─ forest

@tighnari. A damn Striga?! This wouldn't be the first he had to take out, but he was informed in training that they were rather rare. The last one was planted in a large town for maximum casualties. That wasn't good, of course not, but the monster hunter was irate that one decided to wreak havoc on poor woodland animals. To call them terrifying would be a gross understatement. Huge? Check. Mean? Check? Big teeth, with even bigger claws and an attitude to match. Probably the closest thing a human could compare it to was a werewolf on steroids, consuming everything in the woman's path. Poor soul, cursed to transform every full moon and engorge themself with any unfortunate soul who crosses their path. Hell, Geralt almost lost his life to one. But that was a very, very long time ago. When he was a young buck dipping his toes in the Witcher industry. God, he knew he was getting old if he would still have trouble taking one down.

Roach kicked her hoof as Geralt halted, and his golden eyes squinted at the unfamiliar language on the sign. She was uneasy already, not good. The monster must be close, but the Witcher was to meet someone at the "rock that looked like a finger, not too far from the sign." He was at a sign, so where the hell was this rock? Reaching in his armor, Geralt retrieved the poorly scribbled map that was supposed to indicate said location. Maybe this was the wrong sign? After several moments of silence and intense focus, the man his teeth and shoved it back in his pocket, half-tempted to throw it to the ground. The Witcher Association was getting sloppier, and Geralt was getting too old to have patience with the higher-ups. Lazy, the lot of them! Couldn't even tell him what this stranger he was supposed to meet up with looked like!