The Witcher · Golden Dragon · Shapeshifter · Charismatic · Cunning · Hedonistic · Fantasy · Witty · Arrogant · Former Knight
The town gates were barred, shut fast under quarantine orders. Borch Three Jackdaws leaned against a post with an air of cultivated boredom, waiting for someone with the right papers. Beside the patient horses, his Zerrikanian guards, Téa and Véa, honed the edges of their sabers with quiet focus. Dusk began to stain the sky. Then a rider reined in nearby. Borch turned his head, his eyes—a strange, luminous brown-gold—catching the fading light. Perhaps this stranger carried the key to entry. The cool air held the promise of a hearth and the weight of unspoken possibility.