37: Honor and Blood...
Oblivion backed up and stared at the men as they passed by him. The Witcher inhaled deeply and was silent. His mind grasped the concept that he was no longer in Equestria and was most likely back in the Northern Realms. He sat and reached into his saddlebag for his map. His eyes scanned the paper as he thought back to when he had fought the Leshen and gone to Equestria and analyzed his map for the location. He found it after a moment's search and stood up to see if he could see any road signs. He gave a quiet groan and walked three-legged out to the road after looking for any humans. His ears flicked as he listened before turning the bulk of his attention to the signs and the map in one hoof.
He checked the signs against the map and found that he was close by Honorton and he angled his body slightly to the left fork and slid his map back into his saddle bag. He pointed his hooves down the road and began to follow it, intent on gaining his bearings and then finding a place he could easily hide. His ears flicked as the sound of pounding hooves caught his attention. He jumped back into the forest and walked as close to the edge as he dared. The hooves slowed and stopped and he paused, careful to remain silent as he walked. As long as he was cautious, the stallion was fairly certain that he could remain unnoticed, so long as he did not do anything foolish. He could hear the men on the road but ignored them as he moved through the tall grass and small trees.
“There it is!”
Oblivion stopped and looked up to find one of the men staring at him from the trees. Oblivion sighed and cursed his own stupidity as he angled to go deeper in the trees. He heard hooves and startled as a rope settled around his chest and shoulders.
“Ah got it! We can make some coin offa this thing!” The man shouted as he pulled the rope taut, while the other joined him.
Oblivion rolled his eyes and turned to look at them. He was certain that as soon as he spoke they would drop the rope. He sighed before he spoke aloud to them. “I will give you a moment to either remove this rope or I will remove it myself.” He informed them and waited for them to react.
The first man, an older human paused and stared at the stallion as he spoke to him. The other also stared, too stunned for words. Oblivion reached up with one clawed hoof and gripped the rope in his claws, then pulled it over his head and dropped it to the ground. The Witcher turned and walked away from them. He heard a yell and watched as they charged him. “Bloody Hells.” He cursed as he plunged ahead. His hooves dug into the soft ground as he moved. The Witcher's strides lengthened as he ran from the humans behind him. He could hear them shouting to each other, but chose to ignore the content of their yelling. He saw a large fallen tree and angled for it and lunged to clear it. His body sailed over the tree and he yelped as his hooves struck the hillside under the tree.
“Shit.” He cursed as he fought to keep his hooves under him as he slid and plunged down the hill.
He kept his claws sheathed to avoid damaging them and allowed his body to compensate for the angle. He looked ahead and growled at the drop at the end. The black Alicorn was quiet as he began to gather himself to stop but quickly realized that he was moving too quickly. He gathered himself as he hit the edge and pushed off of it, his black wings unfurled and caught him as he began to plummet to the water below. He paused as his wings held firm under him and he gave a sigh of relief as he gathered his bearings and aimed for the hill above once more. The men who had given chase had pulled up their horses at the fallen tree.
The black Alicorn caught their attention with a sharp whistle. Their eyes widened to an almost comical size as he hovered within shouting distance. He looked at them and he snorted to them as he allowed his body to angle toward them and paused a few feet from them. The black stallion was quiet as he stared back and then gave a chuckle as he barrel-rolled to the side and took flight in the direction of the road he had been following.
He looked under him for a clearing to land in but found a seemingly endless sea of forest under him. As his wings remained firm he had to wonder how long he could fly on them. While he had the knowledge of how to fly, he had not tested it to finds out his endurance. He looked to the gently beating wings and shook his head, deciding to land when he had the chance. The sun was slowly setting as he saw a small clearing, he angled down to it and once close enough to the ground he banked his wings and they backpedaled allowing him to land easily. His hooves thudded gently against the grass and he scanned the area around him.
“Not sure where I am exactly. But that can be remedied later. For now, I will remain as far from people as possible. Thankfully if those two fools talk about seeing me, I’m certain they will not be believed. I would have had trouble believing their words if they spoke to me before.” He began to walk away from the clearing as the wind shifted and a scent caught his attention. “Wait. I know that scent.” He turned back and trotted after the scent, allowing his nose to lead him.
