I don't own Victorious or the game used here.
Okay, for a while I'm going to be doing a bunch of crossovers with some games. As in it will be set in the game world. If you can't figure out which game it is before the chapter ends. The game title will be at the bottom.
Let me Know if there are any games you want me to do, hopefully I've played said game, but if not I'll make it work.
Wiping dark blood from silver, he cleans his blade. Giving it a fitting shine, before sheathing the monster killer beside its less powerful, yet equally menacing counterpart.
What once stood guard as a menacing griffon, rests in a marred heap of its own butchered flesh. Its head free from its neck and tied to the saddle of a very loyal steed.
The wind hits his face, ruggedly handsome, scarred from previous battles and glaring with intimidating amber eyes. His white hair flowing with the deft touch of the wind.
It blows east, going around the house, with the faintest trace of cinder. And something else, something he'd grown so accustomed to. Vanilla and hints of coffee.
"She's here." He confirms to himself. His partner Robin, currently nursing a grave wound, was left in the small town a few days south of his current position.
He is alone. He prefers it that way.
So does her.
Making mental notes as he reaches the worn out door of the small cottage. Vines overgrown, crops withered, roof caved. He taps lightly on the infested wood of the door and it confirms his suspicions falling in with a loud thump as it raises dust and dirt, pulling a few cobwebs with it.
"Not really her style" he adds. Then again, he really doesn't know her as well as he'd thought. She'd proved that to him back at Hoart Woods.
The world around him dims as his concentration peaks. A gift you would call a sixth sense that heightens smell, taste, touch, sound and sight.
Prints, small, female. Hers.
And another set following closely behind. Larger and deeper. Someone wearing heavy armor. Nilfgaardian maybe.
Was she followed?
The witcher himself though never wore more than his usual. Leather breastplate over a plain shirt with chain-mail shoulder pads and gloves. A pair of pants and hunting boots.
He doesn't need heavy armor for protection.
The foot prints lead to a one end of the room, there her prints break off and head for the table before returning to the man's side.
Beyond that point is nothing. They stops there.
Either they started climbing walls or teleported. The lack of human prints in the mess on the walls is puts the first out the window.
So.
Taking a knee, the witcher looks over the final prints, the dust is spread back around them, as though blown by an unnatural source of wind. The wood in front of the prints is quite sturdy, no way that much wind came from there. So a portal was opened definitely.
He rises turning to the table, it was the first thing to pick his attention anyway. Dust covered, rotten wood, decayed food. Or at least it was food.
She was quite obvious about this. Leaving the penchant in plain sight. It was nothing too difficult, a simple ritual anyone with the slightest affinity for magic could do, if given enough time. But, it is child's play for a witcher. And she knows that.
A little flame would do the trick.
Just then, his ears pick on the harsh breathing. Which he thinks it strange for the room is empty. Not much to hide behind here, and even if he'd have noticed the presence.
Then again, there's still no presence. Just the breathing, heavy, like that of a savage waiting on prey.
A true hunter would know to halt his breathing, slow it down and space it out. But a savage is a beast driven near mad by its hunger.
He continues as though unaware, trying to decipher the beast from its breathing.
His guess is a ghoul, but it could be a werewolf. Taking precaution, he pulls a small pitcher of the bane, swirling the oil a bit.
Now, for the hard part. If he reaches for the blade it would attack no doubt, but in the seclusion of the cottage, there isn't much room to maneuver around it. He has to know where it will come from or risk suffering a bitter blow.
It hits him then, how did he miss it. The wall before the prints, sturdy and strong despite the entire cottage being a hollow mess.
One sly look around the edges and he can see the faint glow of red. It's an illusion, he'd most likely stood right before the beast without knowing.
There's no time to spread the oil, he'd have to get a new bottle.
His anger at himself for being so careless is quickly transferred into his sword arm as releases the beast hunter in all its silver glory, shattering the pitcher and smearing the oil over the blade.
Sure enough the man-wolf hybrid leaps from his confines as the witcher kicks the table over, twisting his body out of clawing range and bringing the blade down in a heavy slash across its side.
The beast tumbles to the other side of the small cottage and he wastes no time. Following it in a quick jump step and swinging up. The beast moves quickly, but backs into a wall and takes the tip of the blade, leaving another burning sensation across its chest.
It lashes out with massive dagger length claws, and the man steps back, bracing his footing aligning the sword across his chest and sending it forward in a heave. It stabs the beast, cleaving easily through its chest, before returning as he pulls back for one more strike. A quick spin leaves a deep gash in the beast's throat. It slumps forward landing heavily in a pool of its own blood.
The witcher's eyes calm a bit and they pick a faded yellow parchment in the beastman's trousers, which is all the hulking hairy corpse had on.
Pulling it out, he frowns at the words.
"Good to know you came, Oliver. I was beginning to get worried. I hope you're not and about the messenger, he was dying to meet you. And since you're reading this, I guess he's just dead now. You know how to find me, but it will not be easy. So if you still wish to continue this mad chase after myself, I won't deter you in the least.
I look forward to meeting you.
Love, Jade."
And with that it goes up in flames, he turns to the table, righting it and alighting the penchant, a piece of world before him converges on itself, leaving a black hole through which he steps following the Wicked Witch of the West.
The Witcher III: Wild Hunt.