[center][h2]Geralt of Rivia[/h2]
The Avenger
Lvl 14 Geralt (109/140) -> Lvl 14 (111/140) 140% OL Charged (Lvl 1)
Word count: 825 words [/center]



Tora’s reaction to the barbed wire mines made Geralt’s eyebrows climb a little. A barbed wire mine sounded nasty, but what did Tora mean about turning three-hundred sixty degrees and walking away? That was just a full circle. Mentally shoving that question aside, he shrugged when Tora asked what he wanted to do with them. “Frankly, I’m a little bogged down by gear as it is. Was just planning to give them to you to tinker with or use them for scrap.”

The question of what to do with the Hateful Flesh was a more pressing one. “A handle would be fine. It’d let me use the damn thing like a regular weapon, too.” Tora’s resolve shone through when what happened to Goldlewis and Midna almost managed to get him down, but he bulled right through the pain and set himself onto doing something practical, both for the Lost Numbers and himself. It wasn’t too far from how he’d reacted to Poppi’s destruction at first, throwing himself into his work to try and help bring her back. 

As far as donations went for the cause, Geralt shrugged and gestured to the mines. “Can always use those for parts. As far as money goes, my coinpurse is far from bursting, unfortunately. Might be able to spare a bit, but it’d be pocket change at most.”

Tora shrugged as best he could without discernible shoulders. "That fine, will take whatever can get. Now, give strange weapon here." While he rifled through his meager stock of spare parts for something that could serve as a suitable handle -taking a second on the way to ascertain the dimensions of Geralt's hand- Poppi grabbed the necessary tools. Despite his preference for metalworking, he ended up picking some scraps of bone he'd been messing around with the day before. After all the preparations had been made, affixing the new parts and modifying the Hateful Flesh took only a couple minutes. Once the sparks stopped flying, Poppi passed the weapon back to the Witcher, its [url=https://i.imgur.com/XyyaF2A.png]appearance[/url] evidence that he'd managed to get creative. It looked a little less magical, though clusters of crimson nodules still pulsated inside the weapon, but it looked more symmetrical and easier to handle. "Since cleaver no good for stabby-stab anyway, Tora attach grips to both ends!" he explained. "Now, Ger-Ger can use both hands to carve with double force, meh. What think? Even with weird magic blade, am engineering mastermind, no?"

Poppi seemed eager to be rid of the thing. "Truly, masterpon genius almost frightening to behold..."

Looking over the cleaver, Geralt nodded. “Well, that’ll certainly be a lot more convenient to use in battle. Thanks for that, Tora. I’ll have to give it a try later on.” Lifting the Hateful Flesh and returning it to its eldritch resting spot inside of him, Geralt gave the Nopon and his Synthetic Blade grateful nods. “And good luck with your chore golem.” He added, giving Tora a pat on the shoulder and making his way out of the Proving Ground. 

His business there concluded, Geralt stopped at a small map of the Avenger. First, he figured it was time for a proper meal. Most of the others had come here first, then split off, but Geralt had wanted to give Tora the news and see what he could do about the Orphan’s cleaver first and foremost. Once his belly was full, he made his way down to the Mysticenter. 

The assorted magical research stations caught his eye, though he certainly couldn’t begin to fathom where to start. He had learned some magic thanks to his fusion with Flynn Scifo’s spirit, but how exactly he possessed that knowledge of some fairly advanced spellcraft was beyond him. Whether or not he could research the same and learn more magic was similarly outside of his grasp, but he was willing to try. The miniature shrines to various kinds of magic stood out, but none existed for Light, which the paladin he’d fused with seemed to specialize in. 

He chose not to interrupt Mona’s scrying, instead spending his time looking at all of the ingredients and keeping a mental stock of them. Once he was finished, the Witcher took a minute to think over what he could make with those, before settling on an old classic he hadn’t managed to get his hands on here in the World of Light. Grabbing some spirits, a particular fungus, and the embryo of an insectoid monster, he was able to craft a potion of Thunderbolt. “If those damned Consuls keep showing their faces, I’ll be needing this and more.” He muttered, looking over his work. 

It wasn’t his best potion by far, but the ingredients and time needed to refine his potions further were harder to come by, so this would have to suffice for now. His work completed, Geralt returned to looking over the spellcraft station, poring over every bit of magical knowledge he could.