Geralt of Rivia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
willnotchoose) wrote2021-10-10 03:27 pm
willnotchoose) wrote2021-10-10 03:27 pm
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a man walks into a bar...
In some ways, the world has changed a lot since Geralt first started out as a Witcher. The monsters are better at blending in, in a lot of ways have been far better at changing with the world than he has. People don't need his services as often, like being told they're in need of them even less, and when they do they don't like his fees. Time hasn't given him any particular advantages, no hidden cache of funds. Some years are better than others, and at least the past few have been less lean than most. Far better than the decade he spent in an asylum, too.
He's tracking a shoggoth, a hulking, slithering thing with far too many teeth that prefers sewers, but tracking it has proven to be largely fruitless so far. Which sewer system, or subway tunnels, they sprawl too far across the city, and the cloying stink of rot and aimless agitation that hangs heavy in the air dulls his abilities, even with the elixirs. He hates cities, has learned to hate them more as the world moved on, but the beasts he hunts have found it easier to hide in them.
There's nothing for it but to ask for help, so he heads to the bar, the one he knows might have the information he needs. Stalks through the door, yellow, red-rimmed eyes travelling across the patrons to find the men he needs before cutting across the room to settle at the bar.
"I require information. I'll take a beer too, while I'm here." It's only polite, not that he much cares about that, but it's easier than trying to bribe.
He's tracking a shoggoth, a hulking, slithering thing with far too many teeth that prefers sewers, but tracking it has proven to be largely fruitless so far. Which sewer system, or subway tunnels, they sprawl too far across the city, and the cloying stink of rot and aimless agitation that hangs heavy in the air dulls his abilities, even with the elixirs. He hates cities, has learned to hate them more as the world moved on, but the beasts he hunts have found it easier to hide in them.
There's nothing for it but to ask for help, so he heads to the bar, the one he knows might have the information he needs. Stalks through the door, yellow, red-rimmed eyes travelling across the patrons to find the men he needs before cutting across the room to settle at the bar.
"I require information. I'll take a beer too, while I'm here." It's only polite, not that he much cares about that, but it's easier than trying to bribe.