Of Monsters and Men

Darick pov:

He had herd some commotion outside something about dopplers, it was that he didn't want to help the villagers of Oxenfurt, he had a lot on his mind a couldn't just leave the new people that had randomly showed up, he had to now appoint a person to help run the magic school, but after what happed with Annabell and the evil mage he didn't know what to do. At lest he knew a rough idea on were to find Annabell if he had to. The there was that other mage that decided to take Annabell to be a princess or something for now he decided to lay low, maybe soon he would help with the doppler problem.

Evan's pov:

He woke up after a while it was morning, he didn't expect to sleep that long. He went down the stairs still surprised on how exactly he had got taller. He unlocked the door to the random house he had found in middle of no-were. He walked outside ready for adventure. He was unsure on were to go, or who to see him being in between Oxenfurt and Novigrad (maybe a random villager made by al, it is up to him)

Kara's pov: (as random person)

Novigrad was quite, now almost to quite. Maybe that would change sooner or later. perhaps she would change that. There was a king somewhere it would be interesting to see what he would do, interestingly news got around fast that he appointed some girl to be his replacement or something like that. She knew that the castle both stayed in was in or near Novigrad.

 

Solomon's explanation was horrifying. To think that Veera had done that... Massacred dozens.. He wasn't going to act on that, or hold it against her if he could manage it. At the end of the day, she hadn't hurt him. And if this was what she was trying to stop... Did the ends justify the means here? Even if it failed? Had it succeeded, would it still matter? Of course not. He was a Witcher. His job was to kill monsters, not worry about the morality of things. She did what she thought she had to do and that was that. It was none of his business whether that was right or wrong. Right? Then Solomon turned his words, gaze and attention upon him. He shuddered a little at the look of this strange, depraved man that stood in front of him with the shadowed face. He gritted his teeth. The words frustrated him. Who did he think he was, being so arrogant as to ask for an autograph like some famous performer or actor? This vicious man who considered himself a conductor of murder? His muscles tensed and his grip on his blade tightened. At this range, one lunge forwards and he could crack his skull with the pommel of his sword, but when to time it? Veceslav and Veera were right there and if they didn't help then- Wait, did it matter? It was a sorcerer. He was a Witcher. It wouldn#t be too hard to evisc- Then it hit him.
"Get out of my head you son of a *****." Derrick said angrily. He knew mind-affecting spells too well to let that hold him for long. Well, if he wanted a reaction, he was going to get one, but not for the reasons he thought. Derrick's hand flashed into the Igni sign, projecting a wave of flame towards Solomon. "Watch the sides!" He called out as he sprung into action, leaping forwards to tackle the sorcerer...​

 

​

Solomon ignored Vec and focused on Veera "Oh there's no going back now. The die has been cast, the decision has been made. The moving finger has writ, and having written, moves on. Look upon your works, ye mighty, and despair!" Solomon gestured to his undead army. That was when Derrick charged him. As Derrick approached Solomon began to chuckle, when Derrick flung fire at him the laughter grew. He spread his arms openly, accepting the fire that whooshed towards him. As the heat embraced him he cackled with hysteria, the fire catching onto his robes and burning his flesh "HA! The pain!" he shrieked "It feels so good!" Solomon backed away, still on fire, his robes charring, his flesh boiling, and the gap was filled by undead who blocked the way. Turning on his heel, Solomon sprinted away, leaving his undead to deal with the witchers. He embraced the pain, it had been so long since he'd felt anything this intense other than the burning hatred that filled his soul. This was a momentary distraction. Solomon eventually reached the riverbank and stood for a moment, just letting the fire burn his skin, before leaping into the cold water. The flames were extinguished and the heat was replaced by icy cold, the contrast make his whole body feel like a thousand needles were pricking into his skin. Floating to the surface, Solomon lay there on his back. His hat floated close by, having fallen off. His robes were charred, his skin was charred. Without the hat, messy pitch black hair could be seen on his head, but his face was still obscured by the mask, the only visible features were a pair of piercing blue eyes and a manic smile. Solomon saw red trails through the water... his own blood? No... Solomon giggled as he noticed the bodies floating downriver. Paddling sideways, Solomon sidled up to a dead body "Ah, how I envy your escape. But I can't let myself die, the mission is too important" he told the body "What's the mission you ask? Don't be so nosy. Let's just say it involves gathering a lot of souls... like yours" Solomon stroked his hand over the body and a shadowy tendril emerged from the body, before it was absorbed by his locket. For a moment longer he cradled the body as they floated down river, this was one place without battle. It was peaceful. "Sometimes I worry... darling... am I insane?" he asked the corpse. Grasping its jaw he moved it up and down "'No Solomon darling! You're perfectly alright, it's the rest of the world who are mad, it's them who don't understand!'" Solomon pushed away the body "I don't like yes-men" he stated, crawling onto the riverbank and fishing out his hat. Solomon didn't feel the cold, he barely even felt the pain anymore. There by the riverbank Solomon pulled out his locket and stared at the picture within "They don't understand, how can I be mad? Everything I've done has been for love"

