Day Three
Geralt sat down at the mouth of the cave and began making his campfire. He quickly made a ring of stone and placed down dry chunks of wood. He made the sign of Igni and focused the power upon the wood.
Nothing.
Must have done it wrong. He thought and made the sign again.
Sparks emerged around the wood, but there was no fire.
He started to get concerned and made the sign with both his hands. A small fire emerged and lit the kindling Geralt had prepared. Geralt carefully fed the flames with further kindling and kept the Sign active for as long as possible. It took several tries and then the fire started to roar.
"My signs are getting weaker each day." He muttered to himself. It is fortuitous that I am not dependent upon them. But I'll have to be more careful without the sign of Quen to defend me.
He had spent two days trekking through what felt like endless winding forests, moving from undergrowth to undergrowth, and avoiding numerous patrols of beastmen. There had to be hundreds in just this forest alone. Geralt had never seen such a large monster infestation, and certainly not one so homogenous.
There wasn't a conjunction that brought them here, or it was much longer ago. The Beastmen are occupying their ecological niche quite well. The very forest has adapted to their presence. I have seen more mutations in one day than I'd wish to see in a whole lifetime. And Witchers live long lives.
He removed every last trace of his fire and headed back into the forest, heading towards the mountain where answers lay,
-
Day Five
For the next two days, Geralt lived like a shadow. Every step was calculated, every move a deliberate choice, every touch planned out. After decades of tracking monsters and men, Geralt knew how to hide his tracks. No crumbs were left in passing, no twigs were broken, and no branches were scraped against.
There were many Beastmen in the forest, and they had been agitated. Their many patrols roamed far and wide, and Geralt spotted more than a few hunters lying in wait, ready to pounce upon the Witcher. He disposed of them quietly, with a single blow from his silver sword, leaving the bodies to make it appear like Geralt was heading in another direction. More than once he'd created large elaborate trails, all of them to make the beastmen think he was heading in another direction.
There's more of them each day. My presence is disturbing them. Geralt thought as he navigated his way through a thick patch of massive oak trees, so large he could hide beneath the roots of many. There was something satisfying about turning his skills at tracking upon those that tried to chase him
There was a rustle of leaves and the Witcher immediately hid beneath the roots of a large tree, melding into the forest floor. Geralt held his breath, not moving a single muscle. He gripped his silver sword and slowly waited for the patrol to pass. This was the fourth such patrol Geralt had avoided today. Yesterday he'd only met one.
He counted the footsteps and measured the breathing. There was one larger male with the head, presumably an Alpha male, and five smaller beastmen with somewhat more humanoid-looking faces. Then he started hearing it.
A sickly wheezing combined with the sloshing of fluids, the sound of running water, bones snapping, and flesh tearing. All combined into a single creature. What new monster is this? He thought, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly.
The creature jumped down in front of him, its back turned towards him, and Geralt felt the urge to vomit at the sight.
Five oddly shaped limbs around a central churning mass of miss-shapen flesh, covered with drooling maws with tentacles coming out of them, which were bitten off, only to burrow into its flesh and crawl out elsewhere. Foul noxious liquids dripped from the creature and sizzled as they hit the ground. The creature's very presence put Geralt's skin on edge and filled him with a deep irrational desire to run.
The creature sniffed the air, trying to catch Geralt's scent. But as Geralt watched, its distended head suddenly shrunk into its body, taking its olfactory senses with it. The creature squirmed and screeched, growing five more limbs, while devouring three in a mindless rage. One of the Beastman appeared and kicked it forward.
Geralt was about to breathe a sigh of relief when in the ever-churning mass of jaws and tendrils, an eye suddenly grew in its back. The creature roared and turned around, facing Geralt with a blank expressionless mass.
Damn it. He thought, and got to his feet, charging the Beastmen. He cut down the first two Beastmen he saw without pause, his silver sword flashing through the air, Wolf School hilt glinting in the sunlight.
The Beastmen turned to look at the source of the noise.
