(1252) (Hindarsfjall: Village of Lofoten) (Skjall's POV)

After the initial shock of being reborn had worn off, it took some time before I could finally open my eyes. But during then, in the past year or summer in this world's case I've been hearing some interesting things during that period of time. First off, my new name in this world is now Skjall.

I first tried to rationalize and tried not to shake in anxiety at the implication of my new name. As a Witcher fan I didn't need 3 guesses on who I am reborn as if this was the case. However, another part of me, the realist and a bit cynical part of me is that I was reborn in the same Earth and not in The Continent.

Second, the first year was to endure the suffering that is infanthood. The feeling of helplessness as well as the humiliation of what I feel was diaper changing, but what was different about this was instead of feeling a diaper, it was the feeling of a fabric on what I could be familiar with, it was the material we use in our LARP sessions. The feeling of animal leather.

This caused me to think that either I'm in a rural section of the Earth, or accept that it was enough proof for me to think that I am where I think I am. However, due to my realistic nature I needed one more solid proof for me to accept that this place is what I think it is. And the world didn't disappoint when my mother, whose name is Hanna, called out to her daughter, my sister, whose name is Astrid.

That was it. That's all the proof I needed to know where I am now. And my mother and sister, who was holding me, for the first time saw me laughing. Not laughing from madness, surprisingly. But from genuine happiness. Because, before death, me as well as my group were really big fans of the Witcher series, game, comic, show or otherwise. I know that it's a pretty dark world, but we always say that it's a lot better than being in Game of Thrones.

And we tell stories around the camp fire, simulating camping in the Witcher universe which isn't really all that different from real camping. The only difference that we did was we had to forage for our own source of clean water and food. Before we hit the hay, sometimes literally, we tell about if we could be somehow being in the Witcher universe, what race would one of us want to be reborn to. Some answered Elves, others dwarves, while most, and by most I mean the females of our group would like to be Sorceresses like Yen and Triss.

Me, it's ironic really, I wanted to be reborn in Skellige. I always fancied the lifestyle of the North. Land of fierce warriors, it mostly stemmed because I admired the an Craites. In the game I always picked Cerys as the next ruler, while I do like Hjalmar as a character, he's not really the ideal ruler. If I were to hazard a guess, then I would bet that Hjalmar would be like the late King Bran. And I always aim for the best ideal outcome.

Back to where I began, after seeing me laugh for the first time I can hear my new family laugh as well and I can feel Astrid spin around as she cradled me. It was a very happy year that was. As time went on, I also experienced my first winter here. I knew living in these times, winter is always a grim season especially when the blizzards come. Then my mind wandered to the White Frost.

When playing the game, the quest that sent Geralt to other worlds and landed him to one where the White Frost decimated the world, it had me thinking. I think to myself if I could have a chance to have a role in stopping the White Frost. For my new role as Skjall, the one who was wrongfully damned for helping the one who would stop the Eternal Winter. I refuse to lay down and accept that as my fate.

I for one am not going to die and be briefly resurrected before dying again only to be thrown into a rotting pit. This is my new life now, and I'm going to make the best of it, by aiming for the best possible outcome. Only this time, I don't have Google to guide me through the best outcome. I need to tread carefully and prepare myself for the next 20 years.

For now, I'm going to be the best son this family has ever seen.

(1252) (Hindarsfjall: Village of Lofoten) (3rd POV)

Skjall has been nothing but a dear ever since his birth for Hanna and Astrid. She expected he would be like his sister when she was born. Crying at all times, even throughout the night, she and her husband barely slept during those times. Eventually she mellowed out when she turned 2 summers old and became more bearable. After that she and her husband decided to sire one more, hopefully a son this time.

Unfortunately, months later during the course of her pregnancy her husband died in battle when Clan Drummond attempted to raid Hindarsfjall. Clan Drummond was repelled but at a cost. The grief of losing her husband almost made her miscarry, but she willed herself and stayed resolute. She may not be a warrior, but she has a will of steel. And when the day for Skjall's birth arrived she called for their neighbor Torgun and his wife and daughter to help her get herself to Freya's Garden to seek help from the Priestesses.

Sister Josta was the one who helped deliver her Skjall into the world. Her heart truly sank when she did not hear him crying that time. But it was immediately quelled when she saw him merely asleep, it brought a smile and a tear of joy seeing him so peaceful. Freya had blessed her with Skjall and she felt like this was merely the beginning.

As the months went by, Skjall showed that he was the exact opposite of his sister Astrid. She could sleep soundly during the nights, however, sometimes she would suddenly will herself awake to check if there was anything wrong with Skjall, only to find him dream blissfully. It always brought a smile to her face as well as Astrid's when they see him so at peace. And when they finally hear him laugh for the first time, it was like music to their ears, the sound of happiness he would give always brought a smile to their faces.

When the winter came, Hanna was always afraid that she didn't stock enough supplies for them to last the winter. However, it was immediately placated when looking at her two beautiful children. It always calms her down seeing Astrid make faces to make Skjall laugh, it was such a heartwarming sight despite the cold surrounding them outside their home.

After 3 months had past, spring had finally arrived, and it brought another surprise when she saw Skjall trying to stand up with the help of his older sister. Astrid helped him walk as Skjall reached out to Hanna with one arm, smiling all the way and saying the one thing she wanted to hear after the past year.

"Ma!" Skjall said in a happy baby voice.

She cried in joy as she hugged both her children as Spring had come at full bloom.

(1256) (On a Longboat towards Kaer Trolde) (3rd POV)

4 years have passed and already Skjall has made some changes, mostly to himself. During the first couple of years he needed to get used to his motor skills. The next one was getting the lay of the land, while the game has given him some reference on where is where, without the help of an automated world map he needed to get used to a new point of navigation. Whether where is facing is North, South, East, or West. The only thing he knows what to use is the sun, even then he doesn't know which axis The Continent is facing. So right now he doesn't have much to rely on except for maps provided within his village.

