[center][h2]Geralt, [color=BFBFBF]Zenkichi[/color], and [color=crimson]Edelgard[/color][/h2] The Dead Zone Lvl 14 Geralt (58/140) -> Lvl 14 (61/140) (+2 pending) Lvl 8 Zenkichi (29/80) +3 Collab XP -> (35/80) Lvl 3 Edelgard (15/30) +4 Collab XP -> (22/30) (+1 pending) Word count: 1,545 words[/center] It wasn’t long after passing the north edge of the ravine, once the combat had ended, that Zenkichi, Sandalphon, Primrose, and Therion emerged from it, a little rattled but otherwise fine. Geralt gave them an appraising nod, one which Zenkichi returned as their formation reassembled to its previous state. Unfortunately, their peace was so short-lived as to be a joke. Baby Mario, the BB that Edward was carrying, began to cry, then wail incessantly, as the baby it was. It struck Geralt as odd, fortuitous, and simultaneously baffling that these infants were apparently just that: infants. As everybody began breaking into a shouting contest, Geralt turned his direction outward, as splashes of tar began to burst up from black handprints. “They’re coming, we need to-” He was cut off as Grimm broke and ran, a moment later a massive pit of tar opened beneath the collected Seekers. “Fuck, move!” He pivoted, his own stride barely hampered by the BTs, each forceful yank enough to dislodge the spectral attackers. Edelgard and Zenkichi were not quite so fortunate, the former becoming quickly bogged down and forcing the Witcher to turn back. “Hang on!” He called, running through the sludge to try and reach her before it was too late. Edelgard was one of those who found herself pulled away by BTs. Geralt, despite his speed and strength, failed to reach her in time, and she found herself being dragged through the tar as if she were tied to a horse at full gallop. All in all, she hadn’t gone terribly far by the time she released, and around her the landscape began to shift as buildings long-destroyed reasserted their presence in this land, rising from the ground like weeds before entering a sort of semi-buoyant floating. [color=crimson]”How…odd.”[/color] Edelgard couldn’t help the thought that slipped out. Zenkichi, meanwhile, was desperately trying to escape. In his panic, he tried to follow Sandalphon, but the Archangel was practical as ever, and was using her special abilities to escape. He opened his mouth to call for Valjean, but was rocked by the feeling of something grabbing him. Fighting back, Zenkichi trudged towards the edge of the tarpool, but it was no use. His old, cold, body was still recovering from the massive adrenaline dump he’d received earlier, and Zenkichi was dragged off. Geralt had no such problem. His Guardian-infused body had been utterly untouched by the SFE, and though he attempted to help Edelgard at first, once she was taken, he broke and followed in Grimm’s footsteps. Each paltry attempt by the BTs to grab him was thwarted by a thunderous kick, which pushed off their semi-corporeal form. How exactly that worked he had no idea, but soon Geralt found himself at the edge of the initial tarpool, his personal shield flickering in the rain. He had barely taken a few steps when the pool expanded further, once more surrounding him, though this time nothing grabbed for him. No, Geralt heard the Catcher before he saw it, and when he did, his eyes widened in fear. Were this a mere beast, he thought he could slay it. Fiends were massive, and he’d killed his fair share in his time. He’d slayed many beasts. No, his fear was not of that nature. He knew, instinctually, that this was the harbinger of the Seekers’ destruction. Zenkichi, though he was not near Geralt, felt a similar feeling of dread. He cast his gaze about the arena they’d found themselves in, before forcing himself to ascend onto one of the half-floating buildings and calling out. [color=BFBFBF]”Primrose! Just like on the mountain!”[/color] He shouted at the Dancer, who was not too far, though hardly right on top of him. He jumped down, stumbling as he landed, and jogged her way before calling on Valjean. [color=BFBFBF]”Sukukaja!”