>>2762515
>>Bear
>Harald

>Manticore

>Goran

>>2762515
A Witcher quest not about Geralt? You've got my full attention.

>Griffin
>Alexander

>>2762584
I'd be down for that, seems the most fair. 1d3 would do.

>>2762515
>Spider

>Kumo

Chargen was a mistake. Should I roll to tiebreak?

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>2762540
1
>>2762543
2
>>2762557
3
>>2762589
4

4 way tie, nice. Writing.

>>2762540

...A bear. You are Harald of Cidaris, one of the last few witchers left on this world and most likely last from the School of the Bear, and what happened at your keep was what brought you to Riona in the first place. Unfortunately, that is a story for another day, for you have pressing matters at hand.

As fate would have it, this is not the first time you’ve found yourself in the middle of nowhere. It is the first you’ve been so unequipped for it. You still have your senses about, and with your keep ears and eyes, you made sure to avoid the occasional animal or three. An hour’s walk and a mind-numbing number of trees and shrubs later, a dirt road makes itself known to you. It’s well travelled, certainly. With whim, you decide on a direction and follow it.

The start of the sun’s setting coincides with you finding a humble village downhill. It is clear by now the road was leading you northwest.

On the walk down, you spot a guard standing by, certainly better dressed than the peasants in the houses behind him, though his armor is rather worn. He approaches you when you get close enough.

“You there, you a witcher? You’re needed-” he says. He shifts his weight from one left to another and shows you a curious face. “Ha, been made a fool of by bandits?”

>”Not by bandits, no.”
>”Uh, yes. Bandits. They got lucky.”
>”Piss off.”
>”Tell me what you want already.”
>Ask him something. [Write-in]

>[Write-in]

>>2762678
>Uh, yes. Bandits. They got lucky

>>2762678
>>”Piss off.”

>>2762678
>[Write-in]
"Worse. By a witch on a broomstick and a warty nose. Now spit it out."

>>2762678
>[Write in] What if I told you i just fell out of the damn sky?
>”Tell me what you want already.”

>>2762678
>>2762739
+1

A Witcher quest, and it's our chara.
Hell yeah

>>2762759
Yup, I'm also hyped, I love the universe but i dont like main cast (especially Ciri, screw her).

>>2762739
>>2762749

“What if I told you I just fell out of the damn sky?”

“I’d call you a liar and laugh in your face, except I don’t actually give a rat’s arse. Good to know you all are as unlikeable as they come.”

“Great.” You cross your arms, fed up with this waste of time. “Tell me what you want already.”

He scoffs. “The alderman is looking for a witcher. Got a job for you, and I know how you freaks love coin. Now, come with me,” he says, starting to walk away without even bothering to see if you’re following.

You don’t move a step. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I don’t have anything on me, including my swords.”

“You witchers are sorcerers, aren’t you? Go magic it away then! Besides, the alderman just wants to see a witcher. Never said anything about swords.”

Absolutely stellar. Sure that any more words would simply be a waste of breath, you follow him into the village. Stares fall your way, but you pretend to not notice. The alderman’s house soon becomes clear, given that it’s twice the size of all the others around it. The guard pushes the door open and goes in, you right behind him.

There, a man with a hunched back and grey hairs checks you over. He sits in a table where a candelabra sits. Other than that, it’s a rather humble place, a single painting hanging on the walls, one that depicts the old man, an unknown woman, and presumably their daughter.

The guard says, “Found a witcher.”

“Thank you, now leave me be with him,” the alderman says, waving his hand. The guard does so without complaint, and when the door is shut once more, the old man speaks once more. “Greetings, witcher.”

“Greetings,” you say, “So what do you want from me?”

“A job for a witcher, of course,” he replies, “Although I have my doubts now that I’ve gotten a look at you.”

You raise your hands to make a show of your lack of equipment. “Tried telling the guard, and he didn’t seem to take ‘No’ for an answer. I don’t even know where I am.”

“You’re in Farydale.” The waiting expression you give him does not relent, and he clears his throat and adds, “Ahem, you’re in Cintra. A bit lost, are you?”

The bed that you last slept in was in Redania. To travel such a great distance without any coin or weaponry would simply be an impossibility. Still, she could’ve teleported you somewhere out in sea, or worse, to Nilfgaard. And while you’re busy trying to get back, Riona would have plenty of time to cool her head. This might work out after all.

“Forget that,” you say, “Tell me about this job.”

“Are you sure? I have as much faith in a witcher to rid monsters as any other, but you seem rather ill equipped.”

>”Pay me in advance, then.”
>”Maybe I can borrow a weapon?”
>”Leave the worrying to me. Out with it then, what will you need me do?”
>Write-in.

How the fuck do I make a mistake like that

>>2762889
>Write-in.
"Give me half upfront so I can get a blade and a shirt."
"What do you need a Witcher for anyway? Ghouls? Drowners?"

>>2762889
>”Leave the worrying to me. Out with it then, what will you need me do?”

>>2762949
This +1

>>2762889
>>2762949
+1

File: bear.png (208 KB, 1000x1000)

208 KB PNG

>>2762949
>>2762980
>>2763025

“We’ll see,” you say, putting your hands on your hips and thrust out your chest. You’re stronger than any man if the armor you normally wear is any proof to go by, meaning you can handle most things with sheer strength alone. You can take a hit and certainly easily hand them back, though you lack the finesse that other witchers might normally have. This also has a rather frustrating consequence on your attempts at alchemy.

“Tell me, what do monster do you need a witcher for? Ghouls? Drowners?”

“The monster,” he repeats, “Is my daughter.”

“...I meant no offense.”

Turning so his back is facing you, he proceeds. “She has become a ghost. She disappeared one day, only to reappear a fortnight later as a body lying in the fields. Thugs must have tried to take her during her walks at night, and she must’ve resisted. She now haunts these lands, and we fear when winter arrives, we will starve.”

“Have you buried her body? Or seen it?” you ask, “No doubt she’s pinned to this world by something.”

“Nay. A brave man volunteered, and we all watched from a great distance. Soon as he touched her, her spirit rose up and slew him.”

“What about the thugs? What happened to them?”

“Slain by her ghost, of course.”

“That can’t be right. Who moved the body then?” you mumble. Not to mention it’s awfully fast for a wraith to form. You have a feeling he’s hiding something. This is his daughter he’s talking about. “Give me half upfront so I can get a blade and a shirt, that is, if it’s even enough for that.” you reply, “I’ll deal with it easily.”

“Hmm I’m sure it is,” he voices his thoughts, “So be it, half it is.”

“I can’t say,” he answers, shaking his head. “It is all northwest, where the grains and earthed are scorched. You can find it all there. 150 ducats now, and 150 when the job is done. Fair?” If you recall correctly, two ducats is equivalent a single crown. The pay’s a bit pitiful, all things considered.

>Haggle. (Select a number from 10 to 75, where it will be the percentage increase from the base total).
>Don’t haggle.

>Inquire about something. [Write-in]

I do realize how clunky haggling can be, so the first option to hit 2 votes will automatically end it.

>>2763042
>Don’t haggle.

>>2763042
>Haggle - Always haggle.
>Inquire about the incident. Anything happened that lead to the incident?

