A Romp in the Muck
The putrid stench of Novigrad's sewers filled Meril's nostrils, giving him nausea that threatened to kill him if the drowners didn't get to him first. When he graduated from Szolka Smoka he expected a life full of adventure. He expected to be hunting monsters, wooing damsels, and feasting with kings. Instead, he had spent his first six months on the path chasing drowners and nekkers around small, forgotten villages for shit pay and even shittier gratitude. His current foray into the sewers of Novigrad was but the latest in what was quickly becoming a long line of dirty jobs. When Otto told him that the majority of a Witcher's job was taking other people's shit he didn't mention that he would literally be taking it up to his ankles.
He hated the way his boots squelched as he waded through the muck and excrement. His friend Ryu had worked very hard on these boots along with the rest of his armor. Ryu, by his own admission, considered himself to be a better blade-smith than armorer, but even master craftsmen would agree that Meril's kit was an excellent piece. His armor was composed primarily of thick, red draconid leather with various metal fittings. At the torso, he wore a padded red leather jerkin that fit snuggly around his lean frame and complimented his rose-colored hair. His broad shoulders were capped by pauldrons made of glistening meteorite steel shaped to look like snarling dragons. Under the jerkin, he wore a shirt of light chainmail that was tightly woven from the same meteorite steel that his pauldrons were made from. His gloves were a cross between hunting gloves and gauntlets, made from black leather to contrast with the red on the main body, studded at the knuckles and backhand with steel spikes and finished with splints of steel at the forearms. His trousers were of the same red draconid leather as the chest piece, about a quarter of an inch thick with dragon faced knee braces plated in steel. Rounding all this out was a pair of exquisitely cobbled black hunting boots, fixed with steel splints at the shins, steel dragon heads at the toes, and now dredged in sewer sludge.
It could be worse he supposed. He was only hunting drowners that meant that he could get away with dodging and sidestepping, no need to roll around in the filth. If anything he could take a dose of tawny owl and Petri's philter and burn them away with a few shots of igni. It was easy coin, but that didn't make it pleasant.
The noxious fumes of the raw sewage had completely overtaken his sense of smell. What's more since his sense of smell was stronger and better trained then an average humans he was not liable to go nose blind anytime soon. At least he could rely on his other finely honed senses. Fortunately, the closed-off nature of sewer tunnels meant that sound bounced around and traveled far. By concentrating his hearing he could parse out the minutest vibrations of the molecules in the air. Several bends ahead he could he could hear a faint scratching accompanied by a sound that was a cross between a gargle and growl, drowners. If he followed that sound he would come upon them soon. The sewer tunnels themselves were pitch dark with the only light filtering down from the sewer grates. This didn't bother him in the least though since his mutated Witcher eyes gave him perfect vision in the dark. The only drawback being that everything he saw was through a sort of red film. Otto had told him that when other Witchers used their night vision they typically either saw things in full color, or in black and white when imbibing cat. However, due to the difference in the mutation process that he underwent, his eyes, instead of the cats-eye yellow that was the Witcher trademark, were a crimson red like the eyes of a tree viper. For some reason this made his vision see the world through a reddish tint in the dark. It was a minor drawback though, one that he had been accustomed too since his boyhood. As long as he didn't have to fight Redanians in the dark he would be fine.
The growling and scratching became stronger as Meril trekked deeper. He could make out the individual sounds now. There were at least three, no four up ahead. He drew the curved longsword at his back. It was a blade of a unique design not found in this part of the world. Long, thin, with a curved razor sharp edge ideal for slicing through thick monster skin. In the land of Nihon where the blade's design originated it would have been called a katana. Here that name meant nothing though. Here it was just a Witcher's silver sword, meant for the slaying of monsters.