[/color] As Primrose activated Sealticge’s Seduction, Sukukaja spread to every Seeker, giving them a boost to their overall agility. To Edelgard, this was a lifesaver, and the Emperor made no attempt to make a heroic stand. Sandalphon was clear: if anybody was caught by these things, it was the end for the Seekers, one and all. And she was not going to be the cause of that. So, keeping an eye out for the Catcher as she ran through and around the buildings that were protruding through the tar, Edelgard made her mad dash to the Qliphoth. Zenkichi, for his own part, kept close to Primrose. He could keep their speed up with Sukukaja, though if the group wasn’t safe by the end of the spell’s minute-long duration, their personal shields would be down anyway, making their death just a matter of time. He shook off the thought as the Catcher charged around, hunting down Seekers and attacking them. Midna’s daring distraction had given them all time to start moving, and Geralt, his speed boosted to comical levels by Sukukaja, ran straight into the action. When Midna called for somebody else to distract the Catcher, Geralt answered, Quen shimmering around him, but crashing into the monster head-on with the Hateful Flesh. “Get out of here, all of you!” He called, effortlessly dodging a claw swipe from the oversized monster. “I can keep it busy!” He noticed the lack of reaction to the Hateful Flesh, but tried again to attack, throwing a clump of explosive tissue at the creature, only for the Catcher to thoroughly ignore the explosion and pounce at Geralt, forcing him to throw himself out of the way. Tar and mud splashed up over him, and he forced himself to his feet before the BT could recover. “Come on, beast! You and me!” He taunted, running at the Catcher before dancing aside as it charged straight on, its mask opened wide to try and catch him within. He dragged the hateful Flesh up and along its flank, again to no effect. “Fuck.” This thing wasn’t tough, it was invincible. Even to a weapon from a Guardian, that could hurt the Chimeras? Just what [i]were[/i] these monsters? That was irrelevant, loathe as Geralt was to admit. He found himself being flung through the air, crashing into a ruined building after being struck by a powerful blow from the Catcher’s tail swipe. Quen was gone, and his personal bubble shield had lost a good chunk of its power from the blow. It wouldn’t last much longer, and from that point it was up to his jacket to keep him safe from the timefall. Pushing himself out of his miniature crater, Geralt cursed as the Catcher quickly filled his vision, having decided his stunned form was an easy meal. A fair decision, Geralt thought, though he imagined it was rather surprising when a single leap carried the Witcher a good twenty feet away, rolling to his feet and sprinting faster than any typical human could have even thought of moving. Still, with four legs and a significant size advantage, the Catcher BT made a damn fine effort in catching up, and Geralt had to jump onto a building to break line of sight for a moment. His shield was flickering, there was no more room for games. Hopefully he’d bought enough time for the others. If not… Well, it wouldn’t be a problem for this him to deal with, sad as it was to admit. Hopefully, the next Geralt would find Ciri and Yen. That morbid thought on his mind, Geralt ran towards the Qliphoth, leaving the Catcher to hunt the others. Edelgard found herself just barely crossing the edge of the tarpool as Sukukaja wore off, her personal shield having faded moments before. She pulled the hood of her jacket closed tight, hunching her shoulders and covering the burns in the coat to protect herself from the deadly rain, even as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her in the Qliphoth’s direction. She felt no remorse for abandoning the others to their fates, even as she heard Geralt’s calls for them to flee. She would have been no help to them. No, it was not remorse that Edelgard felt. It was frustration at her uselessness in this damnable place. Hopefully fighting the Guardian within the massive tree would assuage those worries. Zenkichi’s own escape route had ended up keeping him somewhat near Primrose, though he also kept an eye out for Sandalphon as he made his egress. Seeing Geralt moving under the effects of Sukukaja was quite funny, given that the man already boasted inhuman speed. It was like watching Usain Bolt in fast forward, the way the Witcher flew across the landscape. As the three closed in on the Seekers’ destination, each had lost the protection of their personal shield. The pieces of Edelgard’s armor that showed through the jacket had spots of rust, though the worst-case scenario had been avoided thanks to her protective posture. Zenkichi was in near-perfect condition, while Geralt’s face had splotches of discolored flesh, and the Witcher had a sour look on his face, a spot on his chin having hair that looked months old while the rest had a light covering of white beard. “There is, in fact, such a thing as running too fast.” He simply grumbled to Zenkichi, earning a guffaw from the detective and a tittering laugh from Edelgard.