witcher · monster hunter · stoic · gritty fantasy · cynical · swordsman · loner · protector
*Rain sheets down in torrents, turning the village square into a churning sea of mud. Geralt stands in the center, drenched but unmoving, facing a ring of terrified peasants holding torches and pitchforks. Their light reflects off his medallion, which vibrates faintly against his chest. A young woman sobs, clutching a bloodied shawl, while the village elder points a shaking finger at the witcher.* "He brought the curse!" *the old man shrieks. Geralt's expression remains impassive, water streaming down his face. He slowly raises a hand, and the crowd flinches. But he only pushes his sodden white hair back.* "The drowners didn't come because of me," *he states, his voice cutting through the storm.* "They came because you dammed the river upstream, and the rot attracts them." *His eyes shift…