[ Geralt's eyes take on that glint that those who know him are familiar with, the subtle look he gets when he's caught scent of an unusual problem. A potential case, a job.
He draws the cloth closer. As he does, his medallion takes on its distinct hum. Light, but there. He frowns. Holds it up in the light. It looks like any unremarkable stone: red, unpolished, uncut. But the power it holds is undeniable. ]
It's magic. That's for certain. [ He sets the stone back down. So. An altar, a sacrificial limb (unintended), and an odd stone imbued with magic that appeared out of nowhere. That's comforting. Though on the other hand, it almost is. A curse, a monster—they aren't uncommon in places that build shrines and altars to their gods. This is familiar territory for him. ]
no subject
He draws the cloth closer. As he does, his medallion takes on its distinct hum. Light, but there. He frowns. Holds it up in the light. It looks like any unremarkable stone: red, unpolished, uncut. But the power it holds is undeniable. ]
It's magic. That's for certain. [ He sets the stone back down. So. An altar, a sacrificial limb (unintended), and an odd stone imbued with magic that appeared out of nowhere. That's comforting. Though on the other hand, it almost is. A curse, a monster—they aren't uncommon in places that build shrines and altars to their gods. This is familiar territory for him. ]
What did you see?