Scene #3663: Railroad of Novigrad

Owner	Pose
Geralt of Rivia	Novigrad. It's a big city, although built in that way of keeping the streets thin to prevent invading armies from fitting more than three or four people abreast. With a population of thirty thousand or so, it certainly seems quite crowded at times. A free city, and therefore not subject to the laws of the Kingdom of Redania, there are still plenty of people keeping watch on anyone who enters - Elite or otherwise. Some of those eyes are guards, others feel far less... upstanding. The co-ordinates provided by Geralt lead to an old warehouse. The pale Witcher beckons the Elites inside, where approximately half a dozen figures have been gathered. Geralt exchanges a look with a redheaded woman whose bearing marks her as the leader of the group, who Dorian might recognise as Triss Merigold, but it's hard to read anything in the Witcher's face even at the best of times. "We'll be going through the sewers," Geralt comments. "Only way to get these people out of the city. Leads out past the eastern wall. Don't anticipate any trouble but I haven't walked these tunnels in a long time. Could be anythin' down there. Any of you got any questions?"
Chica Mendez	So this was what it was like, being back in ye olden days. All of this looks like it'd fit right in with one of those overly dramatic fantasy trids they put on. La Llorona most certainly isn't a native here, and in all honesty she probably doesn't look like it, dressed all up in black, but her armored coat was closed. Most damningly, she was still wearing a ballistic mask, albiet one without her trademark screaming, rotting woman decorating the front. Just a big piece of black plastic that covered her head and ears. The difference is, she's learned how to sneak around in a city that has cameras almost freaking everywhere. Noting guard rotation patterns and shadowy paths to get to her destination seemed to be a lot easier, here, though there's not much she can do against the occaisonal curious onlooker. For those, she hopes her aura alone will convince them not to do anything silly. Once she makes her way in, La Llorona looks over the herd of probably pitiable figures. Her mask doesn't show anything, but underneath she's gritting her teeth quietly. At least... They wouldn't be dying, her way. "This is commendable, but I'm guessing you have no means of caring for these people after they're out," she says, and the voice scrambler attached to her throat and the mouth of her mask scrambles her voice into sexlessness. "My employer is willing to take four. Five, if they're strong enough. They'll be given work and provided for. Is this acceptable?"
Dorian Pavus	Dorian is surprisingly good at blending in when he so chooses. He just.. doesn't often choose to. In this case, though, it's much better that he does. 'Discreet', to him, means a disguise. So he's done that. A substance has been combed through his hair and mustache to make both appear gray. He has a hooded, light gray cloak thrown over him, one that hides him rather well. He's swapped out his usual serpent-headed staff out for a much plainer one that looks like an old man's walking stick, with tiny crystal baubles tied on the end. And he's walking with a hunched back, leaning heavily on the staff He shouldn't be that threatening of an image. He will, however, make for the coordinates. Only once he's there and hidden from the sight of whatever unsavory folk might be watching-- guards or otherwise-- does Dorian straighten and push the hood back. "Not to worry. I'm here now," he announces, with a smirk. His stance and smile far belie his now apparent age due to the gray appearance of his hair and mustache. The other person's concern is valid, and Dorian nods. "That was something that hadn't crossed my mind," he admits. "Though granted, only because I was thinking one step at a time. We need to get them out first. But yes. I might know of someone who can find work for any others," he offers. Felix is resourceful, and with all the chaos in Thedas, there's plenty to help out with.
