_Name_: Geralt of Rivia
_Former Names_: Ravix of Fourhorn
_Family_:
Visenna
Hermes
_Companions_:
Roach
_Divine Attributes_:
Supernatural Travel
Teleportation - limited to Line of Sight
Distance Manipulation
Monopátikinesis/Path Manipulation
Clauditiskinesis/Lock Manipulation
Magic Lock Manipulation
Sealing
Remote opening
_Powers & Traits_:
Mutated Demigod Physiology
Super Strength
Super Speed
Super Durability
Enhanced Healing
Super Senses
-Enhanced Sight
-Enhanced Hearing
-Enhanced Smell
Toxin Resistance
Poison Resistance
Diseases Immunity
Magic Resistance
_Age_: 80s
_Hair Colour_: White
_Eye Colour_: Yellow
_Skin Tone_: Pale
On a steed of shiny brown, a man rode into the town. His hair as white as snow, eyes as yellow as gold, and teeth as sharp as a wolf's. Yet, many a woman gazed upon him with adoration in their eyes, for his features were sharp and defined, looking much like a noble knight.
He bore an armor as black as night, his torso covered by cuirass of hardened leather and silver studs. His gauntlets and greaves being made of the same. Under his armor, this man wore a loose suit of glossy leather. Around his neck, a medallion of silver lay, one with the image of a wolf carved into it.
Around his hips lay a bandolier, filled with glass vials and some harvesting tools. Finally, on the small of his back, were a series of three knives, each one having a simple engraving on the hilt.
On the left side of the horse, two blades lay, one with a yellow-green handle, the other with a brown handle and decorative crossguard. On the right, a bovine head, with two horns protruding from above its ears. .
"Greetin's Master Witcher," a lone man, elderly and dressed in ratty clothes said, standing on the horse's left flank.
"Greetings," the Witcher replied, "Is the alderman still in his home?" he asked, keeping his gaze on the road.
"Yessir's Master Witcher, he still is," the other man hesitated, before finding the courage to ask, "is… issat bullman dealt with?"
The Witcher looked down at the man, yellow-gold eyes staring through the man for a moment. "Aye, the Minotaurus is dealt with. He shall bother you no more." Reassurances said, the Witcher moved on.
"Thank yees, Master Witcherr! Thank yees!"
Soon, the horse reached the alderman's house, a more complex building in comparison to the huts around it. Leaving the saddle, the Witcher grabbed the severed monster head and headed inside, frowning at the ward of protection above the door.
"Ah, greetings master Geralt," the alderman, an aged man with cropped grey hair and sun tanned skin said. "I take it the beast has been dealt with?"
"Here," the bovine head was hefted onto the table, causing the alderman to inspect it. Geralt blinked in surprise, usually the Aldermen flinched away from Monster heads, so this was unusual.
"Excellent," the alderman said, "however, there is a problem - oh, please Master Gearlt, I'm not suicidal, I know better than to cheat a Witcher. No, the problem is this; Merely hours ago, someone stole the payment I'd set aside for you."
Geralt's eyes narrowed in suspicion. But the alderman gave no hint of deception. "I see… are there any clues?"
"Yes, the perpetrator left a locket of hair behind, here," the alderman produced a strand of dull brown hair, smelling vaguely of sweat, corn and grass.
"It's got enough scent to track, good," Geralt said. "Still, I'd like to see the scene of the crime."
The alderman led Geralt into another office, with a window hanging open. Geralt could smell the intruder all over the room, "So, not an inside job, as they needed to look around for it," he muttered, speaking below the range of a human.
Keen eyes circled the room, looking for any clues. "Window lock was picked, as the key's still got the winter's dust on it," looking down, Geralt noticed mostly dried wet patches on the floor. "Barefoot. And heavy on his feet," getting closer, Geralt carefully inspected the trail. "So, a lowborn. One who's never been inside a place like this, given the way heavy imprints. He's also a male, judging by the size and impression. Combine with the scent, and it's a farmer I'm looking for."