He leaped forward, jamming his blade into the stomach of the Beastman Alpha male, and pulling it upwards with a mighty exertion, severing the creature into two. He parried the first flow that came towards him, cutting the tip off the spear aimed at his chest, and beheading the attacker with a single strike. Flowing like water across a whetstone, Geralt cut his path through the group, leaving mortal wounds and sprays of blood as his victims didn't even have time to realize they were dead.
Six bodies hit the ground with a thud, while the large mutant continued to devour itself like an ouroboros.
Then Geralt smelled it. The faintest whiff of Urine.
He whirled around, seeing another pair of beastmen, these ones having padded their hooves with bindings. Clever bastards. Geralt thought, going for his one-handed crossbow. They were the furthest away, so he had to take them down before they could raise the alarm. His aim was true, and a silver bolt shot through the neck of the first scout. It stumbled and fell, arterial blood spraying from its neck. He reached for the ammunition pouch and got another bolt, loading another shot. As he did so, Geralt was on the move, before the largest mutant could do something.
The amorphous mass of screaming flash suddenly recovered from its unexpected transformation, sprouting two dozen humanoid hands and charging towards the Witcher. A tentacle lashed out, knocking the crossbow from his hand. The abomination leaped at Geralt with a newly formed maw filled with hundreds of tiny needle-like teeth, all dripping with venom. Geralt reversed the grip on his blade and punched forward, cutting apart its upper 'lip' before slamming the blade down where he thought the thing's brain was. But the blade got stuck and refused to be freed. Geralt tried to free it, pulling with all his strength, but amorphous hands sprouted from the creature's flesh and pulled back.
He was thrown aside by a barbed tentacle, crashing into a tree with great force. Geralt grit his teeth and got back to his feet. He reached for his bandolier and took out a Grapeshot bomb. Without thinking and acting purely by instinct, he prepared the bomb and waited for the creature to charge.
The mutant roared and ran towards Geralt, the sound echoing for what had to be miles around.
Fuck. Geralt thought. There goes my secrecy.
He let the grenade fly and threw it into the monster's hideous jaw, and moments later, a mighty explosion appeared inside the Mutant, blowing its front half apart. The mutant shuddered, continuing to charge, only to finally die mid-step. It collapsed into a heap, twitched, and finally stopped moving.
"Ugliest bastard I've seen since Uma." He muttered, pulled out his silver sword, and hacked at the body of the beast until Geralt was sure it would never move again.
Day Six.
13:00
When Geralt approached the edge of the forest, he could see the shrine atop the hill. He had left the forest and been met by a horrendous blizzard that threatened to freeze the Witcher where he stood. He continued nevertheless, urged on by a desire for answers.
And the large pack of Beastman that was mere hours behind him. He glanced over his shoulders, seeing what had to be nearly three dozen torches. As well as this threat, hunting horns blasted every so often, responded by other far more distant horns. By the slight difference in the sound each made, there were twenty horns being blown just within a day of him. Geralt estimated the other horns were another day away at the very most.
"Wind's howling." Geralt muttered out loud in annoyance, trudging through the snow and hail.
As he passed over a small ridge, he could see his destination at last. A kilometer or so ahead, he could see light in the distance. The shrine he'd been told to find.
Geralt smelled it. The scent he'd learned to associate with beastmen. He turned to face the source, a side passage up the mountain from which he could see several torches.
They knew where I was going. He realized.
The first to turn the corner was a group of six large goat-headed Beastmen, followed by a large beastmen almost twice as tall as Geralt, and built like a brick shithouse. It was behind its comrades, and slowly working its way up the passage, but slowed down by its side. On its back was a massive axe, bigger than some humans.
Geralt drew his steel sword. He'd need to preserve his silver sword, and he'd not noticed Steel being more effective upon the Beastmen anyways. There was no time to apply a blade oil. He made the sign of Quen. But there was no power to shield him. He would have to do this alone.
That big one is much taller than I am and most likely faster if the way its legs remind me of a Horse is anything to go by. I won't be able to outrun it. I have to beat its smaller kin before I can take it on. Geralt concluded upon sighting the creature. Clever bastards approached me as the wind was blowing away from them.
Geralt flowed forward, blocking the strike of the first Beastmen to approach, disarming it with a precise thrust towards its wrist, then cut through it diagonally. Two more strokes and another two Beastmen dropped dead, their heads rolling away.
