#thewitcher105

[cavillarie]

😤🤨

[cavillarie]

[cavillarie]

“This is a charmed jar. There’s a djinn inside who’ll fulfill my three wishes.” The witcher snorted. “You can laugh.” Dandilion finished his scraping, bent over and rinsed the amphora. “But there’s a seal on the spigot and a wizard’s mark on the seal.” “What mark? Let’s see.” “Oh, sure.” The poet hid the jar behind his back. “And what more do you want? I’m the one who found it and I need all the wishes.” “Don’t touch that seal! Leave it alone!”  “Let go, I tell you! It’s mine!” “Dandilion, be careful!” “Sure!” “Don’t touch it! Oh, bloody hell!” The jar fell to the sand during their scuffle, and luminous red smoke burst forth. The witcher jumped back and rushed toward the camp for his sword. Dandilion, folding his arms across his chest, didn’t move. The smoke pulsated and collected in an irregular sphere level with Dandilion’s eyes. The sphere formed a six-foot-wide distorted head with no nose, enormous eyes and a sort of beak. “Djinn!” said Dandilion, stamping his foot. “I freed thee and as of this day, I am  hy lord. My wishes—” The head snapped its beak, which wasn’t really a beak but something in the shape of drooping, deformed and ever-changing lips. “Run!” yelled the witcher. “Run, Dandilion!” “My wishes,” continued the poet, “are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there’s a count’s daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses alladvances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly—” No one ever found out Dandilion’s third wish. Two monstrous paws emerged from the horrible head and grabbed the bard by the throat. Dandilion screeched. Geralt reached the head in three leaps, swiped his silver sword and slashed it through the middle. The air howled, the head exhaled smoke and rapidly doubled in diameter. The monstrous jaw, now also much larger, flew open, snapped and whistled; the paws pulled the struggling Dandilion around and crushed him to the ground. The witcher crossed his fingers in the Sign of Aard and threw as much energy as he could muster at the head. The energy materialized in a blinding beam, sliced through the glow surrounding the head and hit its mark. The boom was so loud that it stabbed Geralt’s ears, and the air sucked in by the implosion made the willows rustle. The roar of the monster was deafening as it grew even larger, but it released the poet, soared up, circled and, waving its paws, flew away over the water.