Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be turned to stone. No? Then let me tell you.

It's boring, but not just boring like if you were reading uninteresting book to school that you hate, but still know that it's really needed to pass an exam.

No it's BORING! It is like if you were reading phone book over and over again to the point that you know every single number in it and are able to call anyone in the entire world at any time of day but you can't because you have to yet read this fucking book another thousand three hundred twenty seven years to be sure that you really know every single fucking number that is inside of it.

You ask how the hell I get myself into situation so severe that there was no other choice but to put me into this forsaken prison with only god of chaos to talk to, my own thought that are much depleted (because my tormentors have stolen part of my soul before they were able to imprison me) and this stupid view on the middle of the royal gardens?

The answer is actually really simple. I have been accused of killing one monster too much. Then without the right to a lawyer or any other means to defend myself I just some day, during my free day I get zapped by an rainbow, (what actually hadn't worked at first,) then after confirming identity of my attackers and little quarrel, I am stripped of my anti-magic protection and get zapped again, and am slowly enveloped in stone. (I must say that my battle pose don't look half bad, but try to stay in it for over thousand years yourself and then we will talk again).

What monster I have in mind, you ask? Ah, but to answer this question I must first tell you who I am and who I was.

You see for the last 1377 years between Diamond Dogs packs I was know as White Wolf, for Changeling's hives I was Butcher from Blaviken, for Griffins tribes I was Gwynbleidd and for Ponies kingdoms I was known as Geralt of Rivia, but it was Dragons that know who I was before coming to Equestria and as their dragon code prevent them they never told anyone the truth about it.

Namely before I stumbled into this land of false tolerance and order, I was known as Konrad, (yes my name is written by K not C as any other Konrad in my country and I refuse to change any name from my home to language that you are using so if you want to know how it is translated use a fucking dictionary) and I was living in Poland, had 21 years, studying biology on UAM and was big fan of RPG's and almost anything that was related to them.

So it shouldn't surprise you that when in my city was held an fantasy fans convention I was one of many cos-players that came to share their love to this subject with others.

To be honest I was actually preparing for years for this event. I let my white hairs grow, sewn my own leather armor with all its accessories, bought special contact lenses, made my own medallion, elixirs itp. and even made a fake scar on the eye. Unfortunately I couldn't get any fake swords or even matching knives and plastic chains are too delicate, but hey it was still solid piece of work.

So when I came to the convention as, dun... dun... dun... Geralt of Rivia, it was obvious that my first choice was to went straight to stale that was dedicated to him.

And what a shock, there were my missing weapons right before my very eyes. And what's more, they weren't some plastic shit that you normally see at places like this. No they were the real metal thing, the knives looked sharp enough to cut off my finger if I just tough it's edge, the hook was looking ready for any trophy that would get into its reach, the chain was shimmering with light and of course the swords.

First the steel sword measured about forty inches, and weigh no more than thirty-five ounces. Covered for a considerable length by the runic characters (for some reason it looked for me as if they really were actual Zoltan's saying 'Na pohybel Skurwysynom' (the closest thing would be 'On Death to Motherfuckers' ) I still remember the time when I first read about how this normal sword repelled spell from the strongest wizard in the story,) blade had a bluish tint and was sharp as a razor, with a little practice you could shave with it. Twelve inch, crisscrossing straps wrapped leather lizard handle instead of the head was a cylindrical brass tag, dace was very small and intricately decorated. It really looked like actual dwarven Sighil that changed Geralt's destiny.

And the second sword, similar in length and weight, silver. In part, of course. Steel pin shod with silver, as the blades are steel, covered with a layer of silver. pure silver is too soft to sharpen them well. On the hand-guard and the entire length of the blade runes and glyphs, (as well as with steel one I had the impression to actually understand the writing 'Dubhenn haern am glâdeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin. - Mój błysk przebije ciemności, moja jasność mroki rozproszy.' (again the closest translation would be 'My flash will pierce the darkness, my brightness will disperse the gloom'.))

So as any normal fan I just had to buy them before someone else do it.

I was about to ask the merchant how much for the set, when I realized who the fuck was sitting before me, it was this fucking motherfucker, spy and fence Talar from first game, he even welcomed me with his legendary 'No to jak kurwa będzie, robimy interes?' (What is really not the same with translated to English as the closest would be 'So what, will we deal?')

Of course after my shock had passed I was able to determine that the prize was actually every last pln that I was planing to spend during this con, but hey you live only once right? So I bought it and put everything in the proper places.

And when only the last knife found its place inside its sheath that all shit began.

Time as if stopped, medallion began to vibrate like a fucking vibro-action and in front of my eyes opened some freaking portal to who know what hell and the only sound that I could hear was laughter of this fucking Talar wanna-be.

Ah you think that, that was it? Then stop thinking 'cause it's apparently not your thing.

There was no fucking way that I would go without any fight, so without even thinking what I was doing I took out the steel sword and cut through the portal and believe it or not, but when this gate of doom shattered there was nothing so satisfying in the world than that shocked expression on the merchant's face.

"How?" he asked so I explained him how retarded someone must be to first give someone weapon that can destroy magic and then try and use magical portal on the same person. He just looked on me angrily and before I have time to react I was unconscious.

To this day I'm not sure how he got me, but when I had awoken in the middle of some field, I had felt the worst kind of pain that ever happened to me, it was like if my entire body had went through every step of witcher's mutations in one go (and as I think about it probably had.)

Fortunately or maybe unfortunately it hadn't last long, because while I was lying unable to move any muscle, I wasn't yet aware of the presence that was slowly approaching.

Before I could do anything, I was hit by something... hard.

That way I met my first customer and later my only friend in the whole land of Equestria...

Author's Note

So this is my first displaced story that I've made to get rid of creative blockade.
Appraisal, comments and any kind of help are welcome.
If you don't like don't read, end of the story.