"Strange he said she were, not normal looking that one. Ol alderman told her, the mottle haired witrcher, he said "you clear bBlackthorn of its beast and i'll pay ya good coin, huh, stupid bitch took up the ol idiot on his offer though, she's out there now in the woods," the bald headed villager laughed maliciously.
"Bet she's dead." a pock marked crime infested man piped up. "You get a good look at her? All skin and bone waving around that sword of hers like she's someone special. Can see why the old fool asked for back up! Never send a woman to do a man's job"a raucous laughter erupted outside of Black Thorn Inn. three disgrunteled men stood jabbering at the news of a witcher entering the village. A witcher was always cause for excitement.
"You all talk big but did you see her eyes? Red they were like the colour of blood. You'd do better than to speak ill of a witcher!" the two men laughed at their companion flashing their black teeth.
"I ain't afraid of no witcher." the burly one of the three declared proudly. "I ain't afraid no woman! Especially one of her kind. I don't even believe she is a witcher. I've never heard of a woman witcher, I think it's horse shit and her intentions were swindling us of coin!"
"Yer, if that bitch comes back we'll get back what;s owed, eh boys?"
"Best start pockets" a toneless voice pierced the mid dawn air. Eyes all fell upon the person from whence it came. The woman jumped from the saddle, sodden and filthy. Thick crusty blood spattered across her pale features, a wound open on her face. All three men looked at the witcher dumbfounded.
Geralt rode into the town not long after He dismounted, amber eyes fixated on his strange companion and her illicit company.
"Where's the alderman?" the square had caught wind at the sighting of two witchers. Crowds grew around the woman and the rotting carcass laiden on the back of her horse. The three men eyed the dead creature with eyes as wide as the moon.
"Is that it? The creature?"
"It really dead?" the repugnant one of the lot sneered as he came to inspect her kill.
"Take a look for yourself!" Geralt replied ripping the torn cloak of its corpse. The burly man jumped back as one the kikimore spindly legs twitched unexpectedly,
"I..its not dead, the fuckin thing is not dead!" he panicked causing a stir.
"It's very much dead." the woman replied eyeing Geralt sharply for testing off the cover on the beast. "Now get me the alderman. I did my job now. I want my coin and I'll be on my way!"
"You got a friend with ya?" one of the others questioned Geralt's presence. "Who are you?" Geralt remained unfazed by the bombarding questions. He was used to such things. Like her, he wanted his coin and to be gone.
"He's the other one," the nosy bald man declared. "The back up the alderman hired!"
"Seems like you got here too late witcher!" the burly man sneered at him. Geralt turned his face to look at the man who spoke.
"Send for the alderman. And well be on our way." the reply was short,flat, toneless.
…..
The witcher woman had been advised to meet with the alderman in a private room at blackthorne inn. Geralt on the other hand had been instructed to wait patiently for her return assuring the silver haired witcher that she would bring to him what he was owed. And that's what he did. Tucked away in the quietest corner of the inn Geralt of Rivia sat alone, gloved hand wrapped firmly around a tankard of ale. He heard the whispers, always did but paid no mind. Geralt's mind was on other things. Money and food at this point.
There was still no sign of the mottle haired witcher. She had been gone for a while. No doubt the old alderman was trying his best to swindle the woman out of her coin. That was the usual case. The people of the world were hospitable enough when they needed to hire a witcher to rid them of their problems but never wanted to pay up after the deed had been done. Geralt's golden eyes surveyed the rambling inn as he waited for the woman return.
A small leather bound purse was tossed down onto the table. Geralt lifted his eyes and saw that the female witcher was standing in front of the table, her own leather purse noticeably fatter than his own. "Courtesy of the alderman." she said sliding a wooden chair and sat down opposite. Geralt noted how he would rather be alone but the witcher woman intrigued him. Geralt reached for the coin purse not even bothering to check it before he rose to his feet. The witcher woman eyed him carefully. He felt her eyes boring into him.
"Leaving so soon witcher?" the woman questioned geralt almost bemused. "You have not even asked my name?"
"Should i have?" Geralt replied walking around the wooden table only to find the mottle haired woman lift a booted leg to block his path, ruby eyes burning with curiosity of her own now.
