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[ There’s a near on six foot, completely albino man in heavy medieval armor, two massive swords strapped to his back, with a nasty scar down the left side of his face that bisects an eye that looks more like a demon possesed cat’s eye than a human’s. And he is... tilling a small garden. In some corner of the oxygen garden.

The comm device is set up against a nearby plant, more just tossed there than arranged, and gives a kind of skewed view, but he’s sort of more interested in multitasking while giving a monotone announcement. ]

If there’s someone this land belongs to, let me know. Otherwise, try to avoid stepping here. [ He’ll put up some kind of marker later, whatever. ] Once it grows, if you take anything, you owe me money.

[ That bit of totally manly gardening done, he’s pulling out some twine and sticking down twigs to make a perimeter around the area. See, marked off. All nice and neat. So don’t step on his shit, please. And onto something of more importance, he glances up to the screen - mild and unperturbed in demeanor. ] My name is Geralt of Rivia, and I’m looking for Witcher’s work. If that doesn’t mean anything to you - I hunt and kill monsters. If you need something done, contact me.

[ There’s a sound of a plant shifting off to the side, and he seems to remember something, tacking it on matter-of-factly. ]

Word to the wise. There’s a one-eyed elf hiding over- [ Glancing up. Squinting. Pointing. ] -there. If you look human, he’ll probably shoot you. Those less durable may want to avoid the area for a while. [ Ahem, carrying on. ]

A last thing - does anyone know where I can find a very strong alcohol? I need it for an alchemical base. [ Pause. ] And to get shitfaced.

Thanks.

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[ Said one-eyed elf is sitting in a tree, poking around his phone trying to figure it the hell out. So far he's managed to engage the audio function, but he opts to shout down at the witcher anyway. Because he can. ] Really, Gwynbleidd? [ I mean he's fine with Geralt telling humans to fuck off his area, but that request for alcohol. Geralt, pls. ]

You're on a ship buddy, we share our misery here.

We have a few things at the bar.

Oh! You mean Iorveth! Are you one of his friends?

[ because you don't look human, yourself, buddy. ]

Hullo, Geralt of Rivia, are you a witch or are you an alchemist?

A one-eyed elf that shoots people. [ Mason's repeating it partially to make absolutely sure he heard that correctly and partially because of disbelief. He's seen and dealt with a lot of weird shit (after all, he is a werewolf himself) but this sounds like a joke or something. ]

There's no money here.
Tell your friend if he shoots anyone he'll be getting time in the brig.

You're going to get your armour dirty.

[ Uh, about what part, bro. Whatever, he's not that worried either way. Are you done hiding from the humans yet. ] Really.

[ Spoken in a 'are you really asking that' tone ]

What part made you think I'm miserable?

[ O-oh. Bar. You have his ear, sir. ] Any you're willing to share?

[ Wow, you are... tiny and precious. Are those wings? ]

His only friend, probably. I take it you've met.

Alchemist, not witch. Though I wouldn't really call it a profession.

Or 'Iorveth'. [ Yup, that's pretty much it. Granted, he did at some point have two eyes before he was relieved of the one. It's not like he's a cyclops/elf hybrid. ]

Do you run on barter instead?
Pretty sure he realizes. I'll reiterate.

It wouldn't be very good armour if it couldn't stand some dirt.

But what about the person who polishes it? No sense in making their job more difficult. Unless you like that sort of thing the way some men do.

[ Eyebrow quirk. ] No one polishes it. Shining doesn't help it in keeping things from killing me. Unless it's a particularly bright day, I suppose.

We don't run on anything.
Some people trade for individual items or services.
Otherwise there's 0 economy.

There's humans on the agriculture staff.
They need to do their work undisrupted.
+ you should have probably talked to them before you did anything in there.

Sounds utopian. And that works?

I'll make sure they're undisturbed. I didn't realize there was staff. Can I get their names?

So what does the witcher bit mean if you aren't a witch? And we haven't got any money here, by the way, so if people eat out of your garden, you'll have to think up some other threat.

You don't polish it. At all.

[He just lets that sink in. Because of all his chores, polishing is his favorite, closest to something he actually enjoys. There are moments - brief ones - where his relationship with Arthur's armour borders on inappropriate.]

But it needs to be maintained - checking for rust, hammering out dents, polishing. All of that.

A Witcher takes care of monsters for pay. There's magic involved, but only on a basic level. We aren't mages or sorceresses.

So I've been told. I'm on it.

At all.

[ ...Merlin you need to pick up a hobby. Knitting or stamp collecting. The king probably wouldn't appreciate you staring lovingly at his armour. ]

Blacksmiths manage rust and dents. The only people I know of that polish armour are nobles and collectors. Typically, people that don't often use it.

Where did the seeds come from?

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