Of Monsters and Men

"How... How aren't you dead?" Dave gasped, watching the man he'd just cut take it as if it were nothing. He had no choice, he had to rush again, but by then it was over. The sword of a Witcher cleaved through his stomach and he fell to his knees. There was no time to experience pain however, as the whirling sword cut off his head.
"DAVE!" Shrieked Bertha Buttle, clutching her pitchfork desperately. Most of the villagers had since tried to flee now, seeing the uselessness of the fight and were being systematically hunted, but a few who, like Bertha were stuck with their backs to a house, had no choice but to fight. One, seeing the pitchfork heading towards Bertha, tried to pull it away from Solomon only to have it bury itself in his leg. He screamed and fell over, but Bertha saw her chance. "This is for my HUSBAND!" She lunged with her pitchfork towards Solomon.

Delaine burst into tears as she heard the screams of Corwyn outside. She desperately moved furniture, pushing it against the drawers to try to stop them. Half blinded by tears and spurred by fear, she pushed the bed against the drawers and stumbled, falling on to the floor. She got up again to try to push the wardrobe, but it merely fell over by the wall uselessly. She cried out and pulled out the knife she kept on her belt for protection. She gripped it so hard the handle dug into the palm of her hand. The door was shattering, she screamed. The door shattered and she readied herself to fight whatever was coming. She saw a little girl. A monster, but a little girl all the same. She cried out in despair again, and dropped the knife. She collapsed into the corner of the room with her hands covering her face.
"Please, no! Please, please, please! Don't do it! I don't want to die..." She begged. "You've taken my husband! Just please, please don't kill me! DON'T DO IT!" She stretched out her hands pleadingly as tears streamed down her face.

Wilfred had just about made it out of the door when something jumped him. He dived to the floor and rolled away as it sailed over his head, but the creature moved with unnatural agility. The dwarf reached out, finding a broken fence post and struck out with it, trying to keep the thing away. He struggled to his feet, grabbing his axe. The thing was covered with the same boils and pustules as the diseased villagers.
"Get back ya b*stard!" Wilfred snarled. He swung the axe wide and jabbed at the beast again, backing away towards the forest where he might find some shelter, some safety. Where's that Boenn when you need him?

The screams reached the forest and he could see some of the slaughter. It made him sick. Who, or what would have done such a horrific thing to a peaceful village? The Elf watched. Somebody had to know what happened, to go somewhere to tell the story. However, as he watched he noticed a small figure breaking away from what he knew was the blacksmith. It was being pursued by... Something. Boenn knew that he had to do at least something. He lithely clambered down from his tree, jumping down to get down faster as soon as it was safe. He unslung his bow from his back and began to run towards the village. Maybe he could rescue at least someone from that mess.





"Here goes..." Alanna muttered. She had seen one of the knives hit Kyle in the leg, but it was time to go for the kill. Stretching out with her telekinesis, she caught the two daggers that had missed and hoisted them into the air, then sent them spinning into the unsuspecting Kyle's back. One for the main body, one for the back of the head. She saw Adolin stepping in front of her protectively, and his shape changing into that of Carrak of Cintra. He started to retreat, and so did she.
"Two big guys coming for us. Hold that shield, I'll do what I can." The Doppler was back in his Witcher's form, bringing all the skills that went along with it. Those two charging were going to be a problem. He began to back away, knowing that she knew to do the same thing. He knew about the Witcher Signs, so he knew one that was perfect for this situation. He stretched out his left hand and drew the Sign of Aard, sending a wave of pushing force rolling forwards. It wasn't quite up to Alanna's standard, but hopefully it would be enough to stop them in their tracks, or slow them down a bit. If they could dispose of Kyle with the throwing knife trick, then it would make either eliminating these two, or escaping, much easier. ​

 

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Teliana shook her head gently, her tangled hair falling into her face. "Anywhere is better then there." She replied, brushing the strands out of her vision before looking up at the vampire. Something passed over his face, a spasm of sorts. She took a step towards him, frowning. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" He seemed hesitant, as though the distance between them was...

Oh. Oh. "Zephyr, will you go pick out rooms for us?" She asked the younger mage quietly. "We could all do with some rest, and then tomorrow I'll start teaching you." If you even want to be taught after what I just did. "We'll be along shortly." She grabbed Vyle's hand, ignoring the tension thrumming from the vampire as she towed him out of the courtyard, and through the keep towards the gate. In all her years, granted they weren't as many as the man next to her, Kaer Morhen hadn't changed.

She waited until they were at the gate, before pausing. "You're going to have to fly us out there." She said, looking up at the high walls. "I don't want to mess with the mechanism for the gate, and it'll take longer then needed."

She wrapped her fingers around Vyle's and squeezed, feeling a little more like her old self. "I trust you."

​

Veera slumped in the chair, grateful to take the pressure off her knee. "Derrick informed me of what he thought transpired. And I believed him." She glanced at Tatiana, uncomfortable with revealing mentioned events in front of someone who was, to her, a stranger. "I don't know why I did it, Vec. I don't know what kind of person I was in those days, even though those days only just happened..." She sighed as the headache returned and rested her elbow on the arm of the chair, her head in her hand.

"We should probably talk about it in private. Since..." Since it will be you that decides my fate. Glancing at Tatiana, she blinked as an idea suddenly popped into her head. It wasn't particularly kind, but being a witcher wasn't about being kind. It was about the betterment for the masses, not the feelings of a single person. "And there's an idea I would like to broach with you." she finished, returning her yellow gaze to the Crow.

​

Treasa felt her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, but clamped down on it before the expression became too obvious. "I've never met a horse that doesn't like me." She responded, but provoked no further argument as she grabbed the reins of the offered horse, gently letting it nuzzle her hand with its soft nose before rubbing its face. She liked horses, always missed them when they had to trade the creatures in for a place to stay, or food. Alastar, due to his size, had never seemed particularly keen on the animals. But she liked them. Perhaps it was from being born and raised on a farm.

