Something ends, Something begins(redletails/asgardian)

[AsgardianWitcher]

Taking a swig from the diminutive bottle, he closed his eyes, breathing at a slower pace than he had been in a few hours. The boat sloshed to and fro, his senses demanding that he react; instead, he loosened his grip on the rudder and took a methodically deep breath. A slight twinge of pain shot up through his spine, flickering through his head, but it dissipated momentarily. A few more moments of this semi-meditative state were enjoyed before his eyes opened again, the sun's orange rays bathing the looming outline of Ard Skellige in an optimistic glow. The deep blues of the ocean, the verdant shore up ahead...it was so nice to see color after a heavy dose of superior Cat. The black and white filter through which he had viewed the blank ocean for several hours grew monotonous, but the cover of night was of necessity. The contract he had specifically received in his name had told him to remove himself from shores of Velen and get to the shores of Ard Skellige in two days time. It had taken him about half a day to find a suitable captain to get him within several hours of sailing, then the boat that he had paid extra for the captain to tow behind his own vessel set off in the blanket of night. The captain had insisted on the extra fee, seeing as the waters of Skellige had once again become hostile to almost any colors except their own.


A tenuous peace had come in the wake of the Wild Hunt's destruction, Nilfgaard and Redania agreeing to table their war for a few months so that they could rebuild their lands after the Hunt's insurgence. Those months turned into years when a year after both parties had signed a treaty of non-war, non-humans began to ravage villages and towns in both realms. Even Toussaint and Skellige were struggling to push back these guerrilla fighters that, according to prisoners taken, were in no way affiliated with the "moronic" Scoia'tel. Add to this the murder of several Nilfgaardian and Redanian politicians by "mysterious means" and one could easily surmise that peace would be a thing of the past once more. Tensions were blooming into full scale assaults, some of which involved Skellige being attacked by these mysterious non humans along with Nilfgaard and Redanian forces attempting to occupy some of the most distant isles to prepare for their eventual resumption of combat. In light of this, Queen Cerys called a summit for the highest ranking leaders and Jarls of these three realms to hash out these differences and formulate a plan of attack.


And it was in this highly charged atmosphere that Mansfield, a Witcher, was plunging into.


Not that he was averse to danger when it came to the right price. He had slain countless beasts and men, amassing as much coin as he could, which meant at this stage of the Path, he took only the most lucrative of contracts. This one came with a one thousand crown note as a deposit with countless more if he met the woman with the green tunic at an inn on Ard Skellege.


How could he resist?


_____


After docking at port, the Witcher's golden irises looked around to spot the "sign of the stallion" that the letter had told him to find. Once found, he walked to the spot and strolled in to find an inn that was quiet, a normal sight for an inn this early in the morning. He deposited his broad-shouldered frame on a chair in a corner of the room that faced the door, waving away the innkeep with a smile and a "No thanks, m'lady." She wore a look of surprise as she walked away, which prompted a smirk. No one expected Witchers to be graceful in conduct, let alone one who was as big as he was. He stood at about six foot five and had the build of a woodsman: burly, muscular and always seemed to smell of pine. His golden irises were complimented by a cut of short black hair, although it was going white on the sides. He said that it made him look "distinguished, as a Witcher my age shoulder look."


The door creaked open to the inn, Mansfield sitting forward to see if this was indeed his contract issuer.

 

[redletalis]

Arinbjorn was a village on the south-western part of Ard Skellig. It was one of the few that actually had a real inn, and it was a village with a population big enough for strangers to go relatively unnoticed. Especially since the inhabitants there were used to people form the Continent dropping by occasionally on their way north or south. Alright, Gwenn would admit that it was annoyingly far away from Kaer Trolde and the meeting place of the Jarls, but a hard two-day ride would get her from one to the other. What she needed was to get in contact with the Witcher and explain the situation fully to him as soon as possible, and she could do that on said road from Arinbjorn to Kaer Trolde.


Her plan was to get there before the Witcher and shuffle him away from Arinbjorn before anyone noticed him. Which was, of course, why she got caught up in a minor fight with monsters and was late.


