#reidrich

[radioactivepeasant]

More fake screenshots via monkeying around with Studio Mir screencaps! This time I borrowed Reidrich from the Witcher movie to use as a base for Damas

Original for comparison ⬇️

What is he worried about? I don't know. The possibilities range from "caught a Marauder spy in the city" to "did I just see Jak trying to feed the Giant Squid by hand?!"

[hudine]

This is something of a plot bunny I came up with… don’t have a name for it either. Just a sort of prologue. This part takes place a couple hundred years before the Witcher season 1. Cannon is an unholy fusion of all three plus whatever my brain comes up with. Will be Geraskier.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Two mages and two Witchers sat in one of the mage’s work rooms in the depths of Kaer Morhen looking utterly board.

“So why exactly can’t you do the trail of the grasses on the initiates yet?” Rennes, grandmaster of the school of the wolf, asked the mages.

“Alfred is late,” Dagobert the senior mage answered.

Barmin, Rennes’ second, snorted. “Alfred Pankratz has probably just drank too much faerie wine and got stuck in yet another orgy. How that sorcerer gets himself caught up in these things I don’t know but he does too much thinking with his cock. Remember last year? He stumbled in all rumpled, covered in scratches and bite marks, then bragged about how he had a tryst with the Queen of the Seelie Spring Court. Can you not start without him?”

“If only,” the other mage, Reidrich, grumbled, “We need an ingredient only the fae can give us, and has to be given willingly. It’s the most vital component of the formula. Alfred went to fetch it from them. They don’t like Dagobert because he used to dabble in monster production, and I can’t go without risking a diplomatic incident because King Eredin of the Unseelie Night Court took grave offence that I beat him in a game of gwent of all things.”

“That’s all?” Rennes was astonished.

“He insinuated that I cheated because I won a rather valuable magical object,” Reidrich complained.

“Did you?” Barmin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“For once in my life actually I didn’t… which is probably the only reason I got out of there with my life and without the wild hunt on my tail. Anyway that leaves only Alfred without having to get one of the other schools involved. He’s late.”

As if summoned by mentioning him the lab door opened and in walked a tall wiry man with auburn hair and cornflower blue eyes, wearing loose clothes, a backpack on his back and in holding a small bundle. He looked rather frantic. “Sorry I’m late, something unexpected came up that held me back.”

“Alfred, thank the gods. You have what we need?” Dagobert asked.

“Yes, yes, that’s not the problem—“ Alfred started only for the bundle in his to start crying. “Oh come on kid. I managed to feed you, you don’t need changed, please don’t start crying again.”

“Why do you have a baby?” Rennes demanded, moving closer, catching a whiff, “A fae baby at that.”

“Remember how last year I said I had a tryst with the Spring Seelie Queen… well apparently the contraceptives didn’t work…”

“Wait… are you serious? The fae aren’t pulling a joke on you?” Reidrich inquired while moving closer to take a look.

“Yes I’m serious!” Alfred snapped back out of exasperation, “Changelings are just a myth humans made up to explain the tragic deaths of infants. A Fae child takes around two hundred years to reach the age of majority. Even the most blind human would notice if it took around eleven years for a baby to have just a year’s worth of growth.”

Alfred rocked the baby to try and quiet him as he paced frantically. “What am I going to do with a baby that will be an actual baby for a couple decades!”

“Ok we established the baby is yours. You still didn’t answer why you have them,” Barmin cajoled.

“The Queen’s consort was rather offended. Not that the child wasn’t theirs oddly enough. Although Fae do pair off with someone for many years, apparently they still don’t do strict monogamy. Not in their nature. No they where offended the baby was half human and a potential heir to the throne. Not that it’s that likely, they are the Queen’s third child and her oldest daughter who is next in line has two children herself and another on the way. Anyway although harming a child is a grave offence to the fae she was worried her consort might harm them. So now sudden and unexpected parenthood for me.”

“Well your mother has been going at you about producing an heir for a while now. At least you can now tell her you have the next Viscount de Lethenhove. She might not even mind they’re half fae. She is getting on in years after all,” Reidrich joked and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

Alfred looked even more panicked all of a sudden. “What am I going to tell mother?”

“You’ll work something out. So boy or girl?” Rennes asked.

“Undecided,” Alfred replied and got odd looks from the two Witchers.

“What? I’m sure it has to say it in one of those bestiaries somewhere. The spring court are shapeshifters as well as gender fluid. They quite literally change their sex organs from male to female all the time as children until they settle on their gender expression… some never do and change back and forth at a whim their entire lives. They can also change into one animal form instinctively but can learn how to change into others as they get older.”

