I do not own Witcher or any of the characters. Only watched what's on Netflix right now, never played the games.
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Screams rang out as the massive black bat swopped down, clawed feet extended to grab its prey. However, just before it could reach it, a blast of invisible force exploded into it from the side, sending it crashing into the wall of a building, shattering the stone from the bat's speed. A man standing at an unimpressive five foot eight, bearing an unassuming, plain face that looked no older than his early twenties, brown hair cut short, a ripped, faded, pale blue shirt, dirty, equally faded brown pants, and a pair of beat-up leather boots stepped out of the alleyway the blast had come from. Of the man's almost completely average and unremarkable appearance, four things betrayed his lack of normalcy. Firstly, his gold irises which surrounded slit pupils. Second was the blood staining his left thigh and the right side of his abdomen just below his ribs, both of which bore the obvious gashes of claws, though shallowly. Thirdly, the wolf's head medallion hanging around his neck. And lastly, the silver-bladed sword in his left hand. it had a hand-and-a-half grip wrapped in brown leather, a silver, teardrop pommel, a plain, if short, guard, and a stout, two-and-a-half foot blade with a fuller along the lower three quarters of its length.
The bat failed as the young man limped toward it. Then, it began to shrink, its fur and wings receding until it left a humanoid woman, completely bare of clothing, coated in the blood of her numerous victims, and with her fingernails extended into foot-long claws. The creature shrieked as it shot toward the man, moving in a blur and aiming its left hand's claws for his face. However, in a movement no one fully registered or comprehended, the man ducked out of the way of the creature's claws, then stood beside her, his left hand still holding the hilt of the sword implanted through her heart. He allowed the creature to fall to the ground before stepping on its chest beside his blade to hold it down as he ripped the blade back out.
"Fucking Bruxa," he sighed. "Obnoxious, messy, and fucking loud."
"Are you sure it's dead, mutant?" a man off to the young man's right asked. "We we told it was dead before by the King's soldiers."
"If the soldiers were alive to tell you, they were lying," the young man said. "But here."
He swung his sword downward and several shrieks echoed as his sword met flesh, then the watchers flinched as it met a second time. He stabbed down into the severed head and held it out to the aged man that had spoken, the same that had hired him. He gingerly, reluctantly, freed the head from the sword, holding it at a distance and grimacing as he paled. The young man grimaced, struggling for a moment to sheath his sword with his left hand, as opposed to his right, which was holding his injured right side.
"My payment?" the man asked.
"Uh, yes," the man holding the severed head nodded, setting it down. He fished a small pouch of coins from his pocket and tossed it to the man.
"Thank you," the man nodded, turning and walking away. Before he could get far, an attractive blonde wearing nothing but a thin robe stepped out in front of him.
"You're not leaving without a proper reward, are you handsome?" she asked.
"I have all the reward I want," the man said, holding up the coins before pocketing them.
"Sure you don't have a few you wouldn't mind leaving?" she asked. "I can clean those wounds up for you, and maybe clean a few more things."
The man stared at her for a long moment before tossing her a silver coin. She grinned, and he followed her into the whorehouse nearby.
He stood, pulling a slightly less worn-out shirt on over his stitched, bandages wounds. This one was a black, and the pants were dark grey, also slightly less worn out than his ruined ones. He strapped his sword to his side again, on his right, this time, until his right side had healed.
"I have to hand it to you, Witcher," the blonde said, propping her head up on her hand as she watched him. "You just gave me the best time of my life." She snorted. "And my husband says Witchers aren't good for anything."
He sighed. "And you were doing so well, too."
She grinned. "Oh, sorry. Should I have professed my undying love instead?"
"Is have settled for having been warned beforehand that you were married," he sighed.
"Why?" She asked. "Is Eldin the Unkillable looking for love?"
"No," Eldin said flatly.
Just then, the door burst open, a burly, bearded man snarling from the doorway.
"That is why," Eldin said.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE-" the man roared, only for Eldin to turn away from him, making him stop.
"Don't waste your breath," Eldin said. "I didn't know she was married, and i'm not going to sleep with her again, or come back to this village. He'll, I won't even remember this place exists by the time I sober up. "
"Sober up?" the blonde asked. "You're drunk right now?"
"I've been drunk for the last three days," Eldin said, picking up a bottle of alcohol and draining it before putting it back down. "And looking to be for another four. Bye."
As he turned to the door, the burly man in his way stepped inside and closed it. Eldin sighed, and when the man lunged, Eldin caught him under the arm, flipped him over his shoulder onto the bed, then walked out of the whorehouse, leaving the small village behind.
Eldin looked up as he accepted his money. Everyone else did the same, listening as something shot past overhead, vibrating the air. Then, a deafening roar bellowed from above before a jet of flames spewed onto a village just outside of the city walls, the flames' light illuminating a massive, jet-black form for a brief moment before it was obscured by smoke.
"Dragon," Eldin said.
"How much?" the king asked.
"Tripple this," Eldin said, holding up the coin pouch. "In addition to it. Also, up front."
The kind nodded, and one of his servants ran off, returning a minute later and handing Eldin his pay. Eldin nodded, and left the castle, following the trail of destruction the dragon had left.
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