>>2763042
>Don’t haggle.
>>Inquire about something. [Write-in]
What time of day did the wraith appear? Be precise.
Do you have an apothecary or herbalist around?
Fingers crossed for this quest!

>>2763042
Aww shucks, I really need to play the third game to catch up on the monsters, the first game and the books don't mention wraiths if Im not missing out on something.

>>2763098
The first game had the noonwraiths and nightwraiths in the countryside village,

File: village.jpg (474 KB, 1600x750)

474 KB JPG

>>2763050
>>2763077

“Fair,” you say. You don’t mention how it barely covers the cost of a sword and how whatever holds a price so low would obviously be shite. As fetches his coin, you ask him, “Can I have more details about the incident? Anything leading up to it?”

“Besides her usual walks?” The alderman is hesitant. “Yes, there was a man she spent more and more time with recently.” He says not a word more as he puts a pouch of coin in your hands.

“Where can I find him?”

“Ersast lives in the house closest to the fields. He’s more sullen than I these days, so don’t bother him too much.”

“I’ll try,” you nod, “Besides that, what time of day did the wraith appear? Be precise.”

“When the sun in the sky,” he says, “I can hear her wails when the sun is at its highest.”

“So it’s a noonwraith,” you think out loud. You’ll need to investigate yourself, but what he’s telling you seems to line up. “Oh, one last thing, do you have an apothecary or herbalist around?”

“I don’t, but there are plenty of herbs around. Pick what you need,” he tells you.

“I see, thanks. I’ll start working then-“

“Before you go,“ The alderman disappears into another room and appears with something in his hand. A shirt, and he tosses at you. “Keep it.”

You leave with a smile to go with the new linen shirt. It’s no armor, but it’s better than nothing.

The bearded blacksmith, you find, is busy hammering away at some trinket atop an anvil. A younger woman, no older than her early twenties helps him, and when she spots you headed their way, she taps on the blacksmith’s arm.

He puts tools down when he notices you and gives you a great, wide grin, “Is that a witcher I see? Greetings! In need of a sword?”

“A silver one, particularly,” you reply. You show him the pouch of coin. “What can this get me?”

“Uh, I can’t guarantee it’d be any good. But for you, master witcher, I’ll try my best. Ah, and if you don’t mind me asking, how do you keep the silver in good condition?” he asks, “You must be throwing away swords every time you swing at a monster!”

“The steel inside helps,” you say, and he can’t find the words for a reply. “It’s silver atop steel. Surely you weren’t planning of crafting one made out of pure silver?”

“N-no, of course not,” he replies, “I’ll have your sword by tomorrow’s morning.”

The woman suggests, “What about a blackjack? Slap a plate of silver around it. Cheaper, and does the job. Usually.”

You’ve never entertained the thought of beating a wraith down before. It sounds questionable.

>Sword.
>A dirk.
>Blackjack.
>[Write-in]

>Pay this Ersast a visit.
>Go straight to the fields.
>Find some herbs.

>>2763155
I didn't get that far since you probably know the combat in Witcher 1.
The Hellhound was enough of a pain in the ass with its stunlock that you need to buy a skill to negate.

>>2763168
>Blackjack.
Normally I'd be offended at the idea of using anything but a sword. But this guy is liable to hand a piece of shit and charge us extra for it. Go with the Blackjack and get a serviceable sword when we make it to a more skill smith.

>Pay this Ersast a visit.
then
>Go straight to the fields.
Gotta brew up whatever we can. Preferably Swallow or Thunderbolt and some Specter Oil.

>>2763196
A swallow is always usefull but I'm not too sure if we can brew much else since:

"...though you lack the finesse that other witchers might normally have."
"This also has a rather frustrating consequence on your attempts at alchemy."

Also supporting, better a decent blunt weapon than a shite sword.

>>2763168
>>2763196
Support
Should not be a problem. If you can use silver bolts from a crossbow, you can bludgeon a ghost to...death? un-unlife? whatever
And we have signs anyway, or anti-ghost ointments

>>2763196
>>2763215
>>2763280

The blacksmith says to the woman, “Don’t fill his head with nonsense! A sword, that’s what a witcher needs.”

You tell her, “A blackjack is workable for now. When can I get it?”

He is stunned, and the woman answers for him. “Come back in a bit. We’ll have it done for you by tonight.”

You nod and bid them farewell, leaving some of your coin with them.

Your visit to Ersast was shorter than you’d expected. A quick handful of taps on his door is answered by a resounding, “Go away!” He sounds more in pained than angry.

“I need to ask about the ghost that’s haunting the fields.”

More shouting. “I know nothing. Now go away!”

“The alderman said you two were close. What happened?”

“We were to be wed! Cruel fates, damn it all!” You hear a sound of wood toppling over and a crash, and you decide you should stop here lest he comes out to take a swing at you. His muffled shouting grows quieter as you head straight for the fields, waiting a bit beforehand so the sun is to fully set.

With your cat’s eyes, you head toward where you told was the body. The smell of rotting flesh hits you before you see anything. A dead man lays sprawled on his stomach, his shirt and back burnt to a crisp along with the grains beside around him. A little further and you manage to find the bodies of both the alderman’s daughter and the bandits. Necrophages haven’t come yet, so they lay there on the ground. Something about the way they lay there seems strange.

The thugs share the same wounds as the corpse from earlier, although they are noticeable old. The dead daughter, however, has suffered a wound on her head. It’s not clean enough to be from a blade, nor even enough to be something like a blackjack. Perhaps a rock. From her feet, you barely make out the indentation in the ground. A trail, as if her body was dragged from somewhere.

A plain steel ring lies between her and the others. Perhaps this is what holds her to this world.

Rustling catches your attention, and you prepare yourself. A ghoul?

[1/2]

>>2763312

From the grains, the woman that was beside the blacksmith stands up, revealing herself.

“Argh, you saw me,” she tells you.

“Why are you sneaking around?” you ask, crossing your arms

She laughs, “Thought I’d try my hand at sneaking up on you. I’ve come to deliver the blackjack to you, as you haven’t returned yet.”

You shake your head as you take it, feeling it’s weight. It’ll have to do. No, you have doubts this would even work in the first place. “Thanks, but you shouldn’t be here.”

“Can’t I watch?”

“It’s dangerous, and you’d only get in the way.”

“I’d stay away when you’re fighting it, I promise. I always wanted to see a witcher in action.”

You glance at her. Her hair’s tied back in a ponytail and her sleeves are rolled up. “I thought I’d hear that from the blacksmith, not you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve not know how frustrated my father was was when you left. Told me put together this ‘silver blackjack’ myself since it was my idea, then told me to deliver it when I was done.” She whispers despite no one else being around, “If you let me watch, then I’ll cover the full cost of this sorry weapon.”

>”No. You should get out of here already.”
>”Fine. You can stay.
>”You can watch, but you don’t need to cover the cost of anything.”
>[Write-in]


After preparing...
>Follow the trail into the forest.
>Burn the body and destroy the ring.
>[Write-in]

>>2763329
>>You can watch, but you do so from a good distance. When the fighting starts, you stay outta my way. For your own sake.

