NOTICE: Well, well… To think there are people in these parts that would bother reading the childish scribbling of a nameless idiot. Kind folk, you have my sincerest thanks. You have inspired me to get my quill and inkpot and continue this wild tale. The target for the future hunts (chapters) will be 3000-5000 words. The goal is for me to post every other week or so… But my supply of parchment is running low, so I hope you will forgive me if there is a bit of a delay. (Met this mirror merchant, charming fellow, at the Inn at the Crossroads, who said he knew a nice place, that produced parchment of a higher than ordinary quality. The … Happy Sheep farm, I think he called it. I am headed there first thing in the morning to place an order. Can't wait to find out what a two-legged sheep is like!)
"_"- Speech
'_'- Inner thoughts
[_] – Tier Spells
{_} – Signs and Magic
1st HUNT: Of Dark Woods and Darker Forces
"Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil."
Renfri Vellga to Geralt of Rivia
If someone had told Geralt he would be acting as the errand boy for witches a week ago, he would have laughed in their face. Now it didn't seem so funny to him, as he saw Downwarren coming up ahead. A part of him hoped it would be an easy job and he would be back on Ciri's trail soon. But then again the Crones would have dealt with the problem themselves if it was that simple. The feeling he was being watched wasn't helping ease his worries. Still he pushed on forth towards the small community.
While it seemed the village was well off, at least by Velen's standard, there were no smiles and no loud conversations could be heard. As Geralt was entering the village, a man approached him.
"What seeks ye here? "Asked the peasant. Looking suspiciously at his swords.
"Geralt of Rivia, witcher. Looking for the ealdorman." Geralt said as he got off his saddle. The Crones' dagger was fastened to his waist. As soon as the villager laid eyes on it, he went pale and without a word pointed to a balding man leaning on the wall of one of the huts. As soon as the witcher had confirmed the identity of the ealdorman, the peasant quickly ran into his home and slammed the door shut. With his enhanced senses, the monster-slayer could hear the bolt slide into place on the other side of the door.
'Velen hospitality at its finest' Grumbled the witcher in his mind as he made his way towards the leaning man. Geralt unhooked the dagger from his belt to hold it in his hand. That did not go unnoticed by the ealdorman. He straightened up and a resolute look appeared on his face.
"Greetings master. So the Ladies have sent you." Spoke the peasant.
"Yes, now what is the problem? I want to get this done quickly, so let's get down to business. Don't have time for lengthy talks, give me just the essentials."
"So that is how it's to be… The war awoke an ancient power. An evil one that feeds on bloodshed. Nightmares haunt our nights and days. Folk sleepwalk from their homes, never to return. Under the tree on the Whispering Hillock they lie, unburied all: fathers, sons, daughters and mothers. Folk're afeard to move them. You must go there. The dark powers must be cast off."
"When did all of this start?" Asked the witcher.
"Three year back, master. I remember how warm it was, I had gone to check my snares and the-"
"Just the essential details, I said. Now, which way to the tree?"
If I'm to choose between one evil and another... I'd rather not choose at all.
The woods were dark. Darker than they should normally be during the day. If that wasn't enough of indication that something was wrong, the whispering voice telling him to turn back and the corpses strum all over the vicinity certainly were.
"Definitely the right place" Murmured the witcher. Geralt looked up at the black trunk, standing like a dark monolith on the hill. The voice was coming from somewhere beneath the tree. 'Hmph…Couid be a cavern below. Gotta look around for an entrance.'
It didn't take long for the White Wolf to find a large cave entrance leading under the hill but there was a problem. A very large problem, with sharp claws and long fangs.
