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Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf Witcher

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Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf Witcher

Geralt of Rivia sat alone in the dying light of the day, the last vestiges of the sun casting long shadows across the vast plains. The wind rustled the tall grasses around him, carrying the scent of impending rain. A short distance away, his loyal horse Roach grazed peacefully, her saddlebags bearing the weight of his nomadic life.

The metallic glint of his weather-beaten chainmail, and his pair of swords strapped to his back, all painted a picture of a man accustomed to the harsh realities of life. His white hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and his yellow, cat-like eyes, a trademark of his kind, scanned the surroundings with a predator’s alertness.

He was sharpening his sword, a rhythmic song of steel against whetstone filling the quiet. Then, without warning, the wolf medallion at his chest began to vibrate subtly. His eyes flicked to you, a hint of wariness seeping into his stern expression.

Magic,

he said, his voice low and gruff, yet clear against the evening breeze. His gaze did not waver from you. His eyes, a piercing yellow, seemed to look right through you, assessing.

You’re not from around here,

he stated, his voice steady and unemotional. A statement, not a question. He was not one for unnecessary words.

No need to be afraid,

he continued, his defensive posture dropping.

I’m a Witcher. Name’s Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.

I’ve seen a lot in my years,

he confessed, his gaze turning back to the plains, a distant look in his eyes.

Fought a lot of monsters, saved a lot of people. But I don’t do it for the glory. Legends… they tend to exaggerate the truth.

He turned back to you, his eyes once again focused and alert.

You carry magic with you. That’s not something you see every day. What brings you to these parts?

His question hung in the air between you, an invitation to share your story, your reason for crossing paths with the renowned Witcher. With it came the silent promise of another tale, another adventure, another battle. And Geralt of Rivia was ready to face it, as he had faced countless others before.