After preparing...
>Follow the trail into the forest.
Ask her how much she knows about the incident.

>>2763329

Seconding
>>2763361

>>2763361
>>2763373

“Are you sure?”

“Experience is priceless, as they say,” she replies.

The wind blows lightly, and after a moment’s thoughts, you tell her, “You can watch, but you do so from a good distance. When the fighting starts, you stay outta my way. For your own sake.”

“I think that goes without saying,” she says, “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m Leditte.”

“Harald,” you tell her, “of Cidaris.” You walk through the grain as you talk. “How much do you know about what happened here?” you ask.

“To Marianne? Only rumors. The alderman never took a liking to him, and refused their relationship. I heard that one night, Ersast took her out to propose to her, and when she said she could not, she ran and he chased her. They ran into some bandits, Ersast did his best, and Marianne died in an accident. Ersast still denies ever leaving his house that night.” Ah, love affairs. Always great when it happens to anyone but you.

“Kind of him to lie to a witcher,” you grumble, “But they’re only rumors, right?”

“I don’t believe Ersast to the kind of man who’d do such a thing, but you’d never know,” she says, “By the way, where are you going?”

“Someone dragged her here after she died,” you answer. She mumbles a reply that you fail to catch as you begin to enter a forest once more, where the trail twists and turns around boulders and tree trunks. The trail disappears, but light footprints could be made out, and at the end of it all, you see a place where the ground ends abruptly, and a small distance below, bloody rocks line the bottom beside a dirt road. The blood is dried and darkened. “Pushed, or an accident?”

Leditte says, “I don’t know how you see a damn thing out here. Is this the spot where it happened?”

“Likely,” you reply. “I should gather some herbs. See if I can brew anything.” Hopefully you can get a potion or two.

>Prioritize herb gathering from most important to least.
>Roll 3d3

>Specter Oil.
>Swallow.
>Thunderbolt.
>Write-in.

>You’ve enough information to make a good guess as to what might have happened.
>If you guess correctly, you'll get a saving roll to use when needed.

>>2763329

Thirding
>>2763361

>>2763445
I meant 3d20*

>spider

>Deron

>>2763445
>>Prioritize herb gathering from most important to least.
Do you want us to roll after voting? So people dont just vote for the highest roll.

>>2763467
No, the rolls aren't tied to the vote. The roll with the highest total will go to the priority list with the highest votes.

Rolled 17, 15, 18 = 50 (3d20)

>>2763486
So if I'm not misunderstanding.
>1.Swallow
>2.Spectre Oil
>3. Thunderbolt

Rolled 9, 15, 11 = 35 (3d20)

>>2763445
1. Specter Oil.
2. Swallow.
3. Thunderbolt.

In that order

There's still a couple holes but it's clear that someone tried to move the body. I'd like to check out the bodies of the supposed bandits more closely. We already seemed to notice something off about the way the bodies were laying on the ground.

>>2762772
Ciri is best daughter-fu. Fug u.

>>2763507
Could be the father or husband to be that we spoke to. I don't mind switching my vote to this in an event of a tie.

>>2763537
I had a working theory that the alderman paid some thugs to kill or just rough up or scare off her would be husband. But then she took a spill and the whole thing went wrong. But then who moved the body? The alderman said the whole village was watching when that poor asshole got fried trying to move it from the field. The only thing that's 100 percent clear. Is that she died over on those rocks. And her body was moved, thus moving the pinned location of the Noonwraith. And she killed that guy that tried to move her after she had been moved the first time.. And the bandits around that area were apparently arranged strangely or something. They might be the last clue we need.

>>2763548
Nice, liking the theory! Could be the guards or at least the one we interacted with earlier. Although if the Alderman is involved getting paid could get messy.

>>2763504
>>2763507

A bead of sweat drips down your forehead as you try your hand at alchemy. Carefully separating ingredients and watching them carefully, you’re always nervous about what might happen. You remember that one time when another witcher had drank a swallow potion you made, only for them to vomit it right back out. He was in absolute shock at how you managed to make them any nastier than they already are.

This is all goes without saying you’re doing this without any equipment. Using some conveniently shaped rocks, a borrowed waterskin, and with the help of a Sign or two, you managed to get started on... something.

“Need any help with that?” Lidette asks.

“Don’t touch anything,” you quickly shoot her down. True, perhaps a troll can do better than you, but still if anything goes wrong, you’d rather it be your fault.

Eventually, you’re done, and what you have are three mixtures of various potencies. You have no idea how the Specter Oil came out, but by how it looks like it should be, it seems fine. The Swallow potion came out, you believe, to be edible and functioning. Barely edible, that is. The Thunderbolt too, although it reeks as if something had died in it.

Holding her noise, Lidette cries out, “Sweet Melitele, what is that?”

“Don’t worry. You’re not the one drinking it,” you say, groaning. You coat the silver plate nailed to the blackjack with the oil and down the two potions. The foul mixtures cause you to recoil, and the lingering aftertaste is not much better. You stop her when the two of you reach the edge of the forest, and brandishing your weapon, you head to the body. She makes no complaint as you do so. Instead, she opts to climb a tree, to which you make no comment on. She does offer you a “Good luck” from a distance.

It is night, when a noonwraith is at its weakest.

You look over the bodies once more. This time, you notice what was wrong with the thugs. They were thrown here haphazardly, very clearly moved. Someone moved them all here. For appearances? But why? Changing a location for what purpose?

Crouching down, you eye the ring once more. In the dark, you can barely see it, but there is a very, very light mark on her ring finger.

You have an idea. It’s simple.

You touch the ring, stand up, and start to walk off. Howling becomes the wind, the fields swaying violently. Wailing rises up, incomprehensible murmuring growing louder.

With your hands you motion the Sign of Igni in the air, her body is set ablaze. The ring you smash with your blackjack and toss it into the fire, and when you spin around, a looming shadow is before you. Draping veils hover over the ground, a skull with rotting flesh clinging onto it greeting you with a glare. Her bony arms become more like claws than hands, and her clothes flutter incessantly.

“There you are,” you say.

>Roll 1d20

>Leap at her!
>Stay on the defensive, wait for her attack!
>Cast Yrden, quickly!
>[Write-in]

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>2763595
>Cast Yrden, quickly!

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>2763595
>>Cast Yrden, quickly

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>2763595
>Cast Yrden, quickly!

>>2763625
>>2763633
>>2763640

>Standard Oils applies a +1 to every attack to applicable enemies.
>Thunderbolt enables critical successes in combat. Grants +2 against armored enemies.

Dropping to a knee, you draw the Sign of Yrden onto the ground below. The noonwraith leaps at you, her hands reaching for your neck. It’s finished at the last second, and you jump back. Bony claws almost touch you before they’re jerked back, immobilized by the magic trap. You let no time waste.

Your blackjack smashes into her face, although the resistance it meets is very little. She’s thrown backwards with a horrendous screech that surely wakes all in Farydale tonight. You know not if it’s the oil or the silver that does it, perhaps both. The wraith disappears into thin air.

A gasping wail sounds, and you know where she is to appear next. Her blows come from behind and with little warning, but you’ve already moved out of the way. The effects of your Sign begins to disappear. A sidestep to the left, the right, and then you strike her once more.