The werewolf had burst forth from the woods the moment the witcher had taken a step towards the cave, the sudden attack preventing Geralt from oiling his blade. A perfect guard dog to protect whatever it was down there. Dodging yet another lunge from the beast, Geralt responded in kind with a slash from his silver sword. But the cursed being had seen it coming and leapt back before it could draw blood. This deadly dance had been going on for a few minutes now but the myriad of bloody gashes running across the monster's body, showed that it wouldn't last much longer. Sensing its attacks weren't working, the lycanthrope went down on all fours. In the blink of an eye it was behind Geralt and clawing at his exposed back. Though the witcher couldn't turn around as fast as the monster had moved, he didn't need to, as a brownish-orange dome appeared around the monster-slayer. The moment the beast's claw connected with the sign there was a flash and the werewolf's arm flew back, broken. The {Quen} was called the witcher's shield for a reason. After that it wasn't much of a fight. A few more well-placed slashes and the cursed one fell over and never rose back up.
"Hugh..hugh…How do you like that silver… hugh…" Let out the witcher, between pants. He glanced at the corpse. "Damn was it ugly. Must have been watching me for a while. Only attacked after I showed interest in the entrance. I am on the right track. The so-called "annoyance" must be somewhere in there."
Just as he was about to head in, the voice boomed once again. "I know from whence you have come you. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back…back…back….back."
The witcher of course ignored this warning and proceeded into the cavern. The cave split in two paths. One leading to an opening into another chamber, which was located right under where the tree was and the other ending in a submerged tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. The witcher chose the first path but as he was about to step through into the chamber, the opening was blocked by roots, preventing further passage. 'Guess I am going for a swim'.
Thankfully, the underwater tunnel led to the chamber, blocked by the roots. After pulling himself out of the water and drying himself a bit with a quick cast of {Igni}, Geralt entered the chamber. There in a crevice, amidst the tree's roots, was nestled a pulsating mass with three spiked lumps protruding forwards. A twisted heart for a twisted power. This was the source of the whispers.
"Why have you come…? Why spill this blood…?" It asked. Geralt ignored it and moved closer to the mass. "Are you here to grant me death…? Or is my freedom your wish…?
"Why would I wish to free you? Your werewolf nearly mauled me. Not exactly a warm welcome." Shot back the witcher.
"This is my forest, my fortress, my prison… It is besieged yet it still protects me… Awaiting my murderers…"
"Murderers?"
"Murderous sisters… Killed my body… Now my soul they hunt… For I defy them… And what they now serve."
"Yeah, they mentioned something about a…"Master". Seemed afraid of it. I take it you know who or what they are talking about. What does it want with the Crones?"
"The woods listen for the sisters… They see through the birds… Valuable are their secrets… A deal has been struck… The Sisters influence shall spread beyond these lands…in exchange for infofmation from all of Velen"
"So they are informants… Witches serving as spies, not even Dandelion can think up such an idea. Still doesn't answer my question… What is this "Master"?"
There was silence for a few moments. Then the voice answered its tone even quieter than the previous whispers. But there was something different about it…a slight, almost unnoticeable tremble in its speech. It reminded Geralt of a child, fearing it would be caught by its parents doing something it shouldn't be.
"A perverse power… From beyond the borders of this world… One heralding Tedd Deireadh …"
The words slammed into the witcher like a punch from a troll. Suddenly, he remembered the old woman's words back at the orphanage. 'What happened was that the Hunt came to take me kids' she had said. He had dismissed it as the ramblings of a scared peasant at the time but now... '…skeletal and as big as a tree.'The monster-slayer began racking his memory for a rider that would fit the description. One immediately came to mind – Imlerith. 'Bastard would be big enough to wrestle with a fiend… and eager to do it.' And if they could summon ice and snow, maybe magic rainstorms weren't such a stretch. He had been operating on the assumption that Hendrik hadn't told Eredin anything but maybe he had. It would also explain how they were always ahead of him. The situation was direr than he imagined. 'Shit, Baron might be next. Gotta warn him.' This spirit had given him much to think on… and it might provide an opportunity to ruin Eredin's schemes.
"You say you oppose the Crones. If I free you can you interfere with their plans? Destroy their spy network?
Unknown to both witcher and tree, there was a third listening in on the conversation. As soon as Geralt's words left his mouth, the being hiding in his shadow just barely maintained its cover. The Shadow Demon had been given its task by the Supreme One and it would be damned if it failed in it due to something as simple as anger.
