"To believe my luck, finding a Witcher here of all places... not that its particulary unlikely for one of your own to be in such a place. Witchers do travel the land looking for monsters to slay for coin after all, so running into one in a town that has a notice, several actually, about a violent monster lurking in the mire not far from here isn't so far fetched. It's just that they say there are so few of your kind left. Are you to kill the monster of the mire? The towns folk seem very eager for it gone." The man he trailed behind remained silent but that didn't at all phase the bard.
"Not much for talking are you? A Witcher thing perhaps, I always though it just Geralt who wasn't much of a talker but perhaps it's a Witcher trait. I don't thonk Ive even got your name? Oh, but the timing! I could not ask for better. I am in desperate need of new material, inspiration for my music, no one likes a bard who only plays the same three songs over and my latest pieces have not been very popular. Apparently no one cares anymore for tales of sorrow and betrayal or heartbreak and lost love." He lamented with a drawn out sigh.
"But what else have I to draw upon of late. My very best friend in the whole wide world cast me out atop a mountain, in the middle of nowhere mind you. Apparently I am the bane his very existence. Or something of the sorts. And my latest love left me, she may not have been much to look at, but she was boisterous and witty, brilliant at cards and her laugh... Ohoooho I've never heard a more melodious sound. Possibly the greatest three days of my life and the most glorious night, my god the things she could do. I was smitten, hopelessly head over heels, though her the love of my life, I'd have done anything for her and then I woke in the morning to find her gone. Along with my coin purse, my favourite jacket and the silver pendant gifted to me by the ever lovely Lady Evelyn from Toussaint."
"I supose I should be thankful though, at least she left me my lut-" A strong rough hand clamped over his mouth in a tight grip, silencing him and his own hands rose in show of surrender instinctively. He'd not even noticed the Witcher round on him the movement had been so swift and now he found the single Amber cat like eye glaring down at him, the chain of the cat medallion around his neck jingling as the Witcher spat out a terse.
"Shut up! Your incessant yammering is giving me a headache and will scare off everything within a two mile radiance."
"That's quite the grip you have, very strong, though I guess that's a given, what with swinging-" Jaskier murmured out, once he was released, rubbing at his now tender jaw and recieving a low growl and sharp look from the other man. "-Okay, sorry, sorry. Got it, no more talking. Silent. I can be silent."
Picking up his own pace to a half jog to catch up to the Witcher who had started on his way again without waiting, following quietly as they grew close to the grove of trees and the man turned down a less used trail. He really had been lucky to find a Witcher, lucky again finaly after a string of bad luck. His dragon epic hadn't turned out very epic at all, it was kind of a bust, what with not actually having seen the dragon or found a viable witness to the events. Not after the unfairly harsh verbal assault Geralt had thrown at him, the man had obviously needed his space to deal with his own demons and he'd needed his own space to wallow in his own misery for a bit.
Honestly Geralt's words had hit a lot harder than he'd expected, probably because the guy was the only real friend he had. Sure he knew a lot of people and was well acquainted with many of them, some he'd known twice as long as the Witcher yet none were as close as he'd felt with the White Wolf. Certainly none he trusted more, nobles and aristocrats may be all smiles and pleasantries to your face but they only ever really look out for themselves. While fellow troubadours friendly as they may be were also rivals, those in brothels only cared when there was coin involved, and drunkards and gamblers were quick to turn on you if you overstayed your welcome.
While he knew he got on Geralt's nerves at time, annoying people was apparently his secret talent, and the Witcher could be rather harsh with his words. What Geralt had said to him on the mountain was unnecessarily cruel, even for him.
So yes there was no hope of getting any of the story from Geralt, the mercenaries were all dead and the dwarves had been stuck outside the cave and missed all the action as well. He had no desire of chasing down Yeniffer and didn't want to go anywhere near the old man and his two freaky-ass bodyguards who had somehow all miraculously come back from the dead. He had no dragon or epic battle to write about.
And the events of late have been far from inspiring, he was in dire need of a beast or monster to write of. So when the one eyed Witcher with murky dark hair and a cat arround his neck had stumbled into the tavern he'd rented a room at, it had been a blessing. The stoic man had agreed to find him a monster for inspiration for what little coin he had left after that disastrous fling two weeks back, and things were finally looking up for him again.