She pulled herself up into the saddle, steadying the horse underneath with a soothing sound. "Aren't we going to have to go through the mountains to get to the Kaer?" She asked curiously, turning around to face Derrick. "That doesn't sound...enjoyable." Or particularly survivable, if his wound took time to heal.

​

Tessa watched as Sigmund left before turning back to Seth as he spoke. "You know I worked in a bar by myself, right?" She murmured, pressing her palm over his for a moment before curling up next to him, her fingers gently tracing the bandaging of his injured hand. "And you're not going tomorrow, because you are not well enough to go tomorrow. If you do go tomorrow, then I'll be right beside you. And if you sneak off,"

She stopped moving for a moment, turning her face on the pillow to meet Seth's eyes, "then I'll just have to wander around this strange city until I find you." She smiled gently. "I guess you're just stuck in this house with me for a day." At this point, she felt like she could sleep for an entire day.

 

"It's nothing personal, the old Crow's horse is just a bit finnicky." Derrick hauled himself atop Hawk and started it moving. He nodded to Treasa. Luckily for her, he hadn't noticed the smile that had almost developed on her face earlier on. "You're right, but we can bypass that. If we go through Novigrad then we should be okay. That's what annoying about the route, because we have to go through the place that I want to go. I can't exactly go and ask Archon for a job, only to continue on my own way though." He led the way towards Novigrad, keeping the Zerrikanian Warhorse at a steady pace that his own could keep up with. If he really wanted to, he could spur on Hawk who would far outrun any steed that he had ever seen.
"That being said, Novigrad is full of Sorcerers and Sorceresses. We might be able to pay someone to portal us. Maybe someone more competent than Teliana." He said lightly, but his tone turned serious. "Not that it's entirely her fault. She's been through a lot recently. I can hardly blame her for her concentration slipping and I don't know whether that Zephyr guy would have done any better. Does make you wonder though, did the rest of them get to the Kaer okay?" ​

 

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"And this is for MINE!" A sudden look of fury crossed Solomon's face, there was no mirth in Solomon's expression anymore, there was nothing but hatred. He dodged the attack from the farmer and counter attacked, using the prongs of his own pitchfork to wrest the woman's weapon from her. With singular purpose he thrust his pitchfork at the woman, two of its prongs gouging into her eyes. As he pulled the pitchfork from the woman he shook the blood of the ends and glared down with disdain.

Meanwhile, the pale child had no mercy for the begging woman. Without rushing, they stepped forward and picked up the knife. Begging, weeping. Weak, pitiful. Pathetic. The little girl sliced the woman's throat ruthlessly. She deserved it.

The plagued one lurched after the dwarf relentlessly, he could almost reach the man, its fingers were inches away from spreading that virulent plague...

 

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Treasa followed after Derrick, her face twisting for a moment. "I hope they did." She murmured, thinking of Alastar. "What happened to Teliana, anyway? She looked..." She had that same look in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She realized after a moment exactly what she had asked. "That's entirely none of my business." At least the mage had Vyle to look after her. Even the smaller, younger mage seemed to exude a protective sort of emotion over the female.

She looked at Oxenfurt as they made their way past the burning outskirts of the city. "I'd always heard stories about Oxenfurt, the Church, the University. Magical places to a little girl growing up in the country." She sighed, unable to keep a little wistfulness out of her voice. "I wish I could have seen it before they sent it to hell."

She pulled up alongside Derrick, leaving him a few inches to lead but keeping abreast in order to stay aware and ready for any enemies. Her bow lay across her lap, ready for quick use. "Before we go our separate ways, that horse is going to love me." She declared, eyeing up the animal with something close to desire.

 

"It's perfectly fine for you to ask. She was caught by who we now know to be Witch Hunters." Derrick explained grimly. "You can imagine how that must have been. Vyle rescued her from them. He's an interesting one, and a reminder that even monsters can display signs of humanity. Nicest vampire I'll ever meet. To be honest, it feels a bit like an honour because such beings only really appear once a century - If we're being optimistic." He nodded to her commentary on Oxenfurt.
"It really was a nice city, and it's a shame to see it gone. I didn't really get to have a look around the University and such, given my profession and all, but I remember going to the city and enjoying my time there." He reminisced. It was ridiculous really, to realise that those were lighter days. It really said a lot for how the times had changed. Nowadays there were Witch Hunters active and the Doppler massacre. Before it wasn't perfect, but it seemed like an age of chaos was dawning - A time of contempt, a baptism of fire. Maybe it would be followed by an age of peace. If it was, Derrick the Witcher hoped that he lived to see it. An age where he could lay down his swords. He smiled at Treasa. "When we stop to camp I'll switch horses. It'll be a while before we get to the Kaer. I hope you don't mind my company because we're going to be stuck together for a bit." He smiled wryly.




Bertha's surprise at Solomon's exclamation only lasted as long as her remaining lifespan, which wasn't overly long. She didn't even have time to feel the pain before she died. The remaining villagers of Pontarsfork sank into despair, seeing their one glimmer of hope being crushed beneath the tides of the dead.

Delaine didn't struggle as her fate came to her. It was far too late for that. She merely covered her eyes, and allowed it to happen. Corwyn was dead. Seemingly everyone was dead. How could she go on, when all the others had died? Her only comfort would be that it was over quickly.

Meanwhile, towards the back of a village the battle of epic proportions played out. The dwarf, Wilfred Hoover fought back against the Plaguebearer that beset him, however it was reaching its climax. The creature was reaching forwards, forcing its body along the fence post that he was using to hold it at bay, however the Dwarf was made of sterner stuff than its mind could have believed, considering the weak wills of the villagers. With a shout of defiance, he raised his axe and cut its arm, the diseased limb falling to the ground. He released the makeshift stake and took his axe in both hands and beheaded it. It fell to the floor, its (un)life now ended. He panted, feeling sweat running down his body. He was hot, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins made him feel alive in this time of death. He turned and continued to flee Pontarsfork, praying that they hadn't got to Boenn too.