Meanwhile, the undead had stopped fighting the dopplers and turned on the witchers. The dark army surrounded the three, their pale emotionless eyes staring without expression. As a unit, they struck, all at once. Some of them had picked weapons from the carnage, others simply clawed with cold hands which grasped at the witchers, trying to drag them down. Three undead witchers would make a wonderful addition to Solomon's army.

​

"Well, I'll teach you a bit about Redanian history, maybe some manners and courtly elocution... Enter!" Archon called out before the messenger even knocked on the door. Filled with paranoia at the king's apparent omniscience, a messenger entered bearing a sack "And what is this?" he questioned.
"A peasant came bearing this sack, says it's from Crow's Perch"
"Ah, Crow's Perch, and how is Lord Ethilis doing?" he asked, as he gestured for the messenger to open the sack
"It wasn't sent from Lord Ethilis, the peasant said a bald man with a burned scalp gave him this delivery" the messenger opened the sack and promptly turned away, almost retching on the floor
"Oh dear. Hello Lord Ethilis" Archon greeted, as the mage's head was revealed "Annabelle, go back to your chamber, you don't need to see this" he gestured for a servant to take Annabelle back. "You too messenger. Go home" he snapped the messenger left hurriedly.

Archon stood by the head, Ethilis appeared an old man, but was actually another mage, placed into power upon Archon's rise to the throne years ago. He placed a hand upon the decapitated head "Wake up Ethilis" Archon hissed disdainfully. There was movement, then suddenly the eyes fluttered open
"My king! Archon! Oh you won't believe what just happened!" the old man's head blurted, his eyes were darting around, almost as if he was trying to notice something
"Oh I'll believe anything. Speak" Archon commanded. Traces of magic could be seen flowing between his hand and the man's forehead
"They came! They invaded! A whole bunch of them! Not sure who they were, they rallied the townspeople against me! I'm not sure how I got out alive!" the voice stated with apprehension. Archon was silent. "Uh... my king... where am I... why can't I feel my body?" Archon was silent, he stared at the head with cold, distant eyes. He was thinking. "Archon! What has happened? I couldn't have survived! They killed me! What have you done to me?!"
"Silence" Archon commanded, as he took away his hand and the spark of life was gone, leaving the head once more motionless. He gazed out of the southern window. first Oxenfurt... now Crow's Perch... The people needed to be taught a lesson. Archon had gotten soft while thinking about his new heir. Time to bring in the discipline.

Striding through the palace Archon found the council chamber. The only mage currently present was Kyle, good, he was one of the most loyal. "Kyle, Have you heard?"
"What is wrong, my king?" the mage stood and bowed as he spoke, Archon waved a hand to signal that he could be seated
"It doesn't matter. Round up every doppler you can find in the city and take them to the battlements. If you can find any witch hunters too, bring them. In fact, if you can find anybody who is rumoured to be working with witch hunters that's just as good. If you can't find any, just round up some peasants" He instructed the fire mage "Now, I'll get the servants to gather as much rope as they can"

​

Up above the chaos, clambering along the rooftops, Willow peeked into windows. On several occasions she found humans hiding in their houses, and quickly killed them. Usually with a knife to the throat, sometimes with an arrow. Eventually Willow discovered a room on the top floor of an inn. Inside seemed to be two people, one of them severely injured, the other with handcuffs on. Dimeritium cuffs. That revealed the nature of the person. Stealthily and silently, Willow crept to the window, hanging off the ledge. Then she suddenly pounced, chucking a Dimeritium bomb into the room, Willow waited a second, then leaped in after the bomb had gone off. A whirlwind of blades, Willow spun into the room and grabbed the woman, holding a knife to her throat "For Bryce..."

 

​

He was insane. Completely gone. And yet underneath it, she could see pain, and loss. But she could do nothing to help him, and pulled out both her swords as the undead circled in on them. "Derrick, Vec, I'm so sorry." She said, her eyes flashing from one enemy to the next. More blue orbs then she could count were staring back, and she felt her fingers tighten on her pommels, holding them in front of her.