The growling of drowners was at its pitch now. The smell of rotten blood managed to cut through the stench of sewage and reach his nose. "Smells like rotten flesh, they must be feeding. I wonder what poor mook managed to get himself killed down here," he thought to himself. He reached behind his back to grab his potions from his satchel. When he reached his gloved hand into the bag two quick green lights flashed in succession from within. When he pulled his hand out, he was clasping two potions by his fingers. One bottle was blue labeled 'PF' the other a light purple color labeled 'TO'.
"I love having a magic satchel," he said as he quickly downed the two potions. He still cringed at the vile taste but at least it distracted from the sewer sludge. Actually no, sewer sludge was preferable to the cloying acrid taste of Witcher potions. The potions for their part took effect immediately. He could feel the toxins burning through his body, no doubt his normally rosy cheeks looked pale as a ghost now, and his jubilant rose-colored hair probably looked thin and gray at the he could only guess at since he had no looking glass on hand to check. What he did know for certain was that his body's stamina had increased, and the small modicum of magic that he contained within his body was intensifying. When he was like this he could cast signs almost infinitely.
He was just about to round the bend of the tunnel. Ready to move on his quarry. He stopped briefly to examine his blade to which he had applied a thick coating of necrophage oil earlier. He peaked out from the bend to get a glimpse of his prey. There they were, creatures the size of men, but shriveled, naked and vaguely amphibious, like toads crossed with the corpses of men that had drowned. "I always wondered, are they called drowners because they look like men who have drowned, or because they cause men to drown?" he thought.
The three drowners were hunched against the right wall of the tunnel over something he couldn't see, a corpse most likely. "Good they're distracted. If I use dancing star I can end this right away. But then again getting the ingredients together to make another dancing star bomb is a real pain. I'll use samum to disorient them. Rush in, fire off an igni and cut them down while they're on fire."
One of the drowners poked its head up from whatever the others were gorging. Meril could see its toad-like nostrils flare up before it called to the others. "Damn it, it's caught my scent. Gotta move."
He reached into his satchel the insides of the bag flashed again and when he pulled his hand out he was palming a grey sphere wrapped in brown leather chords with a wick fuse at its cap. He lit the fuse with a quick casting of igni and tossed it at the drowner pack. Just before it went off he ducked behind the bend, shut his eyes, and covered his ears. A crashing boom resonated throughout his skull and light so sharp cut through the tunnels that it even managed to bleed through his shut eyelids. Through the explosion, the monsters let out a shriek so blood curdling it traveled past the sound of the bomb. That was his queue to move.
Silver bladed katana in hand he rushed out from his hiding spot and prepped the sign of igni. A wave of intense embers brushed over the aqueous beasts, lighting up the dark tunnel as it did so. They caught fire instantly and began to scream like witches at the stake. As their bodies writhed the flames cast distorted shadows that looked more like the silhouettes of elves dancing rather than monsters burning. He gripped the sword in both hands and brought it down on the first drowners head, splitting it like a melon.
Drowners had skin as tough as leather but for a razor sharp blade like his, that was easy to slice through. The real challenge was in pulling the sword out once he had split the head. Drowner skulls were like jelly, easy to pierce but hard to penetrate. He found that once he had cut down to the monster's brain stem his sword got caught. Flames from the creature's still burning body actually splattered off and landed on his gloves. "Shit!"
He let go of the sword to brush the flames off his gloves. The moment he did so one of the other drowners, still burning, lunged at him. He barely managed to step back in time to dodge its claws. While the flaming drowner lunged at him the other drowner rolled around in the sewer water to douse the flames. "So one of them is smart, and the other is crazy. Fuck! I shouldn't have let go of my sword. My gloves are fireproof, how the hell did I forget that!?"
The flames on the drowner lunging at him faded away, leaving a series of nasty puss coated burns all over the creature's corpulent body. Despite this, the creature showed no signs of slowing down. It lunged at him viciously forcing Meril to quick step back in order to evade. While he kept his eyes on the burned drowner coming at him the other one dashed straight at him. Without thinking he threw his left hand up in the sign of quen. A yellow bubble surrounded him, shielding him from the talons of the drowners. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to hold the shield up against the drowner's onslaught. The bubble reverberated around him as the drowners scratched away. "No sword, and I'll need at least three seconds to catch my breath before I can cast another sign. In that time they'll close in on me. Dammit! They're just drowners this is not supposed to be that hard!"
