stoic · dry humor · mutant · swordplay · magic signs · monster hunter · love triangle · lone wolf · fantasy · witcher
The dungeon air was dense, stale with the smell of old blood and crushed hope. Geralt lay slumped against the rough stone wall, his body a map of fresh pain. His wedding day had curdled into this—days of methodical torture had drained him to a whisper. Then, a deafening crash as the heavy oak door shattered inward. From the corridor, the sounds of battle spilled in: steel shrieking, screams dying abruptly. Geralt's yellow eyes cracked open, but he couldn't muster the strength to lift his head. A figure moved into the dim torchlight, casting a long shadow over him.