The Witcher: Age of the Dragon Redux
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Chapter 3
The Dragonborn set off along the path that took from him Keira's home. Walking at a brisk pace, the warrior breathed in the scents of the forest. This land seemed different from Skyrim, but it felt similar as well. The warrior continued on his way to the village of Midcopse. As he approached the main road, the sound jabbering sound of creatures the Dragonborn had never of before caught his attention. Looking ahead, the warrior saw a group of small pale skinned creatures capering about the corpse of a deer. Looking at them closely, the warrior that the creatures were quite hideous to behold; each of them jowly necks and wore a crude loincloth and their fingers ended up in sharp dirty looking claws.
Guessing that these creatures were not the friendliest sort, the Dragonborn drew his sword in preparation for a fight. His footfalls were silent as he neared the closest of the creatures and before they realised the warrior was there, he killed the nearest one with a quick chop to the neck, severing its head in one go. Blood spurted out of the stump where the creature's head once stood. The compatriots of the beast, leaped to their feet jabbering and yowling angrily as they tried to attacked the warrior. The sound of claw nails scraping against metal were head as the creatures tried to penetrate the warrior's armour with their natural weapons, but unfortunately, their claws were blunted against the dark onyx metal that made the armour.
With a rapid and ruthless efficiency, the Dragonborn dispatched his foes, leaving them corpses on the ground. Once they were all dead, the hero of Skyrim kneeled beside one of the bodies to examine. Remembering the bestiary Keira had given him, the Dovahkiin took it out and flipped through the pages before he found a picture of a similar creature with a written description.
"Nekkers, eh?" the warrior mused to himself as he read the information within. Nekkers were classified as an Ogroid-type monster, prowling forests and mountain caves, travelling in packs ranging from seven to seven dozen. Larger and stronger specimens were labelled warriors and those that were exceptionally strong and clever were called phoocas, but such specimens were rare.
"Weaknesses: susceptible to frost based attacks, magical wards and shield and weapons coated in ogroid oil to intensify bleeding," the warrior read aloud before he put the bestiary away. "Need to find an alchemist who might sell me some of this ogroid oil, maybe even some potion recipes too," he said to himself as he stood to his feet and continued on the path to Midcopse.
The sun rose high into the sky as the Dovahkiin soon reached the village. The warrior walked into the village and looked around. He counted eight buildings in total; the smell of woodsmoke and burning charcoal followed the sound of metal striking metal met the warrior. There were some farming pastures that had some wheat and cabbages, but there wasn't much in the way of produce.
The villagers all looked at the Dragonborn afraid; some mothers ushered their children indoors while some of the menfolk gripped their hoes and pitchforks fearfully. Following the sound of metal and the smell of charcoal, the warrior found a blacksmith working at his forge. The forge wasn't too grand, but it seemed that the blacksmith there was doing well for himself. The man in question looked up and swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight of the Dragonborn standing across from him.
"Are you a blacksmith, perchance?" the Dragonborn asked the man conversationally.
"A-Aye, m'lord, I am," replied the smithy nervously as his grip on his hammer was shaky. "Are you one of the Baron's men?" he asked.
"I am no-one's man but my own," replied the Dovahkiin. "May I look at your stock?" he then asked.
"Y-yes, m'lord! Buy whatever you like!" said the smith looking a little less nervous.
The hero of Skyrim looked over the smith's wares; much of it was different from what he was familiar. Some of the metals and ores the smith had available looked decidedly different from regular iron or steel. "May I ask what this ore is called?" the warrior enquired as he held in his a chunk of metal ore that glowed faintly.
"Glowing ore, m'lord. Can be refined to Dimeritium ore," replied the smith.
"And what can you can make with Dimeritium?" asked the Dragonborn.
"Lots of things; swords, armour, you name it," said the smith. "Dimeritium also has the power to negate magic, so the mage hunters forge shackles and cuffs out of it to prevent mages and witches from using magic," he explained.
"Fascinating," murmured the Dovahkiin. "How much of this Dimeritium do you have in stock?" he asked.
"I've gots about half a crate of ore, and about a dozen ingots of Dimeritium in stock," answered the smith. "How much are you looking to buy?" he asked.
"Not sure, enough to make a dagger to try for size," the Dragonborn said. "I also see you have a fair amount of silver as well. Do you use that to make jewellery?" he asked.
"Sometimes, but it's mostly for silver swords," the smith replied.
"Silver swords?" parroted the Dovahkiin. "Do you face the threat of the undead attacking regularly?" he enquired.
"We face monsters if that's what you mean," stated the smith. "Silver is one of the few things that can kill a monster. Dimeritium weapons can do the same. And the ones that often ask for silver or dimeritium swords are witchers," he explained.
"Interesting. I ran into some nekkers in the woods not far from here. I killed with my sword no problem," Dovahkiin mused.
"Is your sword made of silver or dimeritium then?" the smith asked.
The Dragonborn drew his sword to show the smith who looked at the dark smoky blade in awe. "I don't really know what my sword is made of to be complete honest," said the owner of the blade. "It was given to me by a courier who told me that a friend had sent this to me," he added. "And thus far, it has proven a serviceable weapon," he stated with some pride.
"May I?" requested the smith and the Dovahkiin offered the sword to him hilt first. The smith hesitantly took the sword and held horizontally, feeling the balance. "It's so light! Perfectly balanced," the man noted. He then brushed his thumb across the sharp edge, scraping off a layer of skin and he remarked, "Sharp as a razor too!" He then handed the sword back to the Dovahkiin who sheathed the weapon. "You said a friend had given you that there blade?" the smith asked.