"That's who, now for why," Geralt mumbled, "Was this direct action against me? Or am I a casualty in a greater war? The Alderman seems nice enough, but people don't buy wards for no reason." As he spoke, his eyes continued to sweep the room.
His search continued, "The theft took place a few hours ago, but the thief had to leave quickly. Interesting," Geralt muttered, before raising his voice. "Who spooked our thief?"
"Pardon?"
"Tracks over there are heavy, panicked, the kind you make when you've been caught and need to run," Geralt said, "so somebody spooked them, likely the person who found the room like this."
"I see. Well, it was my butler, who found the room like this," the alderman said. "Shall I summon him?"
"Yes, he will know better than I what's been disturbed." The Alderman left, to find his butler or a servant to summon him, leaving Geralt free to more deeply analyse the room. "Now, let's see," his fingers traced a pattern in the air, "Pohlii," Geralt intoned, using the words to strengthen the sign. With a blink, his eyes changed. "Now, where to begin," Geralt murmured, his now solid white eyes casting an ominous glow.
"No traces of magic," white shifted to red, "no residual heat," red shifted to blue, "now, isn't that interesting, a curse, and a powerful one that." Solid blue softened, allowing his usual yellow eyes to appear, a deep green tint in them. "Elements of earth and air magic… and fire… this… this could be trouble."
His eyes returned to normal as the Alderman and butler entered the room. "Here is your man, Witcher."
"Greetings, Master Witcher," the butler said, bowing slightly.
"Greetings," Geralt responded, returning the bow and moving his hands behind his back, "now, How disturbed was the room when you found it?" Axii, the modified version that compelled truth, was signed quickly, his yellow eyes flashing white as the sign took hold.
"It has not changed since I found it," the butler replied, his tone bordering on flat.
"I see, there is no change in the air? On the floor or walls? In the book arrangement?"
"Yes, there was a scent here earlier. A strong smell of vanilla, with a hint of chocolate," the sign began to fade, "how did I recall that?"
"I used a sign, a spell on you," Geralt said, "something to compel you to be truthful," At the disgusted looks, Geralt shrugged, "thanks to the magic, I now know that our thief was merely a pawn and that a magic user, likely a witch given the smell, is my primary target."
Both men froze, allowing Geralt to continue speaking, "dealing with this will be tricky, I will need an additional 500 Orens," Geralt said, keeping his hands where the men could see them. "Deal?"
"Deal," the Alderman all but spat, "now please, remove yourself from my home." Geralt shrugged and left out the window, following the scent of swear, corn and grass.
Moving through the surprisingly large cornfield, Geralt had a moment to ponder. And ponder he did. He pondered on who his father was. On why Vesemir insisted that his Silver plated Blade be made of Bronze. On why he took to the mutations so much more than the others. And as he cast Pohlii, on how such a simple sign was so useful.
Pohlii. A sign developed by a Witcher from the Manticore school, to allow him better night vision. Something that was incredibly useful in many situations. And like most instances of magical experimentation, the Witcher, one Azagot of Korath, learned that his night vision sign granted him much more than that. Perception of magic, heat, low light, enhanced distance and detail, Pohlii provided it's caster with many benefits.
Currently, Geralt used this sign, in conjunction with his Monopátikinesis, creating a small bubble of easy pathway through the labyrinthian mess of corn, to lazily track his thief. His steel blade held in a firm grip as he recast the sign every few minutes.
At least, Geralt was lazily moving until he saw a mass of magic in the shape of a dome. Cautiously, he approached, his Pohlii enhanced sight rapidly shifting to magic, allowing him to discern what he was dealing with. "Air… for tracking. Earth… for protection. Water? What-Wait, Water for purity."
It didn't take the Witcher long to release what the dome was. "A Barrier… Fuck!" he cursed, "one I have no way of getting into without her knowing." Instantly, steel was replaced by Silver, and a spark of magic gathered on Geralt's finger tip. Moving quickly, Geralt withdrew some twine and paper.
