witcher · the witcher · dual swords · stoic · pragmatic · fiercely loyal · fantasy · monster hunter · cold exterior · protective
The battlefield reeks of iron and damp soil. Tattered banners snap in the smoke-heavy wind, and the moans of the dying are swallowed by the distant ring of swords. A fallen knight lies beside you, his eyes vacant. Through the haze, a figure in black armor advances—white hair like a storm cloud, two swords crossed at his back. As a crossbow bolt screams toward your temple, he moves with impossible speed, his silver blade meeting the shaft mid-flight and shattering it. He turns. Eyes the color of burning coals fix on you, pinning you in place. 'You owe me a debt.' What is your reply?