While their secret observer fumed in silence, the spirit in the tree was silent, as if assessing the witcher's offer. After a few seconds of silence it responded. "I cannot destroy it completely… But it is possible to break the deal… They take their strength from a broth of human flesh… That is the fate that awaits those children… They need that strength to cover all of Velen…Without it they are limited to the swamp and its immediate surroundings... Violating the pact…"
"If the children are in danger, I'll help them myself."
"They have been taken. I can be a gale… A gallop unchained… I shall save them… And in turn weaken the sisters."
"Fine, I'll help you. What must I do to free you?"
"A rite… With the black of raven feathers… the white of my bones… and a swift steed… A mere, wild and free… in meadow's pasture caught… dark as a bottomless well… black as the depths of night… Such a beast, no other. Gather these and bring them here. "
"Got some raven feathers on hand but the other two… The most problematic will be finding your bones."
"They lie in a solitary mound… Nearby… due west…"
"Be back when I gather the ingredients then."
"Gather and return… To the hillock's depths… To this rotten heart… Pierce it… Let blood flow… To be born again… I must first be consumed… Go now… And return through the passage I have opened."
The roots blocking the opening leading back to the entrance retreated back up into the ceiling. The whole way back to the surface the witcher thought whether he was making a mistake or not. 'No, Ciri's safety is more important. If the Hunt is as ahead of me as I think they are, there is no other way.' He hoped that by disrupting their activities in Velen he would slow them down somewhat. Maybe enough to catchup.
The moment he exited the cave, he whistled and not a moment later Roach appeared as if from thin air. "You have to tell me how you do it one of these days" Said the witcher to his faithful horse. With practiced ease he got in the saddle and rode off in the direction of the bones, oblivious to the pair of heterochromatic eyes trailing his every move from up in the trees.
If I'm to choose between one evil and another... I'd rather not choose at all.
The ritual had ended in success. After Geralt had made the mare drink the blood of the heart its eyes had gained a blood red glow. The spirit had managed to shack off its chains that tethered it to the tree by switching bodies. The now free ghost took a couple of steps in order to get a feeling for its new flesh. All in all it seemed satisfied with the results.
"I live…" It uttered, sounding like it couldn't believe it.
The witcher chose this moment to remind it of its end of the bargain. "Free the children"
"I shall… A word once given must be honored…" It said and then proceeded to gallop away. 'Hmph… Least it has a sense of honor Hope this doesn't come back to bite me in the end.'
With the spirit "technically"dealt with, Geralt supposed it was time for him to head back to Downwarren for his payment. Then again, gathering the ingredients for the ritual had taken a bit of time and the embrace of night had fallen upon the land. The witcher realized he the chances the ealdorman would be still awake were miniscule. 'Guess I gotta wait'
Yet this time his analytical abilities proved to have been lacking. He hadn't made it even a couple of steps out of the cave before the light from a lantern lit up his face. A group of men had gathered at the site of the slain werewolf. The ealdorman stood at its front. 'Well. No time like the present.'
The mutant approached the men, his cat eyes reflecting the light from the torches and lanterns. At the sight some of the gathered took a few steps back but Geralt payed them no attention. Instead he made a beeline for the village leader.
"Solved your problem. Just in case, though, avoid this place for a while."
"Cannot be… Were somethin' lurking there?"
"Yeah, an evil spirit. Shouldn't bother you anymore. Now about the payment, Crones, or the Ladies, as you call them said you'd know what to do."
"Aye, I do. Gimme the dagger… Be back soon." With that he marched off, dagger in hand.
Not long after he returned but there was something different about him. There was a metallic scent wafting through the air. And then Geralt realized that the man was missing his left ear and the dagger was now covered with a streak of red.
"There's yer payment master. Take it to the ladies."
"What the hell was that!?"
"Tis our pact. A stranger like you shouldn't judge our ways. It's honest pay in exchange for protection. There is a stone in a circle down at the end of the trail of treats. Place the offering there. Good luck on the path, master witcher."
