and cause it to vomit up the parasite.
Hexabarrel Repeater An advanced artifact restored after its recovery from the seabed. This very bulky automatic handgun can fire six shots in quick succession, its stopping power respectable, but it takes a long time to reload and has low durability. It requires demioxide bullets, which can be refilled by universal or secondary/handgun ammo pickups
“Thank you.” Geralt offered, taking the firearm as Eryk made his exit. “And good luck out there.” He bade the mysterious man as he left. “Well, plenty still left. Just avoid the miracle cure.” He muttered to himself, looking around the staff center and pocketing a few of the most useful-looking medicines, as well as a bag containing what appeared to be a multitude of various gems. It was a hell of a haul, all things told, and so he returned to the stagecoach with it in tow.
“Found a hunter who was infected with some kind of disease, and fixed him up with a heart. He’s off on his own, though. Also found some medicines in there, along with one that looks different from all the rest.” He offered the curative dart to Sandalphon to see if she or any of the others could make heads or tails of it.
Esaka, The Tiered City Lvl 9 Zenkichi (63/90) -> Lvl 9 (64/90) Word count: 455 words
Almost immediately after his message, Zenkichi received a response from Pit. ”Oh, right. I’m…fighting in the Tekken tournament.” And oh god that was a thing that he just unironically said. It’d be one thing if he meant in an arcade, though that would indicate a…very strange trajectory that his life had went on, but no, he meant that he, Zenkichi Hasegawa, was going to fight in a Tekken tournament. Boy, Galeem sure had a sick sense of humor.
”Yeah, that makes sense. Especially if we wanna get anything out of the Four Kings.” He added after a beat. As he made his way to the restaurant that he remembered Terry talking about (it was a little hard to miss, actually), a few others piped up, talking as he joined the assembled Seekers at their table and placed his order, for Korean-style barbecue and a glass of water.
Zenkichi’s reaction to Nadia joining the Mortal Kombat was more subdued than Band’s, but just as incredulous. His eyes near bugged out of his head, but her explanation had him nodding along. The deception wouldn’t last long, but he doubted the Heavenly Principles would outright kill her for…not dying? They wouldn’t, right? And anything else was little more than a slap on the wrist. The Seekers weren’t making a permanent stay here, so a ban from the tournament wouldn’t exactly be a real punishment.
Terry’s arrival was met with a questioning look from Richard, the establishment’s owner, and Zenkichi winced when he saw how beat up the man looked. ”Jeeze, Terry, you look like you had a bad run-in with a blender.” he joked, waving to him. ”But I’m certainly not going to say no to being treated to food. Looks like we’re getting set up pretty well. I wonder how the kids are doing, though. I know they’re tough, but I’m wondering if just…letting them run off without somebody going to watch after them was a good idea.” His thoughts turned to Akane, and while the situations weren’t…exactly the same, he had to admit that he wasn’t exactly the most present parent or guardian.
Shaking off the thought, he turned to the others. ”So, I’m in Tekken, Nadia’s in Mortal Kombat, Terry’s doing King of Fighters with Captain Falcon, that’s already a good spread. We just go through the tournaments, then…what exactly? I’m just wondering what exactly that gets us, aside from money. Unless the Heavenly Principles are stopping us from just sneaking around or busting down doors…what’s stopping us from that to find the Guardian? We didn’t exactly follow the law in Midgar.” While he appreciated the relatively low-stakes break, part of him was itching to just get to the bottom of where the Guardian was.
Esaka, The Tiered City Lvl 9 Zenkichi (62/90) -> Lvl 9 (63/90) Word count: 417 words
Wandering throughout the city, and taking in the sights, Zenkichi got to enjoy a little taste of home. It was certainly on the rough side, with the middle and high tiers more resembling a proper Japanese city, but the overall theme of Esaka was still very much Japanese. He meandered around, passing the records store that had so miserably disappointed Junior and Rika, Clean Hits. He paused outside for a moment before shaking his head and carrying on. He’d never been a huge fighting game guy at the arcade, anyway. And he certainly wasn’t some record-obsessed old man.
The city of fighters was, predictably, a fairly lively place, though thankfully there weren’t brawls going on all around. That being said, he did catch sight of a big-ass yokai fighting Amaterasu and Pit, but they more than had it covered, so he moved on to other sights. Food stalls catering to the late breakfast crowd, offering breakfast, brunch, and even some lunch items, alongside coffee for those unlucky enough to have gone without until now.
It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for, however, and as he approached a stall with a few weird-looking robots in it. Above them were the banners for the various tournaments, and Zenkichi paused for a moment to think about which he’d end up joining. Mulling over the various logos, he decided on Tekken. Approaching the booth, he greeted the robot, which replied flatly, “Good morning, prospective fighter. Are you here to register for a tournament?”
”Yeah, I am.”
“What is your name, which dojo do you represent, and which tournament would you like to enter?” It followed up, just as flatly as before.
”Zenkichi Hasegawa. I represent Ultra Fight Da Kyanta, and I would like to participate in the Tekken tournament…uh, I think the official name was the King of Iron Fist?”
“I am familiar with the colloquial name of the King of Iron Fist tournament, prospective fighter, but your attention to detail is commended. I will record your information for confirmation of eligibility. You are free to return to your previous course of action. Have an excellent day.” Efficiently dismissed, Zenkichi gave the combot a nod before stepping away for another registrant to sign up.
”Hey, everybody, it’s Zenkichi. Just an update, I’m all signed up for a tournament. So, uh…we wanna get lunch once we’re all set up?” Terry had brought up the suggestion earlier, so he figured it’d be a good idea to bring it up.
Yankee
TruthHurts
princess
Plank Sinatra