Temeria, Spring 1278
The sun began to crawl its way up the horizon. Rays of light peaked over the tall trees of the woods surrounding the town of Longdale. The rooster awoke and proceeded to herald the morn as it always did, crowing from atop a barn near the edge of town. The farmers had long been at work before the rooster crowed, tending to their crops and preparing for the planting of the spring crop.
The one exception was the orchard, just on the edge of town, right along the main road toward Vizima. The orchard was left looking empty, save of course for the heavily weighted down apple trees. Big, juicy red apples hung from the branches, ripe for the taking. Yet there wasn't a single farm hand inside the orchard.
There was a witcher inside the orchard, however.
Alder, of the cat school, was fast asleep on a branch of one of the apple trees. He lightly snored as the rays of sunlight begun to bathe his face in an orange glow. He frowned, turning away from it, wishing to sleep just a little while longer. Alder's sleep was spoiled by a wagon hurrying by. It was loud, tearing down the road, the driver barely able to keep it on course as the carriage skidded past the orchard, forcing the witcher to wake.
"Hey! Asshole!" He tore an apple from the tree and threw it at the noisey passer by. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
Alder groaned as he layed back down on the branch. Realizing he wasn't going to get anymore sleep, he decided to grab breakfast. The witcher took his time choosing the right apple, his hand hovered over the many, many choices before finally settling upon the biggest, juiciest apple he could find. Taking a large bite into the apple, the witcher kept his ear to the edge of the orchard.
On the east side of the orchard, over a fence, was a dense forest. From it came the reason why he was here: ghouls. Even though the war had ended nearly a year ago necrophage were still a nuisance. With no battlefield carnage left to feed them, they had to resort to feeding on the living. Ghouls had recently attacked this orchard, killing two workers and wounding a third.
Alder was fortunate enough, as the witcher put it, to be passing through when these attacks occurred. The ealdorman promised to pay the witcher handsomely if he could rid the ghouls from the town orchard. All Alder asked for was the orchard to be closed and a swine that was about to be slaughtered.
The witcher hated putting anything to waste, especially such a fat swine. He estimated if he smoked the meat it could last him quite a long time, though Alder needed it to lure the ghouls out. As the name implies, necrophage prefer rotting, dead carcauses as opposed to living flesh. That didn't mean they wouldn't go after living people, but they'd much rather eat the dead; they didn't fight back. As such, the dead pig would do nicely as bait.
Alder worried that the smell of the orchard would mask the carrion stench, but his ears told him otherwise. From the east he could hear them. These ghouls were a cautious bunch. Alder could hear them pacing before the fence separating the orchard from the forest for a good while before they finally committed in jumping over it. By their footsteps and by how many jumped over, Alder wagered it was a pack of eight.
"See. Old man promised me ten gold ahead, that means, eighty gold. Not a bad pay day." As he mused on what to spend his gold on, he slowly removed his silver blade from its scabbard.
It wasn't any ordinary silver sword; it was a single edge blade, with a curved tip. A falchion, as it was called by the blacksmith who forged it for Alder. He held it with great care, making sure the sharp edge was facing slightly away from him. The witcher's eyes looked over to the bait, then over to the rest of the orchard.
Alder could see them now. The four legged, man faced, pale skinned necrophages crawled toward the pig carcass. One sniffed it carefully, before biting into it. Another jumped in, grabbing the pig by one of it's hooves and pulling it away from the already feasting ghoul. Clearly angered by the packmate taking its food, the first beast sunk its teeth into the pig attempting to pull it away. The rest circled around the first two. Some tried to get into the feeding frenzy while others scurried around looking for anything else.
During this, Alder slowly rose from his prone position into a standing one effortlessly, not even disturbing the tree branch he had been previously sleeping on. He came down to a crouch, and then took a big, loud bite of the apple, grabbing the attention of the ghouls. Some turned and growled at the witcher, others were still focused upon the swine. One ran up to the tree the witcher was in and begun to claw and tear the bark of it as the ghoul tried to climb up.
"Want a bite?" Alder mockingly asked, holding the apple toward the ghoul. It replied with a growl and clawed at the witcher in the tree. "Well fuck you too."