The stumped Geralt could do nothing but take the ear and dagger back from the ealdorman. He stood there silently as the light from the men's torches disappeared into the dark. Eventually he regained his composure, pocketed the ear and hooked the knife on his belt. And then he was off to the orphanage once again. Hopefully this time magic rain wouldn't be summoned down on his head.
If I'm to choose between one evil and another... I'd rather not choose at all
By the time he had arrived at the Orphanage, it the first rays of sunlight of the new day had begun to appear. He hurriedly placed the chopped-off ear on the designated stone. What else could it be, what with all the blood on it. He didn't have to wait for. All of a sudden a cold wind blew through the clearing. Then from behind him, he heard the sound of footsteps. When he had learnt of the nature of the payment he was delivering, all sorts of ideas as to what the Crones'apperances would be like. The sight before him was worse than anything he could have imagined. To put it bluntly, they were hideous. Misshaped bodies covered in rags. One had an insect nest instead of an eye. But he couldn't exactly say the truth to them, so he settled on the diplomatic option.
"You look… different in real. Not quite the way the tapestry showed you."
From behind the witches came Gran. The children were supposed to be gone, so why was the old woman still here? The answer soon became obvious when one of the Sisters pushed her towards the stone with a bark of "Bring it here". Clearly Gran had proved to slow for their liking, as soon as she had picked up the ear, fiery seals appeared on her palms. The woman screamed in pain but there was nothing Geralt could do. The seals soon disappeared and the servant quickly handed the ear to the one who had pushed her. Now that Geralt took a closer look, the witch wore a necklace of ears. Soon the freshly cut one found itself amongst the grim collection.
'So this is where Anna is. Guess I will bring some good news to the Baron after all.'
It seemed that due to his silence the witches had turned their full attention to Anna.
"You disobeyed us once more."
"We are forgiving creatures, but you – you allowed the children to escape. Embarrassed us before the messenger. Made us seem like daft fools."
"Your punishment must be harsh, lest their wrath fall upon us all. Now shut up wench. We must speak to the White-Haired One."
"You used me to tame the Whispering Hillock – a lot of work for an "annoyance"."
"Naught's free, brave soul."
"So did you destroy the evil the evil powers? Have you brought peace to our domain?"
"I freed the spirit in the three."
"Hear that sisters?"
"Traitor"
"She took the children. 'Twas her!"
"We made a deal. I was supposed to "get rid"of it. It is gone from the tree. I held my end of the bargain. Your turn."
"So, a mockery, you chose to outwit. You unleashed an ancient power. Blood will flow once more. Elsewhere, where none could stop it."
"What foolish things men do."
'Evil is Evil…' It seemed that once again the witcher had been made to choose between two degrees of it. He remembered a certain exiled princess' words, spoken so long ago, in the town of Blaviken. 'Grabs you by the throat, indeed' Ruefully thought Geralt.
"And yet a deal's a deal. And a word once given we never break."
"The girl… Mousy blonde – that's what they call it…"
If I'm to choose between one evil and another... I'd rather not choose at all
To say the witcher had been angry would have been an understatement. First the damn witches had attempted to lie to him. But that was not what had caused his foul mood. No. It was what had come after he had called them out. The Crones' retelling of the events had nearly ended in a fight.
Ciri had been in the swamp. She had teleported from lands unknown, wounded. The young woman had passed out on the doorstep of the Orphanage. The sisters had taken her in, though not out of the goodness of their heart. The moment they had realized Elder Blood flowed through her veins, they were prepared to hand her over to Eredin. They were working for him, so that was obvious. But before that they had wanted to get a piece for themselves. The bitches had gone on about how her blood had tasted. That almost caused him to draw silver there and there.