He paused at the edge of a small village as the scent of blood and death permeated the entire area around him. The scent led him forward as he peered around a house to see the center of the town. His eyes focused quickly in the low light and he stepped out from behind the house as he could see the people of the village appeared to all have been killed. He approached the body of the first villager he could see. He paused beside the body of a woman, sprawled on the ground, face down. He saw the wound stretching across her back, shoulder to hip. The Witcher focused and used his sense to analyze the scene as he walked slowly around the village. He approached a house by the edge of the town that appeared to be bigger than the others in the village. He slowly pushed the door open and walked inside. He angled toward the left and walked through a slim doorway and into an office.
“House is well done. The desk and everything in it is expensive. Whoever had this place had some coin to their name. Especially surprising since Velen is a hole where things go to die.” He glanced to the side and found a Leshens head on the floor.
“All right, so they have a monster problem. Or did. So someone took the head of the Leshen and brought it back for payment.” He paused and looked outside to see a barn close by. “Odd. Who would bring a head back if the village is dead?” He went back to the other side of the home and found a woman close to the fire. “Fire is still going. This just happened.” He looked to her and found her to have a single sword wound to the chest.
He tried to turn back but realized that his body was too long for the room to turn back. The stallion huffed for a moment and backed through the doorway. As he left the house he started for the barn. It was a typical barn that was deep enough for two stalls, nothing more than that. Oblivion looked into the first stall and found a slaughtered cow on the floor of the barn, its blood coating the ground. A new scent caught this attention as he looked to the second stall. A pitchfork laid in the dirt of the barn floor and he picked it up in one hoof and he could see that there was blood on the prongs.
“Someone got stuck with this at some point. Whoever it is had drunk a potion at some point. Smells of alcohol, Earthball, and…Wolfsbane.”
He set the pitchfork down and glanced to the man closest to it. “Arm has been severed just above the elbow. Typical spin strike if done correctly.” He looked to the old man slumped at the back of the stall. He looked to him and He could see the deep wound to the man’s torso. The wound was clean and he could smell something else on the body. The scent was faint, but it was Hanged Mans venom. A sword oil that was made by a Witcher. The oil was old and clearly had been on the blade for a long time and was swiftly fading.
“That answers the question of who could have done this. Now only a Witcher can drink potions that have that set of ingredients. A Witcher massacred this town. But the question remains, why?” He looked back to the elder man and found his hand clenched tightly around something. He used his claws to gently pry open the man’s cold fingers, revealing a silver chain. “Tore that off someone in the fight.”
He left the chain in its place and left the barn. The Alicorn walked over to a nearby house and pushed open the door. He found a woman slumped against the wall and went over to her. “Knife wounds. All shallow, but it hit an artery each time. Bled out, she didn’t fight back.” He glanced up and his eyes landed on the body of a child. He sighed and went to the figure. He rolled the child over and the boy’s throat had been cut, nearly decapitating him. “This was…unnecessary. What harm could the child have done?” He whispered as he raised his head to his full height. He walked to the other room and pulled a threadbare blanket off the bed and laid it over the child’s body. He bowed his head for a moment, then turned back to leave.
The stallion looked back to the door and saw a small figure race past. “Wait! Gods dammit.” He cursed quietly as he left the house. He paused as his hoof kicked something on the ground. A small doll stared up at him. The toy was clearly well loved. It was maybe the length of a child’s forearm in size. He reached down and picked it up gently in his claws. “Someone will be looking for you.” Oblivion said aloud and began to follow the tracks on three legs. The black stallion went into another house and turned into the side room, as the figure jumped through a window.
The stallion snorted quietly. “Well played.” He backed up and left the house. He walked around the house and picked up the trail behind it. His ears flicked and he heard the soft sound of crying. His hooves were silent as he trotted to a thick tree and waited for a moment before walking around the tree. A young girl stared at him as he came to stand in front of her. Her clothes were soaked from the recent rain and her long brown hair was pulled into a tight braid. She wore the typical clothing of a peasant. A long shirt tied at the middle with a rope and tan pants. Her pale brown eyes were scared as the black stallion looked to her.
Her eyes widened and she began to whimper. “No! Get away! Horse monster! Murderer!”
Oblivion paused before he spoke to her. He lowered his head so he was not towering over her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re just like him! Cat eyes.” She began to hyperventilate as the black stallion listened to her.
“Cat eyes?” She nodded. “Did he have two swords on his back? Like these?” He nodded to the weapons over his shoulder.
At his question, she began to whimper and then looked at him. “Not tellin’ you nothin’. Go away!”