The Elf saw the dwarf coming from a short distance away and raised his hand in greeting. He saw Wilfred return the gesture as he ran towards the only other survivor in Pontarsfork. Boenn nocked an arrow and kept a careful eye out, ready to shoot if the plucky dwarf was pursued. ​

 

"It's nothing, we got plenty of room here, why not put it to use." The old witcher said to Vyle. He had told everyone that they were welcome to stay around and had been crystal clear about. Teliana and the vampire were missing, but that hardly mattered the Kaer was a large place and they were probably somewhere more private. Tatiana was with them as was Kruez. "Tatiana, Kruez, Veera and I need to talk privately, you two look tired, there are rooms down the hall, get some rest. Kruez I know you couldn't take me up on the offer but it still stands I can educate you in Alchemy." The older witcher said.

When they had left the room the Crow closed the door behind them and turned to Veera. "I don't know everything that has happened in Oxenfurt, but it was a right mess that's for sure... I know you can't remember, when I saw you in Oxenfurt and pulled you close, I already knew something had happened to you...." The Old crow said, she had been angry when she had left the Kaer and seemed so... lost... when he found her again. "I can't verify everything what Derrick said, but I guess that's all we got with Aaron gone..." Sadness crept into his voice. "And what is this idea you had?"

"I welcome you, Duskstrider." The witch hunter said "By all means I have a use for someone with your particular set of skills, but we may discuss this little job later. For now let's get this little birdie to sing." Milosh grinned, she had shouted out when he killed Bramwell. "Your mate got away easy, if you sing for me, you'll get out easily as well." Milosh said as he approached the mage who was now on her knees, he kept his sword in his hand. "I promise, you that. Just sing for me and I'll end it quickly and painlessly." The witch hunter said as he leveled his face with hers​

 

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Veera settled for resting her cheek on the cool surface of the table, the contrast in temperature with her skin helping to calm the raging headache. "Derrick said that I....well he wasn't sure, but something happened with Aaron and I after we arrived in Oxenfurt, and it had to do with that mage, Solomon. He thinks that Aaron and I.." Started a war? Murdered innocents? Got Aaron killed? If she could have wept, she would have. Instead she forced her yellow eyes to remain on the flickering flames. "He thinks that Aaron and I killed a lot of people, civilians. Solomon helped, or reanimated them, not sure. Afterwards, I followed Derrick to retrieve the mage, Teliana, from the witch hunters."

"At some point, he let one of the companions go. I wanted to kill the doppler, I couldn't guess why...." She exhaled, trying to release the pressure between her temples as she lifted her head, massaging it with her fingers. "Derrick wouldn't let me, and we fought. I tried to kill him." Disbelief colored her voice, but also shame. Derrick wouldn't lie, he hadn't lied, as much as she wished it weren't true.

"He bested me, and knocked me out. And..." the pain was nearly excrutiating, and she stopped talking, all her attention drawn to the migraine that now pounded through her skull. "I hope he's alright." she whispered. "But my idea...well..." She looked up briefly, the fire's reflection in her eyes. "Tatiana should join our ranks."

​

Treasa shook her head. "At least bandits don't know how to torture. They have to take their best guess." she muttered, guiding her horse, well Derrick's horse, with her knees. She blinked, her eyes widening as he readily agreed to exchange Hawke for his own after they made camp. Is this a trap somehow? Are you hoping to get in my good graces? She began to tense up, anxiety and anger whirling in her stomach until she forcibly clamped down on them.

Just give him a chance. You upset him before. Don't push away the only person who's willing to protect you. Because no matter how much Alastar assured her they were all dead, no matter how many times she had counted their bodies, she still remained unsure all of them were dead.
"I could think of much better company." She gentled the tone of her voice, her lips twitching. "But I could also think of much worse. You haven't been traumatized until you've seen Alastar bathing in the river."

And the NPC band
​

Group Alpha was in the fight of their life, cutting through drowners as they tried to cross the river to safety. The hedgemage tried to keep up, but a slap from one necrophage's hand smacked across his face, leaving a trail of blood to fly through the air, as he went down to one knee. The scout backed up, trying to defend the single magical person in their group as the rogue darted on the edge of battle, backstabbing and cutting her way through the fringe. Desperate, the scout rolled through the river bed to escape one attack, leaving the mage completely open. His hands closed on something other then dirt as he scrabbled to his feet, and he pulled the iron dagger from the stony bottom, throwing it to hit the attacking drowner in the back of the skull.

Group Beta had spotted Group Alpha by this point, and rushed forward to join their comrades in battle. The drowners increased in number, keeping the odds from turning in favor of the humans as the apprentice threw an acid bomb, splattering several of the necrophages before the scout joined her comrade at his side, just as a croaking filled the air, and she dropped to one knee, her face covered with burning mud as a Water Hag appeared.

Group Charlie had run into a small group of ghouls and alghouls, and were dispatching them with the ease of many days of practice. Why had they bothered with this small group when it could have been easier to run away? Well, the small child strapped to the back of one of the warriors was answer enough. Somehow she had been missed by the marauding bands of murderers and looters, and the stench must have covered her scent from being discovered by necrophages as her parents lay their dying bodies over her to protect her. At least, they assumed the two women were her relatives. They hadn't gotten the chance to ask, several hours too late by the looks of it.

Group Delta was resting in between disposing the bodies of the necrophages. They hadn't lost anyone in the battle, though it had been hard won. As a collective, they would give Group Charlie the benefit of doubt and wait thirty minutes more, but no longer. If the members of the third group yet remained, (and it was hard to believe they hadn't when they were the most experienced group) they would have to find their own way back to the campsite. Group Delta needed healing, water, and rest. They dared take none of that here.