Drawing Quen in the air, Geralt opened his palm and "held" the sign. Then, he pressed his palm into the paper and began imprinting the sign. He repeated this as many times as he could. "5 charges… not good." Still, he threaded the twine through his makeshift amulet and hid the newly created ward under his chest plate.
Sitting on his haunches, Geralt drew another sign in the air, a hybrid of Aard and Ignii. Keeping the sign contained within his hand, the Witcher grunted as he grabbed a bottle of Hanged Man's Venom and coated his blade in the oil. Blue flames glowing off his blade as magic and alchemy were mixed.
Finally, Geralt tilted his head to the left and drew a sign on his bare skin. "Ocelen!" he grunted, feeling his skin painfully transmute to something halfway between flesh and steel. "Now, let's see about getting this open. No need to tell her where I'm coming from, after all," Geralt grunted as he brought his hand to the magic dome and willed it to part.
All around the base of the dome, magic parted, forming several entrances. Geralt slipped in and began making his way to the centre of the dome. Or, at least he tried to.
Instantly, five Noonwraiths sprung into tangibility and attacked, forcing Geralt to defend himself. Wolven Silver met ghostly steel, as Geralt rapidly twirled and pivoted, deflecting every hit. At least until he sensed a presence behind him. Becoming a ripple of darkness, Geralt vanished, just before a scythe could take his head, confusing the spectres.
For a moment, all was silent. Then Silver burst through one of their chests, and caused the Noonwraith to fade away, revealing the Witcher stood behind her. Before the wraiths could recover, Geralt drew Axii in the air, before swiping his arm out. A wave of psychic energy swept out, dazing the remaining wraiths, allowing Geralt to charge, unmolested.
Two more fell to his blade before the others recovered. "Fuck!" Geralt cursed as the colors faded from them. Once more, he hybridised signs, using Quen and Ignii to create a dome of fire around him. And when it fell, Yrden was carved into the ground. "Alright filth, come and get me," he grunted, holding his blade in a defensive stance.
One of the wraiths rushed forward, the other screeching and forming illusions around him. "Too slow," Geralt grunted as the rushing Wraith was slowed by Yrden. Wolven Silver cleaved the spirit in twain and left the Witcher with only one enemy.
Yrden began to fade, causing the final Noonwraith to move in. Geralt aimed his left hand down and a burst of Aard re-empowered the trap, causing the Noonwraith to back off, allowing Geralt to plan his next move. "Come on you piece of filth, come and get me!"
"Damn, she's smarter than the others," Geralt rumbled, narrowing his eyes as the final Noonwraith refused to enter his trap and instead continued creating illusions around it, causing him to lose sight of the real wraith. "And judging by how long her illusions have lasted, older too. Damn!"
Feeling Yrden begin to fade and seeing the Noonwraith creating even more Illusions, Geralt acted quickly. "Damn you're ugly." he taunted, and hid a smirk as the wraith screeched in outrage. "Good, now for part two," holding his left hand out, Geralt closed his eyes and focused.
After a moment, a wordless command left his lips and space folded. The Noonwraith had a single heartbeat to look confused before Geralt's blade cleaved its head from its body. Just as Yrden finally faded.
A deep breath left the Witcher as he slumped, sweat dripping from his brow. Using multiple signs as he had was draining, and even a Witcher's recovery needed time to work. Time Geralt wasn't sure he could reasonably afford.
Reaching into his bandolier, Geralt frowned as he noted something. "Almost out, gonna have to restock." He had two elixirs left, one Twany Owl, and one Swallow. "Fuck," he cursed, sliding both into a closer pocket.
Grasping another pocket, Geralt grimaced as he removed a lukewarm vial with a clear liquid. Removing the cork, Geralt downed the liquid, cringing as the strong taste of vinegar hit him. Still, it kick started his recovery, like always. Re-corking the vial, Geralt began moving again, quicker this time, and with lighter steps. He could not afford another battle.