“By all that howling I think that little one is going to be a wolf,” Barmin joked, “Here let me take them. Babies are very good at picking up emotions. You’re a nervous wreck it’s just going to make things worse.”

“What’s their name?” Dagobert asked this time as Alfred handed the baby over to the Witcher with some relief.

“They didn’t really have one yet. The fae wait a while before naming their children, get to know them. I’m not sure what to name them. They’re gonna be powerful magically, just feel the raw chaos. They’re a source.”

“Right now the babe sounds like they’re gonna be a bard. Not one of those flashy troubadours either that just sing, dance, and play instruments. No a true bard that can weave magic with their voice and into their songs and music,” Barmin commented. He’d got the baby to quieten down some but was still crying, just not as loudly. “Certainly got the lungs for it.”

“I should give them a male name. If my mother thinks it’s a boy it will make my life a lot easier,” Albert said thinking out loud. “Julian. It was my great grandfather’s name, my mother’s favourite grandparent, who also raised her. It also means youthful, to see the world through a child’s eyes. Appropriate given how long they will be a child compared to a human lifespan. Julian Alfred Pankratz. We can call them Jules, that’s gender neutral.”

“Well Jules, welcome to Kaer Morhen. You’re a damn site more lucky than most boys who come through here because I assume no one is going to put you through the trails,” Barmin said to the baby in his arms.

“I’d kill Dagobert or Reidrich before I let them experiment on my child by putting them through the grasses,” Alfred stated. He was the youngest of the mages at only sixty years old, but no one doubted he would follow through on his promise. “Besides. That boy isn’t just fae, he’s Hen Ichaer, elder blood, just like his mother and the rest of the fae royal families. He was tested before I left. He’ll grow up to have the strength, speed, hearing, vision, and the rest of any Witcher. We really need to get making the potions we need. We’re running late. What are we going to do with a baby in the middle of it?” Alfred asked, remembering why they’re there.

“Oh that’s easy. We got a young upstart we had to take off the path for a while because of an incident people are blaming him for. Not his fault really, it’s just the optics. Best keeping him here for a while until people forget. He doesn’t like kids much, so we made him a fencing instructor a week ago,” Rennes said with a smirk.

“Oh… the kid is gonna just love this,” Barmin agreed with a laugh. “Don’t worry we have the perfect nanny in mind. We should leave you to it and go find Vesemir.”

@xxx|}::::::::::::::::::::>

[aion-rsa]

The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/2Wj37u7

This article contains major spoilers for The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf

There are many good reasons why The Witcher doesn’t feature Geralt of Rivia beheading a vampire and then quipping, “Fangs for the memories.” His sense of humor is more cutting and direct, definitely not as snarky as when his mentor Vesemir fights the leshen in the opening scene of Netflix’s animated spinoff, The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf. That difference may partly be explained by the movie’s ending, which enlightened fans about a number of worldbuilding details that cross over into the main series.

The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf presents an interesting dilemma in its premise: if the profession were more common, then there would be more competition for monsters to kill in order to earn a living. In the present time of the movie, Vesemir has made a lucrative haul before heading to Kaer Morhen, the witcher stronghold, for the winter season, but his colleague Luka and others have not been so lucky. That kind of supply-and-demand pressure can cause lapses in ethical practice.

Read more

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The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf Review – A Serviceable Supplement to The Netflix Franchise

By Caroline Cao

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The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf Trailer Presents a Snarkier Monster Hunter

By Michael Ahr

The main reason, for example, that is presented for Tetra’s ill will towards witchers is that she knows that her sorceress mother was framed for supposedly cursing a priest. A witcher had paid the priest’s cook to poison his master so that he could earn money by killing the perceived source of the priest’s sickness. When told the tale, Vesemir even remarks he wished he had thought of a con like that.

It appears that Deglan, the head witcher in Vesemir’s time, thought of an even better con by having Reidrich, Kaer Morhen’s personal mage, create new monsters for them to kill for money. While it seems extremely ill-advised to practice mutagenic alchemy on an elf, who ends up being the source of the creature army that decimates the witcher population, Reidrich’s secret processes also explain the mysterious origins of the witcher race that The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf (and soon The Witcher: Blood Origin) explores.

It’s this hubris and its consequences that transforms Vesemir from a swashbuckling exterminator-for-hire to the older, more serious mentor that fans of The Witcher have come to know from the books and games. As Deglan breathes his last, he tells Vesemir to take the most recent batch of young witchers and “make them into something more — to better men.” Vesemir’s love story with Lady Zerbst is proof that witchers do have hearts and are not the soulless, emotionless mutants Tetra and others in Geralt’s time would have people believe.

