System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 175
Young. That was Geralt’s first impression.
Witchers lived long lives, but most of those still walking the world had passed their fiftieth year. As for their looks, they generally remained fixed somewhere between thirty and forty, changing only very slowly.
Himself, for instance.
But the one standing opposite him, those spirited brows, the large and vivid dark-gold eyes, the smooth skin, the somewhat softer facial lines than a grown man’s, the handsome features, the unripe air about him, all of it pointed to youth. Judging by appearance alone, the boy could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen.
And Geralt knew perfectly well what kind of violent catalytic effect the special herbal reagents swallowed during the Trial of the Grasses had on the body.
The Witcher before him, in actual years ... he could scarcely be called a young man. He was still a boy.
Yet Geralt noticed another detail. The boy Witcher’s ears differed subtly from a human’s, their tips slightly pointed. His hair, too, was not truly black, but laced with pale brown.
“Half-elf? No. A quarter-elf. The lad has elven blood. Is he from the School of the Cat?” As far as Geralt knew, a great many members of the agile, elegant School of the Cat carried elven blood, and most of them were half-mad lunatics. Relations between Witchers of different schools were rarely warm.
Geralt tensed instinctively. The muscles in his arms swelled beneath the short leather sleeves. The dryad behind him sensed the change and, after a moment’s hesitation, raised her bow toward the Witcher opposite.
...
“Praise the Law of Surprise.”
Roy broke into an open, hearty grin. The sincerity of it eased the two before him slightly.
“Geralt, and this dryad lady as well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Roy, a Witcher of the School of the Viper.”
Struggling to suppress his excitement, the boy reached into the front of his tunic and drew out the medallion of the School of the Viper, showing it to the man who had once been his idol.
“You know me. And what purpose brings you into this dangerous land?” Geralt’s body remained taut, ready to move at any instant, though his instincts told him the boy meant no harm.
“White Wolf, I’ve heard many tales of your deeds from bards across the world. My teacher, Letho, told me about the state of the various schools as well, and he happened to mention you.”
Roy pointed at the Wolf School medallion hanging at Geralt’s throat.
“In truth, I’ve even played you before...” he added silently in his own mind, while openly taking in the White Wolf.
Geralt stood perhaps six feet two. He had inherited the usual Witcher slovenliness, weathered face, careless grooming, an old coat of mail on his back, a mane of white hair tied loosely behind with a black cord. His face was slightly long, with a high bridge to the nose and somewhat thick lips. Around his mouth and chin was a ring of gray stubble he had not shaved clean, and his jawline was hard as cut stone.
His gaze was deep and detached. Near the left pupil, beastlike in its vertical slit, a long scar crossed the brow ridge and ran down beneath the lower lid.
But the most striking thing about him was his rigid expression, stiff as machinery, the famous dead man’s face.
Roy could not help recalling an old rumor. Accidents during the Trial of the Grasses were frequent, which was why Letho had gone bald, while Geralt had lost the pigment in his hair and suffered damage to the nerves of his face. Complex expressions were difficult for him. Even smiling was no easy matter.
That face, paired with his cold bearing ... Roy rubbed at his nose and cast Geralt an apologetic look that left the man none the wiser. Yes, he thought, you really could frighten children with that.
Geralt of Rivia
Age: 78
Gender: Male
Identity: Witcher of the School of the Wolf
HP:?
Mana: 160
Attributes:
Strength: 20
Agility:?
Constitution:?
Perception: 19
Willpower: 6
Charisma: 6
Spirit: 16
Skills:
Witcher Signs: A series of simple but highly practical combat signs used by witchers, including telekinetic blasts, shields, fire, traps, and mind influence.
Alchemy: Mastery of potions, decoctions, and oils; allows the use of toxic substances to enhance combat capabilities beyond normal human limits.
Meditation: By entering a meditative state, a witcher can recover vitality, stabilize toxins, and prepare alchemical substances.
School of the Wolf Longsword Swordsmanship: A refined combat style focused on precision, efficiency, and adaptability against both humans and monsters.
Witcher Senses: Heightened sensory perception granting superior tracking ability and awareness of subtle environmental changes.
The rest?
...
Roy remembered that if it came down to a straight duel, Geralt was not a match for the kingslayer Letho.
That was only natural. What made the White Wolf legendary was not his sheer fighting skill, but the stories that clung to him like burrs, and his long, tangled history with women.
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