The house was in sight now. The scent of vanilla and chocolate hung in the air like a pleasant blanket and Geralt's medallion almost vibrated itself off the chain that bore it.
As he approached, his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of grunting. Despite a powerful mage being nearby, Geralt smirked, "Seems my thief's having a bit of fun," he muttered, getting close enough to hear the sound of a man barely out of boyhood doing his best to please an older woman.
"Good boy~" a sugar-coated voice purred, "Soo bi~big~ ohhh~ you're such a good boy~ soo filling~ will~will you cum for me?" Geralt both heard and smelled the thief's finish.
A flash of pity filled him. The thief clearly wasn't up to the witch's standard, as she was faking every moan and gasp. Still, he didn't let it deter him. Downing half of his Tawny Owl, Geralt drew Aard on the wall. Next, he willed the chaos around him into his fist. "Aard," he cast, pushing as much power into the sign as he could.
For half a second, Geralt felt faint, lightheaded. He almost tripped and fell, but Tawny Owl kicked in and began restoring his stamina. At the same time, a rolling wave of telekinetic force tore the house apart. The thief yelped and dove away, revealing his dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was younger than Geralt thought.
The witch, however, was an absolute vision. Long, luscious auburn hair cascaded behind her, like a halo of soft red. Her face was a perfectly proportioned heart shape, of which stormy grey eyes shone out of. Her painted red lips were full and succulent, dressed in a smile that promised nothing but sweet poison.
Geralt took his time observing the witch. She bore a full, womanly figure, with perky breasts just bigger than a handful, topped with erect pink nipples. She stood with confidence, emphasising her slim waist and child rearing hips. His gaze went lower, revealing a patch of auburn above her entrance, which leaked the farmer's seed, before settling on her long, shapely legs.
"Welcome, Witcher." The witch purred, "My name is Elena and I've been expecting you," she purred, weaving a compulsion into her voice. Something Geralt easily shrugged off.
"You have something that belongs to me, Ms. Elena," Geralt said, "I'd like it back."
"And the obvious preparations you've done to battle me?"
"Precautions I hope not to use, Ms. Elena." Geralt said, "Can you blame a man? Even those without magical ability can sense your power."
"I suppose, given your amulet, it's to be expected that you'd be unnerved." The witch shrugged, causing her breasts to bounce. "Still, you came all this way for money? That I do find hard to believe."
Another compulsion washed over Geralt, this one not so easily ignored, so Geralt leaned into it. "Indeed, the money was merely one incentive, Ms. Elena. The other would be looking for the mage who called the Minotaurus here." That caught her off guard.
"I see… You defeated it?" At Geralt's nod, the Sorceress looked him over more thoroughly. "Ah. I see. A son of Hermes, that would explain it." Geralt froze at the name Hermes. "Oh? How precious, you didn't know." Even her laugh oozed sensual desire. "It matters not, for I will have to punish you for slaying my lover."
"I only killed him because he slew the people of the village." Geralt said, one final attempt to appeal to Elena's humanity.
"He needed food, did he not?" Geralt froze, so did the farmer. "Speaking of, Katanalóno!" the farmer, barely more than a boy, suddenly shrivelled up, ageing rapidly. And as the farmer died, the sorceress grew more vibrant.
Narrowing his eyes, Geralt shot forward, tapping his chest and activating a Quen Charge. He expected many things: a spell, a portal, a potion, even a trapped floorboard. What he did not expect was for a xiphos of bronze to appear in her hand. Nor was Geralt ready for her to expertly parry his blade.
Time slowed down as the sorceress thrust her blade forward, shattering his shield and hurling him back. "Ah, forgive me, Geralt of Riviia, I had not introduced myself. I am Elena of Ofir, daughter of Athena. Goddess of Wisdom and War." A wave of Elena's hand sent a wave of flame rushing toward Geralt.