The implication is that, with Reidrich’s death, no more witchers can be created, an idea that doesn’t exactly fit with the story of the books, but so be it. Just before the boys completed their final transformation, the names Eskel and Lambert were mentioned, and it appears Coen and not the predicted Remus also survived the mutagenic process. These three are the witchers who viewers will encounter in The Witcher season 2, which returns to the ruined Kaer Morhen for Ciri’s training.

But of course it’s the small hairless child who draws the most attention as The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf concludes its story. Young Geralt will become that “better man” that Deglan urged Vesemir to raise, a witcher who doesn’t just concern himself with the money he can make from killing monsters, despite what he may tell his customers. And with fewer of his kind out there in the world, monsters will rebuild where Kaer Morhen cannot.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf is by no means the perfect backstory. The cameo appearance of Filavandrel and the involvement of the persecution of the elves in the fall of Kaer Morhen felt a bit forced, like the writers were trying to include all of the larger themes of The Witcher into one movie. But the transformation of the witcher profession was expertly handled and provided the perfect context for Geralt’s unlikely heroism in the larger story, making us look forward to his return in The Witcher season 2 that much more.

The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3sKbOt9

[lostxndbroken]

@etternele continued from (HERE)

It was not like he could change what he was, Isolde resented it a little, but there was nothing he could do aside from living and dealing with it. A gilded dragon raised by a Witcher from a School that didn’t exist anymore, powerful in his own way, but afraid of what he could become of he let it loose.

“Not ashamed… fearful.” He shook his head while saying such words and cupped Vesemir’s face. “I’m young for my kin. Very young.” He looked at his own hands again. “I’ve yet to learn the ways of those like me, but I can’t. For the last dragons of this land have either been slain or long lost to madness and greed. I’m also unsure how to be one, for I’ve lived all my life like this… except for very few Winters spent under the supervision of the mage called Reidrich, when I was told to stay in my… other form.”

The memories were hazy at best, but Isolde remembered the mage and how he conduct minor experiments on him, most which failed miserably since Isolde was born with certain quirks no Witcher or mage saw before. The mage from Kaer Morhem tried to figure out why the dragon was born white and violet when his parents were not like so and how it affected Isolde’s biology, something he also didn’t figure out. For all the time and resources spent on the research, all that was found was that Isolde was accutely connected with the arcane, capable of boosting spells and to use elemental magic as he pleased, even in his weakened human form, and that he was capable of feeling and seeing the fluctuation of the veil around him, which made him able to pinpoint natural places where planes of reality folded to form better and more stable portals as well as where one could find natural sources of magic.

He shouldn’t be saying these things. Vesemir didn’t need his downcast mood, but… Isolde saw how the sorcerer they visited earlier looked at him and how there was something in his eyes when he saw the small and delicate bard accompanying the Witcher. The bard could almost tell the old and white bearded man seemed to see him as even less than the Witcher and it pulled a string in him when the sorcerer mentioned that Vesemir should get rid of him just because he was not human — Isolde could swear part of himself almost expected the man to offer money to the Witcher.

“… It’s not my business, but… what did that old man want from you that he couldn’t say in front of me?” His mind rilled with so many questions and doubts at that moment, not only for this being the first time Isolde was going through his change of scales in front of Vesemir, but also because this was when he was most vulnerable. “Did he… ask you to do something bad?”

Reidrich, the mage that was capable of unspeakable things, it was because of him he was now a Witcher.  If Reidrich wasn’t capable of performing the trail of grasses, he and many other boys wouldn’t have been monster slayers. “You’ve been at Kaer Morhen?” It was also because of that mage that they had tucked away some memories behind some wall. Vesemir couldn’t remember the days that Isolde was there when he was younger.

“Reidrich is dead, along with many more.” It was where the guilt set in. He was the reason of the mage’s death along with many Witchers and boys.

“Stregobor, a fowl man who doesn’t like the unexpected. He heard of you somehow and he cornered me to tempt me to sell you to him, dead or alive, he didn’t care.” As he said this, his voice got cold. Vesemir wanted to slay that damned sorcerer right then and there, but that man was powerful and old. “He wanted to experiment on you and find out how you tick, how you work… I turned him down immediately and he fussed about keeping monsters alive, so I asked if I should kill him then, because I confronted him of being a monster himself.” The Witcher pulled the dragon in and wrapped his arms protectively around the small frame. “I will let nothing happen to you when I’m around.” He whispered.

