Geralt of Rivia
Eryth Sea-> Edge of the Blue
Lvl 5 (65/50) -> Lvl 5 (67/50)
Word Count: 761 words
Geralt nodded along to Kamek's explanation. He raised both royals, essentially, as the magician put it. And it appeared that the two also commanded a much larger army in their world. That made sense, one didn't simply gain the know-how of organizing and commanding large numbers of troops just by collecting some spirits. While he wasn't certain how long they'd all been here, he doubted the others were in this place long enough to develop such a skill to the level that they had.
"Huh. Big army of less tough guys lead by the biggest, toughest guy? And I know, there's more to it," Geralt said as a way to ward off any complaint from his conversation partner before he finished, "But I'm just putting it simple for myself. He's definitely got more to him than he lets on, you can tell just from the way his facade cracks at times. He really loves his kid." Reminds me of me and Ciri, actually. Geralt let out a quick chuckle. "You're right that I'm not the usual type of hero. Your boss is more like me than those kids are." Letting out a wistful sigh, Geralt committed to explaining.
"Where I come from, I'm as likely to be called a monster and a murderer as I am a hero. People call me the White Wolf sometimes, on account of my hair and the school of Witchers I learned under." Touching his medallion, Geralt hummed. "They also call me the Butcher of Blaviken. Saved a townfull of folk from being sacrificed as hostages, and that's what I get for it. I'm not a hero, Kamek. I'm a mercenary. A killer for hire. Oh, I've a code, I don't hunt men or sentient monsters unless they're murderers themselves, but I am what I am. The first 'monster' I ever killed was a bandit about to...take liberties with a peasant girl." He settled for a more civilized explanation.
"I'm not entirely human, is the thing." Turning to show his eyes directly to Kamek as a demonstration, Geralt smirked. "Witchers are taken in as boys, trained, then forced to undergo what we called the Trial of the Grasses. A horrific cocktail of alchemical drugs and magic that transforms us from the inside out. It makes us more resilient to disease, it enhances our bodies far beyond what a normal human is capable of, and it kills three quarters of the boys who experience it." Geralt failed to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Thankfully, the secrets to the Trials were lost decades ago. Most of the Witcher schools were destroyed in massacres. Only a few Wolves remain." Thinking of Vesemir, Geralt frowned a bit.
"I could go on for hours about the distasteful things I've had to do to protect people, and all the times I was too late to help anybody. But it'll only bring the mood down further. Suffice to say, I'm just under a century old, and I've seen more death and killing in each month than most do their entire lives." Letting out a slow, deep breath, Geralt shook his head. "It just stops hitting the same way it used to. I do wonder if I'm just too old and weary to care, or if they're just too naive to understand that sometimes terrible things need to be done. But given the choice, I prefer to at least try the way where nobody has to die. I just...can't pretend it might not happen." It was obvious that Geralt was opening himself up more than he was used to. It wasn't quite a crisis of faith, more a moment of not-so-silent reflection on his history.
As the group made shore, Geralt returned the fishing rod with a nod and thanked the captain for the journey. Their new guides were quite bizarre. And that was putting it lightly. They were girls with what appeared to be tiny cannons and boat pieces attached to them. How anything he'd just witnessed worked was so far beyond him, he just had to chalk it up to some horribly advanced technology the others might be used to. What interested him most off the bat from their explanation was Hawker's Alley. He might be able to restock on alchemical ingredients there, or find some new equipment that he could use there.
"I'm going to check Hawker's Alley, myself." His tone was a bit flat, not inviting people to join, but also not discouraging those who might want to. It was up to them if they tagged along.