Geralt was covered in a black, thick, sticky layer of putrid selkiemore guts. Upon entering the pub, the townspeople's faces morphed into shock. At the same time, they all covered their noses once the stench of selkiemore guts reached their nostrils.
Jaskier chuckled at the sight of everyone's shocked faces.
"What's that stench?" the man that owed him money asked.
"Selkiemore guts," Geralt responded. "Had to get it from the inside. I'll take what I'm owed."
"Toss a coin to your witcher. O, Valley of Plenty - " Jaskier began to sing, hoping the song would eventually catch on.
The man quickly tossed Geralt the large sack of coins, and he caught it with much ease. Jaskier continued singing, then everyone in the tavern began to join. Geralt didn't seem impressed by the sight of dozens of men and woman singing such a horrible song, then walked over to the bar top to order an ale. Once the song was over, everyone cheered and Jaskier followed Geralt over to the bar.
"You're welcome. And now, it's time to repay your debt," said Jaskier as the bartender slid an ale toward Geralt. "'What debt?' you're probably asking. Well, I'll tell you. I've made you famous. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I'm asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor."
"Fuck off, bard," said Geralt.
"For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of - "
Geralt grabbed his sword and left as Jaskier poetically spoke. Once he noticed, he turned around in a haste attempt to stop Geralt.
"Food, women and wine, Geralt."
Geralt stopped.