The Witcher: Geralt and the Gwent Tournament (part 1)

Geralt and the Gwent Tournament

Chapter 1: Gwent Tournament

In the bustling city of Novigrad, where the scent of the sea mingled with the rich aromas of market stalls, an air of anticipation hung over the Grand Masters Gwent tournament. As the sun rose over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the narrow streets, players from all corners of the continent flocked to the prestigious event, their eyes gleaming with a fierce determination to claim the grand prize that awaited the triumphant victor.

The tournament, spanning over three exhilarating days, had drawn the attention of both seasoned professionals and ambitious newcomers alike, all vying for the substantial purse that awaited the ultimate champion. Within the confines of the grand hall of the Passiflora where the event was to be held, the unmistakable shuffling of cards and murmurs of strategy echoed off the walls, creating a backdrop that intensified as the hours ticked closer to the commencement of the games.

Among the throng of competitors stood Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher of legendary renown who bore the marks of a life steeped in peril. His steel-gray hair framed a face chiseled by countless battles. His yellow cat-like eyes, a result of his mutation, held a piercing gaze that unveiled he was a mutant. His fame, born of his enigmatic and vagabond nature, captivated the crowds.

As Geralt traversed the vast lands of The Continent, a lone warrior, taking on contracts to rid towns and villages of the monsters that plagued them, the mythology around him grew. The legend of Geralt of Rivia was a mosaic of contradictions, a reflection of the complexities that defined him. To some, he was a hero, a defender of the helpless; in a world where monsters destroyed villages and safe passage, Witchers were the answer, saving townsfolk and eliminating spectral threats. To others, he was a monster no different than the ones he hunted, a figure void of compassion with deeds bathed in money and blood. Geralt was known throughout the continent, far and wide, as a skilled fighter, a master of Gwent, and his notorious penchant for indulging in lecherous pleasures. His infamy became woven into the tales and songs that echoed through the taverns and villages of The Continent.

But Geralt was not interested in fame, he was on a quest to find Ciri, his adopted daughter imbued with powerful magical abilities. His intuition sensed she was in trouble, relentlessly pursued by the Wild Hunt, an otherworldly force with dark intentions. The spectral horde haunted Geralt’s dreams, he was determined to do whatever it took to protect Ciri from their clutches.

That is what brought him here to Novigrad. In an unexpected twist of fate, Geralt found himself forming an uneasy alliance with Emhyr var Emreis, the Emperor of the Nilfgaardian Empire…and Ciri’s father. With a common goal to locate Ciri, Geralt found himself pulled into the political machinations of kings and kingdoms, a world far removed from the solitary life of a Witcher. A world filled with espionage and deceit. Emyhr’s spy network had indicated Ciri was last seen in Novigrad. As Geralt searched for Ciri, one clue leading to the next, he soon discovered that she had fled to the island of Skellige, a dangerous remote island that fetched a hefty purse to get to.

Amidst the chaos and dangers of his quest, Geralt discovered a gambling card game known as Gwent, which he played to earn additional coin for equipment. Game after game he honed his strategic prowess, becoming a formidable opponent in Gwent tournaments across the land. Villages would buzz with excitement when the white-haired Witcher arrived, not only for the monsters he would slay but also for the chance to challenge him in a game of Gwent. So when Geralt learned about the tournament and the large purse it offered he knew it was the key needed for passage to Skellige so he could continue his search for Ciri, a purpose that sharpened his determination to win.

On the morning of the Grand Master Gwent Tournament, his arrival to Passiflora was reacted to with a mix of suspicion and celebrity, earning him both wary glances and nods of respect from his fellow participants. But Geralt remained unphased, his stoic focus and meticulously organized deck reflected his preparation for the strategic battles that lay ahead. As he surveyed the competition, a glint of anticipation flickered within him.

Chapter 2: Sasha

“Mind if I join you?” a young woman asked, her voice carrying a hint of confidence as she eyed Geralt’s meticulously arranged deck. With her dark hair pulled into a decorative bun and dressed with pearls and lace, she exuded an air of mystery that immediately intrigued Geralt. “I’ve heard you’re quite the formidable player.”

Geralt sized her up, impressed by her boldness. “I play some. You know your way around a deck, I assume?” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. He gestured for her to take a seat. “I don’t mind the company, as long as you don’t mind losing to me.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. “We’ll see about that,” she teased, shuffling her cards with practiced finesse.

“Have you been playing for a long?” He asked, admiring the way her elegantly painted fingernails shuffled and cut the cards with precision and care.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile. “Let’s just say, I don’t lose often,” she paused, taking in the handsome cat-eyed Witcher, “I am rather surprised to see a Witcher here. Is there an evil monster in our midst?” she teased, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of playfulness.

“I don’t detect any monsters but I haven’t ruled any of these stiffs out,” he joked motioning to the throngs of people in the inn.

Her laughter captivated Geralt’s attention, drawing a smile to his lips in response. Her eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Geralt, I must say you have a way with words. My name is Sasha,” she introduced herself, her voice a smooth blend of velvet and silk, each syllable delivered with a subtle, alluring charm.

“Nice to meet you, Sasha,” he said. “No ulterior motives here, I was I. Town for business and wanted to test out my new cards…. and my luck,” Geralt replied, his eyes subtly taking in her regal attire and the alluring curves visible beneath her dress.

“The game is as much about the cards as it is about your opponents. Do you know about the other players at the tournament?” she inquired, her gaze shifting from the cards to Geralt’s face.

He shook his head, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features. Turning around, he leaned against the bar, taking in the bustling atmosphere of the Passiflora. The low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses provided a lively backdrop to the intensity of the Gwent matches unfolding around them. The warm glow of candles cast a soft light on the elegant decor, adding an air of sophistication to the venue.

“Not really, tell me,” Geralt replied, his gaze shifting to the other players who exuded confidence in their own unique ways.

Sasha leaned in slightly, her voice carrying the scent of a delicate perfume that entwined with the heady atmosphere of the room. As she detailed each player, her expressive gestures highlighted the significance of their unique strategies, drawing Geralt’s attention to the intricate dynamics at play.

“Bernard Tulle, the halfling, might seem like a simple corn farmer, but there is clearly something he is hiding,” she explained, her words accentuated by the subtle rise and fall of her melodic tones.

“Finneas, the elf, is renowned for his almost clairvoyant ability to anticipate his opponent’s next moves, making him a force to be reckoned with,” she continued, her gaze locked on Geralt’s face, her intrigue mirroring his.

As she described Count Tybalt’s undefeated reputation and his known strategies, Geralt found it hard to ignore the alluring scent enveloping Sasha, or the gentle sway of her silhouette that drew his eyes to her cleavage, stirring a dormant arousal within him.

He couldn’t help but hope for more than just an engaging game of gwent as he absorbed the details of the competition, feeling a magnetic pull toward this enigmatic woman beside him.

“You seem to know a lot about your opponents,” Geralt said.