Grumbling silently to herself as she opened the door to the inn - she didn't have time for this, damn it! - Gwenn looked around. It was a good inn, surprisingly clean (although that could be because people hadn't dirtied it yet, too early for that), and she knew from experience that there was good food and drink to be had here at a surprisingly reasonable price. Then again, when the only other alternative was either a cold death or one being ripped to shreds by beasts, well, it made practically any price seem reasonable.


It was a flash of gold that alerted her, and she turned her head to the left, her long braid sliding around on her back. The man was enormous that was true, but a lot of men and women on Skellige were big so she wasn't all that impressed. The gear was good as far as she could see, but anyone could carry around any number of swords. The eyes, though, now they were the real deal. She stared fearlessly into a pair of unnatural, golden eyes, and it was obvious that this was her guy.


The Witcher.


"Right." Gwenn nodded to herself and walked over to the Witcher's table. She sat down at the end, right opposite him, and leaned her crossbow against the table. "You are the Witcher known as Mansfield?"

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

Mansfield watched the brunette in the green tunic make her way to his table, examining her movements as closely as he could without leering. With the bulk of her winter resistant clothing on, it was difficult to watch the subtle movements of her hips and legs, but from her stride, she seemed like someone with a purpose, with confidence. Genuine or invented for their meeting? Either way, it didn't matter. It was nice to see an employer that wasn't shaking in their boots at the sight of him or the thought of their plight. When she laid her crossbow against the table, he let out a slight whistle.


"Indeed I am the Witcher known as Mansfield and that is a crossbow made with some of the best materials I have ever seen. Where on earth did you procure something like that?" He motioned to his twin blades.


"It would be nice to have something that can hit from a distance. A Witcher isn't very effective when he can't hit anything." Mansfield leaned back against his chair, the furniture creaking underneath his bulk.


"And you must be my contract issuer, the mysterious woman in the green tunic." He held up a hand.


"Before you speak, my good lady, I must ask: how did you find me and why did you select me for the job? Not that I'm ungrateful, it's just that I was...very discreet about where I was at the time." Nothing else needed to be said. She didn't need to know the other bits, how he ended up in Velen in the first place.

 

[redletalis]

She had to admit that having his eyes focused on her and only her, was disconcerting. It was easy to understand why people were so very afraid of the Witchers. There was nothing natural with golden eyes like that, not even wolves, and most things that were unnatural usually tried to kill you. That was enough to get most common folk running even before a Witcher had gotten to draw their infamous swords.


"I made the crossbow using the same skills I needed to find you." Gwenn said. She spoke low enough that People around them wouldn't hear her exact words, but not so quietly that they got curious and actively tried to listen in on the conversation. Already the two of them were drawing attention, and she wanted to be back on the road as soon as possible.


"Even here in Skellige have we heard that you are one of the best Witchers out there, and I need the best." She broke off briefly in order to decline the offer of food or drink from the innkeeper, and then started talking when the woman was far enough away again. "I am certain that you already know about the new group creating trouble all over, and that the queen has called the Jarls for a meeting on how to deal with the enemy. What worries me is Eldjudnir. It's a tower in the Vigur mountains, and there is something going on there and I fear that whatever it is might have plans for the queen's meeting. I got as close to the tower as I dared, and whatever I felt inside was either too strong for me or there were too many of it or them, I don't know which. I'm not strong to handle it alone so I hired you to help me."


That was the very short version of the story. If he accompanied her - and he better accompany her what with how much she had already paid him! - then she would give him the full story as far as she knew it.


"Will you help me explore the Eldjudnir and potentially stop whatever's going on there?" Gwenn looked him straight in the eyes, and privately prayed that he said yes and that she hadn't just wasted time and money on a scam.

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

"Eldjudnir?" He raised a brow.


"That's a name I haven't heard of, but if it's in the Vigur mountains, I know why you would be worried. I assume Queen Cerys wouldn't want a meeting between the Jarls, Radovid, Emyhr and the Duchess of Toussaint to go awry because of a magical incident. Of course, you are all very familiar with magical incidents impacting your way of life, aren't you?" The tales of the Wild Hunt ravaging the isles of Skellige were common knowledge even on the mainland, where they were romanticized in bard's tales and printed in novels as grand adventure of the highest order. He was certain those in Skellige saw those "tales" as badges of real honor, that the armies of Skellige turned the tide of...well, the entire history of the world when they(with some help) stopped the Hunt on their shores.