Geralt of Rivia	The redheaded woman places her hands on her hips. "That depends on what sort of work you will be providing for them. We were going to have them travel to Kovir, out of the reach of Radovid and his henchmen." "Triss..." Geralt begins, but a quick glance from her green eyes shuts him down. "I won't be delivering them into hands I won't trust. If you can provide them with a better life than what they would find here, then perhaps we can have some form of agreement. They need to get out of the city, Geralt... If your friends can provide something better, then we'll let them make their own decisions. I can't stop them." Triss does spare a welcoming smile for Dorian, recognising him. Geralt, too, favours the mage with a polite nod. The Witcher seems like he has always been - in leather and chain, two swords over his back, a layer of stubble over his jaw. Triss pulls her hood up. "I've been here too long. We need to get moving, before any of Radovid's people stumble upon us." There's a hatch towards the back of the warehouse, hidden by some crates. Geralt is instrumental in shifting them. The half a dozen crowd - and not all of them are mages, by the sounds of it, some appear to just be elves or dwarves who are just as prone t being burnt at the stake it seems - begins moving towards the hatch and down into the dark. By the stench that wafts out of the open hatch, it's clear that they'll be moving through the sewers. "Geralt?" Triss calls, as the Witcher makes ready to slip into the darkness, "Be safe, okay?"
Chica Mendez	Admittedly, La Llorona does probably cut a pretty untrustworthy figure. She's not too surprised that the woman would have such concerns. Raising a placating hand, she grunts so that the mages can hear, "If they can hack it, they'll be getting SINs and low-level corp jobs. It's not glamorous, but they'll be fed, paid, and given a place to live. Somehow I don't think you could offer the same. If it keeps a family together, all the better." Glancing over at Dorian, she shrugs. "More than enough for the both of us. What should I call you?" La Llorona stands aside while Geralt gets to shoving crates out of the way, letting him do all the lifting while she reaches under her coat and draws her heavy pistol to run her preliminary checks. Full clip, two more on her belt, plus two more clips of gel capsules containing knock-out poisons. One flashbang and one frag grenade on her belt. She's about as locked and loaded as she can be. The smell is... Well, it's not entirely unfamiliar. Chica's lived in Redmond and gone into the sewers often enough. Still, her mouth twists in distaste. "One of us should stay at the back to make sure nothing ambushes us," she notes idly to Dorian. Whether he chooses to or leaves her to do it, as soon as she's down in the sewers she's immediately on guard in a low shooter's stance, ready to fire.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian too will assist with the crates. He's not above doing manual labor, and he's pretty strong for being a mage. Benefits of being the result of a breding program to produce the 'perfect leader'. However, at the smell wafting from the hatch when it opens, Dorian recoils, taking a step back. "''Vishante kaffas''!" he declares, covering his mouth with one hand and tilting his head away. "Wonderful," he drawls flatly, voice muffled by his hand. "Slogging through knee-deep shit is ''exactly'' how I wanted to spend my day." Despite his words, though, he does enter the tunnel with the others. Once inside, he's all business, the smell mostly forgotten. He nods to Chica's suggestion. "I'll do that," he offers. And then he suggests, "Can you scout ahead a little ways and make sure there's nothing up ahead that will harm us? Or warn us if there is? You look as though you can move about quicker and more quietly." He doesn't know what that outfit is, but it resembles rogue attire to him. Possibly assassin. And often they need to move quietly.
Geralt of Rivia	Geralt is the last one down, simply because he seems to take a bit of time to respond to Triss. Eventually, he just decides on, "Yeah. You too. See you soon." Stepping through the group and putting himself near the head, Geralt remarks to Dorian, "Hopefully it'll only be ankle-deep." His eyes pierce the gloom. Knowing those strange eyes, it's probable he's got better sense of sight. It stinks but, luckily, it doesn't appear to be too disgusting. Mostly just the smell. One can only guess what these tunnels were orignially built for, however, given the criminal underword of Novigrad, it's likely that they get a fair amount of use these days. But not tonight, it seems. For a fair while, the group moves with only the quiet murmur of conversation to break up the silence. And then they turn a corner and the smell of human waste gives way to the stench of death. It seems like a party of brigands has met with a violent end - their entrails laid open, others thrown against the wall. There's blood on the walls and stonework... Geralt's already moving to examine the corpses.