"Sooo anything in particular I should know about this creature you are taking me to see?" Yeeeah, silent wasn't really his thing. "You know poisonous venom, razor sharp claws, the ability to cloak appearance? I've heard vampires can do that. Acidic or otherwise fatal saliva of the spitting type, ah... oh, that mind trickery thing they say sirens do to lure in their victims. I'm just listing off potential dangers here, hallucinogenic spores? Is that a thing? It's getting rather dark, supose the clouds aren't helping there. I do hope it doesn't rain again the weather's been miserable enough already, I'm never going to get all this mud off my boots..."
"...So I had no choice but to get out of there as quickly as possible, lest I loose something I'd very much like left intact." Soon enough the Witcher had led him to a small clearing by the small river that cut through the woods.
Stumbling through the bushes and further into the clearing, Jaskier looked around in the dimming dusk light. "So what exactly am I looking for here?" There were no obvious signs of a monster nearby, no claw marks or obviously broken branches. No unusual sounds or growls, no foul smells, alot of the creatures Geralt had hunted had dung and rotting half eaten corpses littering the surroundings of their nests. Here there was just the grass and mud of the river's bank, stepping a little closer to the waters edge he peered across the narrow river. It was a little hard to make out at the distance in the dying light but there was what looked to be a dead cow on the other side, ribs visible where something had clearly been eating it. Though the animal looked as though it had simply expired after getting bogged in the mud, poor thing.
Great here he is trying to find inspiration outside the depressing and the Witcher leads him to a dead farm animal. He was promised a monster so where was it, the Witcher had simply lead him to a bloody river... Oh, no, nonono, if the Witcher thought he had coughed up the last of his coin for this he was dead wrong.
"Please tell me you didn't lead me all the way down here, through this miserable weather and mud, for drowners. I paid for you to find me a monster worthy of inspiration, not bloody drowners. If I'd wanted drowners I'd have sought out a fisherman, nobody wants to hear a song about drowners they hear enough of them in fisherman tales." He griped turning back to the Witcher, because if that was indeed all the man had to offer he wanted his coin back. "Witcher?!" The spot where the other man had been standing was empty and Jaskier sputtered as he scanned the edges of the clearing for any sign of the man.
"Oh, no. No, no you don't! This is a scam, I demand my coin back, right now mister!" He yelled into the shadows beneath the trees, not entirely sure where the Witcher had vanished to, certainly he couldn't have gotten far. He stepped forwards to hunt the man down before he could get too far, when something snagged his ankle, sending him toppling face down into the mud hard enough to knock the wind from him.
It took a moment in his winded state to realise he was moving, being dragged backwards and he scrabbled to grab at the grass and mud beneath him. The grass tearing and slipping through his fingers as he twisted to look at the creature pulling him towards the water. Oddly enough it wasn't so much the slimey blue river dweller that smelt of rot that sent his heart to overdrive and his mind into a frenzy, but the deep dark depths of the river in which he was being dragged to. While he considered himself a man of many talents, swimming was not one of them.
In his panic driven haste he didn't think twice as he swung his lute over his shoulder and swung the instrument at the drowner's head. The creature letting out a half gurgled screech as it let go of his leg, as the instrument smacked into the side of its head with a crack. Scrabbling to his feet and almost tripping over himself in his hast to run as one of its brethren lunged out of the water at him. He took off at a sprint the moment he gained his footing, hearing gurgles and splashing and chancing a glance over his shoulder to see several of the monsters leaping from the water to follow.
And oh boy did he wish he didn't look back because now he was certain they had taken chase rather than sinking back into the river's depths. He'd really, really hoped they'd give up and leave him be once they crashed through the bushes of the clearing back into the tree line. He could barely make out where he was going in the dwindling light, as branches and twigs whipped and snagged at him. One let out a growl, it sounded to be right on his heels and against his better judgment risked another peek over his shoulder. It was right there on his tail, and then his foot hit something.
His boot snagging on a log or rock, something hard at least, he didn't get the chance to see as he toppled forward with a yelp of surprise, the monsters claws catching him across his chest and side as he went down. Thankfully the leather strap of his lute took the majority of the attack, the claws little more than grazing his side thanks to the leather's protection. He tried to regain his footing as he stumbled but his right leg slipped out from under him as it skid through the mud, sending him skidding down a short incline mostly on his side.
He wasn't sure he could out run them, not when the blasted creatures seemed determined to keep up the chase. Especially when he could hardly even make out his surroundings, thinking quick, or perhaps not thinking at all he threw himself at the next thick tree he came across. Wrapping his arms and legs around it as he try to shimmy up it. He had once been quite adept at scaling trees when he was small, he was almost up to its branches when searing pain tore through his right leg, ripping a cry of pain from his throat as one of the drowners sunk its claws deep into his thigh.