 

Alastar wandered the fallen city. He saw strange plants grow here and there, stuff he hadn't seen before and an eery mist started to flow through the streets from the townsquare envelloping the city quickly. The witcher approached the group of dopplers at the waterfront, the necrophages all pulled back, staying at a distance, as Tobias worked behind the curtains to give the Dopplers a break to talk and take their leave, the necrophages parted to let him pass. He looked at the small assortment of people he had run into and sighed 'let's get this over with..' He thought. "Greetings... people...." He opened up "I have been sent here with a message and an offer...." The witcher said, he saw the little girl and he tore up inside. It was a bloody miracle she had lived through all this. She'll grow up just to be like Treasa, except... without her family there.... not that he was with her right now, atleast not physicly. He really didn't want anything else than get back to her right now. And he realised he had been staring. "I'm sorry... like yourself, I have had a long day...the new ruler of this place has sent me to discuss matters with you on his behalf..." his tone had softened up. The crow that followed him sat down on the roof of one of the buildings observing the group of people.


Veceslav listened to what Veera was telling him. "I see..." was all he said when she was done. Derrick and her had fought. He had knocked her out, which resulted in the amnesia. "You were angry when you left the Kaer... a doppler had tortured the girl, Tatiana in front of you.... you asked us to join, when I refused your rage only burned brighter.... I let you rage as I have before, figuring the anger would cool, but it didn't, the rage consumed you and left with Aaron, intent on killing all dopplers.... I came after you to stop you, but I was too late....." The old Crow said, he knew what it meant. What she had done... it couldn't be permitted to have happened, the code was clear on that matter. But she didn't remember, no he had to set aside his personal feelings and enforce the laws. The crow was torn between duty and feelings. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it be Olivia? Anger and sadness played across his face. Then she mentioned Tatiana becoming a witcher. "Why is that? She has no training in weaponry, not the best chances of survival if we go ahead with it... I don't really see the why's of your plan, but if she wants to I'll inform her of the risks and we'll proceed, but really why?"​

 

Derrick heard her muttering, but decided tactically not to bring it up. It sounded like quite the serious issue, and he didn't want to try to drag up old memories yet. She probably wasn't ready to discuss that issue with him yet, as they were barely acquainted. Besides, based off what Alastar had said to him as well, he could come to a rough conclusion as to what happened to her on his own. It wasn't a good conclusion. He understood some of her grievances and suspicions now, and he could see why she might be inclined to dislike him in particular. He made a mental note to watch what he said around her. No reason to give her other reasons to hold a grudge against him, or to remind her of something that she probably wanted to forget. He wasn't going to offer her that particular service either. He had already given one person amnesia, even though it was by accident. He had no desire to erase other memories regardless of how much more precise he would be with the Axii Sign.
"Better company than me? Hah, don't be silly." He replied with a light, jovial tone. He changed his expression to one of mock horror at the mention of Alastar bathing. "I have no desire to see that. Poor girl, having to put up with such a sight! You'll have a break from it for now, although I imagine you'll be missing the bearded bugger by the end of this trip." He kept his tone easy and in light humour. He wanted to develop a pleasant atmosphere for them to travel in. It would facilitate a friendship, which would make the whole trip a lot more bearable. He couldn't imagine anything worse than travelling with someone that he despised. He was sure that it went both ways. Well, maybe she could imagine something worse.​

 

​

Archon narrowed his eyes. This wasn't going as he hoped, but then again, she was eight years old. "Very well" Archon stated levelly "Violet, watch over Annabelle while I'm gone" King Archon left to prepare more for the doppler culling, when suddenly he was struck with another telepathic lashing. Another connection severed. In a rush, he examined the ones who remained to uncover which was gone. "...Kyle"

Kyle kept on running, flame of spear ready to fling as his guards approached the criminals, when suddenly... he was hit. A searing pain struck his back and his head. The flame spear was extinguished, but his momentum carried him onwards. With shocked and delirious eyes, he looked at his targets, and decided right there and then what was important. Loyalty. Filled with determination, legs that were rapidly losing feeling carried him onwards as his vision faded. Blood spurted out of him rapidly, no normal human could have survived for this long. But Kyle was no normal human. Replacing the blood that he lost was a holy fire, a determined loyalty.

"Come on, I'm going to have to take you to the cells" the guard with Talon shoved the boy and they began to travel in that direction. But the guard suddenly turned and his jaw dropped as he saw what happened next.

The guards broke past the shield, and Kyle leaped. He could barely even see any more, but he could think. And he could channel his magic. His jump was less than graceful, and he landed, a limp body, directly in front of the doppler and the sorceror. But as dead as he looked, his eyes were still open and shone with determination, and his skin glowed. One purpose filled his mind. On thought. "For Archon..." he croaked. In a split second, without warning, it happened. Fire filled his eyes and mouth, literally. His skin suddenly ruptured, his clothes burned off, and blinding bright fire erupted from his body as he exploded into a raging inferno that would surely envelop anyone nearby.

Vyle was surprised by Teliana's sudden assertivity, but was glad. She was recovering slowly. He raised an eyebrow when she demanded that he fly them out, and was about to question it when he realised it really didn't matter. He snorted when she told him she trusted him "huh, I wouldn't trust me" he muttered, but nevertheless took on his batlike appearance. He didn't like being in this form in front of her, it made him look ugly, repulsive. Flying them over the walls, Vyle looked back every now and then in a paranoid way. Witchers had never been the most tolerant with vampires, would they hate him now he was in this form? He landed on the other side of the walls and set Ana down gently "Now why are we here?"