Chica Mendez	Move about quicker and more quietly, he says. Under her mask, La Llorona rolls her eyes. "I'm not an Adept," she grunts. Not that he'd know what that is! But, it seems that she's denied being any more sneaky than Dorian probably is, and it's probably true. As the group took it's formation, the shadowrunner took a moment to look over her shoulder at who was behind her. "... Sorry this had to happen to you," she says finally, under her breath. "To all of you. It's bullshit, I know it. At least maybe you can have a life after this." She hoped. Wageslave life wasn't quite for everyone, after all. It may end up being that these people would find the shadows eventually. The conversation stops dead the moment they come upon the corpses. Opening up her coat, Chica touches a small flashlight stuck to her shoulder to get a better look. It looked like they'd gotten savaged by ghouls or paracritters. There might be the chance... She opens her Astral Perception, and all the darkness flees before her as she looks into the realm of spirits and magic. Under her breath, she chants quietly in what might sound like very old Spanish. Prayers and entreaties to friendly spirits to contact her.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian side-eyes Geralt. "...How comforting," he quips. But no, he makes no real complaint nor hesitation as he descends. However, he does need a bit of light to see. So he concentrates a moment, and the baubles tied to that staff begin to glow with a faint, blue-green light. It's about the color of a will-o-wisp, so... that might be a little unnerving for the gathered people. But it's harmless, and provides enough like to see by, without being too bright. As the group advances, he sticks to the back of the group, looking behind them just in case someone or something has come down the hatch after them. Oh but Dorian knows the smell of death, too, and frowns as he catches it, looking towards the front of the group. "What did you find?" He sees the blood and his eyes go a bit wide. "Oh. That can't be good," he comments quietly. Though he quiets totally when he feels the pull of their companion's powers. He's not actually sure what exactly the person is trying to do. But he can feel it takes concentration, since their unknown companion is practically thrumming with magic in his mage's eye. So he watches silently, keeping an eye out for the group, since he doesn't know how much of Chica's concentration is being taken up by whatever is happening.
Geralt of Rivia	When Chica calls to the spirits, Geralt's medallion begins to quiver around his neck. He looks up from where he's inspecting one of the corpses, but doesn't say anything. The spirits, called as they are, are quick to respond. One settles within its former body and glassy eyes spring open to stare up at the ceiling of the tunnel. "No," Geralt asides to Dorian. "It's not good. This's the work of a-" Geralt's words are cut off by the anguished moans of the speaking corpse. "Help... me... Melitele, Great Mother, protect me from evil..." It seems like much of the group finds the use of what must be necromancy disturbing, to say the least, but while they're apprehensive about that, none appear to be frightened enough to wander into the dark alone. At the back of the group, Dorian might think he sees something flicker in the darkness, like the wings of a bat or something. But it must be a trick of the light, surely, brought on by the glow from his baubles.
Chica Mendez	Should Dorian, or in fact any of the mages actually decide to look closely enough, he might see something interesting; now that she was actively channeling, a 'mask' has formed over her face, the mark of the Wolf totem. The aura that she puts out is that of a pack's protector, dilligently watching for threats to destroy. Whether it's comforting or not... that's up to them. Inside the Astral, Chica gives her greeting to the spirit that comes--but she didn't expect it to dive back into it's original body. "Shit," she grunts under her breath, pushing her way ahead and kneeling down next to the corpse. <The Mother guides you, spirit,> she intones in the same strange Spanish. For some reason, it doesn't seem to translate well--magic, probably, meant to be transmitted to the spirit alone. She switches back to speaking in English for the benefit of others. "Tell me what's happened here, and return to your rest."
Dorian Pavus	Dorian looks to Geralt as the other man speaks up, but then his attention is brought forward, to Chica's doings. He's probably one of the few that aren't particularly disturbed by all this. He offers himself as a wall to hide behind if the others are too disturbed by the appearance of the corpse. Himself, he listens to what the newly-animated corpse has to say. However, the flutter of bats' wings draws his attention up again, and he turns to see what it is. He keeps his eyes trained up, though part of his attention is on what's being said with Chica and the animated corpse.