[drraptjr]

#Repost @phillipdrummond ・・・ @todaysfuturesound #GlobalBeatCypher Part XVII Saturday, June 27th at 7pm PST/10pm EST, Hosted by @phillipdrummond and make sure to stream and download sample pack curated by @reidrich with samples on SoundCloud.com/todaysfuturesound —- DM us if interested in participating: https://bit.ly/GBCXVII HQ livestreaming thanks to @creativeminds_media via: Facebook.com/todaysfuturesound YouTube.com/todaysfuturesound Twitch.tv/todaysfuturesound and @todaysfuturesound Instagram Featuring special guests! @buckwild_ditc @fienyxny #GlobalBeatCypher features and showcases beat makers and producers from all around the globe. Our attempt to connect and combat isolation, build community and share dope beats in the time of #covid_19 #corona and showcase producers! Tune in and share your beats! DM us or @phillipdrummond to get Zoom link to participate! background design/sticker by @lanevera_ can be purchased with the full limited edition boutique sticker pack (15 stickers total for $20 USD) through link below here to support our work teaching beats to kids and putting on these #beatcypher events: http://bit.ly/TFSLANE #beatculture #beatmaking #beatscene #hiphopbeats #beatmaker #lofi #lofihiphop #tfsglobalbeatcypher #globalbeatcypher #todaysfuturesound #psychedlic #beatmachine #stickers #instabeats video edited by @thephronetic beat by @cacheezy_ https://www.instagram.com/p/CB7T5HMg2bd/?igshid=19orw7dkd42oc

[justbaazaar]

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[hudine]

Part 2 of my latest fic. Read part 1 here. Relatives of Witchers have been kidnapped and made to undergo the trails. Jaskier included.

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They'd barely settled in when a muffled voice emanated from the mage's pocket. Alfie retrieved an ornate box and briefly presented it to the group. "Xenovox. It lets us communicate over long distances."

"We've located them, Alfie! But Aidan lost his head and charged in, with the others following suit! The place is swarming with Nilfgaardian soldiers. We need any backup you can muster."

"Bloody cats. Always so battle-hungry. I've reached the wolves. I'll portal there with as many volunteers as I can muster," Alfie responded, returning the box to his pocket.

"Was that Reidrich?" Vesemir inquired, incredulous. Reidrich was ancient even when Vesemir was a youth, the very mage who had subjected him to the trials.

"A friend rescued him from a dire state in a Nilfgaardian prison about ten years ago. The old man has never truly recovered. He's been in hiding with me ever since. But enough about that, do I have any volunteers to join me?"

"I'm in," Geralt declared immediately, anxiety gnawing at him. He fervently hoped he wasn't too late to save Jaskier. Nightmarish scenarios concerning his friend's fate plagued his thoughts since learning of his disappearance.

"If Aidan's involved, count me in," Lambert interjected. Shortly after, a chorus of Witchers voiced their willingness to help. Most pledged their assistance, with only a few like Vesemir choosing to remain behind to safeguard the keep and prepare for the return of their captured kin.

One of the perks of being a mage from the Wolf School was Alfie's exemption from the wards that prevented mages from portaling in and out of the keep. Without hesitation, he created a portal to Reidrich's location. As the Witchers stepped through, they braced themselves for battle. Their new surroundings suggested they were in a secluded keep in the south, given the climate.

The scene was pandemonium as the Witchers clashed with the Nilfgaardian soldiers. However, they had the upper hand in speed and strength. The soldiers were no match for the combined might of the thirty Witchers — twenty that Alfie had transported and the initial ten already with Reidrich.

The fortress was a maze of cold stone and echoing hallways, each one seeming more confusing than the last. Geralt's senses, fine-tuned by years of experience and alchemical enhancements, were overwhelmed by the scent of blood, sweat, and fear. Yet one scent, one he would know anywhere, was pulling him forward: Jaskier's.

The sound of clashing steel and cries of pain reverberated around him, but Geralt's focus remained singular: find Jaskier. His heart raced, not from the battle but from a fear he refused to acknowledge. Every corner he turned, every door he kicked down, he feared the worst, but he pushed forward with even more determination.

As Geralt fought his way through the corridors, dispatching Nilfgaardian soldiers with calculated precision, the weight of his emotions grew heavier. His memories of Jaskier flashed before him - the countless songs written in his honour, the shared laughs, and the quiet moments by the campfire. Deep down, he realised that his connection with Jaskier went far beyond mere friendship, though he'd never admitted it aloud.

Coming upon a heavily guarded chamber, Geralt's senses screamed a warning. He lunged into action, his silver sword dancing as an extension of himself. One by one, the guards fell until the room was silent.

He pushed the chamber doors open, and a scene of horror met his eyes. Jaskier, pale and unconscious, was strapped to a table, his shirt torn open. Next to him, a set of vials and instruments bore the unmistakable signs of the Trial of the Grasses - a torturous procedure that few survived. The trial had just begun, the first of the alchemical concoctions dripping into Jaskier's veins.

