AN: Nothing really to say, apart from the fact that this story has quite a few OC's in the beginning. Short chapters, but they aren't really chapters per say, and more somewhat interconnected short stories in chronological order.

Ursine Endeavours

Forest I

Brenn had immediately noticed the witcher, when he walked up to his guardsmen, asking about the devil that had been attacking all of his contacts.

"Guards!" He barked. "Let the man through. He is a witcher, do you not see?"

"Oh er... Sorry sir... Dinnae know they looked like that." The guard with brown hair said, dumbly. Brenn didn't care for his name, anyhow. "Come through, mutant."

The witcher rolled his eyes, his armour and swords clinking somewhat as he walked towards him. The witcher could have been called handsome, with light auburn hair, and a somewhat handsome face on top of a pale, thin but strong body.

But, alas, he was a witcher, and thus was inferior. That was all there was to it.

Sending away his guards, he introduced himself with a smirk. "I am Brenn Talquor, as you may know. What is your name, witcher?"

"I'm Telvir. I wanna know about this 'vampire' problem that you've been having." The witcher replied, his cat eyes glistening in the torch light, his voice shining doubt on the fact that it had been vampires that had attacked.

"You doubt that it was vampires? Have you investigated the site?" Brenn demanded, loudly.

"I have, actually. The bodies weren't attacked by any vampires, their injuries do not match what I know of those types of attacks, or the types of vampires that I have fought and seen their bodies before." The mutant retorted, before leaning towards him, his voice calm, but ultimately, threatening. "Now, tell me... How were they really attacked? Before I leave, refusing the contract, leaving you to your problems?"

"You don't have enough coin, Telvir." The ealdorman said, smugly, trying to hide his fear, confident in the known fact that witchers generally lived in poverty unless they got lucky like the famed Geralt of Rivia had.

"You'd be surprised by how much coin you can gather, if you're clever enough." The witcher replied, unmoving, before his hand moved suddenly, and his mind went completely blank. "Like, really."

The ealdorman would only remember that he had given the witcher all of his information on the attacks, and that the witcher had been an extremely nice man.

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Telvir let out a groan of frustration at the contract that he had received. The member of the Bear school had found that the leshen (which had actually been the culprit instead of vampires) had been attacking the town on and off for as long as they could remember, and since the town had quite a wide variety of history that spanned multiple eras...

Arriving at the edge of the forest, he dismounted his horse and started searching his satchel for the decoctions that he needed, his ehkidna decoction for example, spitting as soon as he had finished, in an attempt to rid his mouth of the vile taste. Grabbing another decoction, the ancient leshen one this time, he decided that the noonwraith decoction would replace his Cat potion on his belt, in case this leshen would be even more powerful then he thought.

He also took the time to delicately put his relict oil onto his silver blade, so that he could hurt the leshen even more, damage it, even more.

Telvir tentatively cast Quen, slowly grabbed his steel sword from the sheath on his back, and then rushed forward, concentrating his witcher senses into following the crows - the most certified way of finding the fucking totems, and get a chance on fighting back.

Suddenly, he heard, no, felt something move, a force shattering his Quen shield, throwing him to the ground, with the impact so strong that it had knocked the wind out of him.

He quickly got back up, noticing a wooden structure that looked similar to the what he remembered of the last time that he had fought a leshen. Sprinting as fast as he could towards the totem, he saw a root strike him in the side, the impact breaking his ribcage...

Aard formed from his fingers, the powerful impact of air destroying the totem, and he landed in roll, gasping for air, as he clutched his ribs. Hurriedly grasping a white vial from his toolbelt, he drank, felt his bones repair immediately, not even feeling the leshen's strike that sent him crashing face first in the dirt.

A wolf bit upon his left arm however, the fangs managing to get past his leather, steel armor and his skin, but stopping right before the bones. He stabbed his steel sword into the wolf's neck, hurriedly ripping his arm from the still clinging fangs, feeling his flesh torn apart by the dead wolf, as he threw himself to the ground.

The crows sailed over him, Telvir taking the opportunity to drink a red vial, as rain started pouring from the sky, splashing against his armor and hair.

Feeling his wounds repair much faster then usual, he ran towards the cawing of crows, jumping, rolling and sidestepping every attack the damned leshen tried to throw at him, feeling invigorated by his pride.

He was a witcher of the Bear school for crying out loud! He would not die now!

Managing to impact the totem with his steel sword, he managed to roll backwards, avoiding a branch that had threatened to take his head off his body.

Suddenly, the air became much less humid, the forest silenced, the wolves merely snarling from the sidelines.

A creature then appeared out of nowhere, sporting a deer skull for a head, and wooden appendages, Telvir immediately noticing the fact that there were stripes of dried blood that marked it as an incredibly powerful, but more importantly, old leshen. At least, that was his hypothesis on those unusual stripes.

It shrieked, the sound disorientating him, and he grasped his ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

A pack of crows rushed at him, trying to tear at his flesh through his Quen shield that they were getting through fast, he realized, as he threw himself into a roll that let him out of the crows path before they tore him apart completely.

Telvir sprinted towards the leshen, Igni forming on his fingers as the burst of flames struck the leshen, before he was thrown off his feet again, probably in an act of rage from the leshen, striking the ground multiple times, each time bringing him closer to bone breakage, before he unleashed his silver sword against the offending branch, falling into a roll.

He gripped his sword with two hands, before his instincts flared, as he sidestepped to the side, avoiding a blow from the leshen with it's wooden appendages-

That were in forms of clubs!?

He ignored that until later, concentrating on the fight for his life at hand as he struck with all his might, even letting out a mighty grunt of exertion, his blade oil letting him strike cleanly into the wood of the creature.

Telvir grinned, and then widened his eyes as the wood enclosed around his sword. He pulled with all of his might, but the sword remained stuck.

"No... NO!" He yelled in frustration, as he felt the woods cackle at him. Of course, he hadn't destroyed all of the totems!

Gritting his teeth, he ran.

Shame welling up inside of him at his failure.

"And thus, the Bear fled from the so-called 'protector' of the forest, the monster being even more powerful then he could handle without even more preparation, if he could beat it at all. For, my dear readers, a good witcher must always prepare amply."