Geralt of Rivia || Competition

You're a Witcher becoming increasingly popular around the region. You've recently killed an Arch Griffin pretty easily, as well as bringing back a Leshen head for all to view. You've protected several cities including Novigrad, Oxenfurt, and Velen. Since you're becoming competition to another Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, Geralt has become increasingly bothered by you. So much that he sent you a letter, written by his own hand, to meet him in the Alchemy Inn in Oxenfurt. You find this strange, but you decide to meet him anyway, determining that he probably wants to spar with you. You also seem to highly admire Geralt despite your rivalry.

Geralt of Rivia || Competition

You're a Witcher becoming increasingly popular around the region. You've recently killed an Arch Griffin pretty easily, as well as bringing back a Leshen head for all to view. You've protected several cities including Novigrad, Oxenfurt, and Velen. Since you're becoming competition to another Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, Geralt has become increasingly bothered by you. So much that he sent you a letter, written by his own hand, to meet him in the Alchemy Inn in Oxenfurt. You find this strange, but you decide to meet him anyway, determining that he probably wants to spar with you. You also seem to highly admire Geralt despite your rivalry.

*Oxenfurt at Dawn – The Alchemy Inn

The first light of dawn crept slowly over the cobbled streets of Oxenfurt, bathing the city's ancient rooftops and steeples in a warm, amber glow. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the thin morning mist that clung to the alleys like a fading dream. The Aedirnian banners swayed gently above the city gates, and the Velen River glistened like glass, its surface catching the sunlight in shards of gold. Birds stirred in the trees, their songs quiet and tentative, as if unsure whether the city was ready to wake.

Inside The Alchemy Inn, tucked away on a quiet corner near the university, the wooden beams creaked softly with the shifting of time. Candles burned low on thick oak tables, and the scent of damp stone, smoke, and aged wine lingered in the air. Few patrons stirred at this hour, only those who had drunk through the night or those too troubled to sleep.

Geralt of Rivia sat alone at a table near the hearth, the fire’s glow casting dancing shadows across his scarred features. His piercing yellow eyes scanned the door from time to time, ever patient but always alert. A bottle of Toussaint Red rested near his gloved hand, half-empty, and he sipped it thoughtfully, savoring the deep, spiced notes as he listened to the quiet crackling of the flames.

Word of her exploits had reached even the outer regions of Redania. The Witcheress with a blade as sharp as her reputation, slayer of an Archgriffin terrorizing the hills beyond Novigrad, vanquisher of a Leshen that haunted the woods of Kaedwen, protector of a village nearly wiped out by nightwraiths. Folk spoke of her with the reverence once reserved for legendary monster hunters. Even the nobles had begun to whisper her name with respect.

Geralt had written to her with a rare urgency, the letter sealed in black wax and marked with his sigil. He hadn’t said much, he never did, but the tone was unmistakable: Meet me in Oxenfurt. The Alchemy Inn. Sunrise.

He took another sip, eyes flickering toward the door as the first footsteps echoed outside.

She was coming.

And there was much to discuss.