Chapter One: Of Hags, Succubi and Surprises.
Silt, mud and stinking stagnant water seeped slowly into the witcher's boots chilling both Lambert and Eskel to the bone. It had taken some convincing but Lambert begrudgingly asked his witcher brother for aid, antsy in his need to be over with this hunt. Nobody had as much experience with succubi as Eskel and apparently they would face an army of them.
"Lambert, succubi aren't known to hunt in packs let alone share what they catch."
"What? you've never been tossed around like a piece of meat between some horny goat women? A guy like you, there'd be plenty to share."
"Trust me, one's too much. Can't imagine what this poor town's going through."
"Oh I can only dream! Now, now Eskel, don't get too excited. You can't take 'em all on at once so pants on for this mission!"
"Go to hell."
"Keep your eyes on the prize, there's the merchant's wagon."
Befuddled and charmed, the middle-aged wrinkled and gaunt merchant laid naked draped over sacks of grain and goods. Babbling nonsensically between breathy gasps, Lambert watched with crossed arms as the merchant's fingers twitched rhythmically, suggesting nerve damage.
"Oh good Sirs, the succubi only attack at night I'm afraid, you'll need to wait until sundown for such delicious rewards. S-s-such earthly pleasures hnnghnhng!"
Lambert knew he'd most likely had left if the man's wagon had been fixed but as it was, a wheel had broken. He also most likely didn't have the willpower to break out of his ecstasy laden stupor. Judging from the condition of the man, he'd been ravaged many times over in as many nights. Bruises covered the victim in places he wished he had never seen! His flaccid cock wept green at the tip, the shaft riddled with deep pustules and necrotic swelling. He had a difficult time imagining a succubi would even approach such an infection, let alone sleeping with him consecutively over many nights. He looked to Eskel for advice but he remained firm and silent as usual, so instead filled the silence with a witty quip, or so he thought.
"Not even a Necromancer could raise that from the dead, you better get that checked out. I-"
Eskel's voice interrupted the heady silence of the cool late autumn afternoon, this was to be their last contract before heading back to Kaedwen for the Winter.
"This doesn't look like succubi, they groom their victims and treat them well. No, this looks almost like corpse rot. Lambert, use Necrophage oil for this hunt."
The sun lazily drooped behind the canopy of ancient oaks and tangled undergrowth. It was clear this path was less travelled and therefore dangerous. In the meantime, they prepared by maintaining their swords, meditating, and forming a strategy. Though they weren't ready for the true scope of the situation. Unsettling chatter and twittering, creaking screeches surrounded them as over twenty grave-hags emerged from the mists. Tongues drooping with poisonous ichor, teeth gnashing impatiently eager to sink into flesh. The merchant clapped happily rising in both ways for the occasion. As he cheered the arrival of his swampy temptresses, it became clear to the witchers that the victim had been charmed. Drawing his sword, Lambert cocked an eyebrow speaking up in a mocking confident tone.
"Don't tell me these lovely lasses were your ladies of the night!?"
Before he received an answer, the witchers stood back to back, swords flourishing in a deadly sequence of precision. Blood soon cloyed his nostrils with an iron twang. Reaching out quickly, gloved fingers wrapped themselves around a hag's jaws. The sounds of joints popping and a meaty tear echoed out, followed by panicked gurgling as he prised the hag's tongue from its wretched decaying mouth. Spitting out the diseased hot blood that sprayed up into his face, he wiped clean the muck around his viper's eyes. Eskel artfully cut down the hag's hand that reached out to claw Lambert's neck.
"Don't get distracted by the pretty girls Lambert, there's plenty to choose from."
"I think we ought to let Dandelion know a few of his girls escaped!"
Aggressively he plunged his silver blade deep into the hag's chest slicing upwards through sternum, heart and throat. Puling out and decapitating in a single swing, following through to strike down through the brain matter of another. Viscera soon littered the ground in a haze of heated battle, they sweat through the night disposing every monster that opposed them until at last, even the carrion settled themselves to pick at the remains. The merchant stirred in horror as he took in the surreal and macabre scenery before them. He let out a shriek pulling a potato sack over his nethers lamenting at the condition of his most vital body-part.
"W-w-what's going on, what have you done!? Back away freaks you'll not steal my modesty!"
"Trust me there isn't very much left to take…" Lambert shouted out to the merchant who had abandoned his goods to flee into the woods, his potato sack falling to his ankles as he fell into a bramble-bush. They wouldn't bother with him he was safe and they had coin to collect from the contractor.
