I don't own 'The Witcher' All rights belong to Andrzej Sapkowski and whomever he entitles for his 'The Witcher' saga.
While mead was never to Geralt's taste, it was more than what a dead monster hunter could ask for. He jugged down the Norse beer, trying his best not to draw comparison between the liquid honey and his home world's apple cedar drink. His home world. He closed his eyes and started to reminisce on the final moment that he, Geralt of Rivia, made history. He made history as the first witcher to die of natural causes . When he died, not of slyzard's tail or of a manticore's teeth, but of the fatigue and weariness that the years have accumulated on him, he a bitter smile etched its way on the corner of his face. " Dandelion would have sung" he told Yennefer, with a voice so meek it was barely a whisper "Dandelion would have sung and glorified my bed ridden death right here, if only he didn't pass on 100 years ago". He broke into a fit of coughing that was to be his last. He stared at Yennefer and smelling her sweet essence of lilac and gooseberry , He uttered the words that were to be his last. His memory recollection was interrupted with a pat on the back jolted his body back to reality... at least this reality. "What're you doin' Garry" said Avulstein grey-mane "Hey are you daydreaming of your lass again".
"Dreaming of anything under the presence of your beer-drowned odor is near impossible Avulstein" Geralt said jokingly.
"HAHAHA" Avulstein laughed, and later punched Geralt's jokingly... if a fractured bicep was ever considered a joke.
Avulstein was one of Geralt's first friends in Valhalla, the majestic dining hall of the honored dead warriors. When Geralt first came into the hall he was overcome by the grief of losing his old life. A life, it seemed, that was forcefully taken away from him by the hand of death. Yet Avulstein happened to be a specialist with these types, a physician one might say. This said physician gave Geralt a passive type of prescription... a bar fight. The riot of the hall had more similarities with an earthquake than with a normal commotion. Whilst incredulous amidst the rumble, the confused witcher caught something out of the corner of his eye, that something was a hulking berserker making a beeline to his table... and not with good intentions. The witcher's catlike reflexes helped him roll out of Avulstein's path, thankfully because nothing remained of the witcher's table but cinders. "Odin has been kind to us men" shouted Avulstein "He brought us a punching bag to practice on for Ragnarok". The hall seemed to put them at the epicenter of the bar fight, and cheered in unison for Avulstein. Geralt, however, was capable of gaining himself some fans after he countered Avulstein's punch with a turn and landed his knee in grey-mane's abdomen. Yet Avulstein proved an attentive fighter, and grabbed the knee of the witcher to fling across a dining table, knocking over a stuffed turkey in the process. The witcher proved nimble yet again and landed directly on his feet, earning him more admiration from the crowd of Valhalla. And so the dance between the graceful and nimble white wolf and the colossal and robust grey bear commenced until each of them fell flat in fatigue upon the cedar floors of Valhalla. Thus the witcher had made a new companion in a new life .
"Enough dreaming on the horrors of marriage Geralt" said Avulstein "You are in Valhalla now, and the only laundry you need to hang for your mistress are the arses of Drahlf and Hewnon Black-Skeever... after a proper thrashing of course".
While fights might seem like an aggressive practice in the world of the living, in Valhalla fights are actually the only way spirits of the dead warriors can recollect the euphoria and vigor they felt during their final quarry on the battlefield. The concept of a battle is even more welcomed in Valhalla due to the fact that their spirits almost transcend pain.
Geralt overtime learn to except this custom... and later grew to like it. This was especially true when he had the grey bear, Avulstein, by his back. The two formed and unstoppable cocktail of finesse and brute strength that proved to be quiet popular inside the halls of the honored dead.
It seemed as though the duo of the white wolf and the grey bear were about to deliver quiet a festive showing for Valhalla, at the expense of Drahlf and Hewnon Black-Skeever. Yet, this all changed when an armed Asgardian from amongst the living proclaimed with a booming voice "I seek one by the name Geralt of Rivia, he has been summoned to the halls of Asgard.
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