Willow nodded in acknowledgement, but the smile was slipping from her mouth. She'd heard from her employer about Milosh's dreadful methods of torture. Willow killed people, but at least she made it quick, she gave them a mostly peaceful death. In truth, her stomach churned slightly as she imagined what the lord of Crow's Perch would do with this mage. Nobody deserved such treatment, not even one of the King's racist mage clique. Willow backed away slightly, but kept a superficial smile. "I'm going to deal with the mage's friends outside, have fun with the little birdie" you horrible man. She hoped the mage would talk and end it quickly.
Outside, Willow found the cart driver who'd taken the mages into the castle, along with a few Redanian soldiers. Nobody more had to die here. She walked up to the cart driver "Your employers won't be coming back. Go. Leave if you value your lives, before Milosh decides you need to join his other victims"

Violet saluted Archon as he left, then turned back to Annabelle "Apologies for his grace's behaviour. He really wants you to grow up as a worthy heir, and is perhaps too pushy in that regard"

In the centre of Pontarsfork, there was a clearing, a square, and area once busy with people, now dead. The bodies of those who once bustled in this idyllic village lay down in the dirt, and one by one they rose again, shambling away into various buildings to kill all those who may have survived the initial onslaught. In the centre of the square lay an overturned cart, its produce spread across the ground and trampled into the dirt. Atop that cart, sat a lonely figure. A ruin of a man. Cloaked and covered with what had now become nothing more than rags, yet retained an unnatural blackness that seemed unable to fade. The mage held a pointy hat, pitted and charred, in his hands. The hands were covered with gloves that were barely holding together and revealed areas of pale, sickly flesh. Though the man's face was concealed with a mask and a scarf, both of which were in a similar state to the rest of the man's clothes, a look of sadness could be seen in those cold blue eyes.
"Why did she have to say that?" he muttered under his breath "Why did she have to be so cruel, so sadistic, to say that?" the mage shook his head slowly. Around the village, his undead continued to slaughter left and right around the village, he absent-mindedly commanded them, but their angry souls did most of the work. They didn't know what they were doing. Despite what some may think, the slaughter did not bring the mage joy. Perhaps one day it would, but for now he continued in hope. When was the last time he'd felt joy? When was the last time he'd laughed and actually meant it? It must have been... before... before he died.
They sat together on the hill watching the sunrise. The green-eyed man was in the mage's arms. That was the main feature he remembered of the man, those all-encompassing green eyes, eyes that understood and accepted. nobody else was around for miles. They could have absolute privacy here.
"How long do you think we'll be together?" he had asked, gazing at the rising sun.
"Forever, darling" The mage breathed, as he began to feel the sun's warmth on his face "If you die before me, I'll go up to heaven and fight the angels themselves to bring you back" The green-eyed man turned his face to glance at the man with a quizzical expression
"Why not join me in heaven?" he asked. The mage simply stared at the sun for a moment longer
"Because... I don't think they'd let me in" he stated with sadness. The green-eyed man looked at him sympathetically. Then their lips met. Forever, he'd said. A lie. The green-eyed man was a human, he'd never live as long as the mage.
The mage shook his head of the memory. He had no time for nostalgia. He reached into his rags and took out the locket, the one thing he made sure to keep safe no matter what. The locket seemed to be forcing itself open against the lock that held it shut, it was beating, pulsating. It was hungry. The mage released the latch and the locket flew open, sending dark tendrils of magic flying up towards the sky. The clouds turned dark, and dark ropes erupted from the piece of jewellery, latching onto any and all bodies it could find as their souls were dragged back into it. One by one, the locket consumed the souls of the village people and leashed them to Solomon's command. But the mage was fixated on something else, something only he could hear. The cries and screams of the souls already in the locket. Wailing of women and children, terrified shrieks of men, nobody was brave when they were dead. Nevertheless, the mage kept it open. The world was his playground, he didn't care for the cries of the dead. It would all be worth it in the end
"Forever. I promised it" Solomon whispered. The locket shut of its own accord and the dark magic disappeared.

As Milosh levelled his face with the mage's, she scowled at him and spat in his face. "I'll never talk. Especially not to you"

 

​

Teliana frowned at Vyle, but didn't comment as he gently picked her up and took them both over the wall. She couldn't resist stroking the gentle velvety-ness of his wings before they vanished. She glanced up at him, frowning once more before grabbing his hand. "Come on, Vyle. You're smarter then this." she teased him gently, walking on the dry grass. Part of her stopped thinking about where they were going, and focused on the deadened landscape. She wanted spring to come so badly; it was the time of rebirth, of life, and growing beauty. A prelude to her favorite season.

She stopped at the edge of a valley, several larger forms moving below. From here, they looked like a herd animal of some sort. Turning, Teliana offered a hesitant smile. "You found me, in one tiny forest. Then again, in the doppler camp. You shouldn't have to work so hard to enjoy my company." She stepped up, pressing her lips to his cheek quickly before turning. "Go, do what you have to do. I know they aren't people, but the only people here are our allies and well...me." She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, then unwound it. "At least, until I can travel a little better, this'll help, right? I just want to help. And since bad things happen when we're apart..." She shrugged, suddenly nervous. What if she had been too presumptuous?

​

Veera watched the range of emotions that played across Veceslav's face, her stomach sinking slightly. His reasoning for her actions didn't even make sense, not to her. A single doppler, torturing someone? How had that driven her to commit genocide? Whatever the reason, it wouldn't be alright, as Derrick and Alastar had said. Neither of them were here, and Veceslav's word, whatever it was, would be final.

The gods were cruel to her indeed. "Tatiana isn't strong, or quick, but she is brave. She's traveled with strangers, refusing to give up to find Aaron and be reunited. From what you've said, she's been through many things, and is still nearly wholly sound in her mind. She will want revenge for her brother, and by providing her with the gift of witcher strength, she'll be able to sate her desire. We need to replenish our numbers, Veceslav." The last part came out as a whisper. It was her fault they were short one person. "Perhaps you'll be able to do better by her then I." she murmured to him.

​

Treasa glanced at Derrick, cautiously optimistic about his good mood. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad journey after all. "Is it sad that I already miss him?" She sighed. "We've been together for so long, sometimes I forget there was a time when I didn't follow him around." She was quiet for a short bit, fiddling with the reins of the horse. "Is it so terribly lonely, being a witcher? He tells me that before I came along, he almost never traveled with other people. It seems like it would be.." She hesitated, afraid to use the wrong words and break the tenuous bond she and Derrick seemed to be building. "It seems like it would be isolating." She finished.