Geralt of Rivia	"It was invisible... like the darkness itself was ripping us apart," the corpse moans. "Huge, fast... I saw it when it killed Baxter... huge, like the god of all bats... I saw... I saw... I saw..." And that appears to be it. There's the brief sensation of a passing breeze and, just like that, the corpse slumps back, inanimate once more. A few of the mages peek out from behind Dorian, once the spirit has left. "Katakan," Geralt notes, voice grim. He's already reaching for his silver sword. "Type of vampire. We need to get moving, now."
Chica Mendez	What she got... might not have been particularly helpful under normal circumstances. A terrified man's last thoughts and feelings, trapped in a worthless, wasted body. Still, as the spirit leaves the body again, she reaches over to close the poor bastard's eyes. The world 'vampire' has Chica come to a stand immediately, heavy pistol at the ready. Figures that this would be the time she didn't bring her APDS rounds. "I might be able to track it in Astral, but I'll need someone to make sure I'm not running into walls as we go. What are it's weaknesses?" She really, /really/ hopes it's weak to fire.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian nods in response to Geralt's words. This is the Witcher's world, he knows the description of monsters here better than the Altus. "Quick rundown of its weaknesses, if you know them?" he requests. Though he's already moving, ushering the people on around him. Not to be rude, but because he doesn't want to lose too much time. Dorian ventures to Chica, "If 'astral' mens 'magical', I might be able to help you there. If I send out magical pulses, could you pick them up with your astral tracking?" He's offering a sort of magical echolocation.
Geralt of Rivia	"Weaknesses?" Geralt asks, silver sword in hand. "If you're thinkin' about any of the old stories - stakes, running water, garlic - they don't have any. A silver blade, or magic - that's your best bet." With his other hand, he's popping the top off a small vial. He raises it to his lips and downs it in a single gulp. His face twists up, the veins standing out against his skin - and going dark, too, like it's a poison. Geralt groans. "I'll bring up the rear. If you've got any spells to track it, now's the time. Damn thing's probably invisible." Well, that's good news.
Chica Mendez	The good news is, Chica has dealt with vampires that weren't weak to those things, either. HMHVV was a horrible, terrifying beast in the creatures it made. She just /really really/ wishes she'd brought the APDS rounds with her this time. "Understood," she grunts in return. The worst part was, if the creature had any sort of cunning it'd go for the refugees before trying to test the obvious defenders. She has magic, at least. Time for some quick cliff notes. "I can see into the Astral Realm," she explains quickly to Dorian. "Anything that has an aura--a soul--puts out a signature." She pauses to think. "If you have a way of manipulating mana to that extent, I just might. We'll have to try. My Detect Life spell is useless surrounded by all these people." She opens up her Astral perception again. The dark wasn't an issue here--the problem was that all of these walls were still blocking her Sight regardless. She's hunting for an aura but has to try to look past the lights of so many Awakened people. "Mother Quetzecoatl piss on me," she growls irritably. "If push comes to shove, I can put my soul into Astral and fight it there, if it's dual natured. Someone will have to cover my body."
Dorian Pavus	"Well, I can definitely provide the latter, if not so much the former," Dorian replies to Geralt's statement of the thing's weaknesses. Chica's words get a nod. Though at the mention of her going astral to fight it? "That would be a less than ideal situation, yes," Dorian agrees. "If you can see into the astral, it shouldn't come to that." And as for his manipulation of mana? "There's little I can't do with magic," he says. It's not a boast, it's stated as a fact he knows to be true. "The problem will be, once it's figured out I'm making it visible, I'm going to be a target. So I '''will''' need someone to watch my back." So saying, he lifts the staff with the baubles and strikes it against the ground twice. The baubles on the staff begin to pulse with light, as magical energy begins to emanate from them in pulses, much like passive sonar. Chica should hopefully be able to see them with her astral sight as rings of bright green energy. They'll want to bounce off anything with a magical signature, whether that's people or objects. And hopefully off of the vampire, if it's in the immediate area.