The Witcher blocked the strike from another Beastmen with a large sword, kicked it in the chest, then removed its legs with a single strike.
The next Beastman was fast. Too fast.
A mace slammed into Geralt's chest and sent him flying. He landed with a violent thud, groaning in pain and checking for wounds with his free hand. It returned covered red.
Swallow-red.
Panic shot through him as he realized many of his precious potion vials had been shattered by the impact. Especially the ones on his bandolier.
Geralt threw his last magical strength into the sign of Aard to buy himself some time. He moved quickly and reached for his potions. He felt the familiar shape of the vials of Full Moon and Thunderbolt and downed them. He felt his muscles loosen up and start filling with unnatural power, while his nerves stood on end, ready to throw himself into the fray. The world slowed down and Geralt's thinking sped up. He counted every breath, the slightest move, the syllables of each war cry.
But he was still lacking in one of his most important powers. He needed his signs, but they were too weak to be effective. Not without using both hands and exhausting himself fatally.
Vessemir would kill me if he saw me right now. Then he drank two vials of Petri's Philter. His blood screamed in fiery agony as the many different concoctions poisoned his body and began to eat away at him.
He made the sign of Axii, imposing his will upon the weakened mind of the Minotaur. The creature stopped moving and slumped forward where he stood, almost falling down.
Something foul was fighting back against him, pushing back against his sign. It took nearly everything Geralt could muster to keep the Minotaur entranced.
Geralt heard a Beastmen approaching him to the right and cut it in half without even looking, kicking its upper half against another Beastmen to stumble, then rushing forward and cutting through the impromptu projectile, the beastmen behind it, and the club it attempted to block with. The final alpha went down.
The Axii broke, and the Minotaur raised its club and charged.
He darted forward, the poisons in his body eating him alive as he fought. If I don't drink White Honey soon, I'm dead. As the club came down, he made the sign of Aard and fired a bolt of telekinetic force upwards, blowing the club back. Geralt's broken body screamed at the exertion. The blow from before had badly hurt his ribs.
He darted between the legs of the Minotaur, and with all his strength, cut off its right foot with a mighty two-handed strike, the eruption of blood spraying across his body.
The creature screamed as its foot was removed, thrashing about violently and nearly hitting Geralt. But the witcher avoided its clumsy blows with a practiced ease. This was no earth elemental or ancient rock troll, and its strikes were weak enough Geralt could partially deflect them.
He was about to deliver a killing blow upon the creature when a pack of the smaller humanoid Beastmen came, hefting simple wooden spears with metal tips and leaping over the broken terrain in an attempt to close the distance.
Geralt ignited a Grapeshot bomb and threw it into the mob. He expertly bounced it off a rock that jutted out from beneath the snow. The blast blew apart three of the attackers, and dazed them enough for him to close the distance. Geralt did not even have to look, all he had to do was smell the Beastmen, focus on the sounds of their breathing, and the sound their hooves made as they swung.
Geralt blocked a thrust with a skilled counter-stroke that disarmed the attacking beastmen, then beheaded the attacker before slashing out six times. He delivered six slashes around him, and six beastmen fell down, clutching ruined throats that spurted blood.
He heard something moving through the air, and made the Sign of Quen, just as a javelin slammed into him. The projectile bounced off. Geralt charged the beastmen that threw the javelin, performing a pirouette as he charged and cutting down two beastmen that tried to intercept him. Geralt made the sign of Aard point-blank and aimed it at the neck of the beastmen.
But no power came forth.
Geralt was kicked backward by the Beastman, falling onto his back. The surrounding Beastmen roared and closed in.
Geralt closed his eyes and ignited a Samum bomb then threw it up.
There was a piercing flash of light and a thunderous noise, followed by screams of anger and frustration. The Beastmen had been blinded by the flash.
But before they could respond, he had already gotten up and with expertly aimed strikes, cut down three beastmen. Blood splattered across his face, and he grit his teeth.
With his signs failing, Geralt instead drew his steel sword in the other hand and charged the still wounded Minotaur. The final enemy on the battlefield. The creature tried to rise to its one remaining feet and muster a defense, but was far too slow.