"You seemed pretty damned interested not long ago, Geralt of Rivia," she replied with a smirk on her lips. Geralt stared down at the woman intently. His face serene. Something told him he was going to regret his damned curiosity. She was still covered in the monsters blood and guts. As was he. When geralt did not reply the woman sighed and sat up straight freeing up his pathway.
"My name is Morigan." The witcher woman finally said breaking the tension. "And I know i may not have showed it earlier but i am grateful for your help." it must have been a hard pill for her to swallow Geralt noted as she suddenly could not look him in the eye. Morigan leant back in her chair took a long swig of the ale and wiped her mouth. Geralt still said nothing but the woman raised her eyebrows. "Cat got your tongue witcher? Sit," she said gesturing to the seat he just rose from, "drink," she said pushing another tankard of ale towards him. "I'd say you've earned it."
But Geralt new what happens Witchers overstay their welcome. Already the whispers had started, the malicious glares, the people wanted them gone. It was standard. A mocking snigger tore Geralt's attention away from Morrigan briefly. The pock marked man from the square and his cronies were lurking in the shadows sneering and jeering to each other. The leader was pacing with a dagger already in hand. Geralt tiresomely turned his golden eyes back to the female witcher. "It's time to be on our way." as if sensing Geralt's anxiety she too looked over at the pockmarked thug hiding in the shadows.
"Ah," she whispered leaning back in her chair placing a booted foot back up in front of Geralt. "Seems like we've overstayed our welcome." She shrugged unbothered by the four men that crept from out of the shadows towards them.
"It's time for you to leave!" the pock faced man addressed the witchers firmly. "We don't want your kind lingering round here any longer."
"We're on our way," Geralt replied sharply eyeballing the unmoving woman before turning on his heel to leave Blackthorn. When he heard the voices again he knew that the stubborn woman had not moved a muscle.
"Did you not ere me bitch? I said we don't want freaks like you round here any longer so pack ya bags and fuck off.."
"I heard you." came the reply. Instinct already told him that things were going to end badly. "Just, I paid for my drink and I'll be damned if I'm going ro rush know it's been a long work day and all." the fattest man of the group stepped forward and with a nasty growl flung the witchers tankard from off the table. Morigon watched unflinching, calm and collected, still sitting in the same position that she had been when Geralt had stood next to her.
" I don't think you understand what your choice is witcher!" said the overly sweaty fat man. "You can either leave Blackthorn on your own free will or on the end of a rope! Your choice!" Geralt felt his hand instinctively drawn to the hilt of his blade on his back. Slow;y, he turned around to watch the scene before him. Morigon lifted her ruby eyes to stare at the fat man.
"I think it's you who doesn't understand." her tone laced with venom replied. "You lay one hand on me and i'll gut you for the fuckin pig you are!"
In a flash the brawl had begun. Geralt watched on as the fat man lunged at the woman, Morigon hurled a harsh kick to hias gut sending him reeling backwards. The whole tavern turned into an uproar and man after man came throwing themselves at Morigon and Geralt. Morigon's blade screeched through the air as she brought down her strength and fury onto the pock marked man and his gutless crew. Geralt fought off the stragglers that had spotted his appearance but watched on as the female witcher fought recklessly before him.
A man came behind the woman panting and bleeding and gripped Morigons arms restricting the use of her blade. Another of the men kicked her in the gut and stuck her with a knife causing her to cry out and fall to a knee. Geralt almost came to her aid when he suddenly ceased his footfalls. When the female witcher lifted her head her face and eyes had changed drastically. Gone was the fleshy colour of skin in its place her face became ashen grey, eyes burning redder than normal with hatred and malice. Purple veins snaked over her face as she lifted one gloved hand and screamed. A force of white shot from out of her fingertips sending the attackers reeling through the air. Amidst the chaos the female witcher rose to her feet ripping her blade from her back.
Her blade sung as it cut through flesh and bone. Blood painted the tavern red. Chunks of flesh flew through the air, fatty muscle and tissue that once were blackthorns villagers. Blood painted the tavern red. She merciless, ruthless but Geralt knew she had to be stopped. The witcher law resented attacks on humans no matter how cruel they could be. As she brought down her sword to the final man a feral scream tearing from her lips, Morigon hovered over the dying man listening to his gurgles as his throat pumped out his vital lifesblood. "You owe me a drink!" she hissed.
When she tore her eyes from the gurgling corpse she was met with a blow to the head. The female witcher fell into blackness.