Geralt of Rivia	"I'll watch your back," Geralt tells Dorian, turning his blade in a lazy arc. He's not really sure what Chica is saying, about all this astral aura sort of thing, but he's hung around enough people with magical abilities to trust what they're saying. Dorian's staff strikes the ground and sends out a magical pulse down the hall, in either direction. There. Behind them, in the dark. Something big - almost large enough to fill the tunnel, by the feel of that magical signature. Not intelligent, not human - a large but cunning beast. It's closing, but slowly - perhaps it thinks it has the element of surprise still. "Dual natured?" Geralt asks, eyes peering into the darkness.
Chica Mendez	Dorian's a little cocky, isn't he? But he at least sounds like he's got the confidence to back it up, so Chica gives him a nod and whispers, "I'll call out the target as I see it. I don't suppose any of these people know some offensive magic?" Knowing their luck, probably not. To Geralt, the shadowrunner mutters, "Dual-natured. Accessing the physical and Astral realm at the same time. Vampires on my world are caused by a magical virus. It makes them constantly magically active." As Dorian starts putting out his magical pulses, Chica's eyes in the Astral register the pulses in mana as a shift of rolling color in her vision that eventually lead to... A monster as big as a goddamn troll. "Behind us," she hisses very quietly, and very slowly spins, trying to keep her actions from being obvious. She keeps her heavy pistol low as she comes to face it. "Doesn't think we know... Opening fire in three... two... one..." Suddenly, she raises her gun towards that big (probably) ugly beast and starts firing off shots, the big gun making quite a loud report in the enclosed space. She's hoping to surprise it and make it hesitate with a big gun for the others to start attacking.
Dorian Pavus	"Thank you," Dorian offers in return to Geralt's mention of watching his back. Now, Dorian can send out these magical pulses... but he really has no way of picking them up aside from active magical sense. Which he can't use right now, since he's doing something '''else''' with his mana. Chica, hopefully, will have better luck. "I think she means if it has an aspect of it that has to be dealt with in the Fade." He understands 'astral plane' as 'the Fade'. Which is probably pretty close, even if not quite completely right. "I don't think we have magical viruses in Thedas," Dorian notes, putting a hand to his chin in thought. Oh he's noticed Chica's movements. But he's also smart enough to realize she's trying to make it seem natural. "The closest we'd have would be demonic possession." And then? BLAM. As the report echoes loudly in the sewer, Dorian turns his attention to the group of people they're escorting. He sweeps a hand before him, and a Barrier comes up around himself as many of the civilians as he can fit into the area. It's a pretty big area, mind. And there '''is''' a short interruption in the magical pulses as he does this, but once the Barrier is up the pulses from the baubles on that staff begin again.
Geralt of Rivia	In response to Chica's comment about offensive magic, the murmur isn't so much whether they know it - it's whether they're brave enough to go up against a vampire. They seem less scared, however, once Dorian has them behind a barrier. "It's not undead, nor transformed. It's a magical creature," Geralt tells Chica. "Might work." And then she opens fire. The Katakan definitely feels the shots and despite being invisible, there's that sensation of the beast looming back. Thick blood splatters against the walls and it howls, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone who isn't steeled against such things. But Geralt is made of such stuff, and the Witcher steps forward. He reaches for his belt, pulls out a small flask. In one smooth motion, he's hurling it into the darkness. It detonates when it strikes the Katakan, spraying it with a thin layer of metallic filaments, like glitter. And perfectly outlining it. It was invisible, but not anymore. It's big and obviosly not human. Where the glittering substance has settled, it's clear to see that the beast is hunchbacked with big, powerful legs that presumably allow it to leap and bound and sprint. Its arms are long enough to draw its claws - its very long claws - along the ground. Its head is horned, with great ears, bringing to mind the features of a giant, mishapen bat. Strangely, it seems to have a long beard, too. The Katakan charges the group! Hopefully, as big as it is, the tunnels won't allow it to fight so effectively. Maybe it was hoping to follow the group into a larger space? Maybe.