While his left hand held up the sign, his right hand reached into his magic satchel. The inside of the leather bag lit up green and he pulled out a two-handed longsword in a red wooden scabbard. He held the scabbard between his legs and drew the sword out with his free hand. Not half second after he had drawn the sword had the drowners broken through his barrier. Barely managing to get his guard up in time he deflected one of the drowner's swipes with the flat of his sword. And barely managed to sidestep the strike of another. He stepped back again. He bought himself the crucial three seconds he needed to catch his breath. He inhaled the foul sewer air, then swiftly waved the fingers of his left hand into the sign of aard. A shockwave of force vibrated throughout the tunnel knocking the two drowners off their feet. Not giving them a chance to get back up Meril dashed over to their prone forms. He drove the point of his longsword into the heart of one of them. The blade sank in with a squish, killing the creature instantly. The other one started straggling to back on its feet, but Meril wouldn't let it. Taking another breath he weaved his fingers into the sign of igni, but instead of releasing the power as a wave of embers he focused and concentrated the power to a single point at his fingertips. He aimed his fingers at the rising drowner and released a stream of blazing sparks. It howled ferociously as it tried to escape his flames but Meril refused to let up. The creature stopped writhing after four or five seconds of burning. But Meril wasn't taking any chances. He kept the stream going for a full thirty seconds until his body's stamina finally gave out and the stream sputtered out like the last drips of a keg. The drowner was nothing more than a blackened corpse now.
After taking another breath he went over to retrieve his longswords scabbard. He took a moment to inspect his sword before sheathing it. This was his steel sword used for more mundane enemies, the blade was forged from high-quality meteorite steel, the crossguard was straight with twists at the ends, the grip was wrapped in red draconid leather like his armor, and the pommel was shaped into a dragons head. Everything was as it should have been and there didn't seem to be any dents in the blade at all. As a general rule silver was the best thing to use against monsters since virtually every monster had a weakness to it and most wouldn't be phased by steel. Of course, that didn't mean all monsters were immune to steel. Drowners, for example, could also be dealt with using steel as well as silver. However, steel lacked the burning effect that silver had when it made contact with monster skin. Still in a pinch like the one he was just in it worked fine. He sheathed the sword and slipped it back into the satchel. The bag sucked the sword in with a green flash and quick plop sound. He reached his hand into the satchel again, this time summoning a hunting knife.
The city guard was paying him ten crowns per head. Which of course meant that he actually had to bring their heads. This was the fourth time Meril had to go about collecting drowner heads, he still wasn't used it. As he set the blade of his hunting knife to the throat of the most burned drowner the familiar feeling of revulsion set in. That sinewy resistance that the drowner's neck flesh put up as the knife carved through made his stomach churn. And even through gloved hands, he could get a sense of the slimy amphibious skin that he had to hold still as he cut. It was rank, gruesome work. His least favorite part of being a Witcher by far.
He finished cutting the first drowners head off and pocketed it in his satchel. Then he went over to the body of the next one to repeat the task. Just as he began to squat over the next corpse his dragon head medallion vibrated. He backed away instantly. A long claw shot out from the dead drowners belly tearing it to shreds.
A head of sopping grey hair emerged from the sewer water followed by big bulbous yellow eyes and rows of razor-sharp teeth. The body that emerged following the head was a body with sinewy amphibious grey-green skin that blended in with the sewer water that it emerged from. The creature's figure was hunched over, it had a corpulent bloated stomach, grey, sagging breasts that hung from its hunched over chest like a pair of cowbells, and curved spikes protruding from its spine. Its arms were long, at least twice as long as its stunted legs, and its bony hands only had three fingers and a thumb. Each digit had a long sharp talon at its end.