The Dragonborn nodded. "Mh. But I'm afraid I don't know who this friend was. Their identity was kept anonymous from me," he stated.
"Ah, must be someone looking out for ye," said the smith. "So, are you a mercenary, perchance?" he then enquired.
"Of a sort," replied the Dovahkiin. "Did you have some work for me?" he asked politely.
"There is work hereabouts," said the blacksmith with a nod of his head. "We've had a bunch of refugees come here recently; the camp they was staying at was attacked and overrun by bandits. And near the Coast of Wrecks, a gang of pirates have made camp there," he informed the warrior. "I'm sure if you'd be rewarded if you cleared out those places and made 'em safe for others. That is if you're inclined to help."
"Where is this refugee camp located?" asked the warrior.
"You have a map? I can point ye in the direction of it," said the smith.
Handing over the map Keira had given him to the smith, the Dragonborn was given directions where to find the overrun refugee camp. With a nod of thanks and a promise he would clear out the bandits, the Dragonborn set off down the road in search of the abandoned site.
…
It neared sundown as the Dragonborn made his way through the forest and he soon heard the sound of singing and the smell of liquor and woodsmoke. Crouching low to avoid being seen, the slayer of Alduin soon found the abandoned refugee camp where a motely looking group of men armed with a variety of weapons were seated around fires, enjoying what looked to be a feast consisting of bottles of ale and spirits, some fried meats, cheese and bread.
Deciding that he should try some diplomacy first, the warrior called out. "Hello the camp!" the bandits scrambled to their feet, readying themselves. "Might I join you all?" the warrior called out to them.
"Who the fuck are you? What do ye want?!" cried out the leader.
"May I approach? Or are we going to shout across at each the whole time?"
The leader scratched a dirty cheek before replying, "Alright. Come out and we won't kill ya. Yet!"
The Dragonborn strode out from the bushes and he had to admit he enjoyed the look of fear in the bandits' eyes as they saw his armoured form. "I am called the Dragonborn," stated the warrior as he strode calmly through the camp. "I was told about this camp and decided to see for myself," he said.
"Yeah, now you seen it. What do ye want from us?" the bandit leader asked.
"I was told that this camp was home to some refugees until they were forced out," replied the Dragonborn. "I was hoping that we could come to an agreement and persuade you and your men to leave," he said calmly.
Nearly all the bandits laughed at this. "I seldom joke," the Dragonborn said calmly.
"Well, it's still fucking funny that you'd ask us to leave," the bandit said with a mocking grin. "Way I sees it, this camp is ours by right of conquest, ain't that right, lads?" he asked looking at his men who gave shouts of affirmation and agreement.
The Dragonborn gave a grunt and asked, "Is there no way I can persuade you to leave peacefully? I'd rather not forced into violence."
"Oh, don't wanna get violent now, do we?" the bandit leader taunted mockingly followed by laughs from his men. "Well, we might be persuaded, with the right… encouragement," he said as his eyes glittered with avarice as he eyed the warrior's armour and sword.
The Dragonborn stared at the bandit leader before saying slowly, "You do not know whom you are dealing with."
"Yeah, I think I do; some uppity knight errant in fancypants armour thinking he can boss us around!" the chieftain spat insultingly. "You give us everything you got and maybe we'll leave," he offered.
"Hm." The Dragonborn considered this for a moment before saying, "I don't think so."
"TIID KO UUL!"
Within seconds, five of the bandits, including their leader were cut down by the warrior who then looked at the rest of the bandits who stared dumbfounded by how quickly their compatriots were killed.
"A witch! He's a witch!" whispered one of the bandits fearfully.
"I am no witch. I am Dragonborn," corrected the Dovahkiin. "I was perfectly willing to let you all live and perhaps rethink your career choices," he said with chilling poise. "But it seems you're no different from bandits back home," he remarked.
"There's only one of him! Rush him!" shouted a braver soul.
"You asked for it."
Ten minutes later, the Dragonborn was wiping the blade of his sword clean with a rag he'd taken from one of the now dead bandits. Some blood spattered his ebony armour as well which was cleaned off once the blade of the warrior's sword had been wiped clean. Sheathing his sword over his back, the Hero of Skyrim then took out his map to look at the next location to be cleared out.
"Coast of Wrecks. Only just south of here," the Dovahkiin remarked to himself in wry amusement. "I wonder if the pirates there will be willing listen to common sense?" he said to himself before giving a snort.
"In other words, not bloody likely."
The Dragonborn gave a short bitter laugh as he left the camp behind to take the path needed to reach the coast.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N: There! Third chapter of this is done and dusted! My apologies for it being so short, but hey at least I'm giving this some attention, right? I know in the previous chapter I aired the idea of the Dragonborn doing some witcher contracts and I do plan on him doing one or two, but he would need to read up on witcher monsters and even curses more before tackling one. So for now, the Dragonborn will clear out some abandoned sites, building a reputation amongst the people of Velen and later Novigrad of his skill and prowess at arms, as well as his magical abilities which will paint a large target on him by the Redenian mage hunters and Radovid. And when word reaches Nilfgaard of the Dragonborn, Emhyr might seek to learn more about this mysterious warrior who's proving both a boon and nuisance for both Redenia and Nilfgaard.
And that's about all I have right now, so I'll leave this here and see you all next time.
Be kind to one another,
Angry lil' elf.