They needn't walk far before a wispy hermit hobbled down a path to greet them with a lazy handwave and a furrowed brow. He thanked them for dealing with the problem and ultimately removing the merchant from his solitary lands in the process. However, when the mention of payment arose he wrung his hands with concern (or perhaps faux anxiety) explaining that he lived a simple life and crowns were few and far between.
"Hmm, well I guess if you've got nothing to offer, we're going to have to invoke the-"
Eskel cut through the conversation in a raised tone.
"Oh no you don't, these tend to never work out well for us remember. I know. Just don't. Walk away."
Lambert scrutinised the elder before him, he was a hermit. Not likely to keep company. For Eskel's sake and his, he'd clear the chance of children being involved. Neither of them needed or were ready for another Deidre.
"Really you think this guy has somebody waiting for him back home? Do you have anyone waiting for you Sir? Any wives, no children, mistresses or pesky, promiscuous relatives?"
The hermits voice whistled out in a peasant's drawl, slow and creaky, peppered with a slight lisp.
"I'd hope not, why'd you think I became a damn hermit? Don't want to deal with nobody or nothing. No, it's why I petitioned you to get that merchant off of my land. To be frank I prefer the intimate company of other men so I'd be damned surprised if my partner was pregnant. Even if sorcery was involved I'd still have a hard time imagining how that would come to be… you think he'd lay it like a chicken? Well Law of Surprise it is, follow me witchers!"
Reluctantly Eskel agreed, and Lambert exclaimed he'd hope it was a sweet horse or some coffers of gold this time.
Weaving through the oaks, they came across a small, thatched, brick hut surrounded by creeping ivy and bushels of roses. Smoke wound its way out of the chimney, drifting lazily towards the moonlight, creeping down to illuminate the rest of the yard. A piercing, strained, shriek broke the trudging of their footfalls and the hermit took to hiding behind Eskel, the tallest of the pair. For he was practically a mountain.
"W-w-w-w-what is that sound? Is that a m-monster? I thought you'd gotten rid of them all. I'll not stand for human error so you get in there and deal with it! Or I'll send a strongly worded letter of complaint to Kaer Morhen!"
"Could be a stray, might have missed one on the road, alright stay back! Lambert go around the side I'll come in through the front."
Drawing his sword, he approached senses sharpened, and prickling to pick up the slightest of movements. Something wasn't right, what he was hearing was different to the hags, a strained heavy heartbeat, and the scent of sweat caught his attention. Swinging open the door wide he sighed giving the all clear to the merchant.
The merchant panicked, running to the woman sprawled out and bleeding all over his best bedcovers. It had seemed he was dealing with a pregnant sow of a woman, one who had saw fit to intrude upon his solitude. Throwing his hands up in the air, he began pacing and rambling. Looking to the witchers angrily for help, he was gently pushed out of the cottage by Lambert who came to snoop on the commotion.
"What's taking so long is it a-oh you're kidding me!? Old man I thought you said you were alone? Who is this woman!? Oh no, oh no-no-no she is not with child right now, she can't do it here not like this!"
"Well are you going to be the one to tell her to stop? Lambert go get some towels, some sheets. Old man get that fire blazing and heat some water. Seems fate has delivered us a baby… again."
Eskel calmly took charge of the situation pushing aside his personal hang-ups over destiny children. The life of this woman was more important. In between her fevered murmurings, he managed to piece together the situation. She had been hitching a ride with the merchant, hoping to get to a village to give birth. However, with the monster attack, she ran seeking momentary safety and comfort in the hut. She was a human and carried the child against her will, as a result of a pushy elven man. Checking her vitals, he knew she wasn't holding up, birth was risky at the best of circumstances. With the stress of what had transpired it had taken an extra toll on her physically. Hours had passed with Eskel tending closely to the woman, even going so far a to brew herbal remedies and homebrewing medicine to the best of his knowledge. His efforts however, were in vain as only her placenta covered successors lay squalling in his arms. He took care not to harm them with the spikes of his armour as he bathed then wrapped them tightly in warm safe bundles.
Lambert seemed to want to be anywhere but here, he protested even as Eskel placed them in his arms.
"Oh no, oh no…no I am not ready to be a father. Nope, how about we leave them with the merchant, leave this whole thing behind us, and let's never speak of the law of surprise again?"
