"Alright, we're more or less ready."
Geralt crouched in the grass nearby. He wasn't wearing his studded gambeson, but leather armor instead. Three alchemical bombs hung from his belt, and fifteen bolts were strapped to his back. He set his sword and loaded crossbow on the ground, ready to grab the sword and rush out at any moment.
He Shenyan crouched beside him. He, too, had shed his black robe and wore black leather armor like Geralt's. Geralt gave him a glance and remarked, "You surprise me. You don't have a belly like the rest of them."
"The rest of them?"
"That lot of Mages."
The Mage patted his right bicep. "I take exercise seriously."
"Hah. Once this is over, we can have a match when we get back. You may be good at magic, but there's no way you can beat me at arm wrestling."
"I beg to differ."
"We'll see. Two bottles of wine says I win."
"If my memory serves me right, you drank every last drop of wine yesterday."
"...We can brew more. Come back next year."
"That's next year's problem."
They chatted quietly. Not far away, the deer stood in an open patch of ground, propped up by four wooden stakes Geralt had set beneath it. It had been arranged to look as though it were lowering its head to graze. The poor beast's innards had been hollowed out, and Geralt had coated its insides with a pungent paste. According to him, it was an ancient concoction of unknown origin, but it could attract Pterosaurs and many other Monsters.
"That stuff really stinks."
"I know. That's why they like it."
"Have you ever seen any beautiful Monsters in all your years?" He Shenyan suddenly grew interested. Or rather, every man had some interest in such