"I always thought that I would be able to convince Alastar to let me take the Trials, and become one of you. Then we could travel together, and he wouldn't have to worry that a drowner bite would give me a fever." It had happened more then once, and she wasn't keen to repeat the experience. She glanced down at the necrophage wound on her leg, and sent up a silent prayer to the gods that it would remain clean of bacteria. "Perhaps that's why he won't let me." She finished. "Because then we would have to travel alone."

And the Mancy Pants NPC Club Band
​

Group Charlie watched the witcher with suspicion. "You were at the camp." The warrior holding the girl spoke, shifting her grip so she could shield the girl from an attack, if necessary. "Why are you wallowing in the dirt with these...monsters?" Her eyes were wary as they moved around the street, taking in the sight of the necrophages before turning back to Alastar. "I thought witchers were monster hunters. Yet here you are, on their side?" She felt a small face press into her shoulder, but her heart would not, could not soften. If she wanted this little soul to live, she had to remain on guard. The others in her group closed around her, their ears metaphorically perked as they waited for Alastar's response.

​

"Good thing I wasn't asking permission, then." Tessa responded to Seth, her eyes lighting up as his fingers brushed against her cheek. "I won't do anything stupid if you won't." She laughed gently, feeling lighter then she had, even previously curled up in his arms. "Because I'm not going anywhere." She knew the futility of the sentence even as she said it, but it still felt good to have that sort of conviction curling around her heart, promising to never leave this man that touched her as though she was made of glass.

"And neither are you." She whispered, her fingers reaching up to caress his cheek as he kissed her. Somehow, her arms found their way around his neck, and despite her naivety and inexperience, Tessa decided to just go with it, for once. She had nearly died, stabbed to half death by someone she had loved. How many more chances would she get at happiness before the gods decided to rip it away from her again? She didn't want to have regrets, caused by fear. She wanted happy memories she could think of when she passed from this world to the next, and she wanted those happy moments with Seth.

​

 

"Yes, I'm the one from the camp.... sorry about that..." Alastar said, damn it of course there had to be someone from back there to recognise him. "There are dozens of them in thise city, I got here by accident... portal ****ed up and landed me in the middle of this mess...." The witcher said "As you can see I am missing something too." He directed specificly at the person who had recognised him from the camp, of course refering to Treasa and sure these people lost a helluva lot more than he did, but to him it meant just as much, no more. He never had a home since he had become a witcher, he had family as an exception among witchers and he had just lost it.

"Under normal circumstances, yes I would slaughter every last one of them, but the circumstances are hardly normal and their numbers are too great. On top of that, I must find my last living relative and make sure she is safe. I'm the last person she's got..." Alastar said "Look around you, there is no way, you or me or even us together can kill them all.... They don't attack you or me, because their Lord... Tobias... is holding them back, but as soon as a single drop of their blood is shed.... we will be massacred..." Alastar explained, knowing full well that he might sound delusional and deranged. He had no proof of his claims except the necrophages not attacking them and prayed for the benefit of doubt. "Their lord for lack of better term.... he only spared my life to send me to you with this offer of his... I had no choice but to accept, can you not see this?" He was desperate to make them understand the predicament he was in, damn it he should have never gone through that portal... had Treasa been here then.... no had she been here they wouldn't have been here in the first place.


He had to make a decision, not just on the Tatiana matter, but also on the matter of Veera, her actions had started an all-out war, but she couldn't remember a thing...That was the one thing he needed to be able to convince others of his decision. He couldn't kill her, not even if the King himself ordered it, then again the King held no jurisdiction over him. He couldn't kill his own daughter, she may not be his biological daughter, nor might he be her father. But raising and training her from a young age, see her grow. He was the closest thing she had to a father. "I won't execute you, Veera, I can't set myself to do that, while the punishment will be severe and death is not just a possibility, I will not bloody my hands with your blood." The Crow said, yes he had found the punishment.

"As for Tatiana, I'll have to make preparations, enlist the aide of an old friend. She'll require a lot of training... the odds aren't in her favour.... she lacks all the training we were given and have given in return... If she dies it'll be worse than the swallow potion she took....But if she wants to risk it then so be it." The Old crow said, staring at the flames. "And Veera, our numbers have been low for nearly as long as I can remember... the siege of the Kaer... that really did us in... we never recovered... the world is changing, and in this new world I fear there is no place for us witchers..."

Milosh wasn't amused with the answer he got. "Wrong answer, little birdie" Milosh said as he walked over to the wall and took a torch from it's resting place mounted on the wall. "Last chance, little birdie. Sing for me and I promise it'll be quick."​

 

The Dwarf and the Elf regrouped at the edge of the forest. There was no other pursuit. The bloody work had been done and now it was over. The sound of screams no longer echoed in the village - There was no one left to scream.
"Yer lucky Boenn, ye weren't en the village. Ah doon't think Ah'll forgat that fer the rest of my life." Panted the dwarf with an expression of relief on his face, but the horror reflected still in his eyes. "The world is full of monsters my friend, but that... Ah've never seen anything like it... An' Ah hope Ah never will again... They ate them Boenn... They f*cking bit and tore and the ones that didnae get eaten got up again with those blue eyes..." The Elf looked down at Wilfred sadly. He got down on a knee and put his hand on his shoulder.
"I understand that you're terrified, and rightfully so." He said sagely. "But now we must go. Come, we will go to my cabin. We will gather some supplies, and we will leave this place. It's a distance away from the village, but it isn't safe. We'll walk to Novigrad, You can set up a smithy again, and you'll rebuild." With an arm around the Dwarf's shoulder, he led him back to the hunting cabin that he stayed in. Outside was a wooden hand drawn cart that he carried his goods in. Boenn opened the door and sat Wilfred down. He handed the dwarf a piece of bread, which Wilfred began to chew quietly. In the meantime, the Elf moved to and fro, picking up meats, cheeses and bread and placing them in sacks which he took to the cart. He put herbs into small pouches which he placed on his belt and put his skins on to the cart as well. Finally, he covered it up with a large sheet of cloth. He waited for Wilfred to finish. They'd move out soon after.