The witcher then took one last bite from the apple, and threw the rest of it at the ghoul. It only caused the necrophage to blink, but that was all Alder needed it to do. Before it could even react the witcher had already leapt from the tree branch and brought his blade into its back. The witcher heard the ghoul's lung collapse. Twisting and pulling out from the ghoul, the witcher finished it off with another stab, this one into its head, causing the ghoul to struggle for a moment, then fall limp.
Alder now had the pack's full attention.
The next ghoul came to strike at Alder. Pouncing at the witcher, maw ready to bite, claws ready to shred, the ghoul roared; Alder ducked and rolled out of its way. The necrophage slammed into the tree, causing a few apples to fall from it. Alder replied with a horizontal slash, badly cutting into the ghoul's hip; Alder completed the motion with a flourish, piercing through the beast's side. Twisting and pulling the blade free, Alder worried not of knowing it was dead, and instead focused on the next ghoul. This one was smarter; it stayed low to the ground and kept its distance instead of mindlessly charging in. Alder's slashes were met with dodging and weak-yet-wild attempts at parrying, but as soon as its skin made contact with the silver, it yelped in pain. This gave Alder the window he needed.
It was three steps- three steps that had been drilled into him from years of training. First: Alder side stepped past the ghoul, ending the move on his left foot. Second: putting his weight now on the right, the witcher slashed the ghoul. The strike was powerful enough to topple the ghoul, putting it on its back. Third: flipping the sword into a reverse grip and placing his other hand onto the pommel, he brought the sword down into the ghoul's chest. Twist. Pull. The ghoul was now dead.
"Three down." He spun the sword back into it's normal grip. "Five to go."
Wanting to be on the attack now, Alder charged the nearest ghoul, which saw his charge and decided to meet him. Reaching to the belt that ran across his chest, the witcher threw a small silver dagger, which lodged itself into the ghoul's eye. Caught off guard, the ghoul tripped and fell into the ground. Before it could pick itself up, Alder precisely nicked the artery which ran across the back of the necrophages neck.
Two more tore through the orchard; Alder was forced to roll out of the way, catching one passing by with a slash across its flank. Another, lagging behind the rest, tried grab onto the witcher by his boot. Alder side stepped and brought his other steel toed boot into its skull. The blow flipped the ghoul onto its back, but Alder couldn't finish it. Hearing the other's paws tearing across the orchard again, Alder readied himself to dodge once more.
This time the witcher opted to mix it up a little. Rolling out of the way, he waited right as all three ghouls were as tightly packed as possible. Acting quickly, Alder made the Sign Aard. From his free right hand a gush of wind swept the ghoul's off their feet. One was sent into a apple tree, crunching as it impacted. The other two were sent tumbling through the rows of trees.
Alder took a deep breath in, feeling the strain of using the Sign, then threw himself toward the ghouls. Still dazed from the Aard, the ghouls could barely react. The first to fall wasn't even aware of the witcher until the falchion had split its neck wide open. The ghoul flailed around in anguish; the witcher knew it was gone, and now turned his attention to the last ghoul. It already had rolled back onto its legs when Alder struck it. The witcher felt only a little resistance as he took the ghoul's head clean off. Free from its body, the head bounced across the orchard a few times before halting at the base of a tree.
Alder waited a few moments, eyes scanning the distant tree line. He listened for movement beyond his sight, and smelt the air for any more foul smelling necrophage. The witcher did this until he was satisfied that the pack was dead. Alder then put his sword back into its sheath; the fight was over.
He then took the rope his belt and got to work collecting heads. Alder took out a butchers knife and begun work chopping the heads of ghouls off. It was a long, boring process for the witcher. Alder was careful to make his strikes clean, though that didn't stop him from getting his knife caught in a bone or tendon every so often. Looping the rope through the neck and out the mouth of each ghoul Alder created what looked like a very macabre bracelet of necrophage heads which he held on his shoulder.
"Now to get paid," Alder paused, and sniffed himself. "And maybe a bath."