As she’s sent careening back, you notice she does not stop. The wind is now crying, and she becomes smoke. It splits into three trails, planning on creating mirror images.

>Roll 1d20.

>Chase one of the trails of smoke, quickly!
>Distance yourself from it all!
>Stand guard and lay more traps!

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>2763699
>Stand guard and lay more traps!

It works fairly well in the games.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>2763699
>Stand guard and lay more traps!

Not gonna risk being overly aggressive wearing no armor.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>2763699
>Stand guard and lay more traps!

>>2763725
>>2763740
>>2763741

You draw more Signs, and on the second one, you already feel fatigue creeping up on you. Gripping your weapon tightly so you do not lose concentration, you stop and turn on your heel. They’re dancing around you, three images of her spirit that rises and falls with the beat of an invisible drum. Your breathing quickens, and your balance is off-kilter. You stand in the center of it all, and as a result, she has you where she wants you. Or so that is what you like her to believe.

One of them charges forth! You step around a trap, and she hesitates. In that moment, you take the chance to send a blow to her torso. She recoils despite your blackjack passing through her body as if it were but air, and taking that chance, you leap forward with a final downward swing! The shining silver tears through her visage and leaves nothing behind, but your back is left vulnerable!

Except one of them triggers the trap. A sharp scream comes out of her motionless jaw, and the one behind her follows quickly. She swipes at you, glancing your arm and causing it to feel as if it were struck by a hot iron. Snarling, you return with a harsh counterattack with all your weight. It too, disappears. And with the third one still ensnared, defeating this one is simple.

When the third one is no more, the noonwraith appears once more, clearly weakened. She no longer has the energy from before, and the ends of her veils are becoming wisps. The monster advances in a staggering lunge. All too easy to beat back. As if she was paper being burnt, she begins to disappear, letting out a final, weak sob before vanishing.

The wind dies down, and all becomes calm.

Fire has spread from the body to the fields, but an Aard quickly got rid of it. You are tired, having overexerted yourself.

Only now do you notice that almost everyone has left their homes to watch from their houses, though you doubt they saw much. Some of them keep watching, others go back. Leditte climbs down from her tree and begins making her way over to you.

Your wound’s already beginning to heal.

>Loot the corpses.
>Let them be.
>[Write-in]

>>2763790
>[Write-in]
Search them. Make sure they're bandits and see if anything links them to this.

>>2763790
>search them. they may have a written contract. Heck, that might be connected to why the guy who tried to move her was killed.

>>2763814
>>2763836

You check the corpses while none are close enough to question you. A swift rummaging will do, and swift it was. They had utterly nothing on them. Not coin, contract, anything. No surprise. Whoever it was that decided to set up this scene thought it through enough to take everything. Still, the body of the daughter was dragged here, but the others were lifted and dumped. Perhaps whoever it was, they had no other choice.

Leditte interrupts your thoughts. “That was amazing! You were using your magic like-“she makes some kind of motion as if drawing a Sign, “-and the ghosts just stopped there like that! Are you alright? I think I saw one of them landing a hit on you.”

“It’s closed already,” you answer and showing her. “Would’ve had an easier time if I had a sword, but it’s over now anyways. Now that the show’s over, go home. And tell everyone else to go to bed too.”

“Oh, alright, I’ll stop bothering you.” From her pockets she takes out a bag of coin. “Here, what you’ve paid for the blackjack.”

You thank her as you take it from her.

...

Outside the alderman’s house is a guard, a different one than whoever had first brought you in here. Inside, you find the alderman himself pleased, eager to throw the coin at your lap.

He says, “I’m thankful for your freeing her spirit. Now we can all return to peace.”

>You have 300 ducats.

“If you’re ever passing by, know you’re welcome to stop by for the night, but for now, let me get you a room to stay in,” he says.

>”Thank you, I’ll take it.”
>”Sorry, but I need to get going.”
>Accuse him.
>Accuse Ersast.
>[Write-in]

>>2763890
>”Thank you, I’ll take it.”

We're a witcher, we hunt monsters. We can dabble in the affairs of the normal-folk every now and then but it isn't worth it right now.

>>2763890
>I found some strange circumstances with her death. Do you want me to look into it, or would you rather pay me hush money to never speak of it again?

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>2763897
1
>>2763922
2

>>2763897

“Thank you, I’ll take it,” you say, nodding. What they do with their coin and their families does not concern you. You’re sure something conspired here, something that left the alderman’s daughter dead alongside a handful of other corpses.

But tonight, you will spend your thoughts elsewhere as you tumble and toss in your uncomfortable bedding. You wish to return to Riona as quickly as possible, so you can at least apologize, but what you did might have been the final straw.

You recall while combing through the remains of Arthei Cartref, the crumbled stones of what used to be the School of the Bear, that she was the one who reached out to you, for you and her had the same goal in mind; to find who had brought forth countless monsters on that cold winter. You wonder if you deserve forgiveness of any kind. That is how you enter sleep.

Roughly.

After a free hot meal, you give your thanks and farewell. With the sun as your compass, you decide to head north, hopefully to a village with horses to spare. Not a second after you take your first step out are you stopped.

Stopped by none other than Lidette. She approaches you empty-handed. “Harald, was it? Are you headed north?” You nod, motioning her to continue. “Headed by Velen?”

“Passing by it, yes. What is it?”

“Was wondering if you could escort me there. I’d pay you, of course, though I haven’t much on me. I could keep your weapons sharp... or blackjacks intact.”

You cross your arms. “What’s at Velen waiting for you?”

“Bah, probably nothing,” she says, “But I heard there was a master blacksmith there. And a human woman teaching a dwarf no less. I just thought I’d rather not spend the rest of my life here.” Word has a way of getting around.

“And your father?”

“How old do I look, Harald? No, wait, don’t answer that. Escort me to Velen or not, it’s a yes or a no.”

>Yes.
>No.

Pausing here for now, and thanks for playing.

>>2764022
Amazingly enough I've managed to continuously misspell her name. It's Leditte, not Lidette.

>>2764022

>Yes

>>2764022
>Yes.

>>2764022
>>Yes.
>Yes.

>>2764022
>Yes

>>2763522
No u

>>2764022
>Yes

Ah, dreaded escort quest.
Spunky gal running from home, is that a flag? Whatever, she's been nice.
Now, is that because we are her way out?
Or maybe just being out of Nilfgaard is enough to not get shit immediately for being a Witcher.
That or not being Geralt. I like the fellow, but his general attitude doesn't help him.

Also, Master Blacksmith.
Let's get back in business
if only we had the coin

>>2764022
Alright, but at least leave him a note or something. Witchers get enough nonsense about spiriting off children without someone getting the wrong idea about it.

>>2764760
True, we should make sure the blacksmith doesn't get the wrong idea.

>>2764994
Though honestly, he probably can't read, thinking about it.

Caught up in something today, but I should be free to run tomorrow.

>>2764040
>>2764051
>>2764142
>>2764560
>>2764631
>>2764760
>>2764994

“Fine, I’ll do it.” A nagging discomfort causes you to add a few more words. “Leave a note for your father before he gets the wrong idea.” There’s already a problem with the image of a witcher for the average man, and it doesn’t need to be dragged in the mud any further. “If he can read it.”

