Soul-piercing shrieks echo throughout the dense forest as claws tear and teeth snatch in feral hunger. Yet despite the surrounding chaos, The White Wolf remains calm and composed, reaping the foul creatures lives with measured strength and elegance: a dance of death in the night.
To prepare, Geralt imbibes a thick decoction that would cause nothing but a painful death to most. However, thanks to the harsh mutations of the Witcher, the alchemical mixture serves to heighten his senses, allowing him to better combat the vicious, flesh-hungry, ghouls. With a silver blade steeped in oils harmful to the various necrophage that plague the lands, The White Wolf proceeds to rend apart his foes, knowing that with all preparations complete, the only thing left is the hunt.
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