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They say that progress illuminates the darkness. But there will always, always be darkness. And in that darkness there will always be Evil, in that darkness there will always be fangs and claws, murder and blood. There will always be things that go bump in the night. And we, witchers, are the ones who bump back at them.
— Vesemir of Kaer Morhen

Geralt of Rivia is the main protagonist of the The Witcher series by Andrzej Sapkowski and its video game adaptations. He is a Witcher, a monster hunter for hire. He possesses some superhuman/magical abilities and is also recognized as a master of the sword.

He was taken from his mother at birth to the School of the Wolf at Kaer Morhen, and was one of the only boys that would survive the Trial of Grasses and Vesemir's vigorous training. This granted him specialized mutations that give him greatly enhanced senses, strength, agility, and endurance, allowing him to hunt down and kill the monsters that prowled the world.

He then became a monster hunter, like many other Witchers, and took numerous kills under his belt - for the right prices. Utilizing his specialized Witcher abilities and weapons, he decimated beasts from Ghouls to Ogroids, from Wraiths to Hybrids. This didn't keep him from mingling in the corrupt and equally vile politics of the many nations that inhabited the world, with Skellige's war-mongering clans and Nilfgaard's thirst for conquering the north.

Even though he walked the Witcher's path, this didn't keep him from many acquaintances, from the charismatic bard Dandelion, to his former lover and companion Yennifer.

Battle vs. Talion (by Dargoo Faust)[]


It was always those damn portals.

Geralt stood amongst a vast, desolate wasteland alien to any landscape he chanced upon in his decades as a witcher. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Every time he slipped through a doorway some enchantress or wizard swore up and down was perfectly safe he managed to land in some ice giant’s lair, or in his current case: another dimension. Avallac’h at least had the courtesy to tell him he’d probably be devoured by some monster or trapped underwater, and, even better, that there’d be a way out. Apparently they’d meet up at the base of a Wild Hunt insider after enough dimension hopping, but Geralt trusted that less than he trusted Yennifer’s promise not to throw his bed out of the windows of Kaer Morhen again. All of that didn’t matter, though. If there was a chance to survive the Wild Hunt’s next attack, to keep Ciri breathing… he’d take it.

He stepped forward, greeted with an aroma every witcher had grown accustomed to after enough contracts: the bitter, metallic scent of blood, and the pungent aura of death that every wraith and its home carried.


I always wondered if Urǔks could feel.

Burning the weak, wispy wills of them over and over again, infiltrating higher and higher ranks of The Black Hand's mindless armies always made me feel like I was making progress towards closure, yet all I ever felt was an echo of the cold, heartless bloodlust they all shared. And having you as my only company, Celebrimbor, does not ease the case.

We share an interest tied in blood, in fate. Little advances, if repeated constantly, can reap great rewards, Talion.

Tell that to the last dozen commanders that only managed to get their ears sliced off by some larger mass of muscle.

Think what you will. Our actions have not gone unnoticed, and our progress has already shown itself to greater eyes. We advance to the final gauntlet.

Your vendetta against Sauron will not stand above my revenge.

Again, we’ve made progress, and have come to closer encounters with the necromancer who left you in this state. In dealing with Sauron, we deal with your vendettas as well.


Something in the corner of my eye. A portal? Did you catch that as well?

It appears we’re not alone.

What the hell is another human doing wandering in the middle of Mordor, let alone practicing magic so openly?

It could hardly be with benevolent intentions. Approach with caution, half-wraith.


In the corner of his eye, Geralt spotted his goal: a spark of that sunset glimmer he used to travel to this place. It rested atop some crumbled ruins that looked more ancient than Vesemir, standing alone among the burnt and scarred landscape. Maybe he could avoid this wraith all together, an idea that, with how troublesome noonwraiths could normally be, was much more appealing than the alternative. It hardly made the scent better for him, though.

Rustling of grass. Footprints. Clues of past and present company made their way through Geralt’s witcher senses, signs that contradicted the presence of a ghastly noonwraith. Although, considering his current situation, Geralt hardly knew what to expect from the worlds he traveled though.


The spectral dagger hardly missed his ear, a mistake Geralt could already sense was executed on purpose.

“Nice shot.”

Geralt could almost feel the stench. His senses alternated between undead monster and blood-covered human. Both spelled bad news.

A voice called out, piercing the silence. “The next one hits the back of your head, stranger,” the voice barked, “I rarely see wizards in Mordor, and all of the ones I do serve the Black Hand.”

“And you want to know why I’m here?” Geralt had been through this type of encounter too many times already. Questions turn into demands turn into bloodshed. His hand steadily moved towards his blade.

