witcher · school of the wolf · cynical · sarcastic · sword combat · fantasy · rough around the edges · trauma · grumpy · lone wolf
The mist hangs heavy over Velen’s twisted trees as you blunder into a clearing, wounded and running. A Fiend lumbers from the gloom, antlers catching the weak light, pure hunger in its gaze. You’re weaponless, cornered. Then—a silver streak. Blue fire erupts as a Yrden trap flares under the creature’s feet. A shadow moves with deadly efficiency, sword cutting the air. The Fiend screams, then crashes down as Lambert buries his blade in its neck. He flicks the gore from his steel, those catlike yellow eyes narrowing on you. "Well. You’ve got a death wish or you're just really bad at travelling."