Geralt rushed forward, his heart pounding louder than ever before. With deft fingers, he unstrapped Jaskier and cradled him in his arms. Jaskier's skin was clammy, his breath shallow. The realisation hit him like a blow: the jovial bard, the one constant in his tumultuous life, was in grave danger. And the thought of losing him was unbearable.

Gently brushing a lock of hair from Jaskier's face, Geralt whispered a promise, "I won't let you go, not now."

“He’s started. So has the others in here. Once the process starts there is no stopping or it will kill him. I’d say you know this but I forget how young you are with that white hair. You’ve never seen someone go through the process before. Put the straps back on, it seems cruel but it’s necessary to stop him from hurting himself. Damned mages responsible have portaled out and we’re going to be too busy getting these six people through the trails to trace them,” Alfie explained and started grabbing alchemical mixtures to use next, hating to have to do this procedure on his own son.

Geralt's eyes blazed with fury, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. But as he looked down at Jaskier, his rage was replaced by a deep-rooted fear. The man in his arms, the one who had been by his side through thick and thin, was now facing one of the deadliest challenges known to Witchers. And he was defenceless against it.

"I understand," Geralt rasped, laying Jaskier back down on the table and reluctantly securing the straps. Each click of the buckle felt like a betrayal. He watched as Jaskier's chest rose and fell in shallow, laboured breaths. "There has to be something we can do."

Alfie, despite the steel in his voice earlier, looked wearied by the responsibility. "The Trial of the Grasses is unpredictable. Some don't survive the initial stages, while others come out changed, but alive. All we can do is monitor him and the others, administer the mixtures in the correct sequence, and hope."

Geralt's jaw clenched, the helplessness gnawing at him. He had faced countless foes, countless challenges, but this... this was different. This was Jaskier. The one who sang songs of his heroics, who saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath. The one he cared for more than he'd ever admitted.

Alfie approached with a vial in hand, his face etched with determination. "This is the next mixture. It will... it will be painful. For all of them."

Without waiting for a response, Alfie began administering the concoction to each of the six. Their reactions were immediate and visceral: bodies arching in pain, guttural screams echoing through the chamber. Geralt's heart shattered as he watched Jaskier convulse, but he held the bard's hand tightly, whispering words of encouragement and silently pleading with any higher power that might be listening.

Hours seemed to stretch into an eternity. Geralt stayed by Jaskier's side, offering what little comfort he could, while both Alfie and Reidrich tirelessly moved between the six, attending to their needs and ensuring the process went as smoothly as possible.

As the night wore on, the convulsions lessened, and a stillness settled over the chamber. The ordeal was far from over, but for now, there was a brief respite. Geralt leaned close to Jaskier, pressing his forehead to the bard's, willing him to fight, to survive.

And as dawn's first light filtered into the room, hope lingered in the air, fragile and precious.

In the dimly lit chamber, as the first rays of dawn pierced through, the rhythmic sounds of six slow-beating hearts filled the room. Geralt, Alfie, and Reidrich looked at each other, the weight of relief evident in their eyes.

"I've never seen anything like it," Reidrich murmured, awe evident in his voice. "Every single one of them survived. It's unheard of."

Alfie, ever the pragmatist, pulled out a small device to check their vitals. "The heartbeats... they're consistent with a Witcher's," he confirmed.

“So it’s true. There really is something inherited that let’s them survive the trails,” Reidrich continued.

Geralt, holding Jaskier's hand, looked contemplatively at the bard's face. "So, you're saying that there's something in their blood, something passed down that ensured their survival?"

"Precisely," Alfie said. "Though it's been largely dismissed as a superstition, today's events might just prove the theory."

The Witchers took great care in moving the six new Witchers, ensuring they were stable before embarking on the journey back to Kaer Morhen through a portal. The fortress, perched high in the mountains, was now home to around twenty boys — each recovering from the ordeal of the Trials. They had been rescued by a joint effort of Witchers from different schools the two wolf school mages had brought together and it had seemingly healed some old wounds between the schools in the process.

The vast, sprawling halls of Kaer Morhen echoed with soft, pained whimpers. Each child and young adult bore the mark of the torturous Trials, their bodies weak and feeble, struggling to adjust to the newfound alchemical enhancements. The stillness of the fortress was broken only by the gentle murmurs of Vesemir and Eskel, offering comforting words to the recovering Witchers.

Vesemir, with centuries of experience, tended to each boy with an almost paternal care. Though he had seen countless Witchers undergo the Trials voluntarily, witnessing these young souls being forced into this life was a pain he hadn't felt in a long time. He murmured soft words of reassurance, his fingers gently wiping away tears or patting a trembling shoulder.