"If this is where this ends, then..." She paused, glancing back at the two men who had been the biggest parts of her life. "Never mind." She muttered to herself, and used the handsign for Aard, blasting back those in front of her before cutting to the side. In her mind, the best way out of this was to find an alleyway where they could cover their backs and defend their front. The archer on the rooftop decided to try his luck again, and she dodged to the side, the arrow slicing open some of her cheek as she cut out another undead, snarling. Besides, what did confessions at the end of the line do? They were nothing but wasted words and regrets, and Veera of Velen did not have many regrets. Or so she told herself.

If it was reciprocated, I would know. She told herself as she ducked another arrow and shoved her iron blade through one of the undead, using the silver to cut its throat. Having never fought an undead, she wasn't sure whether the iron or the silver was working, but somehow, it was, and that's all she needed.

"Could someone take out that blasted archer?" She yelled, the next bolt glancing off her sword, the ringing making her head ache. Please, not another one. She prayed to the gods, hoping to staff off another attack. Please just let me get through this.

​

Teliana grimaced. "Too much experience, I'm afraid." She struggled with them a little more, her fingers unwilling to do her bidding. "I've only lived a fraction of a mage's life time, and yet it seems in the span of those years I've been trying to avoid death more then I have tried to live. Ironic, isn't it?" She bit her lip, cursing as the lockpick slipped in her grasp again. "People are all too willing to remove that which they don't understand, in order to sleep better themselves. It's the curse of magic, to be forever powerful, and forever alone."

There was a click, and she smiled with satisfaction as the handcuffs slipped off, revealing the dimeritium burns on Zephyr's skin. "Those go away after a few hours. Just a reaction of our magic trying to resist the metal." She told him, tossing the cursed things to the ground.

She let her hands rest in her lap to hide them from shaking as she glance at the window. "Is it just me, or have the screams gotten louder?" She murmured, her stomach tightening.

That was when the room exploded into shards of glass. Or what appeared to be glass. In reality they were shards of dimeritium. Ana shoved Zephyr away from her and to the ground to protect him, just as she felt something cold press against her throat. "For Bryce...." Teliana tried to reach for the spark that was her magic, but the bomb had erased any form of it. She still held the lockpick in her fingers, and used it to try to stab the figure behind her. "For me." She whispered.

​

Unluckily for Seth, and Tessa herself, she had heard some of what he had done. And she didn't like it at all. She wanted to ask him how he could have done that to someone; what made him give in to such a brutal instinct? Would he eventually turn on her in the same way? The same way that Bryce had? She felt the glimmer of tears in her eyes, not for Seth's nameless victim, but for herself. For once, just for once she wanted to be selfish, and say screw the world. Screw its rules and its laws because despite his wrongs, he had done so many rights, and she just wanted him by her side. She cared deeply for Seth, hell, she might even l-

Tessa shut her eyes against the spinning that suddenly occured, before laying her head on the table. Just to wait it out, she told herself. That was before she blacked out, head resting on her arm, both of which were crossed on the table.

​

Bryce let the Aard affect him, and in falling back into the dirt, rolled backwards. At the same time, Fiel shot her bow again, another arrow knocked to the string in a single breath, while Rael advanced, his eyes on the witcher. Bryce had never said he would fight fair, would he? After all, he intended to survive this, and while he had defeated a witcher in single combat, that had been a different time; a different man. "I don't think you're going to have a good day." He quipped, getting to his feet and blocking Aaron's sword before returning the blow with one of his own.

​

Zack managed to find a couple healing poultices, and some strangely colored bottles that smelled alright. Now he waited in the courtyard, as one by one, citizens of Sanctuary trickled in. By the time the two girls returned, there were about thirty in all, ranging from old men and women to teenagers, to one or two adults that hadn't wanted to abandon their families. "Alright, if that's everyone, then let's go." He motioned for them to follow him, heading for Bryce's office. That would lead to the tunnels that could get them out of the city.

His thoughts flitted briefly to Ana and Zephyr, but with a mantle of guilt settling around his shoulders, he realized he'd have to let them go. These people were his responsibility, and he hoped the gods would have sense to watch over them all, but he couldn't risk going through Oxenfurt again for only two people weighed against the lives of thirty.

 

​

His attempt to win was amusing, really. The witcher attached him, eyes filled with anger. Bryce simply let him come towards him, parrying the blow and grabbing Aaron's wrist, yanking him forward. "See kid, you shouldn't have left that witcher bitch's side." he whispered in Aaron's ear, grip tightening. "Pups shouldn't take on wolves."

That was when Rael shoved his sword through Aaron's leg, causing the witcher to stumble and fall. Bryce let go of him, watching him with idle interest, even as the triumph bubbled inside of him. "What's wrong, little pup? Something got your tongue?"