“The alderman taught us, got a quite few books actually. Well, he taught me, and I tried passing it on. Doesn’t matter, I’ll just tell it to him, straight to his face,” she replies, “No mistaking anything, right?”

Finding yourself having caught off guard, you absentmindedly answer, “If you say so.” The one doing the talking isn’t you, so you really don’t care.

“Won’t take long. I already packed my things,” she tells you before hurrying away, not quite fully hiding the excitement in her steps.

You watch her for a minute before deciding to buy some supplies for the trip. A bit of food so you don’t have to hunt, or hunt as much at least, a waterskin, and a bag to carry your items. When you’re done, you spot Leditte returning with one of her own on her back, strapped diagonally across her chest.

“I think I lost him. Let’s hurry, before he starts chasing us.”

The idea of reprimanding makes itself known for only an instant before you realize you can’t be bothered at all. “Let’s,” you say, nodding.

And so that is how you’ve gained a temporary travelling companion. A burden more than anything, but she’s somewhat knowledgeable about the area, it all balances out. During the conversations along the way to the next village, you discover that she’s rather well-read, all things considered. She’s no scholar, of course, but it seems those books that the alderman owns is enough to keep her informed. Perhaps it’s all decades behind though it’s better than nothing.

She says to you, “I had enough of horseshoes and the like. Doesn’t feel like living, you know?”

“Not one to sit around, I see”

“Never. Drives me mad,” Leditte answers, “I knew I could never leave by myself, though. I probably look like the easiest target for bandits.”

You never really asked, but she had answered it anyways. A faint recollection of a detail surfaces, and you speak your mind. “This master blacksmith,” you hazily say, “In Velen, I believe I heard something of that sort long ago, and I believe she was actually an armorer.”

“Really now?” she asks, skeptical. “I heard she did some work with swords.”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” you conclude, “Though it’s not too late to turn back if you have any doubts.”

She exhales a little harder, almost a laugh, and replies, “As if. It is getting late; the sun’s beginning to set. I believe the village is... another half a day away?”

“Need to stop?”

There is a brief pause before she answers. “Not if you don’t.”
>Take a short break.
>Set up camp.
>Keep going.
>[Write-in]

>>2769127
>Set up camp. "Us witchers don't need rest nearly as much as you others. Ever read anything about that in your books?"
Let's find some common ground, have a chat, show her something of the witchering trade. May as well, since she's our travelling companion.

>>2769127
I'll second this: >>2769148

She's probably used to carrying stuff around and some manual labor, but long-distance marching is a different thing entirely.

>>2769127
Also seconding:>>2769148

>>2769148
>>2769164
>>2769239

“Let’s set up camp,” you say, searching for a suitable spot. "Us witchers don't need rest nearly as much as you others. Ever read anything about that in your books?"

“Something like that,” she replies, “Not sure how accurate they are, now that I’ve met you.”

A handful of stones are collected to circle the future campfire, placed near a large tree that you can rest upon. “What were you expecting?”

Leditte sheepishly avoids answering directly. “Er, something different.”

“Been reading a certain bard’s works?” you ask, almost laughing out of derision. “Forget it. Though it’s not as bad as some other one.”

“Monstrum, or a Portrayal of Witchers?” she says out loud.

“That’s the one,” you tell her, “I’m surprised, he kept book too?”

“Of course. What is it that he said?” In an awful impression of the old man, she says in a deep voice, “’Being worldly is a virtue’, something like that. ”

“I always carry around a couple of books with me to pass the time. Shame I don’t have any of them on me right now, but there’s one that’s hysterical. Some madman in Novigrad wrote it recently and it’s been circulating around,” you explain, “Definitely worth a read for a laugh.”

“Hm, so is that what you do? Read books while you wait for monsters to show up?”

“Waiting for them to crawl back to their holes where I’m waiting for them, yes, but the age of monsters and witchers is over,” you say, “Not much of either around, which leaves for a barren Path.”

“Tell me one of your stories, then,” she asks of you, “You have plenty, right?”

>”Maybe another time.”
>”Had a contract for a vampire once...”
>”There was a curse I had to lift...”
>”How about the one that brought me here?”
>[Write-in]

>>2769250
>There was a curse I had to lift...”

>>2769250
>>”There was a curse I had to lift...”

>>2769250
>Curse

>>2769250
>>”There was a curse I had to lift...”
Nothing like a tale of black magic for the impressionable village girl.

>>2769250
>>”There was a curse I had to lift...”

>>2769252
>>2769253
>>2769256
>>2769258
>>2769288

“There was a curse I had to lift,” you start off. It wasn’t long ago, only a handful of years, “Now that one, that was tough.”

“A curse? Like black magic?” she asks. She draws closer, leaning so she can hear you better.

“I believe I first learned of it from a notice put up, which led me to a village whose name I can’t remember. A plague had ruined most of their crops, and their livestock were starting to grow sick of something too...”

Although there wasn’t a specific smell to pinpoint, the place had reeked of death. It was the day after that the villagers went to a nearby witch for help. They asked of her to undo whatever was causing all this destruction. A cure, so they would not have to fear what winter would bring.

The witch agreed, for a price of course. She demanded an offering, a young lad, and she said not of what would happen to him. The villagers did not ask; they neither needed nor wanted to know. Fighting broke out, and rather than throwing one of their own, they chose to kidnap the first they see travelling down the road. What was one life for many? Their answer to that was obvious.

Purportedly with a cackle, she took the offering, told the villagers to leave and wait a day, and shut the door behind her. To their relief, the man’s muffled screams could not be heard from their homes.

A day has passed, and nothing came of it. Three more came, and suspicions began to arrive. Fed up, a handful of men were round up to confront the witch. When they knocked on her door, she screamed at them. Their offering was sick, diseased, not as virile as promised. She demanded another offering, one that was as healthy as the villagers expect their crops and cows to be. Regret dawned on the men, for they concluded they were dealing with a hag that surrounds herself with evil and black magic. They did not kill her on the spot, for they still feared her powers.

Instead, knights from the Order of the Flaming Rose kicked down her door after the third day. She fled and was felled not long after, but before any steel could strike the final blow, she cursed the entire village for such betrayal.

You learned all of this when you arrived, where nearly half of them were dead and the rest were quickly approaching. Their skin became mottled and hung loose, their muscles weak, and their hairs had begun falling out. Many were starved, as they could barely muster the strength to lift a spoon to their mouths. If you didn’t know any better, you thought you had entered a village of necrophages. Three of them could still speak, but only one could move their tongues well enough to form actual words.

“He managed to tell me what was going on, but so many had already died.” You pause, mulling over what happened.

Quiet, Leditte asks, “What happened then?”

[1/2]

>>2769335

>You failed. You went to asked the knights who slew her, but they distracted you for too long.
>You failed. You lifted it too late, and they soon died after.
>You succeeded. You had to sacrifice the life of an innocent to do so.
>[Write-in]

>>2769335
>You failed. You lifted it too late, and they soon died after.

>>2769335
>>You failed. You lifted it too late, and they soon died after.

>>2769339
>You failed. You lifted it too late, and they soon died after.