"I'm a bit surprised you would want a Witcher's help in something magical, but I understand that the Lodge isn't exactly the most helpful sort. Besides, that group you mentioned has been rumored to have certain abilities to conjure certain...things that only a Witcher could deal with." He stood up before extending a hand:


"You have my help then, Miss...?" He realized that he had never learned her name in the process of their interactions.


"Forgive me, but I don't believe I had the pleasure of hearing your name. I ought to know who to thank for the generous deposit and the even healthier reward." The reward was indeed great, but he knew that the job wouldn't be as simple as she let on. Then again, would a job EVER be so simple as "find this thing and kill it"? He smiled inwardly.

 

[redletalis]

"The only thing I know for certain is that Witchers aren't the cause of the disturbance in the tower, which is another reason I contacted you rather than the Lodge or anyone else. After the Wild Hunt's rampage I am not willing to test our luck with leaving this matter be to solve itself." She looked up at the door to the inn when it opened and a couple of locals entered the room. They stared at her and at Mansfield and then walked over to a corner table, sat down, grumbled quietly to each other and sent dark looks in their direction.


She got to her feet and grabbed his hand in a firm, strong grip. "I'm Gwenn, and right now we need to get going if we are to get anywhere on time. I have a couple of horses waiting for us unless you brought your own mount?" the last part was said as she picked up her crossbow and headed outside.


Her horses were tied to the fence running around the inn's property. They were quite short compared to other horses, but they were sturdy built, had thick, heavy coats and deep chests. Both had simple leather saddles, and provisions had been distributed equally between the two. Gwenn walked over to the yellow dun coloured one and patted his muzzle. "This is Alsvithr and that is Árvakr if you want to ride him. They are the swiftest horses around, and they are sturdy. Born and bred on Ard Skellig they will get us where we need to go. Are you ready?"

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

"Arvakr seems like a steady enough horse. What do you think of our assessment of you, my equine friend?" The horse snorted in reply, giving the Witcher a couple of sniffs before it snorted again, this time in derision.


"Oh, you're one to talk, aren't you? I actually bathed yesterday." He turned to Gwenn, nodding at her question


"Indeed. Let's proceed on, shall we? Chomping at the bit to see this mysterious tower."


Mansfield was fully aware that the journey would take them more than a day, seeing as the Vigur mountains were a rather large region and they already at a pretty good distance from Kaer Trolde, but his knowledge of the isles stopped at that. He berated himself silently for not studying more on the area that could potentially provide life-changing coin. That berating lasted a few minutes into their journey, the rest of the morning passed in a comfortable silence between the duo, the only sounds being the wildlife around them and their horses clopping on the path. When the sun rose at it's highest point, Mansfield held up his hand upon approaching a sloping hill.


"Gwenn, listen..." A breeze crinkled the trees around them, soft breathing intermingled with the breeze. There was also the familiar twang of an arrow being loaded into a bow, a slight grating noise to indicate a blade being unsheathed.


"Dismount, now!" A volley of arrows streamed from the trees as Mansfield dismounted, drawing his steel blade as a group of four men emerged from the heavily wooded path.


"You gentlemen wouldn't succumb to a pleasant exchange of words, would you?" They looked at each other quizzically before shrugging, one of them piping up:


"Only two of you, four of us, more in the trees...drop yer stuff." Mansfield sighed.


"Gwenn, how do we handle this? Didn't think there was much of a bandit problem on the isles. Any laws prohibiting me from slaughtering these miscreants or am I to be bound by some kind of odd code of honor for combatants?"

 

[redletalis]

They travelled surprisingly quickly throughout the morning. The horses were bred for Skellige's type of terrain and climate, and they were used to carrying heavier loads than a Witcher. The animals seemed almost tireless as they crossed ground at a steady canter without slowing down or stumbling.


"What do you hear?" Gwenn looked at him, unable to hear anything but the breeze passing through. But she trusted his enhanced senses and threw herself off her horse when he said to, rolling on the ground and coming up with her crossbow loaded and pointing in the dirction the arrows came from. It was a smooth and practiced move, and her horse danced out of the way obviously knowing what to do.


