The Witcher is dark, gritty fantasy. It follows Geralt of Rivia, a lone monster hunter in a wild world called Continent. Based on popular books, this show has it all: political drama, magic and epic sword fights. With amazing visuals and great acting, it has quickly become a favorite. You will not want to miss this adventure!

Meet the ladies from The Witcher

Triss

Oh Triss — the warm, red-haired healer who somehow looks like she’s wandered straight out of a storybook and into a battlefield, except she’s the one patching everyone up while grumbling about their ridiculous decisions. She’s tender and fierce in ways that don’t always make sense together (like she’ll knit you a scarf and then shove a potion down your throat), and she has this habit of apologizing for being alive and also saving lives — which is very endearing and also dramatic. She’s clever with herbs and a little scatterbrained with paperwork, which is somehow both charming and infuriating to her friends. Honestly you can always spot her by the faint scent of something floral and the way she refuses to play the victim even when she absolutely could.

Ciri

Ciri is this whirlwind of destiny and stubbornness who barrels through life with a sword in one hand and a suitcase full of unfinished business in the other. She’s fierce and scared and wildly hopeful all at once — like, one minute she’s daring and reckless, the next she’s quietly reading or staring out a window thinking about literally everything. There’s a tragic, golden thread to her story (destiny! power! chases!), but she’s also the kid who steals horses and makes terrible jokes when she’s nervous, which somehow makes her human again. You get the sense she’s constantly surprised by herself, and by everyone else, and that she’ll probably keep surprising people forever.

Yennefer

Yennefer is the glamorous, razor-sharp sorceress who enters a room and rearranges the air — beautiful, intimidating, and extremely opinionated, with a voice that can both soothe and scorch. She’s fiercely independent and will absolutely criticize your life choices while secretly keeping tiny sentimental things she would never admit to liking (a ridiculous little trinket, maybe a bad poem). There’s this whole tragic, stubborn heart behind the icy exterior — she guards it like it’s an artifact and then misplaces the key on purpose sometimes. She’s complicated in the best possible way and will both terrify you and make you feel inexplicably seen.

Fringilla

Fringilla comes off calm and composed at first — Nilfgaardian cool, chess-player energy — but don’t be fooled, she’s got a fierce, strategic core and a hunger for power that’s quietly thrilling. She’s the sort who studies people like books and then bookmarks the useful pages, and she sometimes hums to herself in a language no one else knows (or maybe that’s just my imagination, who knows). There’s a seductive intelligence there, not always warm, sometimes almost clinical, and strangely vulnerable in flashes that make you wonder what she’s really thinking. She’s both precise and occasionally impulsive — I swear she bites her lip when making big decisions, though that might be a detail I made up because it felt right.

Tissaia

Tissaia is the headmistress energy: strict, unflinching, and secretly sentimental in the way only very old-school mentors can be (she’ll scold you for wearing the wrong shoes and then knit you a scarf). She runs everything with an iron rulebook and a soft spot for potential — which she hides behind a thousand rules and a terrifying eyebrow raise. People fear her, respect her, and then quietly love her because she’s the kind of person who will hand you the truth even if it hurts, and then make tea like nothing happened. Also, tiny detail: she’s probably the kind who likes her tea impossible strong and pretends to hate compliments but definitely keeps them in a little mental drawer.

Queen Calanthe

Queen Calanthe is pure lioness: loud, lavish, utterly ruthless in battle and in court, and she wears her crown like it’s a second, louder head. She adores Cintra and treats loyalty like both a weapon and a promise — you don’t cross her unless you enjoy consequences, but she will also smother you with an odd blend of stern advice and royal affection. There’s a surprising softness tucked under all the bluster (a love of rough poetry? a fondness for certain ridiculous hats?), which makes her feel alive instead of mythic. She’s dramatic, impossible, and somehow regal in the most chaotic, delightful way.