Oblivion's first thought was to simply use Axii on her and then get the answers from her. He hesitated as his claws flexed and he recalled the doll in his claws. He sat down and held out the doll for her to see. Her eyes widened at the sight of the toy and she then looked to him. “Is this yours?” He asked her, his voice low and quiet.
“Yes.” She replied, her voice quivered as she spoke.
“He has a name?”
“Ma…Ma…Master Freckleface.” She replied to him.
“Ahh. Cute name. And yours?”
“Millie. Can I have him? Please?” She said to him.
Oblivion looked to the toy in his claws and then back to the girl. “Well, I don’t think Master Freckleface will be of any help to me on the Path. So he’s all yours.” He extended his hoof and for a moment he was concerned that she would balk at the sight of his claws. The girl reached out and snatched the toy from him, ignoring the claws on his hoof.
He waited as she hugged the toy tightly to her and then looked to him. “What happened here?” He asked her gently, trying to avoid frightening her more than she already was.
“The woods…They’s haunted by a spook. Uncle Sobemir said we needed ta find us a Witcher. So they made the sign for one. A Witcher came to help, but…” She paused and looked at him.
“But what, Millie?”
“He had evil in his eyes.” She sputtered out to him. “He left and then came back, with the spook's head.” She said to him. He remained quiet and waited for her to continue. “They were inside Uncle Sobemir’s house and I heard them arguin’. They was yellin’, and cursin’. They came out and went to the barn.”
“And? What happened?” He cajoled her to continue.
“They started screamin’. Then he came out covered in blood and started killing everyone. Those closest he went after first. Then everyone else.” She whimpered and gripped her toy. “Me mother and brother too.”
She began to cry once more and Oblivion waited for her to quiet once more before he asked for more of her. She quieted and looked to him. “And what happened then?”
“He let me go. I don’t know why. He ran off. Toward the circle, we use to make offerings to the Gods. I hid in the barn and found this.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a medallion. She held it out to him and he took it from her.
“School of the Cat. Great.” He set the medallion into his saddlebag and looked to her once more.
“Are you the same?” She asked of him.
He shook his head. He put a hoof under his own medallion and held it out for her to see. She leaned in and stared at it as he spoke. “I come from the School of the Wolf.”
“So you’re not the same?”
“No, little one. Same job, but I do not attack innocent people.” He said to her.
She leaned back and stared up at him. “Are all Wolf Witchers horses?”
Oblivion chuckled at her question. “No. They aren’t. It just happens to be what I am. I used to be human, once.”
“What happened? Did a witch get ya?” She asked him, her eyes pleading for him to continue.
“No. A witch did not do this. I chose to be what I am.” He replied to her with as close to the truth as he could get. “It’s hard to explain. But anyway. Do you have any more family?”
“My Auntie. She lives in Oreton.” She replied to him, becoming more comfortable talking to him as time went by.
Oblivion got to his hooves and looked down to her. “All right. I’m going to go and see about this bad man. I want you to stay here and be as quiet as you can. Okay?”
She nodded and hunkered down into the tree trunk, clutching her doll. Oblivion turned and trotted away from her as he found specks of blood that held the scent of a Witcher’s potion. He trotted down a game path as his ears perked and he caught the sound of breathing, a bit labored and he could hear the groan of pain that sounded off occasionally. It was about a half mile from the village. He paused before he stepped out to face the Cat. He reached back and held the Cat medallion in his hoof before he stepped out into the shallow mist around the altar.
The Witcher looked up and saw the medallion first. “Well, well. A Witcher of the Wolf… Haven’t seen one of…” He stopped speaking as Oblivion came into full view.
Oblivion waited for him to act, but he remained in place. “I think this belongs to you.” Oblivion held out the Cat medallion and then tossed it to him. He caught it and stared at the Alicorn.
“So they have made a horse into a Witcher?” He replied and caught the medallion in his hand. “Bringing me my medallion. And they say that our craft has no merit.”
“I am not just a horse. But our craft has gained an even worse reputation. Not many folks will forget that massacre.” Oblivion said to him.
“Yeah. So what now? You gonna fight with me?”
“Not at this moment. I care enough to ask your version, nothing more.” Oblivion replied.
“Well. Who are you? Or who were you before you were turned into a horned horse?”
Oblivion paused before answering. “I am Oblivion. And you?”
“Gaetan.”
“So, what happened?”
“You know what happened.” He got up and walked to the altar and then looked back to the Alicorn. “Guess how much they wanted to pay me for the Leshen? Guess.”