"An outlaw is an outlaw no matter where one goes." She glared at the four men, her crossbow steady in her hands. "We don't have time to play with them, we need to get going right now."


"You ain't gonna go nowhere 'til you drop your stuff." The brigand closest to Gwenn said. "Might wanna drop your clothes while you're at it. Could convince us to not take your stuff instead, eh, lads?" he chuckled. "We'll make sure you have a good time, ain't gonna wanna leave-"


Gwenn shot him. In the crotch. "Anyone else who has a less than helpful suggestion?" she asked as she smoothly loaded her crossbow once more.

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

Mansfield smirked at Gwenn's pinpoint accuracy, hearing a couple of gasps from the trees bending in the breeze as well as a scrambling from branches. The rest of the bandit cadre emerged from their flank, bows raised.


"Get em!" The Witcher's broad frame slumped forward as a sigh escaped his lips.


"So be it." Two arrows flew through the air, Mansfield swatting them down with his blade before rolling to his left, thrusting his sword forward into the gut of one of the swordsmen, who promptly let out a shriek of agony before falling to the ground. Withdrawing the blade, he countered a blow from the remaining bandit armed with a sword, slicing vertically only to be countered himself. Snorting a laugh, Mansfield slashed overhead, the wide-eyed attacker blocking in order to not have his head split in half, which was exactly what Mansfield was counting on. He kicked the bandit in the stomach with his right foot, then used the momentary confusion to slice horizontally, cleanly decapitating the head from the shoulders. He turned his body towards the remaining archers, but then caught sight of a green flash in the tree line above, then two more, muttering words in a familiar tongue...


"Gwenn, take care of the rest of them, would you? I think I might've caught onto something. Once you're done, follow me off the path." He was fairly confident that the young woman could handle herself, so he bounded off the path into the densely wooded forestry, following the flitting sounds. His footing slipped a few times on the downward slope, but a few hundred feet of that gave way to a clearing, which allowed Mansfield to run much fas-


"NOT. ANOTHER. STEP." The commands were issued in Elder speech, the smoothness of tone unmistakable even when issueing a forceful command.


"Now what would Elves be doing on Skellige?" He answered back in Common. Mansfield could understand Elder speech, but was terrible at speaking it, choosing to do so only when absolutely necessary. There was silence for a moment before the green blurs landed softly on the forest floor. They were indeed elves, garbed in sleeveless leaf green shirts and beige leggings that were clipped at the ankles. Two of them quickly drew their bows, while the other shook her head.


"You would not even begin to understand." Accented Common came out of her slight mouth this time.


"Scoia'tel?" The elf spit on the ground.


"You dare compare us to those bloodthirsty mongruels?"


"Disciples, then?" Her gaze softened for a moment.


"Disciples of a better path, one that will lead to peace."


"Is that why you hired bandits to guard the path?"


"We cannot let anyone interrupt. Besides, the Unenlightened would never comprehend the depth of our actions."


"Oh but I think we could. Give it a try." He could only Gwenn would show up soon to help either convince these elves to give them safe passage from the potential dangers that their group had already set up or slay them as soon as possible so they could ready themselves for what Mansfield now knew would be a more ardous path than first realized.

 

[redletalis]

"Hey! Where do you think you- ugh! Men!" Gwenn brained an attacker with her crossbow and then shot another through the eye. Mansfield had run off while telling her to follow him, leaving her with at least three attackers that she could see, possibly one or two archers in the bushes. That was such a stereotypically male thing to do that it made her even more irritated. And there were people between her and him, and between her and the tower, and she didn't have time for this!


Ducking underneath a sword thrust and drew one of the bolts for her crossbow. Stabbing it into her attackers leg, she whistled a sharp, long note that has a bit of a falcon's screech in it. Alsvithr and Árvakr responded at once. They danced around as if in nervousness, moving closer to whatever living being was in sight, reared and then kicked out with pure vicousness. The attack was unexpected from the two prey-animals, and while Gwenn knew what to expect and could duck and roll away from stomping hooves, the attackers didn't and one of them got his head crushed in while another was kicked in the chest and fell over.


