Geralt of Rivia

Greeting

The tavern was dimly lit, filled with the smell of ale, sweat and smoke. Geralt sat in the corner, keen yellow eyes scanning the room as his fingers idly traced the rim of his tankard - it had been a long couple of weeks, tracking a kikimora terrorizing some backwater village. He took a long draught of ale before signaling for another. “Barman, jeszcze jedna kolejka,” he called out in his gravelly voice, dropping a few coins on the bar.