The plan had worked seemingly perfectly, but the mage wasn't stopping. An expression of shock crossed his face as the fire mage attempted one last charge, his skin a glow and his eyes (metaphorically) on fire.
"Alanna!" Adolin barked. He stepped in front of the sorceress and pulled her close, trying to run for an alleyway. They didn't get far. The world was bathed in an orange glow and he felt the fires of hell on his back and that was all he knew.
She saw that the guards had penetrated the shield as she retreated in a panic. She had to reduce the shield boundaries and stop them from entering. If they did it was over. She shrunk the boundary, but Kyle made his move. She saw what was coming and as Adolin swooped in, she reduced it to a small dome around them. It wasn't quite enough though. The blast threw them back, breaking the shield and she could feel the heat near her. She regained her senses momentarily, seeing that she had been thrown into the alleyway a short distance and Adolin just outside. She groaned, getting to her feet and saw Adolin, lying face down on the road with a bloodied face and a scorched back. Much of the thick leather had been scorched off and she could see raw red skin. She was tired, but she could still cast spells. She used her telekinesis to drag Adolin into the alleyway and propped him up against the wall.
"Adolin, wake up!" She hissed, slapping his face to bring him round. She looked outside. She had no idea how much time they had. "Adolin, we don't have much time, get up you idiot!" He groaned and put his hand up to his face.
"Alanna...? Where are we?" He mumbled.
"In an alleyway, now pick up your arse and let's go!" She stood up and started to tug his arm. He started to get to his feet shakily. She put his arm over her shoulder for support and put her arm around his lower back. She started to lead them down the alley. Hopefully the soldiers didn't come too soon so that they could get away.




"It's not my place to say. I suppose it's nice in a way. You have someone that you care about that much, and cares about you likewise from what I can tell." Derrick replied. He considered what she was saying, and thought to himself for a while on the subject before replying. "For the most part... Yes. Although, you can't speak in absolutes. What's true for me may not be true for another. But in my experience, I've been primarily alone except with other Witchers. It's the eyes and the mutations. Nobody wants to be seen with us. We're strange, we're cold hearted, emotionless killers with inhuman bodies and capabilities. Sadly, most people tend to discriminate. Some Witchers don't acknowledge themselves as human, they call people "humans" because they feel that they're not part of the species anymore. I still think of myself as human though. There's no reason to distance myself any further from people. Yes, isolating is a good word. That's why I... Well you know what I do. It helps stave it off, you know?" It was odd, to acknowledge that part of it. He had always told himself that it wasn't because he was lonely, but it was true. He was. And like everything else, he tried to run away from admitting that.
"The trials are a risk. I doubt it's because he fears to be alone." He said. "Did you know that only three in ten survive the process? As one particular student from Oxenfurt told me, that's a seventy percent chance to die. The odds are against us. That means that seven families lose a child pointlessly. And that's only an average. And if we survive, then we don't have families, we don't get married and we die alone in a cave, on a mountain top... Choose your place. We'll die anywhere but in our own beds, happy with our legacy and with our life. The story of a Witcher never has a happy ending. Do you know the legend of the White Wolf? It has many different endings, but of the three distinctive endings there's one in particular - His death, alone and surrounded by the monsters that he hunted his whole life, wishing that he had done more, wishing that he had not lost all that he had lost. It's a tragic end, to bring tears to the eyes of all the little rich ladies who read the tales, or harden the hearts of tough men so that they don't cry like the women. But it's the truest ending. We'll always die alone to a monster that we're paid paltry sums to kill, if we even live to get the chance. That Treasa, is why he doesn't want you to take the Trial of the Grasses. So you don't die a pointless death, or live to live a pointless life." ​

 

​

"There will always be monsters, and there will always be a need for monster slayers." Veera disagreed with a sigh. She didn't stop to ponder Veceslav's earlier statement; he would make his decision and she would have to simply carry it out, whatever the case. "The monsters may change shape and size, and they may carry different faces, but they will always exist." She stared into the flames.

"So what are you going to do with me, then?" The question hung between them, intensifying the tension in the air. She raised her eyes back to the only man she could ever call father, one eyebrow raised. "You know as well I do that what happened," whatever it was, "cannot go unpunished."

​

Treasa kept quiet as she listened to Derrick's explanation, looking at him occasionally to try and gauge how much of what he said was honest. It surprised her to find that she believed everything he had said, although it would take a lot of begging to get her to admit such a thing. It also gave her a point of view she had not previously considered, and it left her a little...sad?

"Do you honestly believe your life is pointless?" She asked softly, her fingers lowering to tangle in the horse's man as she thought about what the witcher said. "You save people from terrible fates, and sometimes leave them for the better. You keep us all from being overwhelmed with the despair. It's not...." she pursed her lips as she searched for the words. "It's a sacrifice. You choose to walk in the dark so that some of us can feel the light. It's....noble." And since when did I become so soft? She had, without knowing let her walls down while Derrick spoke, and revealed innermost thoughts. Not even Alastar knew why she so desperately wanted to become a witcher. The strength, the speed, the immunity, yes all well and good.

But why force a child to step into the dark, when her soul had already been tainted by it? "Perhaps you won't die alone." She rubbed the horse's neck gently. "Perhaps one day we'll all find peace." And perhaps the gods will come down and make the rivers run with wine.