Oblivion thought back to his last contract. “Fifty crowns?”
“Hah. If only.” He turned away then shook his head as he looked back to the stallion. “Twelve. Twelve crowns to risk my neck.”
Oblivion raised an eyebrow at the amount. ‘That’s almost insulting.’ He thought to himself. “What was the agreement?”
“More than double that at least.“
“Hmm.” Oblivion said nothing and waited for the Cat to continue.
“I took the contract. I figure since you’re here, you saw the post as well?” Oblivion shook his head. “How did you come here then?”
“I was close by when I caught the smell of blood.” Oblivion exclaimed.
“So even as a horse, you’re still a Witcher?”
The stallion nodded. “Body is different, nothing more.”
“So, I went and killed the thing and brought back the head. You know, normal situation.” Oblivion gave a slight nod as he listened. “So, I ask for the payment and they start the usual whining. Oh, Master Witcher, me youngin’s are starving, there’s a war going on, the soldiers took it all. Have mercy. You know, the usual attempts to avoid paying.”
Oblivion nodded. He had heard those arguments many times as well. A client haggling after the job was done is not a new occurrence. “Yes. Sounds familiar. But that’s no reason to kill.”
“I’m getting to that. So I tell them that I’m fresh out of mercy and that if they don’t pay they’ll wish they had the Leshen back. They get a grim look and then come clean. ‘Okay Master Witcher, calm down. We hid some in the barn, to keep the Baron’s men from getting it.’ They motion for me to follow and I did. Can’t believe I fell for that old trick.”
Oblivion nodded at the admittance at the statement. He had made that mistake before as well. Only took once of taking a shovel to the back for him to never do that again.
“So we go into the barn and the alderman is talking and the other comes up and catches me with the pitchfork.”
“So you massacre an entire village?”
“What would you do? Go complain to the Magistrate? I admit. I lost my temper. Badly. That’s my bad and I admit it. I’m used to shit bounties, being cheated, them always begging for less, and when I won’t budge they spit on me when I pass. But for them to murder me, over a few crowns? I’m supposed to protect whoresons like that? I drew steel and didn’t stop till the ground was slick with blood.”
Oblivion remained quiet as he spoke. He had to admit that he knew what the other Witcher meant. He had been through many of the same problems and been attacked, lied to, and betrayed his fair share of times. He regarded him for a moment before he spoke. “Why did you spare the girl?”
“What?”
“The little girl. The only survivor.”
“Oh her. I was going to but... She reminded me of my sister. She’s the only one I remember from before the Trials.”
“Ahh. A lot of innocents died in that village.”
“Yeah. That is my bad. I got a bit carried away.”
“Not the first time?” Oblivion asked him, half expecting him to lie.
Gaetan looked to him as he sat back down. “What? You gonna kill me, Wolf? Then draw your blade. Don’t try to force me to confess.”
“Then get up.” Oblivion's voice cut through the light mist and the other laughed.
“So what was the point of that little chat?”
“I allow folk to defend themselves, unlike you.” Oblivion stated.
“Well. Aren’t you just a defender of the downtrodden?” He said as he got to his feet. “Can I take a drought of Swallow?”
“No.” The other looked surprised at the cold reply.
“Wow. That’s cold. How can you fight me like that anyway?”
Oblivion waited as he reached over his right shoulder and drew his steel and waited. “You’ll soon see that I have no issues with my form.”
Oblivion watched as a familiar golden light went over the others form as he activated Quen. The Alicorn was silent as he waited for the other to move. He finally stood and unsheathed his own steel and then charged at the stallion. Oblivion tossed his sword into the air and snapped his jaws around the hilt. A stomp of his hoof sent the other back as Aard rolled over him. Oblivion lunged to him and shoved his shoulder into the chest of the other, knocking him to the ground. The Cat rolled over his shoulder and back to his feet. He advanced once more and Oblivion spun, his hooves collided with the shield and it splintered under the attack. He spun to face him once more and sent a shield of his own over his body. Oblivion rammed him once more and brought his head down, his blade cutting into the other's shoulder.
The Cat yelled and jumped away from the stallion. He snarled as the Witchers stared at one another, waiting for the next bout. Gaetan watched them a low growl bubbled from him and he charged then spun to the side, his sword outstretched and Oblivion pulled back, the blade nicked into the front of his chest, leaving a cut two inches long in the meat of his chest. Oblivion jumped back and growled at the slight sting.
