Posted November 27, 2019
With enemies closing in, Geralt bleeding from a deep wound inflicted by a suicide griffin inched his arm towards his last potion. "Don't use it if you don't have any choice!" said the Master of Mirrors an unwilling ally where even his very existence was put into question. "Don't use it!" Heaving, Geralt painfully uncorked the potion and with one fast swallow, the liquid quickly mixed with bile and blood in his stomach.
It was darkness. Everything seemed to have calmed down. His thoughts ascending intertwining in an endless labyrinth of firefly lights. There was silence.
"What have you done, Geralt?" Finally a mechanical voice sounded from somewhere deep. An authoritative voice.
"It's the 27th of the butcher month, why are you still in your longhouse?"
"Open the tavern already!"
It was darkness. Everything seemed to have calmed down. His thoughts ascending intertwining in an endless labyrinth of firefly lights. There was silence.
"What have you done, Geralt?" Finally a mechanical voice sounded from somewhere deep. An authoritative voice.
"It's the 27th of the butcher month, why are you still in your longhouse?"
"Open the tavern already!"