Next and most importantly was his education. While the Witcher series do speak English, the words were however very different. However, to his shock the books that his family possess were written in very elegant English, like the old runic English kind of thing. He pretended to ask his mother about what word is what and she happily helped him as well as his sister Astrid. He asked if there are other written languages across the Continent. She answered that the books that they have were from the Continent itself, brought by the raids his father brings home. This relieved Skjall as he now didn't have to trouble himself with learning a new written language.

But he still had to keep up appearances, so he endured as his mother and sister 'taught' him how to read and write.

The next one is on practicing his swordsmanship. When he reached the age of 4, he began to practice his stances with a stick or thick branch. It did give his sister and mother some form of amusement thinking he was already becoming a new fierce warrior for their Clan Heymaey.

His mother would tell him stories about his father's exploits as a proud warrior of their Clan, about how he slew a bear for his Warrior's trial and told him on that was how they met and conceived Astrid. He didn't really need that bit of info. Also on how he met his end in battle against the infamous Clan Drummond. He died proudly defending his family and Clan. Despite he never met him and the game never mentioned him, he felt pride that his or Skjall's Old Man died like a warrior and when he asked what his father's name was, she answered this.

"Ingvar." Hanna said with a forlorn and yet with a warm smile on her face. He didn't miss the fitting name his father had. He truly was born to be a warrior. Meanwhile his name means to flatter. Fitting, given how Skjall was in the game. But now he's keen on giving his name more than one meaning in the future. If he lived long enough to see it through.

When he doesn't practice his swordsmanship, or stickmanship as his sister Astrid would put it, he would help around the village for a couple of coppers. Helping around the crops or helping around the village's sauna as either the towel boy or the one who brings some refreshments. Those were really uncomfortable times for Skjall as the almost fully naked women there fawned on how cute and shy he was as he handed them drinks. He even saw some of the really aged women bare. He was forever scarred from that moment on. But at least the money was worth it, almost. He earned about a Ducat's worth of Coppers.

Now at age 5, he and his family were going to Kaer Trolde to celebrate because King Bran had come home from a successful raid again and is inviting all the Clans. Donar an Hindar invited my mother along with us to accompany him with his grandson Otrygg an Hindar. Apparently, Donar knew my mother through my father Ingvar, who helped defend him against the raiding party of Drummond. So he invited us in order to honor his memory and sacrifice to his clan.

(1256) (Kaer Trolde Harbor) (Skajll's POV)

We have just docked on Kaer Trolde Harbor, we arrived just before sunset and it almost took my breath away on how everything looks amazing in real life. I heard giggling as a hand cupped my chin and pushed to shut my mouth up.

"Careful there Skjall, better keep your trap shut or else a Siren might nest there." My sister Astrid chuckled as I scratch the back of my head in embarrassment.

"Oi. Lay off your brother Astrid, you were practically the same when your Da and I brought you here." My mother smiles as I now chuckle at my 8-year-old sister's bashful face. We heard the laughing of a slightly younger Jarl Donar an Hindar. While he does have wrinkles, it's not as defined as he did in the game, which is in 16 years from now. Nonetheless the years have been kind to him.

"Aye. Kaer Trolde is after all the King's domain. First timers always react the same way every time." Donar an Hindar says to us. Then we heard a voice that sterns the face of our Jarl and my mother, even my sister tensed at the voice.

"Well, well, well. Finally decided to show up for the feast here Donar." The skin crawling voice of the Madman himself, Lugos. Boy did I enjoy cleaving him into two at the game. Heh, even in real life he's already gray and bald. And just beside him is his son Blueball – I mean, Blueboy Lugos. It was a shame that he died via the Berserker incident, I actually wanted to kill him myself in the game. At least he died with a whimper in the end.

"Greetings as well Lugos, I suppose you just arrived as well." Donar said in a stern and firm voice as he and Lugos were sizing each other up. I can't really blame Donar or just about anyone in Skellige who hates Clan Drummond, heck even I wanted to wipe out the clan in Witcher 3. Now, I hate him because he was the cause of my father's death, pretty cliché I know. Plus, he's an overall dick who tries to pillage Clan an Craite as well as our Clan Heymaey.

Then my focus shifted as I see just arriving by the Harbor was a ship whose sail bares a familiar Kingdom before it was conquered in the First Nilfgaardian war. As well as beside it was the ship of the Clan An Craites.

"Cintra." I muttered as I realized just who is arriving. Ciri. It wasn't very clear on what date in time did Ciri spend her childhood in Skellige, only it was mention she stayed in Skellige for about 6 months here and back to Cintra until she turned 11 or 10. Also the books and the games really muddled up the chronological order of things, so I don't know what is what in the future. But I do know one thing, Cintra will eventually fall in the First Nilfgaardian War.

And I am not ashamed to admit this, but I do admire Ciri in the game. Heck, if the Witcher had a CAC feature, I would damn try to romance Ciri. But I shake my head as my cynical part of my brain brought the topic on how I will eventually meet Ciri in the future, only to either die or be damned in the process.

Nevertheless, it would seem that the game is now set, and the pieces leading towards the inevitable future are now coming into place. The question remains now is.

"When will the first move be?"

AN: And done, I'm on fire today. I do hope that I at least got the Witcher Vibe in this story. I'll try to keep my Witcher High active so I can try and upload more chapters before it runs out. Because even in Quarantine I still have my College Thesis to work with. I really appreciate the support you guys are giving me. So I hope you like this chapter, tell me what you think about it in the Reviews, this is Fatalis0217 saying Be safe and secure inside. PEACE!