Chica Mendez	The howl of a pained and angry creature of the night wasn't entirely unfamiliar to Chica by now, and magic always requires a strong willpower to control it's effects. She manages to shrug through the sound with only a slight shiver to betray that she'd been affected at all. It doesn't stop her from shooting, sending bullet after bullet into the creature's goddamn ugly face, until she runs out of ammo in her clip. "Empty!" She drops down to her knee as she ejects her clip and grabs one from her belt, smoothly reloading with practiced ease. Noting what Geralt was doing, she drops her Astral perception to come back to real life. She doesn't start firing again, though. Instead, her hand reaches out while she chants in her language of magic. The mana around her shifts and collects into her palm. Before she looses, she yells so that the other mages will hear. "This is the power of a mage! Cowards don't have what it takes to wield true magic. Are you cowards to be penned and slaughtered, /or free goddamn mages with the power to choose your fate/?" That's... probably not all that inspiring, really. Blame it on the budget. Words said, she releases her hold on her spell just before it starts to turn painful on her. The result is a ball of pure white mana that explodes violently just at the charging creature's back, just far enough to not hit the bystanders. The result is an explosion of aggressive mana that begins to trigger cellular death and rot in the flesh it touches, likely mostly the creature's back and legs. "Weak spots, back and legs!" Chica calls out to Geralt. Well... she hopes, anyway.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian's no coward, that's for sure. But still, he shudders at the sound of the howl. He is, after all, from a pampered, rich background; if he hadn't left, he wouldn't face such threats as this. He doesn't back down, though. From the sounds of it, it's a beast. An animal. Even if magical, it doesn't seem able to speak to him, to tempt him with power. Because that's what he's really afraid of. He's not afraid of an animal, no matter how powerful. Geralt's glitter-bomb outlines the creature well enough that it can be seen by those with normal sight, so Dorian calls out to Chica, "Magical pulses stopping now-- he's made it visible!" The baubles are still glowing now, but not pulsing with glow. And now that he can see it, he can act. His options are limited in the small space, too. An explosion could bring the roof down on them. And they're standing in water, so lightning isn't ideal. His skill with ice is limited, with spirit magics limited even further. So... well, let's try fire. The air around his hands seems to catch fire, then he aims a palm forward at the beast. Fire appears in the space before his hand, leaping outwards as the beast like he held a flamethrower in his hands. Actually, Chica's words may not be too far off the mark. Dorian has always felt a comaraderie to other mages, mainly due to how badly the people of Ferelden treats them. And so he chimes in as well, "Listen to those words! Where I come from, mages are chained. Imprisoned. Made to feel less than people because they possess magic." ...Actually, that's not technically true of Tevinter, but now's not the time for catching oneself up in technicalities. Now's the time to be the leader he was intended to be, that countless generations of Tevinter's most powerful houses of mages so carefully selected partners to produce. "But it's because the rest of the world is ''afraid''!" Dorian continues. "They ''fear'' what mages can do when properly motivated! If you do possess magic, you already possess power enough to make the world catch its breath!" Dorian points at the beast, even as the white sphere explodes around it. "''THIS''... is a mere beast. It cannot long stand against the power of ''one'' mage, let alone all of us! Show your world's Powers-That-Be that this power was not wasted in being given to you! Stand with us!"