With a wide smile of a man who just got done with the work day, the witcher exited the orchard, practically skipping. The ghoul heads swaying as he did this. The sight alone caused many of the townspeople to gasp in horror. Alder even heard a women faint as he came down the main road toward the ealdorman's house. As the witcher walked through the gate leading into the house, gardens flanking the entrance, an old, bald man came out, looking excited.
"Hey!" Alder called out, he grabbed the ring of heads of his shoulder and held them up, "Got eight of the fuckers for you."
The ealdorman wordlessly came forward, he looked over the heads for a moment, almost as if he was fascinated by them. Alder could level with the old man; it wasn't everyday that normal men got to see monsters up close. The ealdorman now gazed onto the witcher, a smirk on his face.
"Knew I could depend on a witcher."
"Always can." Alder said setting the ring of heads carefully on the ground, "Now, that'll be eighty crowns."
"Aye, I'll get your pay. Wait here."
The ealdorman disappeared into the house. Alder meanwhile sat on the fence bordering the ealdorman's property. He passed the time by playing with his knives, practicing various tricks with them. Alder then heard someone coming up from behind him.
"Sir! Sir!"
Alder turned to the source of the plea. Standing behind the fence was a girl, he estimated to be in her late teens. She had long, straw like hair, that framed a narrow, freckled face. Green eyes looked at the witcher, eyes holding a gaze of desperation, the same a drowning man gave to a sailor on a boat. Alder's eye raced up and down the young girls form.
"I'm not a sir, just a witcher."
"Well please master witcher, do you have a moment?"
Alder could sense that the girl was clearly perturbed by something, and it wasn't his mutant gaze. Before the girl could speak Alder heard the doors to the ealdorman's house open. Turning, he saw the old man come out, sack of crowns in hand, and a sour look on his face.
"Girl! Scram! I told you to leave, didn't I?"
"Please! I need to speak to the witcher!" She spoke again.
"He isn't interested in your, 'plague of madness'. Go to Vizima or Novigrad. Find a plague doctor or even a mage if you can pull him or her out of their hiding hole."
"Plague of madness?" Alder narrowed his gaze back to the ealdorman .
The old man shook his head, "This girl-"
"Alix! My name is Alix you walking corpse!"
At that the ealdorman threw the sack of gold to the ground, crowns flying everywhere. He then moved at a remarkable speed for a man of his age, a look of fury on his face. Fists raised above his head, the ealdorman rushed toward the girl, cursing and ranting all the way.
"Listen hear you vagrant! Off my land before I beat you to death! You whore-"
"Hey!" Alder stepped in between the two, placing a firm hand on the ealdorman's chest. "No need for that shit." He exchanged glances between both Alix and the ealdorman . "What's this about a plague?"
"Master witcher," Alix begun folding her hands together. "My village, just east of here, has been gripped by a plague of madness."
Alder slowly nodded, "Look, I know you mean well and all, but I'm a witcher, not a doctor."
"Which means he won't be able to help you girl!" The ealdorman stepped in. "Now scram! You-"
Alder put a finger into the ealdorman 's face. "Stow it!" He turned back to Alix. "Sorry lass, but I ain't going to be much help. Vizima is a few days ride west, and if you feel like riding more, Oxenfort is a week's ride northeast. I know-" A sack of gold interrupted him, thrown by Alix. The witcher caught it mid air. He opened the sack and smiled at the crowns stored within them.
"Fifty crowns. Will that be enough to sway your mind?" Alix asked frantically.
"Normally I'm insulted when someone interrupts me, but I'll forgive you, this time." Alder put the pouch in his satchel.
"So, so you'll take it?" Alix asked excitedly.
"You paid me." Alder said with a grin. "I'm obligated to assist you now." He then turned to the ealdorman . "Now, my reward from you sir."
The old man sighed, walked over, grabbed the thrown sack of gold, and stared at the witcher for a moment before tossing the coin at Alder, which the witcher caught.
"Go on, looks like you have another job, freak." The ealdorman said bitterly.
Alder raised his eyebrows at the comment. "Well. Guess I won't be welcomed here." He then turned Alix. "Well, why are we standing here, let's get moving."