“You got first blood, but I got mine.” Gaetan taunted.
Oblivion growled through the hilt of his blade. He waited and slow realization coming to him as he realized that he was not as good with a blade when it was in his jaws. Gaetan lunged and Oblivion dropped the steel to the ground and reared, his hoof catching the other Witcher in the jaw. He jumped back and the Cat rubbed his jaw and smiled.
“Nice hit.” He replied to the stallion.
“Easy to hit when you’re sloppy.” Oblivion chided.
The other's eyes narrowed as anger rolled over him. Oblivion charged him and the other spun to avoid him. Oblivion spun his hip and slammed his flank into the side of the other Witcher. As he reeled back, Oblivion kicked out to the side with one hind leg, it collided violently with the other shoulder. Oblivion heard a distinctive crack of bone as the shoulder of the other began to give out. Gaetan turned to him, holding his breaking shoulder as Oblivion braced, ready. The Cat put his sword in his other hand and glared at the Unicorn. Oblivion waited, his patience showing as the other fidgeted on his feet for a moment. Gaetan charged him and Oblivion lunged into him. The others sword dug at the outside of his right shoulder, Oblivion brought his head down and a wet sound escaped Gaetan as he gasped. Oblivion looked up and found that his gamble had worked. His horn was sharp and more than capable of causing injury. It had gone through the Cat Witcher's left ribs and he pulled away from the Alicorn. He stepped back a short distance and brought his sword arm up. Oblivion knew he was in a tight spot and reared back as high as he dared, flaring his large wings. The stallion snarled as the air from his wings threw the other to the ground. Oblivion reached down and picked up his steel in his claws and spun. He drove the weapon into the chest of the downed Witcher. The sword dug into the earth under him and Oblivion watched as he gasped for a few seconds, then stilled.
“May the soil lie light upon you.” Oblivion said aloud.
He gripped his blade in his claws and wiped it off on the man’s shirt, then slid it back into place. He paused as the others sword caught his attention. He reached down and picked it up after he cleaned it off he could see that it was well made and, while shorter in length than his own blade, it would make a good addition to his collection. He rolled the dead Witcher to his side and cut the scabbard off his back. He sat back and tied the sword in scabbard next to the others on his back. He was hesitant to try his saddlebags for more than what they held at that moment. He turned to face the body, then walked away with a derisive snort. His attention went to the small cuts on his chest and shoulder. The cut to the chest would heal in a short time. His eyes fell on the deeper gash on his right shoulder. While it bled sluggishly he knew that it was superficial and would not be of any trouble to him. He began to trot back to the village when he saw a shallow pond. He went to it and dunked his horn and forehead into the cool water, washing it of blood. Once done he shook himself free of water and looked to the village.
The stallion trotted back to Millie, to find her snuggled against the tree trunk where he had left her. She looked up and a smile crossed her young face. She stood up and waited for him to reach her. “Yer back! I didn’t know if ye would come back. But ya did.”
He nodded to her as he spoke. “Yes. I’m fine. He will not hurt anyone ever again.”
“Will you take me to my Auntie?” She asked him.
“Yes. Come now, little one.” He began to turn as she spoke up.
“Can I ride on your back?” She asked of him, her voice quiet.
He looked back to her and looked to the sky, as though in deep thought. He glanced down to her and nodded. “I suppose. So long as you promise not to pull my hair.” He replied to her as he knelt down.
“I promise!” She said to him, a wide smile crossing her mouth.
“All right then.” He waited as she scrambled over his wings and onto his back. He got to his hooves and turned to leave for the village.
“You have wings too?”
“Yes.”
“Can ye fly?”
“I can, yes.” He flicked his wings out and hovered a foot above the ground for a moment, to Millie’s clear delight, as she squealed with glee from her place on his back. He dropped gently back to the ground and began to walk once more.
She hugged his neck and sat quietly on his back as he walked her the mile to Oreton. He helped her slide off his back as they reached the back of the house that belonged to her family. “Go ahead and bring her around back here.” He said to her and the child smiled as she skipped around the front.
“Auntie!” She chirped.
“Millie! Ye naughty child, what are ye doing here?”
“Come with me.” She said to her Aunt.
Oblivion watched as she dragged her by the hand to the back to the house. Her eyes widened at the sight of the horse behind her house. She advanced on him when Millie tugged her hand to stop her. “He saved me.”