The shallow pools were a haven for these new Witchers. Warm and therapeutic, the waters eased their aching muscles and provided a sanctuary from the sensory overload that they were now experiencing. Eskel, with his gentle demeanour, was meticulous in ensuring each child's safety — adjusting floatation devices, darkening the room, or gently inserting beeswax plugs into hypersensitive ears.

The soft splashing of water and the muted cries of the recovering Witchers were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of Geralt. He carried in his arms a figure that of Jaskier, the ever-enthusiastic bard. But now, the usually vibrant young man was pale, with dark circles under his closed eyelids, betraying the trauma of the Trials he had endured. Even in his weakened state, his grip on Geralt was firm, as though the White Wolf was his only tether to the world.

Vesemir's eyebrows furrowed with worry upon seeing Jaskier. "The Trials were never meant for someone his age," he murmured, motioning for Geralt to lay him down in one of the quieter pools.

Geralt gently laid Jaskier into the warm water, taking special care to ensure his head was comfortably positioned. Jaskier's face twitched slightly at the touch of water, but otherwise, he remained still, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still with them.

"He's strong," Geralt whispered, more to himself than to Vesemir. "He's survived more than any bard should ever have to."

Vesemir placed a comforting hand on Geralt's shoulder. "We'll do everything we can for him, and for all of them. But remember, the Trials do more than just transform the body. They change the very essence of a person."

The White Wolf's heart raced as he watched Jaskier's eyelids flutter open, revealing confused now yellow cat slit eyes. "Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was weak but unmistakably his.

Relief washed over Geralt. "I'm here, Jaskier. You're safe now."

[hudine]

Here is part of chapter 4 of the story I’m writing I though was funny and would share

Read the first 3 chapters of Second Son’s Legacy on AO3

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Jaskier took off the heavy packs filled with stones and dramatically collapsed at Geralt’s feet. “If I die after one of these runs someday, please don't let Valdo Marx play at my funeral.”

The children, having just finished their runs and removing their own weighty packs, began to chuckle.

“Don't be so dramatic, Julian! Geralt was taking it easy on you. He only added six more stones than you were supposed to run with,” called out Jaskier’s Uncle Boris of the Cat School, entering the courtyard after the last of the children. These kids had been training by running along "the killer", carrying twice their body weight. They'd been doing this exercise every morning since Alfie and Reidrich declared them healed enough to start training a few months ago, steadily increasing the weight.

The stunned look of betrayal Jaskier gave to Geralt almost made him burst out laughing. Instead, he simply replied, “Don’t look at me like that. It was your dear Uncle Boris who wanted to add ten.”

“Is everyone I love out to betray me?” Jaskier asked with exaggerated drama, eliciting laughter from the children. “Zoran! Please tell me it isn't so. You wouldn’t do that to me, right?” He turned to his nephew, who stood beside where Jaskier now sat, gesticulating wildly.

“I bet Sköll and Hati that you'd fall flat on your face halfway up 'the killer'. Now I have to do their kitchen duty for a week,” the eight-year-old lamented.

“At least the two of you believe in me,” Jaskier said, addressing the twins.

“Sorry, Uncle Jaskier. We thought you'd only make it a third of the way back,” one of them replied, leaving Jaskier uncertain about which twin had spoken.

[hudine]

Still don’t have a name for this fic. Will put on AO3 when I got one. Anyone got any ideas for a name feel free suggest them.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

60 years later

Jules was in the human realm again for the first time since the sacking. He had wanted to go home long before now but his mother wouldn’t let him out of her sight at court. He became an adult by fae standards ten years ago but that didn’t mean his mother couldn’t find other means to keep him from leaving. Eventually though he got hold of a lute, some bard clothes, snuck back into the human realm and took up the name Jaskier to make it harder to find him. He’s been wondering the continent as a traveling bard trying to hear anything he can about what was left of the wolf school ever since.

Finding out knowledge of any Witchers yet alone a particular guild of them was easier said than done. In the past year he’s only managed to find two, one viper and one cat. He didn’t get much out of either of them but the viper and cat schools got never along the with the wolf school in the first place so it wasn’t that surprising.

He was going to give it a few more months then actually pluck up the nerve to go back home to Kaer Morhen and see what is left and go from there. Right about now Jaskier wishes he didn’t put such a good anti tracking spell on the medallions or he could find anyone he wanted. The majority of those who where out on the path during the sacking wore medallions he had enchanted in the first place so it wouldn’t have been hard otherwise.