Geralt of Rivia	As Chica runs dry, Geralt steps in. The Witcher is quick on his feet and light gleams off the edge of his silver blade as he strikes at the Katakan. Somehow, he maneuvers behind the thing, and sinks his blade deep into the hamstrings of the beast. It howls and swipes out, barely clipping the Witcher - but even that is still quite the wound. Geralt's blood sprays across the Katakan's arms and chest and, where it hits, it sizzles like an acid. That, combined with the rotting flesh, seems to have established this fight as a matter of time for the beast. The vampire can't get much further, caught between Geralt and the gout of fire from Dorian's hands. The beast ducks back, out of immediate danger, and the tunnel fills with the distinct stench of sizzling flesh and burnt hair. It isn't down for the count yet, and takes a moment to peer at Dorian, like it's weighing up its chances of being able to reach him with its talons before he can shoot off another burst of fire. The mages seem like they're emboldened by the words of Dorian and Chica and they stand a bit straighter, a bit more confident. Their fingers alight with fire, or electricity, or other elements. Some of them, anyway - they don't all appear to have such potent grasp of their own powers. Still, hopefully it'll be enough. Just with the right command at the right time...
Chica Mendez	With Geralt dancing around and distracting the beast, Chica starts moving as well, keeping herself low to the ground and quiet so that the Witcher can hold the thing's attention as she repositions. She's trying to get herself along a wall to the Katakan's right. THis means she gets a decent view of Geralt getting caught by the vampire's claw. Inside, her nahualli howls in vicious rage. It takes an effort of will to keep from joining. The good news was, they were winning. The big bastard was fighting too many people, all of whom had significant power to themselves. Plus the sheep had apparently decided to turn wolf and join the hunt. The elf holds out her hand and begins charging, herself. Motes of electricty grow into sparks that collect together in her palm as she collects more and more mana to cast the spell. Overcasting it, in fact. She's not entirely sure if Dorian can see her anymore, but she gives him a nod as she keeps charging her spell to release with the rest of them. Apparently she'd decided he was the one who would lead the firing squad this time. "Be prepared to get out of the way!" Came the call to Geralt. There was going to be... a lot of mojo thrown here.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian winces as he notes the blood spray from Geralt. He'd call out, but the battle is still on. There will be time to patch wounds when the thing that has the desire to create said wounds is dead. Suddenly the mages in the escort group answer with their magic. Holding there, waiting, for a direction. A direction that Dorian is all too pleased to give them. But first, he raises a hand into the air, palm open, and a ball of smoky electricity forms. Hopefully over the Katakan. A rope of electricity seems connected from the orb to Dorian's hand, until he clenches his fist, pulling his hand down. It's as if he pulled the pin of a magical net grenade-- as he pulls his hand down, a thin line of electricity arcs down to the ground and then a ring of blue-purple lightning forms on the ground. Hopefully this has been able to catch the Katakan inside the circle. It won't actually do any damage thing, no. Not imediately. That spell is specifically meant to keep that thing in place for the very likely vast amount of pain coming its way. He does see Chica's nod, and returns one of his own. He understands. As Chica calls out to Geralt, Dorian does the same. "On my signal, Witcher!" And then a look to the mages with them. "On my signal, all of you. Aim at the Katakan." He gives the mages a moment to aim. The lightning cage should hold that long. Thankfully it shouldn't shock any of them. To Geralt again, "Draw it to the edge of the circle!" Yes, he's asking Geralt to get the thing to try to step over the line. Because if the Katakan '''has''' been caught in that ring, when it steps out, a shock strong enough to paralyze an elephant will be delivered to it. Dorian will wait until the beast is shaking off the lightning-- even if it doesn't actually paralyze the beast, it ought to hurt mightily. That'll keep it in place long enough anyway. Then he gives the signal. For Chica and their mages to unleash their power, and for Geralt to '''get the hell out of the way'''. "''NOW''!"