“He did?”
“Yes.” Oblivion spoke up as he knew he was going to need to explain things.
She stared at him as he spoke to her. “You are a talking horse?”
“No. He’s a good Witcher.” Millie said to her, her smile beginning to fade at the mention of the profession.
Oblivion said nothing to her immediately. “I do talk, yes. I am a Witcher, despite how I appear. Don’t worry too much about it.” He said to her after a moment.
“But ye…” She began.
“I know. It’s not a common sight. Don’t worry about it. I am one of a kind, I assure you.”
“Very well.” Her tone was guarded as she heard his words.
“I found her in the village. Why don’t you go and play little one?” He said to her and nudged her away from them with a hoof. She nodded and did as she was instructed. “The village was massacred, she’s the only survivor.” He explained once the child was out of earshot.
“Massacred? By who, bandits?”
Oblivion paused. He was inclined to tell her the truth, though he had a feeling she would react badly to the knowledge. “It was done by a Witcher from the School of the Cat.”
Her eyes hardened for a moment before she spoke. “Then folk have the right of it then. Heartless and cruel. Murderers the lot of ye.”
“Not all.” Oblivion responded, his tone flat. He was used to the hatred that came from him being a Witcher. “He paid for the action with the ultimate cost.”
“Ye think that’s all it takes? Fer folk to ferget?” She snapped back to him.
“No. They won’t forget. They will continue to fear and hate us. That will not change. I have grown used to it. It doesn’t matter in the end. I didn’t come to make peace. You’ll look after her?” He said to her.
She sighed and her shoulder slumped at his question. “Truth be told, she be better off with ye.”
“You call me a murderer, then you entrust this child to me?” He said to her, his neck craned up at her words.
“Ye shan’t let her walk around with an empty belly. I got four grandkids of me own. Was six, but buried two last winter. Hard to live on naught but bark soup.” She explained, her voice tired.
Oblivion could hear the defeat and sorrow in her voice as she glanced to the little girl, playing several feet away from them. He looked to the little girl and sighed. He sat down as he reached back to his saddlebags. He pulled a small pouch of coin and checked the amount before he looked to her.
“Here. Use this for food only. There are one hundred crowns in that pouch. If I come back here and find you drinking…” He left the threat open as his claws dropped the pouch into her hands.
She looked into the pouch, then to him, shock in her expression. “So much? Gods reward ye. Ye aren’t like any Witcher I heard of. Ye are a good un’. A thousand blessings on you, Master Witcher.”
Oblivion nodded and walked over to the child. “Time for me to go, little one.”
She stood up and looked up at him. “Why?”
“A Witcher is always moving. It’s a part of what we are. We are always on the Path.”
She nodded in understanding and looked to the ground. “You come to visit me?”
“I might. Take care and behave, little one.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her gently and backed away from her. She nodded and looked up at her Aunt as she came to her.
“Come, Millie, dear. We’s gonna do some shopping, yer Aunt will make ye some pancakes. Come now.” She said to her and took her hand to lead her away. Her Aunt looked back to him and a smile crept onto her features and she nodded, respectfully to him.
He nodded back to her and backed away from the house. He glanced once over his shoulder as he went into the fog that covered the forest floor, as the day began to fade to the dark of night.
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mmhmhmhmhmhmmmm... yes.
I‘ve been following since chapter one (I didn’t have an account then, and I was reluctant to make one. I believe the term is ‘closet brony’?) and let me tell ya, this here, this masterpiece, is the best schisse here. Y’ain’t gon’ find too much better!
8/8 doin’ gr8 m8
This was a great chapter and really moved me at the end with the way you have built up oblivion, well rounded and not just another goody two shoes.
9128619
Thank you! I’m so glad you are enjoying it. That’s my goal. Thank you! And welcome to the herd! No more closet!
9128639
Yup I hadn’t done any feels chapters in a while. Figured it was time and that quest is my fave! So perfect
Juicy as always
Damn.
I remember playing this and it certainly gave the already deep lore of The Witcher into something more thought provoking. I spared him during my playthrough because same as you, I thought Geralt can sympathize with his plight seeing as how brutal the world of The Witcher series is and how he also was nearly killed with a pitchfork during that bloody riot. Add to the fact that there are very few Witchers now roaming in the continents.
For those who haven't played the quest the best line said by Geralt was "They call me the Butcher of Blaviken. For good reason. I know how it is. Sometimes... Sometimes heads just roll.". Shows that even when no one is truly at fault, the situation can easily pull towards a dark, tragic and twisted outcome.