He was playing in a small tavern at the edge of the world in the town of Posada when it happened. Jaskier was playing a set that was pretty much designed to get food thrown at him so he wouldn’t have to pay for lunch. Also he didn’t want to stand out so he didn’t want to showcase his true talents. Then seemingly out of nowhere Geralt of fucking Rivia unexpectedly walked in and took a seat in the back corner where no one would see him. The bard almost missed a note in shock. So knowing how literal minded his old friend was he started singing in metaphors using monsters that don’t exist or at least shouldn’t exist.

He finished his song and on queue got bread thrown at him. He started muttering at the crowed as he stuffed bread rolls in his pockets. He looked up to see Geralt hadn’t bothered to even look up at the spectacle. Didn’t surprise him much. He had enchanted the medallions to ignore his magic so he could get up to magical mischief as a child and Geralt always had been particularly resistant to magic even for a Witcher. It’s why Reidrich singled him out for his ‘experiment’.

The fae stood up, took a tankard from a passing barmaid, had a drink to brace himself and walked up to Geralt. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

“I’m here to drink alone,” Geralt replied not even looking up.

“Good. Yea, good.” Jaskier ignored the Witcher and sat down across from him. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you. Come on. You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

“They don’t exist.”

“What?”

“The creatures in your song, they don’t exist.”

“And you apparently still wouldn’t know a metaphor if it bit you in the ass Geralt.”

Geralt really looked at him for the first time, brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“Gee thanks. Nice to know I’m that forgettable. It’s been sixty years I know, but I hadn’t been able to get away from my mother until now. She had guards watching me and a tracking spell for when I slipped the guards. She was convinced if I came back here to see what was left of Kaer Morhen I’d be killed. Took me finally reaching age of majority and another ten years of court responsibilities she made up, before I managed to slip the leash. Anyone asks, my name is Jaskier and I’m a perfectly normal human bard, thank you very much. Really don’t want to be dragged back there. Court is boring.”

It took a moment for Geralt’s brain to catch up with the rambling and put it together. “Jules? You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I got out. Managed to make a portal and took the children with me to the fae realm along with Birman and Deglan who dragged my unconscious father along with them.”

“Vesemir said he was the only one left alive in the keep. Does he know?”

“Considering he shoved me through my own portal when I tried to talk sense into him about coming with me, yea. I would have jumped right back through there and dragged his ass back through with me but I hit my head on the other side and got knocked out. So Vesemir is still alive?”

“For now. Might be a different story when I get back to Kaer Morhen and have a ‘talk’ about him letting me think you’re dead for the past sixty years.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He was probably just covering for our escape, didn’t want any rumours any of the mages made it out. The brotherhood was behind everything. Saw some of their council members, not just mages, among those attacking.”

They got interrupted as a farmer walked up to the table. “Excuse me… master Witcher. I need your help. I have coin. A devil has been stealing from our grain stores.”

“A devil?” Geralt asked sceptically.

“Well I don’t know what else to call it. It looks like a goat that can run on two legs.”

“And it’s been stealing from your grain stores?”

“Yes. I have a hundred and fifty crowns for you to go take a look.”

“Alright. You coming Jules?” Geralt asked as he got up.

“Sure. Maybe I can write a song about it or something, Eric,” Jaskier replied, getting up and following.

“Don’t call me that,” Geralt snarled annoyedly at Jaskier.

Jaskier haven grown up around Witchers, didn’t find it in the least bit intimidating. “Don’t call me Jules and I’ll not call you Eric.”

“Fine, Jaskier. What kind of name is that anyway?” Geralt asked as they left of the tavern.

“A whimsical one like you’d expect a bard to have. Also kinda fae, it being a plant name and all. They’re weeds. Hardy, will grow anywhere, near impossible to get rid of, and poisonous,” Jaskier proclaimed proudly.

“Hm. Put that way, very you,” Geralt replied as he got Roach out of the stable.

They walked out of town a bit before Jaskier couldn’t help asking, “Isn’t that one of the horses I grassed?”

“Her name is Roach.”

“And she lets you ride her? I remember most those horses becoming like demonic hell spawn afterwards…”

“Took a while but she trusts me. She makes a good Witcher horse; fast, lots of stamina, isn’t afraid of pretty much anything, won’t let anyone steal her. She’s also older than me and still going. Why did you grass horses anyway?”

“Oh. They had me practice on animals before they let me preform the trail of grasses on a person. I take it you haven’t come across the rats… those sneaky little bastards are why they decided we should move on to bigger animals who can’t hide as easily.”

“Rats? Is that why we have a colony of half feral mutant cats?”

“I only grassed two… to catch the rats. How was I to know the cats could still have kittens afterwards? Most creatures mutate so much they’re not compatible with the same species anymore and renders them infertile,” Jaskier explained exasperatedly.

“What happened the people you escaped with?”