The hermit seemed to recoil but then warmed up to the idea, his wiggling fingers snatching out towards the children.
"I'll not raise any half breeds under my roof! However, I think they'd make a lovely pair of slippers, or a hearty stew! Times is tough, a-and it solves your burden of responsibility. Twins are ill omens, they'll bring all sorts of freakish disaster along with them!"
He quickly shrunk back when Eskel eyed him sharply, a glint and a furrowed brow carrying all the seething disapproval a witcher could sling. Lambert looked up and stated they were coming with them. At least till they could load them off onto Vesemir. He was experienced in these matters way more than anyone else, he practically reared most of them. Yeah, this was going to be the old man's responsibility, he'd conveniently slip out and take to the path before next winter.
"I don't want to name them. I'm not getting attached. Let's just get the girls to the keep before winter. As far as I know Eskel, snow's bad for babies. We can probably milk Lil Bleater for some food when we return."
It had been days since they had departed, the hermit wasn't much use giving them a sack of sweetpeas and clementines from his homestead. When questioned, he rambled on stating he didn't trust anyone else not to slip anything in his food. He had even urged them to be careful of the twins, stating women can't be trusted and that they'd lay eggs in their brains. There was absolutely no way Lambert would relinquish them to him, let alone anyone else. Still with their constant squalling, screaming and bodily functions it made him more than happy to drop them off at the nearest orphanage.
"How can something so small make so much noise!? We still have months on the road."
"Kaedwen's a long way away from Toussaint. Better get used to early mornings and no sleep, I'll take the first night if you take diaper duty."
"Sure, I'll take diaper duty if you take breastfeeding. These Toussaint Twins are a real pain, ugh, how about we read them passages out of the bestiary?"
For now, they ground up various berries and infused them with honey to provide some form of nourishment, they'd stock up on milk at the nearest village or town. It wasn't ideal but for now it would suffice. A sudden rustling in the bushes had them standing on edge. Lambert held them protectively in his arms as a squat but small woman approached them, merrily waving a hand. She wore the clothing of a herbalist and spoke in a heavy nilfgaardian drawl.
"Mon Dieu, I heard the cries all the way in my home! Witchers know how to dispose of monsters, but babes? That's an entirely different story. It's starving, thirsty, and has the chills. You're a far way from Kaer Morhen, and at this rate you'll not make it before winter sets in. Come now, let me fix you up a nice big batch of 'herbs'. Enough to get you to the keep in no time!"
She looked to both of their clueless faces with an annoyed shake of her head approaching the pair in a low whisper when they still hadn't caught on. Explaining she was a sorceress and could portal them straight to the keep. She led them back to her cosy but elaborate home turning to them with a smile, the scent of grapes from her vineyard sent a cloying sweetness to waft about the rooms enchantingly.
"Now, one of those babes is strong with magic. I felt the disruption their birth had caused. I am in need of an apprentice so I am more than willing to take them in! You'd be foolish to take them back and as far as I remember, you don't make witchers anymore. You'd be setting them up for an abnormal life. Whereas the other weaker sibling could tend the home and find normalcy. Destiny links the pair's minds to one another and besides, I can wet-nurse them. You're not even holding them properly, you need to support the head! Here, pass them over, I'll give you a barrel of the finest toussaint wines for each babe."
Lambert took a step back glowering at the blonde, blue-eyed woman holding them closer and out of her reach. His voice took on a firmness that had even surprised him.
"Oh no you don't, back you hag, they'd suckle your tit and find dust! Clementine and Sweetpea are going to Kaer Morhen. Even though I can't do this, Vesemir has raised more children than any of us have fingers. You just want glorified slaves and something to exploit. I know how you bitches work. I'd sooner give them to Marigold than you. You can keep your fancy grape juice, I have a lovely vat of homebrewed vodka waiting for me, now send us home!"
He eyed the sorceress whom sighed throwing up her hands in defeat. Tousling with witchers was one thing that wasn't on her list. A swirling amber coloured portal opened up and with necessary caution they both walked through. The familiar sight of Kaer Morhen greeted them both.
"Really Lambert, Clementine and Sweetpea? You going to call the next one Potato and Vodka?"
"Hey, I panicked! It seemed fitting, plus I don't deal well with grabby sorceresses. Sides when they ask about it I can tease them. Say they were born out of a clementine and pea patch grown by an old Hermit. Sounds better than you were half elven rape babies who killed your mother."