Another wonderful chapter. I need to know, just a mild curiosity, but will there be others like Letho or other Witchers introduced? Because that would freaking spectacular.
Once again continue writing more lovely chapters and stay awesome.
9128971
Thank you!
9129140
I spared him once during a separate plY through and then regretted it. Went to his little stash and found that Honorton was not his first victim. And I will allow a mild spoiler: more will come. Hehe!!
I remember this Quest it was so sad
So I just finished replaying this Quest if you go back to oreton after a few days Millie will give you an adorable little hand drawn picture of her and Geralt
9280629
Yup. I did that and I spent several seconds just going Awww... so freaking cute!
It's funny... I let Gaetan live. I both pitied and despised him, but witchers had similar incidents in their past all too often. This was very much a tragedy vs tragedy thing. I let him go, because I believed this would bother him, regardless how he appeared to take it. Something like this never truly leaves you. And, also... because if I had killed him, there'd be no chance for him to become better through it. I don't know if he did, in the end, but that world had enough death and suffering in it w/o me adding to it, especially in revenge. And in the end, I have a feeling he'd save someone else down the line - they all seem to, often whether they like to or not. Fate is a cruel, twisted mistress... :-)
I also spared the aunt the information on how this came to pass. Call me a liar all you want, but there wasn't anything that would become better for this particular truth - if anything, things would probably become worse: people unwilling to ask witchers for help (when they really needed it, and it made all the sense in the world), or outright going after them... And the damn kid had no need of having this "sole witcher attack survivor" trip on her, down the line. I just felt that if I were truthful, I wouldn't be helping anyone. If nothing else, I'd want to protect the other witchers from this hatred - gods know they see enough of it already.
In the end, I think the people asked for this one, and while it was unnecessarily brutal - he did keep shit bottled up, and it all just came out at that point - it can be argued that it wasn't without reason. Disproportionate? Yes. Unwarranted? Hardly.
And as to why would someone even think about attacking a guy twice their size, armed to the teeth, and with songs, books and poems describing not only their valor in battle, but recounting actual events in full, gory details... not to mention being able to track me through the damn world? Nope, still don't get it, and it's been a little under two decades since I first asked that question. I reckon I never will. It's like those people have no self-preservation instinct whatsoever. I'd sooner piss off a dragon - that might get bored after a while.
The Beast of Honorton huh? I suppose.
Didnt expect a near verbatim.
9478904
You never read the journal in his hideout did you?
That dude reveled in killin folk.
Using her logic, we can conclude all humans are monsters because humans have wiped out villages and apparently if just one person kills then their entire species is guilty. Welp, Oblivion, time to get to work. It's what she wants.
Actually, yeah, I do. In real life that usually does the trick and people feel safer when they know an organization take policing its own seriously.
9478904
The way I saw it was that the Cat had made consequences for trying to murder a witcher extend beyond the offenders. Most people short on money would be willing to risk their lives to try and kill a witcher to avoid paying him for the sake of their families. By making it clear that their families would suffer the consequences for that, witchers are less likely to be murdered. Sparing consequences for the innocent is okay sometimes, but when wickedness was done for the sake of those innocents then those innocents must be punished to show other would-be offenders that their actions would harm those people, not help them. Otherwise the offenders would harm many more people than those innocents who were punished. And yes, it does come down to numbers.
The irony, of course, is that the School of the Cat is mostly to blame for the witchers being hated and feared instead of merely mistrusted and disdained.
9691249
Yeah, but we usually didn't know that at the time of making the choice.
10153280
Based on the descriptions the Cat School was certainly rather volatile, but they mostly gained their reputation because they accepted contracts to kill political targets, implying that all the hate for them was mostly propaganda made by corrupt royals, nobles, and merchants to help justify them slaughtering an entire school that was picking them off one by one. I find it hard to believe that witchers would just accept killing someone for coin just because they insulted someones' mom and we all know politicians and especially in medieval times anyone with power was likely to be cruel, selfish, and manipulative. It's in a Witcher's job description that they kill monsters. The Cat School were simply the only ones that didn't allow someones' treasury or armies to determine whether they were monsters. That, and regardless of them actually doing such, it's not like nobody else would do assassinations. They were just good at it. If people didn't hire assassins or commit acts that would make them deserve being killed then the Cat School wouldn't have done so.