The good news was that Geralt's one-time ward had managed to escape before the witches could do anything. Fleeing into the swamp, although with the Hunt on hot on her heels. The picture was becoming clearer to Geralt. Ciri had appeared here first, had fled and met Gretka, a local girl, before reaching Crow's Perch, the castle of the Bloody Baron. And now with the location of the warlord's wife secured, the witcher could finally conclude his search for Ciri in these cursed bog-ridden lands.
He and the Crones had not gone their separate ways on good terms, though. In fact, the monster-slayer had vowed to return with Ciri in tow and finally put an end to the retched beings. In return, the sisters had taunted that his search would be marred with endless failures. That in the end, the witcher's Child Surprise would die. And then, they were gone.
Geralt had then set off for Crow's Perch with great haste. He wanted to be done with Velen already. The streets of Novigrad would prove a nice change of scenery. 'I have had enough of these swamps to serve me ten lifetimes' He thought as he ran a hand across his face. His beard had once again set in full, adding to his sense of dignity. Or that was what he told himself. 'Wonder what Yen has to say about it?' Back in Vizima the two of them hadn't had the time to catch up. To think he thought things would come down when they were reunited. 'If it's not a hunt for a dragon, it's mages' conspiracies and Court intrigues.' It seemed to him like the whole world had gone insane this past two years. 'Even Emhyr seems to have changed.'
'For reasons of state…' the emperor had said. In the end, it didn't matter. There was no way he was bringing Ciri to her "father".
"Common on Roach. We are off to see the Baron."
If I'm to choose between one evil and another... I'd rather not choose at all.
In the south of Velen, there stood a short mountain. At its top stood a giant tree. To the locals it was known as Bald Mountain. The old tales spoke of witches, werebubbs and wights living at its summit. It was also the site of a yearly feast – the Sabbath.
However, unknown to them it also bore another name. Aard Cerbin. Centuries ago it had been important to Velen's Circle of druids… Then the Crones had arrived and soon the druids were no more. To add insult to injury, the sisters had made this place their lair. Here they hosted important guests during the Sabbath. Here they feasted on their victims' flesh. And here they had gathered after their meeting with the witcher.
In a cavern, beneath the roots of the giant tree, a cauldron bubbled. Three figures were huddled around it, arguing with each it other.
"…No, no. Killing her would not appease Them. We need be creative with this one."
"Perhaps, a curse to give her a more fitting form? That would teach her a lesson!"
"Would it be enough? Maybe we should curse her daughter and husband too."
"No, no! She doesn't care about that oaf and the girl is out of our reach. We no longer have our woodland beast. Retrieving her would be impossible!"
As the three were going back and forth, an oval of darkness appeared in the cavern. Its bottom was half cut off. As soon as the sisters had seen the portal, for what else could it be, they hurriedly knelt and waited for the Messenger to step through. There was practiced ease in their movements.
Indeed, this was neither the first, nor the second time such an occurrence had taken place.
The Crones still remembered the first the dark gateway had opened in this very place. When IT had made contact. 'Twas during yesteryear's Sabbath, while they feasted. At first they had reacted with hostility but the dark being that had stepped through put even their impressive knowledge of black magic to shame. The moment they laid eyes on IT, they understood that, while powerful in their own right, they were like maggots. IT made them an offer with its deep, regal voice. One they would have been fools to reject. Brokilon. But first they had to prove themselves worthy of such a reward. IT wanted them to spread their influence beyond Velen, into the other Northern Realms. To act as its eyes and ears in the North.
The Ladies of the Woods had eagerly taken to the task. They were to report on their progress and the goings on in their corner of the world on a weekly base to the Messenger. A being similar in nature to the Master, except much weaker, which had introduced itself as an Elder Lich.
The Crones were working tirelessly to muster the needed resources and strength that such an expansion would require. First, they had begun to increase both the frequency and the number of human sacrifices. Secondly, several places of magic were brought under their control in order to lessen the strain of their spells. They were making progress but slowly… Then the war had come. Pouncing on the opportunity the witches had begun offering their help and protection to villages through-out war-torn Tameria. The sacrifices were collected by the Master's servants and delivered for them to use in dark rituals. Small communities of worshippers had started to appear in the neighboring realms. The sisters were oh so close… Yet they could feel the Master's patience running thin. Recently the Messenger had begun acting much more hostile against them, urging them to hurry. Their last meeting with the Lich had been accompanied by the slaying of their pet fiend as a means to make them hasten their efforts.