The sight of her caused Meril to remember a poem he had come across in his studies at Szolka Smoka. "With sallow skin and withered hands, and eyes as dull as stone. She'll pull you down into the depths this wicked water crone." This was a water hag, commonly thought to be the female counterpart to drowners though there was no solid evidence confirming that the two were of the same species. What there was solid evidence of was that unlike drowners, water hags possessed real magic, such as the ability to disappear into any body of water shallow or deep. This meant that steel was useless, he needed his silver sword. He glanced behind him to where his katana was, standing erect in the skull of the drowner. He switched his gaze back to the water hag and began to back away slowly without taking eyes off her.
The water hag, on the other hand, showed no interest in waiting and went straight for him claws outstretched. His reflexes kicked in and he blasted her with a shot of aard. The tunnel reverberated as the telekinetic impact knocked her clean off her feet. As she fell she dissolved into the water. Knowing he didn't have a second to waste he made a beeline straight for his sword. But before he could get close enough the water hag emerged in his path and hurled a ball of mud right at his face. It hit him before he could react, blinding him in both eyes. He flinched for just the briefest of seconds and the next thing he felt was sharp claws straight down his leather jerkin. The claws scratched diagonally across his body from shoulder to breast and stopped short. He felt a tugging motion pull him forward and toss him into the raw sewage. The filthy water washed the mud from his face but also made his eyes burn. He heard the gurgling cry of the water hag and felt her right upon him. Instinctually, he reached into the magic within him and sloppily formed the sign of igni. The blast he released was little more than a light showering of embers but the cry that followed it told him it had the desired effect.
He wasted no time taking the breath he needed to ready another sign. Then in one swift motion he wiped his eyes using his gloved right hand, and thrust his left arm into his satchel. The satchel gave its deep green glow and when he pulled out his arm a strange device was wrapped around his left wrist. It was a gauntlet with a silver chain wrapped around it and a barbed point sticking out from a riser under the wrist like a crossbow bolt. With the muck cleared from his left eye he could see just clearly enough to make his target. The water hag had recovered from the ember blast and was scurrying over to slash him again. He thrust his left arm straight out, took the best aim that he could and weaved the sign of aard. The chainshot flew forward and made its home snuggly in the left of the hag's bulbous yellow eyes.
The eye popped like a squashed tomato as the hag shrieked. She tried to escape into the sewage by dissolving her body again but the chain in her eye kept her head from dissolving. The neckless head shook violently as it tried to break free of the chain. Meril countered by walking forward and giving the chain some slack. "What's the matter drowner bitch? Don't like silver?"
The hag responded with shrieks of pain. "Well in that case, you really won't like this." Meril stuck out the index finger of his left hand and quickly signed a three-jointed line reminiscent of a crudely drawn lightning bolt before abruptly clenching his hand into a fist. "This is a little trick that's all my own," he grinned. A crackle began to emanate from his fist as it began sparking up with electrical currents that cast a flickering light all about the dark sewer tunnels. "Pretty neat right?" he said mockingly to the hag that had given him so much trouble. "Fun fact, silver is an excellent conductor of electricity." He clasped the chain in his electrified hand and the current ran through it, sparking as it travelled through each link and straight into the water hag's brain.
The creature convulsed like a pigeon high on fisstech. Its body shifted in and out of visibility till finally it stopped moving altogether and its gross corpulent form lay as dead as the drowners before it. Meril kept the current up for another five seconds before his stamina ran out, he didn't want to take any chances. The smell of burned meat reached his nostrils, "beats the smell of raw sewage," he remarked. He walked over to the water hag's body. Pressed his boot down onto its forehead and yanked hard on the chain. It took a bit of force to pull it out but eventually he succeeded. He checked the barbed point at the end of the chain. It was covered in blood and bits of brain matter. He would have to dip it in lye later to clean it.