He crossed his blades and leaped for its throat, beheading it with a single scissoring motion. The Minotaur slammed into the ground with a tremendous Thud.
Geralt reversed the grip of his blade and stabbed it into the chest of the Minotaur, cutting out its heart. It was massive, but the shrine was not far away. And if history had taught him anything, bigger offerings were usually better when beseeching the gods.
He slowly stumbled forward, the heavy winds covering him with snow. He clutched tightly to the heart as a source of warmth and continued to move towards the shrine.
He heard the blasts of hunting horns again.
-
Day Six.
16:00
The roads converged into a single small passage that led to the shrine, surrounded by large jagged rocks, The sounds of the storm were intensifying, enough to make him fairly confident that he would not survive trying to climb down the other side of the mountain. The way behind him was the only way out.
When Geralt reached the eternal flame, he noticed there were dozens of corpses laid around it. Human corpses. Men garbed in long-decayed furs and clad in full plate lay where they had fallen, in a line in the passage, a wall of dead Beastmen before them. They were still stoic, even in death, and their presence had a somewhat inspiring effect upon Geralt.
Seeing humans standing side by side against monsters was a sight he always approved of.
His medallion started to shake.
Place of power. Has to be.
Geralt approached the fire, and threw the heart of the Minotaur into its flames.
"Oh, mighty Ulric. I beseech your aid." Geralt said, but did not truly mean it. But wanted to show the proper courtesy just in case.
The flames flickered, but nothing happened.
"Oh, mighty Ulric. I have brought you the heart of your enemy and offered it to the fires. Won't you aid me? Beastmen approach, even now."
Nothing happened.
Figures. Geralt thought. He'd hoped for a local monastery, a guardian spirit, or something. But like he'd found time and time again, the word of the gods turned out to be hollow. He turned to leave, only to see the torches of the first Beastmen approaching. He'd underestimated their speed.
Geralt knelt down and put his equipment down before him. He clipped an incendiary, a gas, shrapnel, and a flash bomb to his bandolier. They were his last grenades.
For potions, he took his last two Raffard's decoction into the holders on his bandolier. He took out a potion of Swallow, two Thunderbolts, and Full Moon, and placed them before him in a perfect row. These were the only potions he had. Any more he would need to brew.
Geralt closed his eyes and entered a deep meditative state. Then slowly reached for the potions and downed them one at a time. He ignored the burning sensation as the fire spread through his veins and began to apply Beast oil and Hanged Man's Venom to his steel sword. He opened his eyes and saw the first Beastmen approaching. Dozens of them. From large bull-headed Beastmen to small humanoid ones with goat legs and tufts of fur, all charging down the pass and heading towards him.
He continued his meditations, opening his body fully to the changes. His muscles swelled and tensed up as the Thunderbolt potions began to take their toll, while the Full Moon potion made him feel like he could take on anything. Raw power flowing through his nerves, ready to be unleashed.
They were closing in now. He got to his feet and charged, throwing his Samum bomb into the midst of their charging ranks moments before impact. The flash blinded the Beastmen and made them roar in surprise. In moments Geralt was upon them, blade swinging with deadly intent.
-
The snows had turned red as the bodies of the Beastmen piled up around Geralt. He was covered from near head to toe in blood, his left arm was bleeding profusely, and he'd been stabbed several times. But he refused to give up. He had come too far to die in some hellish world like this one.
A Beastman roared and charged towards him, jumping across the bodies of its fallen kin, spear at the ready. With a second of delay, Geralt took his crossbow and shot the Beastman in the throat. It fell back, clutching its punctured throat and making pained animal noises.
A bolt of ethereal force slammed into Geralt from behind, throwing him against the side of the crevice, his crossbow going flying.
There went my last ribs. He thought as he felt the pain in his chest burning.
Geralt slowly got to his feet and saw what stood before him.
Two dozen beastmen were charging at him, a sorcerer in the rear shouting and screaming as dark purple energy gathered around its hands. It roared, throwing a ball of Ethereal fire towards Geralt.