The ladt remaining attacker was already backing off in fear of the bucking horses making their way towards him, and if there were people hidden away then they were keeping their distance. Gwenn took the chance tomload her crossbow once more and when nothing still happened she whistled in a low tone, too deep to be normal, and the two horses calmed down slowly.


Gwenn didn't stay to watch, she was already running off in the dirction the Witcher had gone. She found him confronting elves of all beings and she was just in time to hear about disciples and different paths. The entire thing made her frown as she stopped a little further up the steep hill, looking down at Mansfield and the elves.


"What path are you talking about? Whose desciples?" Gwenn said, her crossbow pointed at the elves. "I do not like having unknowns running wild on my island, so you better start talking."

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

The creaking of the elven bowstrings grew ever tighter, arrows milliseconds away from being launched at their targets. Mansfield's leg muscles tensed in anticipation of another skirmish, but hoped that they could at least get some information out of the elves before things got bloody.


"Unknowns? That's all we are to you humans, isn't it?" Her upper lip curled in a derisive sneer.


"We get lumped together like chattel and then slaughtered because no human in this realm has taken an attempt at understanding our plight, how we were forced out of our own lands that we beautified and protected. Even the dryads, the nymphs, creatures that we worked in harmony with are now hunted. It must stop."


"Nuvyana, enough! We must leave. Ivana waits for us." Nuvyana glared at the archer to her left who had uttered the command in elder speech, the issuer shaking her head. A beat of knowing silence passed between the duo before Nuvyana sighed.


"We will spare you both. If we meet again with weapons drawn..." She allowed the sentence to linger before nimbly reaching for an object hooked onto the rear part of her belt, slamming it into the ground. A thick cloud of billowing smoke enveloped the duo, Mansfield's senses overwhelmed by the sudden burst. Coughing, he moved forward a few feet, managing to get out of the cloud that was slowly clearing.


"Gwenn? Gwenn, are you alright?" He could now see her, the cloud vaporized completely. Jogging to her, he apologized:


"I'm sorry for you leaving you so unexpectedly, but at least we now know who their leader is...or one of them anyway. Does the name Ivana mean anything to you? Or shall we find out who this mysterious character is when we reach the tower?"

 

[redletalis]

The sudden movement from the elf and the plume of smoke that billowed out made her cough and scramble to get away. She pulled the trigger on reflex, and the bolt shot through the smoke. Gwenn heard the dull thump of it embedding itself in a tree trunk somewhere quite close, but there was no way of telling if it had passed through anything else first.


"Elf, you would've been lumped into the unknown-category even if you had been a god. It has nothing to do with your species but with your actions." Gwenn muttered to herself since the elves were long gone. She waved a hand in front of her face to dispell the remaining smoke, and coughed a few more times and looked around suspiciously at the trees around them. A small breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and carrying away the remains of the smoke. Huh. Her bolt had managed to penetrate the tree trunk pretty deep. There was no way she was getting that back in a hurry.


"I've never heard of anyone called Ivana. There aren't many elves on the Skellige islands, especially not since the Wild Hunt rampaged through." She looked around one last time and then shook her head. "Come on, we have a long way to go before we get to Eldjudnir, and for some strange, inexplicable reason I think the path will be frought with danger."


She turned and walks back up the hill to where they had left the horses. Alsvithr and Árvakr were placidly munching on the leaves of a low bush and seemed none the worse for wear. Gwenn fastened her crossbow to the saddle, and then swung up into it. "How good is your stamina, Witcher?"

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

He smirked at her question about his stamina, mounting his horse before responding:


"I believe that my profession lends itself to naturally having enough stamina to get through the arduous terrain of Skellige without a problem. Lead on, my friend. I'll make sure to have my senses especially tuned for any sort of unsavory trouble that may be in hiding for us."


And to his surprise, there wasn't any. With Gwenn leading, they went at a rather even pace, although they did have to slow down every so often due to the steep incline of some of the hills they encountered or allow a group of travelers to pass by without getting stomped on by their swift moving steeds. Discussion wasn't really up for...well, discussion, seeing as their traveling was an intense affair and required concentration that discourse would have upset. It wasn't until the sun was beginning to descend in the horizon that Mansfield spoke up:


"Gwenn, I might not be an expert on the isles, but I do know that being in a forested area like this at night isn't conducive for our general well-being. May I suggest we stop at an inn of some kind to rest for the night? That way we won't have to worry about spriggans, werewolves, random bandits or our elven friends ambushing us...among other dangers." As they rounded a corner, he spotted a number of roofs jutting up in the distance.