Eskel grew irritated with the other, he had spent enough time already dealing with his prickly personality. He was thankful the sorceress spared him many more months on the road. He cared for Lambert like any other Wolf school brother though he favoured Geralt's company more and was eager to cross swords and spar his closest friend. He preferred to travel the path alone it was simpler that way and he'd avoided anything like this up until now. He contemplated this as they followed the sounds of clashing steel throughout the courtyard. Vesemir had gained the upper hand on Geralt disarming him and following it up with a sharp lecture on being distracted. Couldn't blame him though, Clementine and Sweetpea's screams had given everyone a terse, throbbing migraine. That settles it. He'd drink and cosy in for a night of long rest.
''Either that's a powerful illusion or you two stole some children.''
''Oh gee, I dunno Geralt, seems pretty real to me! Maybe you'd like to hold em?''
''Oh no you don't Lambert, you greasy little weasel. I've got my hands full with Ciri already.''
Vesemir's firm but cautious voice addressed them both as he slowly folded his arms. They were taking in no more children, though it seemed fate had other ideas.
''Lambert, Eskel, I hope that wailing isn't what I think it is. I understand Lambert getting a surprise child but you Eskel? I thought you were smarter than that boy! Especially after the last incident.''
''The man we contracted was a hermit, had weird conspiracies about women. Lived in the middle of nowhere. Had no wife or kids, and especially no taste in women. This was just…''
''Destiny, your destinies, the both of you. I can not believe this, you're not even holding them properly you need to support the head. Just once I'd like the both of you to return with a barrel full of wine or a nice big horse. It's all I ask for.''
''If it means anything they're from Touissant, freshly picked a week ago. Customary for the eldest to have the first batch.''
''Oh no you don't, this is your mistake and I'm not looking after them, you are. I'll help you obviously because you can barely look after yourself. But all the duties that come with child rearing, that'll be on you. I'm sick of it, I'm old and an old man like me should be lounging around. Not wet-nursing.''
Vesemir took the children and wrapped them in warm furs. Instantly they stopped crying and settled into his arms, cooing softly and tugging at long strands of his greying hair.
''They are cute though, can't deny that, and I do need the extra help around the castle grounds. God forbid they get any influence from you two. We'll take them on for now. Half-elf twins will need all the help they can get. My medallion is humming awfully strongly up against that one however, I think it best we get Triss to have a look at Sweetpea. Lambert, take them inside and I'll teach you how to make up some formula.''
There was a stirring in the air, a prickling sensation. Lambert impatiently waited with arms outstretched but Vesemir couldn't move. It seemed as if he were a statue stuck solitarily embracing the twins. Sweetpea was tugging on the amulet and mouthing it enthusiastically, while Vesemir visibly struggled to move. It seemed the little source was eager to nuzzle deep in his warmth and had no plans on returning to Lambert's care, for now at least. Lambert seemed to jerk, bend, and trip comically.
"Lambert are you having a stroke?''
"It's… not… me… I… swear. It's the damned kid!''
Geralt mocked him with a smug grin.
''What's the matter, little sorceress too much for you? Shame she can't do anything about that mouth of yours.''
''Oh ha, ha, ha. Very funny, why don't you do something about it huh? Might want to jump in here, seeing that you have experience with magical children. I don't want to be stuck as a human puppet for the rest of my life! Come on Geralt, why don't you send for your band of merry bitches?''
Luckily for them, Triss was wintering with Geralt and soon the red-haired sorceress was cleaning up another one of their messes.
''Sweetpea is a powerful source, though she's already shown proficiency with water magic. She's using a branch of it to manipulate your bodies using your internal blood and water supply. It's basic blood magic. The other is dulled to it, she must naturally leech off of Clementine's energy, which may also explain the two-way bond. At this rate, Clementine would have difficulty with even the simplest of casting signs. I'd have to teach Sweetpea to draw from her natural sources and control it. I'll begin work with her as soon as she gains autonomy, but with the current prejudice to mages, she'd be better with you here. Much like Alvin's case I'll have a dimeritium amulet made to quell the outbursts for now. At least until she's capable of control. Though Vesemir, I'm afraid you'll have to see to Sweetpea's needs. Do you think we'll ever see a normal, non-eventful winter for once?''
They say that trouble often travels in pairs and the journey of the twins, though still in it's infancy, was just beginning. Unbeknownst to them, the twins would be pushed beyond conceivable limits under the witcher's guidance.