 

"To be fair, my life is no more pointless now than it was when I was younger, back home with my sh*tty parents where I was just an accident. They were happy to get rid of me. I suppose that my life is better now. There are people who actually want me around. But they'll die the same as me. I can't rely on Veceslav, or Veera, or Olivia to live to be by my side. Aaron, the youngest of us already has died." He stopped himself. He was starting to go on again, and she didn't ask to hear his life story or personal woes. But something felt good about it, voicing all of this. It was something that they all seemed to try to avoid talking about until they couldn't run away from it anymore. All the Witchers tried to run away from the future, from that depressing fate. There was a comfort in facing it as honestly as he could. He listened to what she was saying about them. About Witchers. The good things. He nodded in agreement. "You're right about that. We do act to save people. It's the one thing that we can do. It doesn't stop people hating us. The times of the noble, heroic Witcher are gone though. There are some in the world who consider us archaic. Remnants of another time. And that sacrifice you mentioned... Is it always a choice that we get to make? I'd love to say that this was the path I chose for some high altruistic reason, but it's not. I was given to a passing Witcher because there was nothing better to do with me. And nobody wants to risk death and a life devoid of joy just to help other people... Apart from perhaps you. And I respect your wish." But what else do you have to lose, Treasa? It sounds like you've already lost it all. Those are the other types that choose to become Witchers. He looked wistfully into the distance, happy to believe that she was doing it for the noble reasons she described.
"I hope you're right though." He said, his voice quieter and softer. "I hope that I live to see a day that I'm not needed any more. I'd love to put these swords down one day and live another life as best I can." He decided to omit the "With someone to love" that was always added to the end of that. For all of his cynical commentary on the legend of the White Wolf, he preferred the other endings. Ones of hope and peace. An ending that he would like to live. ​

 

Veceslav listened to her reasoning. "Yes monsters will always be present, but in the eyes of the common folk, we are among them... taking children to train as Witchers so they may protect them, they do not understand that for safety sacrifices must be made. There are knightly orders who do our work as well, a drowner is hardly a match for a human. It's only when things get a lot more tricky like with fiends that the call will only be answered by witchers or a bunch of foolish mercenaries..." The crow said "Our numbers are slowly dwindling, maybe one day we will restore the former glory of the Kaer and there will be dozens of new trainees."

He tore his eyes away from the fire and looked at Veera "I know it can't go unpunished, I don't have the full picture either, but there will be punishment. It is the severest punishment I can hand out, without putting you to the sword, dear Veera... it's the penintent quest... that mage we saw in Oxenfurt, we cannot allow him to exist. Bring me his head. And you may return to us... I know that the odds don't look too great for you, but such are the decrees of the code. Until you bring me the head of that mage, you and I are enemies... this is the punishment for your actions." He said his tone firm and his face as unmoving as a mask, but she knew him well enough that inside he hated it. "You are still granted time to recover from your injuries and prepare for this quest, but when you leave those gates and we meet again, I will be forced to fight you." It had been done, he had executed his duty and was still fighting his personal feelings on the matter. "Before you leave for this quest, I'd request you come to see me..." The crow said, after all it might be the last time he'd see her...

Within the City of Oxenfurt, the strange mists spilled through the streets, necrophages just minded their own business fighting over scraps, the young witcher, Olivia still hadn't said a thing to him and Tobias was starting to get a little bit impatient. He had sent out some of his crows, some trailing the Dopplers and observing the bear like witcher. Others flocking out of the city to keep watch over the surrounding area, one of them found something rather curious indeed. A witcher and a girl riding horses away from the city. The crow flew after them, keeping an eye on them. The Lord of Oxenfurt looked at Olivia in front of him and asked "Go ahead, don't be afraid, is there something you'd like to know, girl?"​

 

​

Ellyn smiled and nodded at Matilda. "Very well then, we'll leave now. Ardal, perhaps you could some horses for the three of you. Oak prefers not having to carry two people at a time."
She stood up and turned to leave the tent. "There's plenty of light still, but it would be best to use it as efficiently as possible," she told them over her shoulder as she left the tent. "I'll be waiting outside." She made her way over to Oak and stroked his neck, the large beast pleased to see her but also keeping a close eye on any soldiers that passed, stamping a foot if he decided they came way too near. Ellyn pulled herself up into the saddle, and waited.

​

Evander, lost in the blackness of an unnatural sleep, was suddenly torn from it by a whirlwind of pain. It hit his legs first, and traveled up his body in a flash, each inch of skin lost to the fire feeling like an eternity of pain. He screamed. He pulled himself forward with his arms, pushed with his legs. He didn't know if he was heading to or from the source of the inferno. He didn't even know who he was anymore; all he knew was the fire was pain, and he must escape it. His legs stopped moving, although he didn't know how he could possible sense that through all this agony. The flames reached his face, somehow inflicting more pain than he was already experiencing. His screams became louder and shriller, somehow more desperate.
God, the pain.

Metal clad guards looked down at the charred body. Their mage leader had just exploded in a ball of fire, some of their comrades were in pursuit of the doppler and his companion sorceress (I don't remember reading that, but I'm going to assume there's at least some attempt of the sort), and yet others were dealing with what may or may not be a nobleman.
The remaining four had the relatively safer, if much more disgusting job, of seeing if they could help the burned up drunk. They'd managed to put out the flames, and yet they couldn't see how the man could be alive. The legs were almost gone, gleaming white bone shining through all along their length, pieces of charred flesh sloughing off constantly. The left arm was a stump. The face, they made sure not to look at after the first time. They'd all thrown up at least once at this point.
And yet, there was a heartbeat in what remained of the body. A ragged breath came irregularly, barely perceptible. The guards were sure that their charge would die, and yet they went on with giving him what help they could. They were good soldiers.

The blackened body was hauled onto the table of a nearby surgeon's, and left alone in the care of that man of medicine. The doctor too had little hope, and yet went on with his administrations.
A mortal man would have died. A saner man would have given up life. Evander was neither of those things, and survived the treatment. A miracle, the surgeon said. Perhaps it was.



Lol no, it's plot armor bitches!