"Wonderful timing, I suppose. I'm looking forward to putting my feet on something other than a horse."


The inn was of typical Skellige construction, constructed of almost exclusively timber and decorated with the heads of animals and ancient blades that were used by Jarls of old. After they were seated, Mansfield unbuttoned a few buttons on his navy blue jerkin and took off the heavy black upper coat that he used for traveling and blew out a contented sigh.


"Much better." He commented to himself before looking at Gwenn, head tilting slightly to the side to examine her features in the warm glow of the burning lanterns. Strong jaw, intense gaze, firm lips, light brown hair...looked like a native of Skellige. Why was she doing this? Hired by Cerys? Private interest? Questions he would get to in due course. But for now, pleasantries.


"I don't believe you ever mentioned what your profession is. You know mine, naturally, but I'm curious as to what yours is."

 

[redletalis]

Although it was te two hardy horses doing most of the work, Gwenn directed them along the paths and roads. The Skellige terrain made it impossible to simply cut across country willy nilly and they had to follow the road most of the time, but more tan once Gwenn led them off into the woods to follow a deertrack or another unseen trail that would shorten their journey as much as possible.


"We should just keep going. We don't have much time, and every moment we tarry those elves have more time to do whatever they are here to do. Or set up one or more ambushes for us. Or both." Even though she said that, Gwenn didn't actually protest when they rode into the village, nor did she complain when they entered the inn.


She gestured to the innkeeper - a big, round mountain of a man - and he nodded. A couple of moments later he came over with two bowls of porrige with dollops of butter in the middle and a sprinkling of honey on top. He placed them on the table, put down a couple of wooden spoons and didn't leave until Gwenn paid him. A moment later a serving lass came over with tankards of drink for them. As she waited for the girl to be far enough away, Gwenn opened her thick jacket by removing the leather strap weaved into the side seam, and pulled it off leaving her in a deep green wool tunic.


She rolled her shoulders for a moment and then picked up her spoon and dug into the meal. "Imafuid," she muttered through the food, and then swallowed. "Apologies. I'm a druid. Eldjudnir is in my assigned area to guard and take care of. If I wasn't used to the way the tower felt then I would never have noticed the influx of new energies to it more than a se'ennight ago. Luckily you weren't too hard to find or convince to come to Ard Skellig."

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

Mansfield looked down at the porrage with gratefulness, nodding his thanks to Gwenn for the meal before taking a spoonful and landing in a culinary heaven. He had forgotten just how delicately nutty the honey was, the savory nature of the butter...and she was a Druid.


Right. That makes sense.


"So your interest in the magical aura coming off the tower is professionally related as well...think you'll find anything worthwhile the-" Mansfield caught a scent of something terribly familiar, a mixture of passion fruit, lavender and pine. He frowned inwardly. Now would an awful time for the bearer of the pleasantly intermingled scents to show up. He consoled himself with the notion that she wouldn't show up this far away from her home on one of the more remote isles. Right, she's not here, just a strange moment of scent memory.


"Sorry, sorry, just..." he chuckled.


"Never mind. So right, think you'll find anything intriguing for your own profession? Maybe those elves stumbled onto some kind of Source you could use. Don't think Cerys would be too hurt by a discovery of that nature." There it was again! The scent seemed closer now. He wouldn't say anything to alert Gwenn...then again, she'd announce her presence if she was indeed here.

 

[redletalis]

With the spoon halfway to her mouth, Gwenn watched as Mansfield started speaking, stopped, started again and then promptly stopped once more. She cocked her head slightly sideways, almost like a bird, as she watched him. There was something disturbing him, but apparently not quite enough to get seriously worried by. She still moved one hand and arm to rest at the edge of the table, close to where the handle of her crossbow stuck up.