Geralt of Rivia	Geralt steps back, whirling his silver blade. "Come on, beast," he goads the Katakan. "Just a few more steps." He's favouring his other arm but he seems like he'll be okay - for now, at least. His blade lashes out, scores a deep wound, and that gives the vampire the impetus to follow. Right to the edge of the circle, and to take another step. The beast seizes up as the electrical energy rips into its body. And, at that moment, more magical energy is added to the trap. With Dorian co-ordinating the mages, they can add their own power to Chica's own. Chica's spell rips into the Katakan, as magical energy pours into it. Fire and lightning from the other mages scours the beast, igniting parts of it, as Geralt presses himself against the wall. It's hard to tell how long the beast is under magical assault for. It's big and tough and the flashing energies and lack of any way to keep time make it difficult to tell. It's probably not more than several seconds. Eventually, though, it subsides - and the Katakan slumps to the ground, sizzling and unmoving. Geralt sinks his silver sword into the top of the beast's skull, just to be sure. "First time a mage has ever warned me about a spell of that size," Geralt grunts out. "Thanks. You too, Dorian. And the rest. Have to say, never sure I'd be able to handle a Katakan without preperation..."
Chica Mendez	For a few, glorious minutes, the sewers were lit up extravagantly with bolts of lightning and gouts of flame. When the creature finally falls, likely completely cooked, Chica still doesn't ease her guard, approaching the downed vampire with gun at the ready until she kicks it a few times and makes sure it's actually completely dead. Even a single errant twitch gets a bullet to the head. Once she's sure it's not going to get back up, Chicahe briefly considers asking Geralt to saw off the thing's head for her to take, but she doesn't know any parazoologists out for new species yet. Instead, she goes to Geralt to look over his wound. "You're a professional in a very dangerous line of work. You're a lot more useful alive and unharmed." That's the official reasoning, anyway. "We haven't been very quiet. We should move before a potential response can be made." Geralt probably wasn't going to bleed out, so Chica soon goes to some of the mages, offering muttered congratulations until she finally got to Dorian. To him, she digs into a pocket and pulls out a white card stamped with boring fonts on both sides. One side reads 'La Llorona', the other her commlink contact info. "Tell your friends." She doesn't really say much as to /why/ she's giving it, though. Putting herself at the back of the formation, the elf goes mostly silent again as she looks around for more potential threats.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian breathes a sigh of relief as the beast slumps, sizzling and defeated. Geralt's sword to the thing's head and Chica's kicks are both enough assurance for Dorian that it's dead, he's not going to go prodding it. "At least it wasn't aimed ''at'' you," he points out, with a smirk. "I'm fairly certain it would have been rather painful." An underestimation, most definitely. The thanks gets a nod. "Definitely not what I expected," Dorian admits. And to the mages? "You see?" His voice holds an encouraging note. "Together you're stronger than you are alone. Sometimes your magic won't save you. But solidarity with those who share your gifts will provide you more benefit than anything else, in my experience." Chica, in her disguising armor and mask, comes to offer him a card. He accepts it, looks at it. And blinks at her words. "For work, I assume?" Remembering the conversation on the radio. "That could definitely prove useful," he agrees, putting the card into a pouch on his belt. Though he does nod to Chica's words of not being quiet. "That's true. Predators might think to pick up remains. People and not." Once the group is ready to go he'll get to the middle of the party, for ease in casting protective magics on their escort group.
Geralt of Rivia	"Thanks," Geralt tells Chica, around the lip of another vial. This one seems to be just as disgusting as the other one but, after drinking it, Geralt seems a bit less pained. To Dorian, "No doubt. Nice work. Not like my hair can get any more grey, tho'." Was that a joke? No matter, Geralt resumes leading the way out. Luckily, the Katakan is the worst - and only - threat the group faces. Eventually, the stinking tunnel leads to a heavy door and the doorway leads to a hidden tunnel outside the walls of Novigrad. The mages are all too happy to be out, and most of them seem happy enough to take up the offers from Dorian or Chica. Of course, there's one or two who are insistent that they'll be heading to Kovir anyways. A vampire slain and one hell of a good deed performed. That's a pretty successful job, all in all.