As he spoke, Fiel aimed her bow and shot, the shaft piercing Aaron's side. "Well, that was a little unnecessary, wasn't it?" Bryce circled around the wounded witcher. "But see, Fiel is a little upset. You murdered her little brother, you know. Yes....Fiel's quite upset." Another arrow loosed, this one piercing his bicep. Bryce whistled. "She's got lovely aim, doesn't she?"

Spoiler: Game of Thronesesque Death Scene, Proceed with Caution

Without waiting for a response, Bryce strode forward, his back turned to Aaron. As he stared at the rising sun, Rael put his sword to Aaron's throat, staining the witcher's skin with his own blood.

"I had considered bringing your sister here. I wanted her to watch, after all. To help Fiel get her revenge. But she's...well." Bryce turned, his smile sinister. "She's rather occupied with the mage that found her first. Lucky man. Perhaps I'll bring her your head, if she's not too exhausted, that is. I've heard wonderful stories about mages and their....endurance."

Bryce stepped forward once more, his sword going to Aaron's throat. "Heads are more transportable then regular bodies, after all." He quipped, and drew his sword back. With a single blow, he beheaded the witcher. The body wavered for a moment before crashing to the ground, the head rolling alongside it. Bryce wiped his sword clean on the witcher's clothing, indicating that Rael should do the same as Fiel came forward, planting another arrow in Aaron's back for good measure before grabbing his head by the hair and pulling it up, staring into the dead eyes with satisfaction.

"Let's take this to the witchers." Bryce told her with a smile, winking before turning back towards Oxenfurt, leaving the rest of Aaron lying in the dust.

 

The Mage had completely ignored him, well too bad, no use crying over it. He actually felt glad he was ignored by such a debased creature. "You weren't yourself" He said in response to Veera's question as to how she could let it happen.He gave her her sword back, hilt first, holding the blade with his gauntlets and watch her He wanted to pull her back when she approached the mage, but he couldn't get a good hold of her. He listened to her plea as he remained guarded, he didn't trust this mage or his army at all and later he would find out that this mistrust wasn't unfounded. After Derrick was going to try and murder the mage who then booked it with his tail between his legs and the undead turned to them. And this is why people didn't align themselves with Necromancers they were treacherous bastards.

A swing to the left, his oil didn't affect the human zombies at all but the Dopplers still went down easier with the Relict oil. There were many, but luckily he wasn't alone which gave him confidence. He kept slashing at the zombies while they attempted to simply swarm them and drag them down, but Veceslav wasn't any of it, keeping them at bay with Igni, sword and bombs. Then Veera pointed out the archer on the roof that had it out for her. He grabbed his crossbow and in one of the twirls he lined up the shot and took it sending a crossbow bolt towards the archer. In the next lull he tried to reload te small crossbow which was perfect for a Witcher side-arm only to have one of the undead struck a blow to his thigh. The old Crow caving in as he put his weight on the leg, landing on one knee. However with the reloaded crossbow, he fired once more at the rooftop archer and then put it back on his belt.

The old Crow popped himself a high quality swallow potion to help him stave off the pain and wounds he was receiving in the fight, trying to put weight on his leg still stung but atleast he could fight again, he would not die today. He was sure of that. Now to get all of his scions out of here Derrick, Veera and Aaron. It would seem that this war was lost before it had even started.

Raymond's questions hadn't even been answered, and as he heard the bowstrings' twang it was already too late to bring up the shield. The arrow struck his chest, he broke off the shaft, tried to move forwards, put his weight on his wrong leg the wrong way and he fell forwards, face in the dirt. He merely looked at Bryce, wanting to ask him why but the man would never answer. What about that sister of his, was she also a part of this? She had seemed so innocent, didn't seem to be the kind of person who was involved with this sort of thing. Breathing became harder for him as his lungs started to fill with his own blood. He coughed, his body trying to get it out of his lungs but it was no use, his fate had been sealed. The arrow had found a weakspot in his armour and struck true. The Aedirnian peasant's last words were mumbled "Iris... I'm finally coming home..."

Sigmund merely listened to the girl who tried to accept any form of punishment meant for them. Seth however spoke up and explained all of it. "Hmm that would sound like something the Crow would send you lot to me for. Very well, come with me." Sigmund said. "You are very lucky indeed, Veceslav is generally quite black and white in these cases. I do hope those scars on the girl aren't your doing. If they aren't you probably learned a very good lesson in understanding what you did to the loved ones of the poor woman and that in itself is a good start for the punishment. I won't harm Tessa or you but you will still receive punishment." Sigmund said as he lead Seth, who was carrying Tessa in arms, to his manor in one of the richer districts of Novigrad.​

 

​

Once Archon had organised things and the culling was ready to begin, he began to try to find his new daughter. Approaching her door, Archon was about to burst through but stopped. Some small hint of compassion compelled him to at least knock. Gently, he knocked on the door "Anna dear? It's me, Archon. Don't worry, it's safe" she had conjured up some kind of rock golem to protect her, the girl had initiative.