“I could care less. What I do want to know,” More footsteps. Coming closer. Metal sliding against leather as a dagger unsheathes. Geralt, feigning struggle, is grasped and restrained in a lock; a dagger slides its way towards his jugular. “Is the location of the Black Hand.”

Confidence was a weapon Geralt knew how to abuse. The lock came apart like a poorly tied knot, and with a few shifts in balance Geralt swung his assailant thrashing into the dust.


Damn it!

I told you. This isn’t your average wizard.

Even exceptional wizards can’t react that fast!

Your left.

Ach! So, we’re dealing with fire magic, then.

And explosives, apparently. Enter the wraith world. It is far too dangerous to take him on up close.

Got it. Celebrimbor, you take him at a range.

He’s still keeping close.

Must be able to hear us. Still have the higher ground.

Got him.


The arrow sticking out of Geralt’s chest struck something other than his armor. Something… deeper. He couldn’t even pull it out. Regardless, the smell was above him now, breathing sounded tight, as if aiming down for another shot. Parrying didn’t work the first time, and as Geralt ran up the ruins all he could do was doge the barrage of spectral arrows.

At the top, the flurry of projectiles Geralt had to avoid became larger and larger. Even behind cover the arrows still managed to skim his skin. Swiftly, Geralt ran aside, then pulled out and drank a bottle of Swallow. The wounds vanished like frost in the autumn morning, yet Geralt could feel its poisons work their way into his system. With seconds on hand, Geralt formulated a plan.


He’s hiding.

Shouldn’t be long before he has to show himself.

I believe he’s more resourceful than that. Watch your back.

I saw at least two of our shots strike him, one in the leg. He’s hardly in a contditi-

Behind you!


Throwing the Samum where the stench was the worst did its work. The bomb exploded in a blinding flash as Geralt ran towards it to place Yrden runes. Almost immediately, the wraith’s invisibility and intangibility faded, and his movements became even more sluggish. Brandishing his steel sword, Geralt approached for Head to Head combat.

He wasn’t expecting an easy fight. As soon as his opponent collected himself, he dashed with speeds Geralt had only seen in his sparring with Ciri, and would have killed Geralt before that thought formulated had Yrden not slowed the strike. Parrying the swing, Geralt cast the rune of Aard, knocking the wraith into a nearby pillar. Several moments later, a steel bolt flew towards the wraith-man, digging deep inside his thigh.


Pain. I haven’t felt it in millennia.

Something’s forcing us to stay solid. Shoot it.

Something’s forcing me to stay solid. This is magic that hasn’t ever touched Middle Earth until now.

If you can’t shoot it, I’ll make it burn.


One of the most important aspects of staying alive as a monster hunter wasn’t a steady blade or wisdom. It was never getting too confident with the kill. Geralt knew the wraith, while incapacitated, was still capable of damage. Coating himself in Quen, Geralt prepared for the worst.

A blaze of dark, otherworldly flames burst from the man, engulfing the runes Geralt had placed and shattering the layer of Quen he had applied to himself. It was now, or never. He pulled out a swig of Thunderbolt, chugged it, and ran faster than its poison could take him over.

Geralt’s senses and reflexes were stretched to their limit. Even with the bolt lodged into his leg, the wraith still outsped the witcher. The metal of their swords clashed and grinded on each other; each fighter looked for openings that didn’t exist. Parries turned to slashes, and slashes turned into fully blown strikes. It soon became a battle of durability. Geralt’s armor easily blocked the occasional slashes and stabs, yet each swing of steel and meteor that hit the wraith’s skin ruptured it as fresh blood coated the dried blood Geralt had smelled earlier.

Bleeding, crippled, the wraith-man could only tense and untense in immense pain. As the symbols of Yrden surrounded the wraith once more, the witcher prepared for another important aspect of his job: the killing blow.

The head of a man cursed by the Black Hand rolled off the steep ledge of the ruins, its soul finally free.

Without an inch of remorse, the legs of a man cursed by the Wild Hunt pulled themselves into the next portal.


Expert's Opinion[]

It was commonly agreed that while Talion outclassed Geralt physically with his advanced speed and ranged capabilities, Geralt's wide variety of counters to Talion's wraith form and shadow strike alongside his alchemical and magical enhancements of his own abilities put him above Talion.

To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.

Battle vs. Scar (by Dargoo Faust)[]


Expert's Opinion[]


To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.

Battle vs. Elric of Melnibone (by Lunathemoon123)[]


Expert's Opinion[]


To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.