"I have explored close to the tower before all this," she waved the spoon around to inticate their current troubles, "and I even went into the tower at the ground floor. I found nothing about amsource but the energies flowing around that tower are very strong and I might have missed it. Either way, I don't like the thought of unknowns gathering in a tower with potential energies flowing around. And especially not this close to the meeting."


Hwenn took a sip of the tankard, savouring the warm mead for a moment, and then went back to decimating her food. Once it was done, she pointed her wooden spoon at Mansfield.


"If the tower yields something other than a potential threat to Skellige, then all the better. Now," Gwenn leaned across the table, "what is going on? You are acting like ants crawled into your britches and started biting in uncomfortable places. It's an amusing look on a Witcher, I have to admit, but it's also attracting undue attention. Are we in danger?"

 

[AsgardianWitcher]

He made a mental note that she had been in the tower AND that she might have missed a magical presence. That sounded awfully...convenient for a powerful magic user to not pick up on strong magical auras, let alone an aura that could serve as a way for a band of rebel Elves to potentially cause a war spanning years or potentially decades. Speaking of magic, she hadn't used any since he had been with her...or at least, that he had seen. Why was she using a crossbow instead of traditional staff or magically infused blade? Was she trying to save her powers for the tower or was she purposely not suing magic for some reason? Or was she a druid at all? Druids normally didn't know how to hit targets with a crossbow in such a precise manner nor do battle with bandits. Alas, the questions that were about to tumble from his mind to out of his lips were halted when she asked a question herself, one that Mansfield heartily chuckled at, sitting upright on the bench.


"Not at all...well, you wouldn't be in danger." Mansfield scanned the inn, finding nothing but weary eyed merchants guarding their last brew of the night with a pouch of coin on their belts and what he assumed to be locals discussing how difficult it would be to wrestle multiple bears at once.


"It's a scent I picked up on. It would be strange for the source of the scent to be here and I was just alarmed at the thought that the source could...be...here..." He trailed off, taking a swig from the mug left by the round innkeeper. A few beats of silence passed between them before he decided to make mention of the topic; after all, knowing his luck, it would be fleshed out sooner or later:


"Back fifteen years ago, I was about ready to leave the Path, like most Witchers think at one stage of their lifetime or another. I was in Novigrad, an inn when I happened upon a...well, bard, I suppose. A woman bard...bardess? Anyway, she was from Skellige, said she wanted to explore the Continent, see what stories were true and what weren't. We talked, shared said stories and...other things. We spent a few weeks in Novigrad and the surrounding countryside, doing whatever we pleased and I thought for a moment, a brief moment that maybe I could abandon the path forever. Be a woodsman of some kind and listen to her sing tales of Odin. But I knew. I knew in my heart I could never give her the kind of life she deserved, so I left her. Told her like a man, face to face, mind you. Harder than killing a wyvern." Another swig.


"Her perfume...I thought I caught its scent, but I must've been mistaken." He smiled apologetically.


"Druids must have stories like that, right? Tales of love gone awry due to the nature of their work? Or are we Witchers the only ones cursed to that existence?"

 

[redletalis]

Well. That was... unexpected. Though, she supposed that she should have knownt hat a grown man who was probably somewhere between five and ten years older than her would have a past even if he was a Witcher. She had just imagined Witchers as popping out of somewhere when they were needed, and then going back to wherever they went when the danger was over.


"Druids have handfastings. It's..." Gwenn frowned as she tried find the words to explain it. "It is much freer than traditional marriage. The couple doing the handfasting might decide to stay together or simply part once a child is brought into the world. Or they might simply travel around together as a family. If they do decide to part, then both are free to marry again if they so wish. There is no special magic forbidding druids to find lifemates, nor any magic keeping them together. Ugh, I'm not certain if I'm explaining this properly."


She used the spoon to scrape along the bottom of her bowl to get the last dregs of the porrige. Simple it may be, but it was good and filling food and, most importantly in Skellige, it was warm and it warmed her through and through. The mead helped with that, as well.


"I'm going to have to talk to the birds in this village." She said when she was completely certain that there was absolutely nothing left. "I want to have at least some of them keeping guard tonight, and I want to sent a couple of messages, too. Do you want to join me or do you want to stay here while I do that?"