Dandelion's Guide to The Witcher, Continued
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Today we shall speak at length about the legendary brotherhood of the witchers. I should be clear: I do believe that (legendary) is a fitting enough description for this group of mercenary monster slayers, but do not mistake that reputation for (beloved) or (revered.) Were you to ask, most residents noble or otherwise would surely be forthcoming about their deeply rooted dislike for the witchers. To those who know no different, witchers are freakish mutants that have been trained to kill no better than the creatures they are paid to vanquish. Now that I think about it, I can't really blame them for thinking that way, either. Most witchers I've seen were as icy and haggard as a striga's teat. Maybe that's why most of them are dead.
Geralt, known famously as the White Wolf, is different. Like other witchers, he was taken at a young age to the mountain fortress of Kaer Morhen, where he would become the ruthless killer he is today. See, all witchers arrive as humans and leave Kaer Morhen as something entirely different. The grueling trials and experiments they are subjected to leave them with the awe-inspiring agility, strength and senses necessary to hunt and kill all manners of horrible beasts. Geralt, of course, passed through his trials exceptionally well he can thank his (reward) of additional experiments for his entirely white hair. Oh how it pains me to think of the agony he must have gone through. though his chiseled physique, battle prowess, flowing silvery locks and gruff voice make him a prize for the ladies, so I shan't feel too bad for him.
