Too late, you get to know. "A priestess of the Lion-Headed Spider God had enslaved an arachnomorph the size of a house, then sacrificed herself to it in an attempt to get it to destroy a village. I'd barely survived dealing with it. I was dying from its venom, but managed to take a potion that reverses its effects before I bled out."

Stirstir. Almost done.

"But then the priestess, lightly chewed on but very burned by monster stomach acid, clawed her way out of the thing's stomach. She used a mind-control spell to force me to drink every other potion I had with me, then melted and died. Dunno how it made worms. Alchemy is weird and magic's weirder. But they were definitely cursed."

Now that no one will ever ask Geralt anything about his life at home ever again-- he pushes up to a better position on his knees. Alright.

"Speaking of puking. You're gonna have to take all of this, even though it tastes bad and you already feel like shit. Even if you gag. If you think you'll need me to force you, tell me now."