Kyle walked the streets with purpose, he had been given the mission, and the decree had been made. Any citizen who hands in known dopplers or witch hunters will be rewarded. Guards patrolled the streets of Novigrad with this message, and people rushed to comply. Kyle walked accompanied by some guards, he wore red robes with the Redanian symbol emblazoned on the front, and carried his spear. One of the guards was wearing a witcher medallion, to detect the real or fake dopplers.
"Bring out your dopplers!" cried one of the guards, soon enough people were surrounding, bringing forward people they claimed to be dopplers and pleading for the reward
"'Ere you are" said a peasant "'e's a doppler"
"I'm not a doppler!"
"What?"
"Nothing"
"I'm not a doppler!"
"He says he's not a doppler" Kyle stated, these people would do anything for money
"Yes he is"
"I'm not!"
"He isn't? I can't take him like that, it's against regulations!"
"I don't want to go on the cart!"
"Oh don't be such a baby!"
"I can't take him"
"I feel fine!"
"Oh, do us a favour, well when's your next round?"
"Thurday"
"I think I'll go for a walk"
"You're not fooling anyone, you know" the peasant then turned to Kyle pleadingly "Isn't there something you can do?" Kyle considered this, and whacked the "doppler" over the head with his spear
"We'll pretend he's a Witch Hunter" he said, as the guards dumped the unconscious body in the cart

 

Derrick growled in frustration as the Necromancer escaped, burning, but still gone. The flames it seemed, were not quelling his horde of raised dead. The three of them, the three Witchers were fighting in the centre of a storm. He had no illusions that they would survive this day now. Mighty as they were, surely they could not survive such an onslaught? Nevertheless, Derrick of Kaedwen gritted his teeth against the looming spectre of death. He had to live on. He cut side to side, finding little room now for pirouettes and spins, having to resort to more simple but deadly efficient sword work. He wasn't the fighter that Veera was, with her natural talent nor Veceslav with his experience. He leapt from side to side, covering the backs of his brother and sister in arms where needed. He pushed back the crowds with Aard. When the arrows fell, it was Derrick who cast them away from Veera until she could recover. It was Derrick who cut away the rending hands of the dead men walking when Veceslav fell to one knee and felled those that came to claim his teacher. Those hollow eyes stared at him from every angle. This was not the way he thought he would go out.

There was a sickening crunch as an axe crunched into Derrick's right shoulder. He howled and fell to one knee, blasting an Aard to keep the marauding dead back. As he struggled to one knee, he tried to grip his blade to find that his shoulder lit up in agony. He had to bear with it. He had to keep fighting. They had to get out of there, somehow. He pushed them back again with Aard and looked around. An alleyway wasn't too far. Perhaps they could cut through.
"Over there, I think I see an alley! Come on, we'll get away through there!" He shouted over the din and pointed to the gap between the buildings. His arm was trembling as it desperately tried to support the sword in his hand. He reasserted his two handed grip and tried to clear his mind. He had to fight. They had to win. Somehow.




Adolin and Alanna found Bryce on their wandering through the city. They watched from a distance as he cornered the Witcher and his friend. He felt a sense of satisfaction as the man who was named Raymond died and could only enjoy watching the Witcher fighting for his life. A man with no name, but he looked young. He couldn't have been long inducted into their infernal order. Adolin's entertainment did not last for very long. As they shouted back to one another, it revealed the character of each. And for the duration of that battle, he sympathised with the Witcher. He was here to protect his family, He heard mention of a sister. He has a sister, here in this city. He's trying to protect her. Bryce knows where she is. The struggle to protect his family resonated with the Doppler. Amidst all of the chaos, it was the Witchers who stood to defend the families. He couldn't protect that man who was with him, but he was trying desperately to save anyone that he could by winning here. Alas, it was a failure. There was no noble end for the Witcher.
"Satisfied, Adolin?" Snapped Alanna from his side. He looked at her, wearing his disgust on his face.
"No, Alanna. I'm not satisfied at all." The Doppler answered with a sombre voice. He looked at the expression of anger that she was wearing on her face to hide what lay below. He knew that what they watched upset her. It didn't exactly make him happy either. "It's a shame it's such a mess in there, we'll never find his sister to warn her."
"So there's some warmth in you. Some Witcher slayer you are then." Her icily delivered comment bore more truth than she knew. Adolin remained silent and walked away. There was no sense burying him. At least this way, if they were still alive in there, they'd be able to find the rest of the body. He walked away from the scene now. After that, he didn't feel like trying to kill Witchers today. ​

 

​

Zephyr was fairly quiet as he watched Teliana pick at the lock while listening to her. Doing kinda made him realize just how little he actually knew in comparison to her. She'd said she'd live a fraction of a mage's life time, which was already an impressive feat to Zephyr who didn't know the average lifespan mages had, and there was a lot she knew compared to him. Most 18 year old would think that they knew everything, but given the recent series of events that Zephyr has been through, it was pretty damn clear that there was a lot he still didn't know.