Technically a win, just not for the villagers.

>>2769339
>>You failed. You lifted it too late, and they soon died after.

>>2769345
>>2769350
>>2769355
>>2769366

“I...” You stop, trying to find the right words. “It took me a while to find out what I had to do. Only one of the villagers heard the curse, and she couldn’t speak or even write. Could barely get anything out of here. There was a lot of trial and error. Took all of their chickens and almost all their cows before I lifted it. Had to make a stew with the grains killed by the plague and a healthy animal, and had to feed it to them.” You scowl. “Their bodies were too weak. If the curse didn’t kill them, what they ate did.”

“That’s so cruel...” she mumbles, “A cure that took their lives.”

“If I’d seen the notice and arrived any sooner, maybe it would have ended differently.” You toss a stick into the campfire. “Lesson of the story: don’t piss off a witch. And if you do, make sure you finish it quickly.”

“Wouldn’t like to be around them in the first place,” she says, “I know better to stay far away.”

You take in the night sky, grounding you. “Sorry, I should have told a happier story.”

Shaking her head, Leditte reassures you, “It’s fine. Tell me more sometime, though I wouldn’t mind them being a bit lighter. I wish had interesting stories to share too.”

The night ended on a somber note. You kept watch, though you soon fell asleep at a time past midnight. As the slightest sound would wake you, you didn’t need to worry, and the sound to do so was Leditte’s stirring as she awakens. The two of you soon return to continue down the path, and after a bit of time, you spot it in the distance. Crossroads merge before leading there, showing a very, very worn road.

“Blitherton,” she informs you, “Been here only twice before. There’s a tavern where all sorts of men gather. You might be interested.”

This settlement is twice, almost three times as large as the one before. A herbalist’s garden can be spotted, and so can the sign of the tavern she’s told you about. “The Hoghouse” it says. Lovely imagery. A blacksmith is on the other side where the fence rounds separates the houses from the grasses beyond.

>Enter the tavern.
>Look for any witcher jobs or notices around.
>Spend some coin.
>[Write-in]

>>2769394
>>Look for any witcher jobs or notices around.

>>2769394
>Enter the tavern.

Find out if we can rent a room for the night. And food!

>>2769394
>>Look for any witcher jobs or notices around.

>>2769394
>>Look for any witcher jobs or notices around.

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87 KB JPG

>>2769405
>>2769459
>>2769498

Leditte asks you, “Where are you headed?”

“Going to look for some work.”

“So we’re staying here for a bit, got it. I’ll look for us a room,” she says, headed to the tavern.

“Find you there when I’m done, then.”

“Ah, what? Let me come with.”

You raise a hand to stop. “No. The noonwraith was one thing, this is another.”

“Oh fine,” she says, giving up as she turns away.

It isn’t before long that you spot a flier looking for a huntsman or anything of that sort. It seems that a local huntsman has gone missing a long while ago, and he was a skilled one. Something out there must’ve got him, and the huntsman’s wife wants the head of whatever that did it. She thinks it’s a monster, as no beast would’ve bested her man.

You find her with a little effort, and she’s talking with another. Eyeing around, you check your surroundings. Humble place, a small wooden house with clothes being hung dried right outside. A man passes by and makes eye contact with you, and he spits on the ground while walking away. You say nothing.

When the woman finally takes notice of your waiting, she ends her conversation to talk to you.

“Here about the notice,” you say. “Tell me what happened.”

She eyes the blackjack at your side. “Not sure you’re up for it, if I’m to be honest. My husband went there with more than that.”

“I’m a witcher,” you reply, pointing to your eyes and then to your medallion. “And you pay me after the job, not before.”

Not believing you to be capable at all, she continues anyways. “West of here, in the woods. He went there one night to check his snares and never came back. You’re not the first one to come to me about this, and he didn’t return either.”

“Heard anything that night?” you ask, “Any details that might help?”

“Wolves were howling that night. Actually, wolves have been howling since then.”

“So what makes you think it was a monster and not a pack of wolves?”

“Because he’s not as stupid as to die from something like that!” she rebukes, scowling.

>Accept it.
>Find something else.
>Ask her something. [Write-in]


This may be a job that requires a bit more than a blackjack. Could be a werewolf, and that would be trouble.

>Buy some good armor.
>Buy passable armor and a silver sword.
>Buy a good sword.

I don’t know why I split up the coin option.

>>2769528
>Buy passable armor and a silver sword.

>>2769528
>Buy a good sword.
>Accept it.
nothing wrong with hunting some wolves if it turns out to be beasts.

and nothing wrong with a wolf monster either. Baskerville?

>>2769528
>Accept it.
>Buy passable armor and a silver sword.
Sell the blackjack, get an axe or a shitty iron sword so we have a weapon in case we meet bandits along the way.

>>2769528
>Accept it.
>Buy passable armor and a silver sword.

File: 342.jpg (40 KB, 616x342)

40 KB JPG

>>2769534
>>2769541
>>2769572

You accept her contract.

Your coin, now that Leditte’s pooled hers in, is enough for you to get something that is actually fit for killing monsters. As nice of a story it might make for you to Harald, the Monster Bludgeoner, you’d also like to be able to be alive enough to tell one in the first place. And as satistfying it is to lay into something with a blackjack, you’d rather have an axe or a sword if some fools decide to ambush you for your coin.

After donning your chestplate, you strap an axe to your side while a new silver sword hangs on your back. This will have to do. There were some steel swords of dubious quality that you could buy with gold from the blackjack, but you’d rather not have them fall apart in your hands.

Feeling a little more like a witcher, you enter the woods by a worn trail that the huntsman must’ve used. As the wind blows and shakes the leaves on the trees, the beams of sunlight that shine down shift and shudder. A bit of effort allows you to spot some tracks, and you follow them off the road and deeper into the forest. You halt. Something has brushed against the shrubbery far behind you. Upon turning around, however, you find nothing.

Shortly after, you find a chipped sword lying on the ground. Not far is the body that it once belonged to. The armor on his chest adorned by a few vines. He’s on the ground, blood smeared across a distance as if he were thrown about, bloodied sticks and bits of wood scattered all about. He is half eaten. On his body are teeth marks, that of a wolf. His eyes are gouged out, as if something had plucked them out. His organs too, are damaged with cuts shaped more precise than you’d expect.

There’s another body a small walk away. It shares the same wounds, though this one the wildlife thought it tasted better. Must’ve been the huntsman, if the bow in his hand is anything to tell by.

When you glance up, a murder of crows has gathered on the branches atop.

More noise from behind. This time, when you check, you spot someone climbing a tree a good distance away. There’s only one person you know to do that.

>Shout at her.
>Leave her be.
>Stare at her disappointingly and hope she leaves.
>[Write-in]

>Prioritize 3 things to brew
>[Write-in]

I know it’s not how it works, but using the wrong oil on an opponent will add a -1 modifier to your rolls, regardless if it’s standard, enhanced, or superior.

>>2769627
>Stare at her disappointingly and hope she leaves.

>>2769627
>Stare at her disappointingly and hope she leaves.
Let's not draw attention to where she is, in case there's danger about.

>>2769627
>>Stare at her disappointingly and hope she leaves.