Dragging excruciatingly through skin and muscle as it tried to pull him back down, clinging harder to the bark of the tree he swung his free leg back, kicking his heel back hard into the drowner's face. Its hold on his leg loosening at the impact as he then used it's head to boost him high enough to reach one of the thickened branches and pull himself onto it. He felt his instrument snag slightly as he pulled himself up and before he had a chance to stop it, what remained of the strap gave way and it plummeted back between the tree's roots.
The monsters snarling and jumping below in attempts to reach as he settled himself on the brach just out of their reach.
"Ha... Ha! Try and get me now you rotten bog dwellers!" Jaskier taunted as he tried to get his breath back, once he was safely out of reach. Praying the water dwelling creatures didn't posses the ability to climb trees themselves.
The searing white hot pain in his leg soon had his attention again as he looked down to assess the damage. That was a mistake as the sight of the amount blood bubbling out of the deep open gashes instantly had him feeling nauseous and feint. He'd never been particularly good with blood but you would think travelling around with a Witcher, one would be used to the sight and smell of blood and nasty wounds.
Somehow it was very different when it was his own blood.
Taking a moment to even his breaths and let the dizziness pass, he started working the bootlace from the boot on his injured leg. All the while carefully avoiding direct eye contact with the injury. Once the lace was free he drew in a deep breath and tied the cord off around his leg just above the wound to help stem the bleeding. Tossing the boot at the creatures still circling below with a growled out, "Scram! Go back to your river!"
The clouds that had been looming since that morning deciding to start a even drizzle then, as if to add to his rotten luck. The leaves and branches above him doing little to shield from the wet. Which was just the icing on the cake really, one Witcher wanted him gone and now this new Witcher may have achived that wish, because the damn things were still scurrying around the base of the damn tree. Settling himself as comforably as one can when straddling a branch and huddling a tree, he decided it wouldn't be too hard to wait the creatures out. They lived in rivers, lakes and ocean shores after all, how long could they possibly stay on land.
Annoyingly quite a while it would seem.
"The river is that way you fools, go back to it. You are suposed to live in water not on land, you halfwitted beasts." He called down to them. It had been hours, hours! And the things were still hounding him, seemingly just as energised in their efforts to try and get him down as when they started. Maybe they were nocturnal, he thought, the sun would be up soon and surely then they'd give up the hunt. He was freezing and tired and had sung nearly every song he had by the time the sky had started to gain light, the rain hadn't given up since it strated only alternating between heavy and sprinkles.
He was soaked through and the picking up wind had him shivering so bad he was practically vibrating on the spot, his fingers were going numb along with the toes on his unbooted foot. On the plus side however, the numbing cold had reduced the pain radiating in his leg significantly. The stain on his pants leg however, slowly continued to spread.
The monsters didn't leave with the comming of morning, the stubborn things lingered still. He shifted between cursing the creatures, shouting for help, with the hope that despite the foul weather the daylight might bring travellers. No one heard. The passing hours proved only to sap his voice along with his energy, as the sky grew darker once more, the wind howling and rain pouring down in buckets. Each drop like little needles as they hit his skin at the ferocity the wind had them pelting into him, the first clap of thunder worked in chasing away the sleep that was threatening to claim him. The storm seemed to encourage the drowners below as it threatened to knock him from his perch.
It was significantly harder to keep his grip on the bark when he could no longer feel his fingers and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment as things threatened to start spinning. The storm seemed to rage on forever but eventually it died down, and he started his cries for help once more, even though his hopes of anyone passing by in such miserable weather was waning. By the time the day was drawing to an end once more, blood loss, cold and exhaustion had him muttring to himself just to try and keep his eyes open. He'd almost slipped from his perch twice already, his hands struggling to keep their grip and the drowners grew louder knowing their meal wasn't far off now.
He wouldn't be able to stay up here much longer and they knew it, he did too. His muttering died out and his eyes were refusing to stay open, and even though he knew it pointless he mustered up one final call of help. He tightened his hold as much as he could, as his eyes slipped shut, determined to hold on as long as he could, even if only for a minute or two. He'd rather not be conscious when the things ate him, one of the creatures let out a howling screech but they sounded so distant now, and somewhere deep through the fog as the word faded completly he could have sworn he heard his name.