The moment the cuffs were off of his wrist, Zephyr started to rub the burn marks that had formed where the cuffs were. "Thanks." It wasn't long afterward before he was able to feel his magic once more, a feeling he'd missed. Now he wouldn't be dead weight to anyone and could at least fight back and it would be soon that he'd have his chance to prove that. Once more Zephyr was left with little time to respond to what had happened around him, but he did managed to notice the key things. Something had exploded in the room, Teliana had pushed him out of the way, once again saving him and someone was currently attacking Teliana.

Now if there was every a time for Zephyr to tried to repay the debt he pretty much owes Teliana, it would be now. Despite still being able to use his magic, he wasn't going to with Teliana that close. So the mage scrambled to his feet and used his shoulder to tackle the assailant off of Teliana. Zephyr wasn't sure just how effective his tackle was, but at the time he was more concerned with helping Teliana out.

 

​

Veera smiled in quiet relief as Veceslav took out the archer, but the act was short lived as the three witchers began to slowly become overwhelmed. They had to get out, and now. They couldn't keep this up, not when there were so many of the enemy and so few of them. When Derrick was injured, she cast a Quen spell over him, barely finishing in time to block the pike spear that had been aimed for her belly.

Sweat coated her forehead, forcing her hair to stick to her skin. The blood of her enemies mixed with the perspiration, and she didn't even want to imagine what she looked like. Her shoulder still throbbed as it tried to heal, the rest of the arrow embedded in her skin. "Let's go NOW!" she yelled, slamming her head down as she performed Aard once more, clearing the enemies from her Derrick's front for a moment.

"Vec!" She parried a blow from a sword with her iron blade and impaled the attacker with her silver one as she backed up into the alley, making sure Derrick was covered on his injured side while getting her mentor's attention to follow them. "We've got to get the hell out of here." She told him, her arms shaking with weariness. Even a witcher couldn't go on forever. But at this point, she didn't even see how escape was possible.

​

Ana waited to see if her attack by lockpick to Willow's leg and Zephyr's attack by shoulder shove worked on Willow.

​

Overhead, the sounds of battle had managed to seep through the stone streets and echo over the sewers. Every once in a while the group he was leading would freeze, stopped by a scream or the sounds of the dying. Every time, Zack would urge them onward. With every step, the guilt at leaving those behind ate at him, but he tried to combat it with the redemption of saving those of his people that he could. Perhaps this could make up for all the bad that had been done, and was being done.

"It's only a little longer." He whispered loudly. Luckily for him, the drowners were busy with the bodies that floated on the river, and had evacuated the sewers in lieu of the battle. The tunnel he had used would take them out closer to the farms of Oxenfurt, which should still be safe. They would remain there until the battle was over, and then....Zack had no idea. Where could you go when your home was burning and the world hated you?

​

Bryce strolled through the streets quickly. His birds hadn't reported to him in a while, which was a shame. He wondered vaguely if they had given up or been killed, unaware that one had spread the word amongst the others of the evacuating dopplers; most of them had gone to join Zack. He didn't think this far ahead, because it didn't honestly matter to him what Zack did, or the birds, or really the army of dopplers. He could care less about any of them, because they were only as minuscule addition to his power, and his power was all that mattered.

Rael and Fiel kept the peasants off of him, of which, to be honest it seemed like there were few left. If they had been smart, they would have left. He thought with a shrug, making his way towards the sounds of clashing swords and the screams of the wounded and dying. The witchers would likely be occupied, what with the current army that was after their heads, but he would make his presence known. And the dopplers would cheer his name like he was a god.

​

Tessa was comfortable, resting her head against Seth's chest as he carried her. To be honest, she hadn't woken up until after they had started walking, but it seemed as soon as the thought crossed her mind to walk on her own two feet, she passed out again. The silver. She reminded herself, keeping her eyes shut this time as Seth walked towards an unknown destination. My body's fighting the reaction to the silver. She didn't even want to look at her injury. At Seth's words, she tiredly raised her head, managing a small smile before putting it back down again.

"I hope this is a safe place." She whispered, fighting the hazy black that tried to ensnare her mind again. "I hope we're safe here."