For brew:
>Swallow
>Thunderbolt
>Relict Oil

I am 90% sure this is a Leshen we're dealing with. So we'll need that Relict Oil and making use of Igni to burn it and drive the wolves away.
Swallow and Thunderbolt are always useful in witchering.

>>2769627
>I don't believe the tree will keep you very safe from this monster. Or the crows, for that matter.

>>2769689
gonna go with this

>[Write in]: What are you doing!? Get away now or you'll die in that spot if the monster finds you!
so it's a Leshen. This is gonna be a hard battle,so,for brew:
>Relic Oil
>Swallow
>Thuderbolt
The faster it dies the better. Have you seen the claws on those things

Rolled 12, 10, 6, 3, 6, 1, 4, 7, 20 = 69 (9d20)

Got held up by something, sorry. Writing immediately. Rolling because I forgot to ask for rolls.

>1
oh shit what you doing

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152 KB JPG

>>2769674
>>2769685
>>2769689
>>2769712

You stare at her disappointingly, hoping she gets the message that she needs to leave right now. You really ought to go up to her and say something, but you can’t be bothered. Nothing happens, not a sign of movement. Figuring she can’t make out the details on your face, you cross your arms and lean your weight on one foot, a universal sign. She apologetically looks your way, but she motions that’ll she’ll stay right there. At a distance.

It seems that she’s relunctant to move, and if the fight is to take place far away, then you suppose it shouldn’t be a problem. With a scan of the area, you find the monster is nowhere to be found. It’s a leshen, you believe. The crows and wolf signs point in that direction.

Yet its totem is not here.

It must have moved since then. Finding a spot, you go ahead and brew up your potions and oils. You have a bit of equipment since then, and although you were confident going it, it almost ends in complete disaster. Only your Swallow potion comes out usable, to say the least. By a stroke of luck, its potency is more than usual.

You stalk through the woods, quietly, careful to not make a sound. Your efforts are barely any good, but it’s better to try. At first you follow the sound of crows, but soon, you learn they will lead you nowhere. A bit of luck later, and you spot something lumbering high. The tall, gaunt beast stands over its totem, constructing it as if it had only arrived. Wicked horns rise from its deer skull, twisting and turning before ending in sharp ends. Its body resembles sticks of wood and bone tied together by twine and hide, and its hands can easily fit a man’s skull and crush it.

You touch the hilt of your silver sword. Balanced, but not particularly well. You wonder if you can take one on. You can back away at any time. Yet, it is right there, and it seems to have not noticed you.

>Draw a Sign of Igni.
>Leap at it with your sword!
>Back off.

>>2769823
>Draw a sign of Igni
Burn it. Signs seemed to work well enough with the last monster.
On a semi related note, are leshens made of wood or do they cover themselves in it?

>>2769823
>Draw a Sign of Igni.

>>2769874
The former, I believe. Or at least, something resembling wood. Feel free to disprove me though

>>2769823
>>Draw a Sign of Igni.

>>2769874
>>2769896
>>2769908

The distance you have to cover might be a little too great. Even if you sprint, perhaps there won’t be enough time to close the gap before it attacks you.

You’ll have to use a Sign then. Jumping out of cover, you draw the one of Igni as you charge at it. Sparks fly forward right when it notices you, and leaping onto the leshen from the distance. It’s twice your height, but it’s not enough to intimidate you! It staggers back, swiping at the growing flames.

Its screams are the same as wood groaning before it snaps, and all the eyes in the forest falls on you. The trees begin to bend toward you, the grasses sway, and the vines that hang off branches begin to thrash. Overhead, the crows circle and caw, and some begin to dive down. The flowers and shrubbery all around begin to stir as something approaches.

All the while you knock your sword out with your left hand, and with your right, you swing out your silver sword, lunging at the beast.

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>2769927

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>2769927

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>2769897
Seeing how they behave in game,are described in the novels and their origins in folkore,i'd say they're spirits bound to a construct of wood, like an unholy fusion between a golem and a ghost. The fact that they have totems that strengenth them is also a strong inticator that they're bound creatures
also the roll

>>2769928
>>2769931
>>2769936

With both hands, you strike with all your strength. The blade splits the leshen’s chest nearly through, and you felt as if you almost felled a tree. It cries out and blindly lashes out, the claws slicing through the air. It’s too big for its own good. It misses you just barely, and before it can complete the arc, your blade is already moving. The silver connects right at its narrowest spot, and the monster’s arm is sent flying. Your blade is chipped. You’d move to finish him, but there are other things to worry about.

A handful of crows plummet down, pecking and scratching at you. You flail your arms, catching one with a fist. It crumples when it hits a tree. You need to focus! In the blur of black feathers, you spot wolves rushing at you. The first one tries to sink its teeth into you, only to find that it can’t get through the chestplate, only denting it.

Before you can be overwhelmed, you need to use Igni again. Your left hand moves to make the Sign while your right splits a wolf’s side open. Fire shreds all in front of you, a cacophony of noise and chaos as things of all manner are made alight.

Your back is a different story. The vines lash at your feet and rip you off balance. You fall, still tightly gripping your sword. They’re hacked apart in moments, but those moments are still precious time lost. The wolves are in disarray as the ignited crows crash and set more things on fire, but they’ve begun to collect themselves.

This leshen is too old. Too powerful. What little embers that linger on it can be ignored.

>Roll 1d20.

>Catch your breath. Be defensive.
>Keep using Igni.
>Aard to clear the path, and lunge at it.
>Write-in.

>>2769975
>Start falling back while using igni every now and again, you only need to buy time for the fire to do its job

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>Aard to clear the path, and lunge at it.
Time to give it all in
>>2769975

>>2769975
>>2769980
second

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>2769986
forgot my roll

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>2769975

>>2769980
>>2769986

Like using Igni on the Leshen while dodging? The QM seems to saying that the Leshen is too powerful to be killed by just letting the embers on it burn.

File: igni.png (316 KB, 750x676)

316 KB PNG

>>2769980
>>2769985
>>2769990
>>2769998

There’s too much. It’s impossible to break through right now. Your answer to a wolf snapping at your throat is to leap backwards so that you can draw the Sign of Igni again. You’ve already dealt a massive blow, and if the combustibility of these animals and the leshen itself is anything to go by, you can win this war of attrition.

The wave of fire causes the wolves to retreat to where the flames can’t lick them. Wood creaking, the leshen lifts its one good arm, signaling something. In the air, the crows take action. They begin to drop, plummeting down as if they were stones slung from the heavens. One by one, they’re become pulp when they hit ground, flinging dirt and dead leaves upwards like miniature explosions. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you begin to run for any cover of sort. But they come from the sky, and where are you to hide. A lucky swing of the sword splits one, but another lands right in your chest, knocking you off your feet and the wind out of you.

You crash onto the ground, but you roll and quickly recover. Your chestplate is dented and covered in gore, but that matters little now. Ahead, you spot cover! An overhang of some sorts, and you quickly throw yourself over it as the earth where you once stood is struck by a suicidal bird. A wolf follows you, but you catch it right in the nick of time. Your sword goes through its chest and lands in bone, and when you try to pull it out, you find resistance.