The bitch in the tree wasn't making things easy either. She had been running interference from her prison. Yet they could do nothing to stop her, for even trapped she had been a powerful Druid in life. The very forest around the cursed tree resisted them.
But when the strapping young man had sought audience with them, they saw their chance to finally secure their domain. He wasn't supposed to free it. Now they would have to track her down. What was worse was that she had taken the little piglets from them.
While originally meant to serve as a well-earned feast once the task was complete, with their time running out the sisters had found another use for them. They would have become additional sacrifices to speed up the expansion of their network. Alas, that plan had been ruined. The White Haired-One would rue the day he dared cheat them.
Back in the present, the Crones kept their heads pointed down, refusing to lift them up until they were given permission to. What was odd was the fact they could hear light footsteps. The Messenger usually preferred to float just above the ground. Finally their curiosity got the better of them and as one they looked at their guest.
What stared back at them wasn't the skeletal form of the Elder Lich, but rather a pair of mismatched in color eyes. It was a small child. A gorgeous girl. They had seen many a child, but none quite like this one. Her dark skin, reminiscent of that of those hailing from distant Ofir, contrasted nicely with her golden hair. She wore white garments that many a nobleman would have paid a fortune to own. In her gloved hands, a black staff that looked to be too heavy for the girl's lanky arms. But the most important and striking feature were her long years. They weren't unlike an elf's except longer and droopier.
At first the witches could not find words to speak. Their state of shock didn't last long as the elf spoke with a meek-sounding voice.
"L-Lord Ainz is quite displeased with you."
The fact she casually used the Master's name made the Crones reevaluate the girl's importance. She must have been quite close to IT, as the Messenger had never dared utter its lord's name so brazenly.
"We understand that progress is slow mistress but we shall soo-"
"Umm… T-The problem isn't with the pace of your work."
"It isn't!?" Cried all three in surprise. If it wasn't that, then how could have they upset the dark being?
"D-did you really think that we wouldn't have noticed you omitting information. T-that girl… Lord Ainz wishes to know why he wasn't…ughm…i-informed about her and her… what was it again, "unique skill"."
The girl. It was true they had not mentioned her in their reports. Why would they, she was promised to another. And given how fiercely the Red Riders were chasing her, it was already a done deal. They knew of their prowess. From time to time they would invite certain high ranking riders as guests during the Sabbath. There was also the fact they had hoped to nab a piece of her for their own goals.
"But mistress, she is meant for another. It would be unwise to-"
"So you admit you have betrayed the Supreme One's trust?" A new voice echoed through the cavern. A man's. However, where the elf's was timid and meek, this one was eloquent and sophisticated-sounding. A second being had stepped through the portal.
Dressed in strange red clothes, he had a mocking smirk on his face. The beings eyes were hidden behind a pair of opaque round glasses. The sisters noted that he also had pointed ears, perhaps it held some significance. So focused were they on them that they almost missed the silver tail hanging behind his legs.
The moment they had heard his voice, the sisters had broken out in sweat. An aura of hostility had suddenly erupted from both beings. They felt like they were staring at a hurricane coming for them.
"The Supreme One has no need for traitors."
"You need us!" "Without our powers you will be blind as a bat!" "We had a deal!" They shouted over each other.
"Don't delude yourselves. We have no further use of you, specifically. You are easily replaceable. Last I checked nobody knows what the Ladies of the Woods look like. You made sure of that…" The one in red spoke. There was no hiding the mirth in his tone.
At that moment the Crones' fight or flight instinct triggered. Just as they made to flee, for they knew they could not defeat these two, the smirking man addressed the elf. "Mare, if you please."
The girl wasted no time and slammed the butt of her staff into the ground. Not a moment later, Velen shook.