 

Ethan's pov:



Oh, Novigrad. He was here after so long. There was people running on the streets of Novigrad doing there daily thing. The people seemed like they were busy. He just continued to walk towards the town square. The thought of the sorcerers on his mind. It would not be long now. He could somehow feel it. He arrived in the town square. There was various shops of all sorts, but none that said sorcerer to him. He began to look at sky line looking for any building that would say sorcerer to him. That was when he spotted a large looking tower poking into the sky. Deciding that that tower was probably the tower that was apart of some sorcerer building he headed that way. He walked to he got to a rather large building with lots of towers connected to it. This must be the sorcerer building. If is wasn't it was one strange castle or something. Walking into the building he found the nearest person he could find. "Excuse me I would like to ask some questions about this sword." He was sure that he was going to get some answers now.


Olivia's pov:



She could hear that the battle outside seemed to be getting closer to her. This was not good and on top that there was two people inside the old house she was in. 'What now?' 'Check the house you idiot. Doors do not lock themselves.' 'They don't?' 'No you idiot, of all people... anyways someone is in this house I am sure of it now go' She could hear the people in the house moving about. It would not be long now before she was found. She had to thing of something to do and quick. Two people fighting one was not good odds. Please do not find me she thought.

 

Derrick had him covered as the old Crow had gone down and he was thankful for his help. They were getting a bit cornered and for his taste a little bit to tightly packed. He used Aard to give himself some more breathing room as Derrick had taken a hard hit himself and was yelling something about an alleyway. He was retreating slower than his comrades because of his bad leg, but not just that also to buy them additional time with rear-guard actions. Casting Aard, throwing several dragons dreams bombs into the mob and then following up with an Igni to envelop scores of them in the explosion. The Old Crow followed his scions trying to block or dodge the incoming attacks but there were too many and several blows hit him, not all piercing the armour, the old Crow received several wounds, his shoulders, sides and arms flared with pain, but he would not submit following the others as the Swallow numbed his pain and tried to heal his wounds as he retreated towards the alleyway, his black cloak stained with blood.

Sigmund let the duo through the city to the richer district of Novigrad passing by all sorts of manors some with gardens some without. They then reached a manor modest in comparison to what some of the others looked like with a sizable garden. He let them into the home. "You will be staying in the guest quarters of the house, if you need anything, please let me know. You two are free to explore the house and gardens. I have a few matters to attend to and will join you shortly. Young man you and I will need to discuss something, but it isn't of the utmost importance." Sigmund said as he walked into the hallway of the manor, it was more than big enough for the three people that were currently staying there and the old mage liked the amount of space he had. Sigmund showed his guests around quickly so they knew where to find everything and then went to his study to think with his guests.​

 

​

The three witchers were surrounded by undead and dopplers, all out for their blood. The battle looked hopeless, the swarm was unending. Derrick was injured, and the other two were slowly getting there. Was there any hope? Who would save them? There was a hero that they deserved, and needed right now. They needed someone who was vengeance! They needed someone who was the night! They needed batman Vyle!

Vyle had decided the dopplers were too fanatical to give up their messiah, so turned back to find the witchers, and why he did he found a desperate situation. Wasting no time, Vyle spun, flinging knives hidden in his cloak out at the undead. The zombies could not feel pain, and lumbered towards him unhindered. Swifly, Vyle stabbed and slashed, keeping the creatures at bay, and aiming to remove their limbs. Leaping up, Vyle swooped down and landed amongst the witchers. He fought back the undead who plagued the witchers so
"You looked like you could do with a hand" he calmly told the witchers. An undead with a sword tried to stab him, but Vyle dodged, took the sword, and used it to remove the revenant's head. Several hands grasped at him, and he hacked those off too. Vyle stared in disgust as the disembodied hands still clasped his clothing. "Oxenfurt is lost. The more dopplers and townspeople that die, the more there are for Solomon's army" he scowled as he mentioned the name, he was sure this was the necromancer's work and was not surprised.

Just as Willow was about to slice she felt a sharp pain in her leg. damnit. She hadn't been quick enough, or careful enough. However, she did see the other mage's tackle coming a mile away. Deftly she dodged it, although this meant her grip on the woman was lost. She ignored the pain from her leg, and lunged towards the man, twin shortswords slashing.

 

​

Veera glanced at Vyle, hardly daring to take her eyes away from the enemies at her side. "You know him?" She asked above the din of battle, refraining from commenting that Vyle seemed to have too many hands. "We need to go back for the people in the room." She continued, hacking down a doppler who tried to use the moment to shave off several layers of muscle from her arm. At this point, she didn't see how they were going to get out, let alone rescue three others who were more then likely dead or fighting for their life right now.

