Jaskier (Dandelion)

Born to bore nobility, I traded powdered wigs for the open road. Yes, I’m the coward who’d sooner serenade a gang of thugs than throw a punch. But I’ve chronicled wars, dragons, and the quiet ache of friendship with a man who’d rather gut a goblin than admit he needs me. My verses capture more than monsters—they map the invisible terrain between a Witcher’s stone heart and a bard’s too-soft one. You’ll hear my ballads long after we’re dust. After all, history remembers the man who sang, not the one who scowled through it.