Geralt saw the attack coming, and he quickly removed the arms of an attacking Beastmen and positioned it between him and the blast, letting it take the hit for him. The dark energies still washed over Geralt, causing his Medallion to almost jump from his neck due to the incessant vibrations.
"Had enough?!" He yelled, a runic blade in each hand. Geralt was running on adrenaline and rage. Anger at the universe for being here instead of with Yennefer, anger at the monstrous Beastmen for attacking him, angry at himself for believing Ingrid. If he knew just what the Beastman had been like, he would never have come here.
The howl of a wolf echoed all around. A howl that shook Geralt to his bones and that paused the Beastmen where they stood. A great warm glow engulfed Geralt, emanating from the eternal flame at the heart of the stone circle. A sensation so strong and powerful, Geralt nearly fell to a knee at the overwhelming sensation.
The Beastmen around him burst into flames, their hair catching alight and flesh melting off their bones.
A raw power spread through him. A power, unlike anything the Witcher had ever felt before. His ribs mended, blood flowed back into his body from where it had fallen, and energy returned to him.
"Rise. White Wolf."
A voice like an avalanche sounded from the shrine for what had to be miles around.
Geralt screamed as raw power flooded through him.
The beastmen outside the range of the fire backed off, shielding their eyes from the sight. But as they did so, the sky darkened as razor-sharp hail rained from the sky, driving back the would-be defilers back.
The specter of an ancient warrior emerged from the fire, hefting a great double-headed axe. A man clad in mail and a flowing white beard, with the hide of a great wolf, draped over his shoulder. The warrior raised a hand and balled it, and as he did, the snow around the temple began to stir. Wolves of snow and ice crawled out of the thick layers of snow, leaping for the beastmen, ripping out their throats, or pulling them apart with their paws.
"White Wolf." The spirit said, his words echoing in Geralt's bones. "You are far from home. Far from woman and hearth. Far from the source of your magic. But you have shown true courage and valor, the equal of the finest of my sons. You shall not fall this day."
Geralt thought back to Yennefer who even now had to be waiting for his return. He looked at the spirit in silence, completely unsure about what to say.
The ghostly warrior raised a hand, and a burning white fire shot through Geralt. "I bestow upon you my blessing." His eyes felt like they were moments from burning out of his skull. His Medallion levitated, its eyes turning blue. The warrior clenched his fist, and an invisible force lifted Geralt to his feet and placed him down to face the enemy, his beating like a drum.
Geralt instinctively knew what to do. He charged the scared demoralized Beastmen, cutting through the only two that tried to fight him in an instant. He joined the wolves of ice and snow in their assault, lending his fury to theirs as he laid into the enemy.
More Beastmen tried to turn and fight, led by one in a suit of bulky armor, with severed human heads bound around its weight as a belt. Geralt made the sign of Yrden, but instead of magical chains of orange light, shackles of ice erupted from the ground, gripping the Beastman and dragging him to the ground, allowing Geralt to close in and cut it in half with a single blow of his steel sword.
The Witcher balled a fist and made the Sign of Aard. But no telekinetic blast came fort to beat back the Beastmen, instead, a mighty arctic wind erupted from his hand, throwing back the Beastman, and letting Geralt finishing it off with a quick thrust into its throat.
A massive mutated mass of flesh shambled towards him, drooling acid from its fanged mouth. Geralt made the sign of Igni, and blue fires emerged from his hand, burning away at the mutant, melting flesh and bone.
The Beastman sorcerer gathered his unholy power and threw it towards Geralt. Geralt crossed his wrists and made the sign of Heliotrope. The power of Ulric flowed through his body, shielding him from damage. Geralt closed the distance and ran the Beastman through its heart, then ripped out the blade with a shower of burning black blood.
The remaining Beastmen were in full retreat, running for their lives.
The sensation of pure power left Geralt, and he fell to his knees, sucking in a deep breath. He dropped his sword and knelt down. He had no words to describe how he had felt only moments before.
The power that had coursed through him dissipated. He made the sign of Igni, conjuring a small ball of the same blue fire around his hand. He glanced at the shrine to Ulric, noting the flame had returned to its original size.
He got back to his feet and headed north towards where Ingrid had told him Middenheim was. He needed answers and hoped his newfound blessing would give him entry.