He wrapped the chainshot back up and locked its clasp. He looked down at the dead water hag. "I wonder if they'll give me a bonus. Probably not." He went over to where his katana was standing. It was still lodged in the drowner's head. He put both hands around the swords grip and pulled it out. "If you lose your sword in a fight, your first priority is to get it back," he mumbled repeating Otto's teachings. He wiped the blade off with his gloved hand then sheathed it in the scabbard on his back.
"Now, where did I drop that hunting knife?" He went to the corpse he was working on right before the hag attacked. There was a hole in its chest where the hag's claw ripped through trying to get him. The knife was still buried halfway through the drowner's neck where he left it. He finished cutting through and put the drowner's head in his satchel. He ran a finger along the edge of the blade. "It's getting blunt, I'm going to need to sharpen this later," he sighed. "I'll need to hunt down at least six more of these buggers today before I have enough to make it worth the trouble." He casually flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade between two fingers.
"Now then, assuming that there won't be any more surprises…" a puff of green smoke exploded in the middle of the tunnel. The smoke was followed by an unearthly howl and ethereal green glow. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Meril grumbled. From the smoke emerged a floating hooded figure with no legs. It had long bony arms one of which held a lantern the other held a rusty longsword.
"A wraith? Really? A wraith, here? How much violence has gone down in these sewers for them to actually be haunted?" He pocketed his hunting knife then pulled the silver sword from his back. "Hey can you communicate?" he asked the hooded specter. The creature merely howled in response and charged at him with its sword. Meril deftly parried the blow and countered with an upward slash, but just before his blade made contact the creature's body turned blurry and immaterial. Meril skittered away out of its range and continued trying to communicate with it. "Listen, I'm not being paid to deal with ghosts right now. We don't have to fight. Can you even hear me?" The wraith vanished in a ghoulish green flash.
"I guess not," Meril groaned as the wraith reappeared directly behind him. He span around and deflected its attack with the flat of his blade. Then with a quick step he pirouetted around the ghost and slashed it down its back. A streak of ectoplasm followed his blades path as it sang its way down. The ghost howled then disappeared again. "Dammit, it keeps slipping away. No worries I have something for that."
He waved his fingers and thrust his hand downwards. Then gripping the sword in two hands he waited for the wraith to reappear. It puffed into his blindside making a terrible spin stroke as it did so. "SHIT! I CAN'T DODGE THAT!" he screamed mentally. Instinctively he forced his fingers into the sign of quen forcing the shield up just in time to have it shattered. The explosion from the shield knocked him to the tunnel wall with a heavy thud. The impact scattered his vision and caused him to lose his grip on his sword. "World, spinning, gotta focus, focus!"
He managed to regain enough of his orientation to make out the purple glow that had trapped his enemy. "It worked! Gotta get up, gotta get up."
He stumbled back to his feet and fumbled about for his katana. He found it quickly enough and didn't waste another second. Both hands on the grip he mustered all his focus to his eyes and brought the world back to clarity. For a moment all he could see was his enemy in front of him trapped and vulnerable, writhing in agony as the sign of yrden kept it trap within its circle. "HAAAH!" he screamed as he charged.
The next thing he knew, the ghost was howling in pain. Its hood fell back to reveal a long sorrowful face and gaping hole where its mouth should have been. The ghostly body extinguished in flames of green leaving behind a pile of dust that was quickly washed away by the light current of the sewer. Meril collapsed on his rear end, exhausted, his breathing ragged. "I'm not getting paid enough for this."
He sat in the muck for a few minutes trying to catch his breath again. The foul air didn't bother him anymore. When he had enough strength to stand again he grabbed his sword and used it for leverage to help himself back up. "I think I'm gonna call it a day."
He sheathed his sword and pulled out his hunting knife again. He still had two more heads to collect. He went over to where the corpse of the water hag still lay and began to squat down when suddenly the whole tunnel lit up with green smoke and the howls of the dead.
Meril's eyes opened wide in shock as he suddenly found himself surrounded by wraiths. "I hate this city."