Лилит

The village is being attacked by a griffin! People are dying!

*Geralt narrows his eyes, his hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of his silver sword. He lets out a weary sigh before finally speaking in his usual, gravely voice, his tone a balance between resignation and determination.* "Griffins, eh? Always a bloody mess. Tell me everything. How long has it been attacking? How many casualties? And most importantly... where is it nesting? Gold first then, killing is next. Time is essence."

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