You’ve no time for this. With a foot slammed on its neck and a sickening crunch, you rip your weapon free. A quick check of the silver reveals many points where it’s chipped and was even bent when you sliced that crow. Behind you, you find, is actually a small entrance to a cave.

The number of wolves run low, and the number of crows even lower. You spot the leshen ahead and are about to sign Igni again, but you hesitate. It raises its good arm, about to plunge it into the earth below.

>Roll 1d20.

>Dive into the cave.
>Axii to halt it, and then run!
>Ignite the ground beneath you!
>Write-in.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>2770055
>Axii to halt it, and then run!

>>2770055
>Ignite the ground beneath you!
If we break the leshen's focus,it'll be much easier to deal with the bird bombardment. Besides, the leshen might drop it's guard (an lose his shit) if we burn the forest.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>2770070
fugged the roll

>>2770055

I think I'll change my vote to support this: >>2770070

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>2770055
>Ignite the ground beneath you!

>>2770067
>>2770076
>>2770168

And its claws plunge deep.

Below you, something rumbles as it snakes its way upwards. Roots. Thick enough to snap bone with ease, it breaks through into air, only to be met with fire. Some wrap around you, but a swift kick shatters them to pieces. You smell yourself burning, and you can feel it too, but the Swallow potion does its work. You can still move, bear the pain, and continue to fight!

But you are so tired. So many Signs in such a short time. The leshen bellows when it sees the fire spreading, when it sees you’re writing the last of your energy to light it all up. The last of the animals are sent toward you as if they were nothing but fodder. One wolf manages to sink their fangs into your arm, and you snarl before gutting it with your blade. You throw it at another, only to discover that the leshen has closed in while you were distracted.

Somehow, someway, it has approached without warning. Perhaps you were distracted, or that you could not hear it over the chaos. It looms above you, poised to strike. Its lower half is scorched black, but it glares with an undying fervor.

It gores you.

Its claws glance off your chestplate, instead sliding at an angle to miss your heart barely. It pins you to the ground, forcing you down with all its weight. Smoke fills your lungs, even if one has been punctured. The crushing weight leaves you gasping, forced on the ground. Your sword has fallen just out of reach.

Sheer luck has left you alive, but for how long? It moves, and blood sputters out of your mouth. You weren’t equipped for a leshen. You’ve neither the oil, nor the bombs.

Your vision flickers. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot vines begin fall down, smothering the flames. But you don’t give up. That’s what a fool would do. You’ve got a sorceress to apologize to, a girl to escort, and a job to complete. And yet, you can’t overpower this thing. You’re helpless.

Then, a rock bounces off the leshen’s skull, thrown from somewhere.

And all you can think is how fucking stupid she is.

You take that opening made by its surprise and tear it wide open; with all the strength you’re ever been good for, you rip the leshen’s hand out of you, sending it buckling backwards, and when it begins to fall on you for the final lethal blow, the silver piece of shit you call a sword disconnects the skull from its body. And as it tries to consider what has happened, one last swing finishes what you started with your first strike-it topples to the ground, cleaved in twain.

You stumble before collapsing against a tree in pain, leaving behind a trail of blood. The new holes made in your body have already begun to close themselves shut.

The last thing you remember is someone dragging you away.

Pausing here for now, and thanks for playing. Also, you all were tremendously lucky.

>>2770236
thanks for running its been really fun so far :D

>>2770236

Thanks for running, illiterate!

Any advice on how to handle future encounters? Would it have been perfectly legit to back out and say "nope, fuck this shit, Leshens can tear apart more experienced and better equipped Witchers like tissue paper"?

>>2770236
Man I'm glad we lived, I would have been very sad if Witcherquest ended so soon. Thanks for running this! I can't wait for the next session.

>>2770351
Definitely viable to turn things down and back out. Do things because you feel prepared, not because you're the MC and you're invincible. No plot armor here, because

>>2770433
I would've just switched to another MC, probably from the School of the Spider since that was popular after the vote ended.

>>2770472
Also, would it be possible to provide a list of options to brew before an encounter? I haven’t played much of the Witcher games save for the third, and potions/oils were more of a suggestion there than in the previous games.

To your complete surprise, you are alive.

You very much feel it so when every part of your body aches incessantly, and where the leshen had pierced you is an itching burning.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice points out. It is when you open your eyes that you discover that the herbalist had treated your wounds. She’s wrapped in furs and her white hair gives away her age. You lie in her hut, in a bed.

“How long have I been asleep?” you ask, voice raspy.

“A day,” she replies, “Your body put itself back together for the most part, with a little bit of help. Seems you’ve a handful of new scars now.” She chuckles, and calls out, “C’mere already, he’s up!”

On cue, Leditte peeks into the room at first, but she quickly runs up when she sees it wasn’t a lie. You try to sit up and face them properly, but your strength is missing. The herbalist, with a nod, leaves the two of you alone.

Leditte says, “So glad you’re alive. Didn’t know what to do when I saw you, thought I was hauling a corpse around.”

You grunt in pain when you try to turn your torso. “It all worked out. Except it didn’t. First of all, thank you. Second of all, never do that again.”

Incredulous, she shakes her head and answers, “Sure, you never do that again either.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that job,” you grumble, “I ruined all the equipment I just bought. The payment doesn’t even cover everything. Wait, the leshen-“

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, I brought the head... uh, skull thing with me.” A sigh of relief escapes from you. “And the armor and sword, I sort of fixed them. Well, I tried, don’t think I did a very good job, but that’s hardly my fault! You left them like chunks of metal! But they should be usable now, for the most part. I think.” She says all of this while she takes them from your pile of belongings in the corner. She’s worked out all the dents and patched up the holes in the chestplate with rivets. The sword, upon quick inspection, has a little less silver than before. Can deal with a ghoul just fine, however.

“Thanks,” you reply, “That’s a weight off my mind.”

“Can you get up? Do you need my help?”

You turn her down with a raised hand, and carefully, you lower yourself onto your feet. Your knees buckle momentarily, but you find you can walk with a little effort.

>Rest for now.
>It’s time to get going.
>[Write-in]

>>2771367
Sure. I'll try.

>>2771374
>>It’s time to get going.
Let's see if the town thinks the same as us: that we're an idiot for taking on this task.

Can't seem to write anything. I'll stop the thread here and start a new one on the weekend.

>>2771496
But it's monday...
At least finish the thread on something, because it won't be up come the next weekend.

>>2771374
Rest

>>2771374
>it's time to get going
THINK OF THAT SWEET SORCERER PUSSY

>>2771504
It'll be fine.
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2762515/

>>2771374
>talk with the client, ask around WHY there was a leshen

>>2771374
>Write in
>Close up the job, check on this master blacksmith and rest till you are healed enough to at least swing a sword or run without inconvenience

Don't remember, a Leshen forms for any particular cause?
Wasn't it a disgruntled forest spirit?

>>2773019
Seems sensible. +1

>>2771374
>Close the Leshen job
then
>It’s time to get going.

Is OP dead? I really don't want this quest to end like this :(

>>2794102
New thread,since the original QM appears to be dead.
I'm not actually iliterate and he/she's free to take reins of the quest should he/she return