Geralt appeared from nothing, blade already aimed at Elena's throat. Her Xiphos rose to block it. Though, even with her enhanced strength, Geralt still knocked her away. "Impressive, Geralt, to have mastered one of your father's domains without knowledge of his existence. Truly impressive. Of course, that's not the only thing impressive about you," her gaze swept over his body, "when I slay you, it will be your body I use to bring my Aster back."
Geralt vanished again, appearing in front of Elena, his blade rising in a slash aimed to bisect her. With a graceful twirl, she spun away from his attack and lashed out with a tendril of air. Another ripple of darkness and Geralt was behind the sorceress. Once again, she parried his attack.
For a few moments, Geralt repeated his actions. Elena's eyes narrowed. And on her final parry, she tried to throw a fireball at the Witcher. "What have you done?" She snarled, as her spell fizzled out.
Geralt said nothing as he shot toward her, pushing her sword away and quickly signing out Ignii. Her bare foot smashed into his wrist, knocking the fire blast away. Geralt blinked as a sweet scent assailed his nose. His second Quen charge breaking broke the trance he was in.
"I see, a talisman," Elena murmured. "And you've merged that irksome trap with your father's locks. All to prevent me from using magic. Well, external magic~" Her skin turned an earthy brown. "Ah, a shame this cuts off feeling~ I do so enjoy the air against my bosom."
In an instant, the two warriors rushed toward each other, blades meeting in the middle with a resounding metallic roar. Geralt, mustering his strength, overpowered the sorceress and lashed out with a fist. "FUCK!" Geralt cursed as his knuckles bruised under her rocky skin.
"Really, Witcher? You thought a fist would work?" Elena asked amused, slamming her own fist into Geralt's chest. Though, she frowned when Geralt's Quen charge held. A second fist from Geralt slammed into her, striking her face this time, bending but not breaking her nose. "Very. Well." Elena snarled as she broke Geralt's Quen charge, "let us do this like brutes!"
Swords danced and fists flew, the duo beginning a complex and deathly close quarters dance. Soon, Geralt's superior training and power began to show itself, allowing him to steadily push the sorceress back. Enraged, Elena slashed widely at him. Geralt ducked and lashed out with a punch. A cry that tore the remains of the house asunder echoed from her lips as Geralt grinned.
Blood exploded from the sorceress' nose, her magic now locked behind another seal. Moving Quickly, Geralt slashed Elena's head off, her body falling to the ground.
The room stilled.
And Geralt whipped around and unleashed the strongest Ignii he could, causing Elena to scream as her body was enveloped in flames. "Using the farmer's corpse was a clever trick, But I've taken enough heads to know what happens when they're cut off," Geralt said, staring down at the highly burned witch.
Raising his sword again, Geralt levelled it at her throat and asked, "Any last words, Elena of Ofir?"
"Beware the Kovirian Staff, White Wolf, for he is far deadlier than he appears." A chilling smirk crossed Elena's lips, "Oh, and do try to trust the swallow, we wouldn't want such a pretty thing dying, would we?"
Her words and laughter cut Geralt deeply, and in a display of violence, he struck, cleaving her in twain. A deep breath left him. "Why are you still laughing, witch?" He grumbled, removing his knife and kneeling down.
"A shame," The alderman said, "She was a beauty, still, a deal is a deal," the butler came forward and handed Geralt the agreed 500 Orens. "Now, Witcher, as much as I would like to tell you to get out of my town, it is late. And I shall not be accused of being ungrateful, so, you may stay here. But I want you gone in the morn, understood?"
"I do, and I thank you for your hospitality." Geralt said as he made his way to the guest quarters they'd prepared for him, the words of the witch running around his head.
Sleep did not come for him that night, so, Geralt merely meditated till the early hours. "Kovirian Staff? Swallow? Word games of a dying witch," he muttered as he mounted Roach. "Come, Roach, Dandelion wants to meet at a village, apparently they have a Selkiemore problem," he uttered as they road out.
Pohlii - A Sign used to enhance the visionary powers of the caster.
Ocelen - A Sign used to increase the caster's defensive prowess by transmuting their skin into something akin to steel.