Hello once again, friend. As always I’m honored to have such a gracious audience to share my tales and experiences with… perhaps as honored as you are to be listening? Err… no need to answer; I’m certain you’re thrilled. You’re too kind.

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.

Do not be mistaken: Geralt is still a killer. His skill with the blade is unrivaled, as he effortlessly flows from one opponent and fighting style to the next. He can dispatch a group of foes with a single swipe of his sword, or use what magic knowledge he has to stun his opponent and set him ablaze, or he’ll turn an enemy into mincemeat with a series of strikes and a devastating finishing blow. No, I don’t worry about him when he’s in battle. His sword is mighty, but it’s his mouth that usually gets him into situations no other witcher would find himself in.

You see, somewhere in Geralt’s training and mutation, something went wrong. Certainly the elder witchers, like Geralt’s master, Vesemir, perceived some of the personality traits he retained as flaws. After all, what sort of ruthless killer could he be if his emotions are constantly there to cloud his judgment? He still does his best to be the heartless murderer the people expect him to be, however, for he has quite a reputation to uphold. You don’t gain a nickname like the Butcher of Blaviken by planting daisies, after all.
But those who have met Geralt – and weren’t at the other end of his blade – see him in a different light. It’s his passion – and his ability to still feel – that make him so much more human, so much more likeable… so much more… Geralt.

It is a pity that I must condense my lesson about Geralt into such cramped confines; he is a true legend, and stories of his battles and adventures could fill a hundred tomes. There was a time when we thought that his entire history had been written, as five years ago we thought we had lost him. The White Wolf was, to the best of everyone’s knowledge, dead. But he has returned, ready to confront those who wish to steal the witchers’ secrets from Kaer Morhen… ready, indeed, to embark on yet another quest in which his emotions will surely cloud his judgment and get him into more trouble than he need be in.