Geralt nods and vaults from the dinghy to the dock, then casts a disgruntled eye at the banks of fog which drift over the shore and across the path. "Necrophage oil," he instructs Lan Wangji, slipping his silver sword from its sheath and applying the same. "Mist like this, we might run into foglets. Keep an eye out. They can become invisible and intangible before they strike."