Wait...."If you're here, and Derrick's here then..." She turned and screamed at Derrick and Vyle. "Who the hell did you leave guarding the half dead woman and the doppler kid?! The mage with the damned shackles on?!"

​

Ana coughed the dust from the bomb out of her lungs as she stumbled forward, desperate to save Zephyr. She tried to reach out with her magic, but the dimeritium was still thick in the air. Ana yelled his name as she tried to make it towards him in time, only to have something clink against her feet. Squinting through the dust, she noticed the shackes that she had taken off the other mage just seconds ago.

Grabbing them, she cried out as the metal burned her already damaged hands before throwing them at Willow. It would likely do little more then hit the assailant on the head, but she hoped the distraction would be enough to take her focus off the kid. "Leave him alone!" She said, taking a wobbly step forward. "He's just a-" She fell to her knees, trying to catch her breath. Just a kid.

​

Tessa nuzzled Seth's hand before he left, her cheek feeling cold and bereft of his touch. She watched him go through heavy lids before turning on her uninjured side, resting her face against the pillow as she curled into a ball under the sheets. "When do I get to take care of you?" she whispered to the soft cloth, before her eyes unwillingly shut, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

​

The undead parted before him in waves, as though he was the messiah, and they were his flock. Indeed, he found the three witchers, identifiable by their yellow eyes, surrounded by more of the undead. How the zombies knew he wasn't a danger, how they knew he was on their side, he had no idea. Rael had disappeared. Unable to convince Fiel to do the same, he had left her, sick of violence and gore. Bryce hadn't acknowledged his absence in the least; if Rael was a weakling, then they were better off without him.

"Are you so mighty now?!" He yelled at the witchers, noticing they had another with them, an unknown. At the moment, he didn't much care. They would all die, if he had to do the deed himself. At his words, everything seemed to still, and look towards him. He felt like a God.

"Where's your skill and your swords and magic now!?" Bryce cried, holding up the burden he had carried from the outskirts and into the streets, from the streets into this particular square. "He died on his knees like the criminal he was, and so shall you!" Bryce's hand was clenched around the silver hair that framed the face, using it as a hold to hoist up the decapitated head of what used to be Aaron the witcher, his eyes still set in an expression of defiance.

​

Veera turned to stare at the figure, and her words died in her throat. No...The man's arm lifted up as his voice boomed across the square. Veera ceased to be aware of anything, or anyone, except the cold feeling in her chest. No no no....The silver hair, the eyes, the face not yet scarred by time...nononononononono. Aaron stared at her, but it was not Aaron. It was a shell of the young witcher, his physical flesh without the soul that made him himself.
Derrick said we came here together. A memory of Aaron first coming to the Kaer flashed through her mind. He said we came for a job. Aaron practicing in the sparring field with her. But I would never have left him behind. Aaron trying not to smile. I would never have let him follow me to this. Aaron constantly losing his shirt. And then her mind went blank.

The scream that tore from her throat was inhuman as she lunged forward, ignoring all injuries and enemies. If she died, then she went to hell, but she would take this bastard with her if it was the last thing she did. She might have let A-the kid die alone, but she would not let him wander the afterlife alone as well.

 

Derrick was thankful for the break, but it wasn't positive. He leaned against the wall of the alleyway, nursing his shoulder. However, when Bryce came his eyes were fixed on him and he stood away from the alleyway. This must be the man behind all of this. He marked his face well. In the middle of that huge crowd, he couldn't think of a way to get at him unless... Axii. He smiled and was about to cast the Sign, but then he showed Aaron. Part of Aaron. His head. His hand tightened around the silver blade and his face twisted into an expression of rage. He seemed triumphant, smug about all of this. As if he was some kind of king to be proud over a new conquest. Derrick hated him. He might have been a hired killer, but a kill wasn't a badge of honour. Not of a person. Not of a Doppler as far as he was concerned. Veera took it worse than he did. She screamed and charged, but he was powerless here.
"Vyle, grab her!" He shouted to the Vampire who had swooped in suddenly to save them a little earlier. Now, he decided to take action. Focusing on Bryce he drew the sign of Axii and cast it upon him. He could think of only one way to kill the man, and that was with the crowd that surrounded him. "These creatures are your enemies! Slay them all before they slay you!" Hopefully, as soon as he struck the mindless beings would register him as hostile and he would be torn apart. Right now, it was the best vengeance that he could come up with. However, he marked that face. If the plan failed, he would hunt him down personally. And alone. Whoever he might have been, Derrick would not let him claim anyone else. Besides, he probably didn't kill Aaron alone. With his crowd of Dopplers at his command, it would have been easy. There was nothing for him to be proud of. ​