“They decided to start over. Got the fae to take them to a new part of this sphere far from the continent. After all it’s not just here that has a monster problem. They’re thriving last update I had, and far away from the influence of the brotherhood. People actually look up to Witchers there and don’t have the superstitious beliefs about them so less die each year because of humans.”

Geralt had a far away look for a moment. “Must be nice.”

“I could take you there.”

“Maybe… someday. I can’t just abandon those that are left here.”

“How many are left?”

“The number dwindles every winter. Last count there where about twenty that came to Kaer Mohen to winter, not all of them wolves. There are also a few stuck in wolf form who live in the woods around Kaer Morhen. We’ve tried to help them but nothing seems to work.”

“I can change them back. I turned Varin into a giant chicken once because he was being an asshole. So transforming them back to their Witcher state shouldn’t be a problem. The problem is if they’ll stay that way. Might be that they’re not stuck. Might be that they’ve grown tired of life on the path and decided they’re better off as wolves. Seen it happen a time or two. Usually from the mistreatment they get from humans. I could quite happily do some really horrible things to whoever started the rumour that Witchers don’t have feelings.”

“They’re supposed to have been burned out of us during the trails.”

Jaskier actually smacked Geralt upside the head. “Don’t. That’s a load of nonsense. Actually if anything emotions are heightened because believe it or not that is a sense and all senses are heightened. You feel things more intensely than humans. Sometimes though it gets stuck inside and they get trapped where you’re unsure how to express them or are too overwhelmed to do so. Makes it hard to speak for some too. Of course the cats are the only ones who openly admit this. The rest of you all pretend otherwise because of a toxic culture that sprang up long before I was around. You think you had it bad as a kid? It was a lot worse in the past. Most the outright abusive ‘training’ was stopped.”

“I find it hard to believe with Witchers like Varin training us.”

“They used to all be like him… except Vesemir. He was always fair from everything I heard. Varin was just an asshole they had to confine to the keep and had to give him something to do while there. He learned not to mess with me though. The chicken incident just being the last in a long line of shit I did to him when he was being an ass.

“Actually I was the reason a lot of it got stopped. The mages never paid much attention to how they trained new Witchers until Vesemir decided I was old enough to be put in training with them. They where horrified by the shear number of boys who died before the grasses just because they hadn’t been fed enough, or exposed too long to the cold, or beaten for no good reason. Dad didn’t believe me at first when I told him about it, so I went to Dagobert, then Reidrich. Eventually I made enough of a fuss with them they checked it out, watching through magical means.

“They pretty much unanimously told Rennes they where leaving if they didn’t stop all of that. He came up with some bullshit excuse about selecting the toughest of the boys. Then my father informed him that there is nothing tough about surviving all that, mostly just luck. They wanted healthy boys for the trails and if they stop killing them off maybe they’d have more pass and their low success rate probably has everything to do with malnutrition. He wasn’t wrong about that. That was just part of the puzzle though. The rest was in quantity of elder blood, freely given, and different mutagens, and a touch of original genetics. If you have some elven or fae in you you’re more likely to make it. Or some chaos.”

“Like Eskel. He’s always been good with signs.”

“It’s also how I was able to teach him how to do some minor magic like glamours. Same with you. Actually you got more raw chaos than Eskel. Just Eskel has better control of his,” Jaskier proclaims to Geralt who just looks sceptically at him, “It’s true. I’ve had a closer look at both of your magical cores than most. I did the grasses on you twice, and the dreams on Eskel. Did my best to make sure you both maintained access to it. Hence why you both can do more than signs. I’m just surprised you both still talked to me after, yet alone became my friends.”

“If you didn’t do it one of the others would have. You where also known for being gentler about it than the others, actually trying to dull the pain, and had the highest success rate. It’s why I begged you to do my second round of grasses. Never trusted Reidrich. Besides you may have been one of the mages officially by the time I came along, but you where always one of us. You didn’t hold yourself above us lowly Witchers unlike Reidrich or Dagobert. Your father wasn’t so bad either, if a bit scatterbrained. But you Jules, you ran the walls with us as punishment like the rest of us when we got in trouble. Got stuck in the middle of whatever childish mischief that was being planned. Protected us from people like Varin. I’m also convinced you’re responsible for most of Vesemir’s grey hair. After all I can quite reliably say you’re responsible for my own hair going white.”

“It really wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Relax it’s a joke. I have been known to make those on occasion. I got used to it a long time ago.”

“You joke? Actually you’re communicating in more than grunts. Are you ok? You haven’t been cursed with gift of the gab or something?” Jaskier asked sarcastically.

“Hmn,” Geralt grunted also sarcastically.

“Now that’s more like the Witcher I know and love,” Jaskier replied, grinning.

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