Cast Aside - Witcher RP (Jaded Jinx & Morris)

[Jaded Jinx]

Aeka let her breath out through her teeth in a hiss as she lowered her bow. She rose to her feet, collecting her other spilt arrow with quick frustrated movements. How could she let herself be caught unawares like that? She was trying to impress the witcher not get herself beat to a pulp.


"You've managed yourself pretty well." - he said, making her look up suddenly as she was tenderly feeling her busted lip. She grunted, nodding her thanks trying not to let on her excitement at the acknowledgment .


"Not so bad you're self." She muttered with a ghost of a smirk and followed him a bit closer to the fish man, casting a glance back at the motionless hermit and kept him in the corner of her eye.


Aeka held her bow with an arrow nocked as Corthis helped Orsmun bandage his wounds. Her arms were still prickling with adrenaline from the fight and she continued to glare into the woods. She finally forced herself to relax when Corthis introduced them, giving him a glance when he didn't right out claim he was a witcher. She nodded to the fishman and let out another breath. If the witcher was calm, their mist have been nothing of threat.


She listened to the men argue with an unpleasnt expression, nibbling at her split lip. The fisherman had a plan, it sounded half decent but the witcher's words held far more weight and understanding. She could see him growing frustrated with the stubborn man and she shook her head gravely when Orsmun stood and stumbled. She knew the urge, the deep need to prove oneself. In skellige it meant more than anyone realized, but she also knew what that little girl at home was feeling, could feel if her brother was foolishly taken from her. She had seen the sorrow of a mother who grieved for her only son.


"Aye, I'll talk some sense into him." She said, giving the fisherman a glare as she hung her bow over her shoulder. She stalked up to the man and knocked the harpoon out of his hand.


"Oi! What the hell--"


"Shuddup! What do you think you're doing?!" She growled, leaning over him with her hands on her hips. The fishman balked in the face of the girl in a crimson halo of hair, war paint on her face and blood on her lips. "You idiot! You sodden fool! You left your mother and sister home alone, sick with worry over your sorry ass." The man opened his mouth a few times but no sound came out. "What were you thinking? Thinking of glory? Of honnor? Who the hell is worth dying to impressed if you are dead? No, keep your gob shut. No one benefits from these imbisilic quests of glory. You aren't a jarl's son, you aren't a warrior; you are a son, you're m--" she caught herself. She had been talking to him as she would her own brother. "You are a brother. You don't need to do this to impressed the people who matter."


He stared at her for another moment, then swallowed. He glanced at the witcher then back at Aeka. "Sure have a mouth on you, lass... But ya don't understand. I hav'ta." He said it almost meekly.


"Will you at least let us come with you."


He hesitated, glancing away. No he wouldn't, had too much honor and gorly rattling around in his head.


Aeka leaned back, letting out a heavy sigh. "Fine..." Then she jerked the remain oil flasks from his grasp. She stomped to a nearby tree and smashed them open, spilling the contents. The fish man roared his disapproval but she just shrugged. "Looks like you'll just have to return home and try again later."


A string of oaths flew out of the man's mouth and Aeka scowled, spouting some back that brought into question his manhood and turned his ears red but shut him up. Aeka walked over to the witcher.


"I'm sorry, my temper got away from me. But those were heavy... I'd bet my bow if you kept in a straight line from the road, you'Lol be able to see something to lead you to the nest. I need to find my horse and I can take Orsmun back." She offered, having a feeling he wouldn't give her much more trouble.


@Morris

 

[Morris]

"Yeah, you do that." - Corthis nodded in agreement. - "Give him a ride home. If this is the right direction, I'm sure I'll be out of the woods. If nothing else, I'll find the Drowners' lair by smell. It can reek for a mile."


He was glad with how the situation ultimately turned out, and how well Aeka resolved the issue on her part. As an added bonus, now she'd be forced to part ways with him; she still had accomplished enough heroics to feel good about herself. Letting her anywhere near the Drowners was never an option for the witcher. If all goes well, he will find the lair on his own soon enough, and figure out what to do and how to accomplish it well before the girl would come around prowling again.


Once the horse was found, fortunately unscatched, just a bit riled up, Corthis helped up Orsmun to the mare's back and let Aeka take the reins. - "Travel safely." - he told her. - "Don't ride too fast; he can't hold on too well crippled." - he pointed it out to her, partly to ensure Orsmun's safety, and to assure Aeka wouldn't try and rush things just so she'll come back to stalk him.


As they left, Corthis took measure of the hermit, still laying on the dirty forest floor. It was a shred of morbid curiosity, that he was concerned how someone ends up like this. He found mushroom pieces on his impressively sized facial hair; likely hallucinogenic in nature. Was he an exile, or just an eccentric wanderer, to wind up taming wolves while getting high? Ah, the many (rightfully) unknowable mysteries of the world.


He didn't have anything of particular value nor interest on him. In the end, the witcher let the crazy man be; if he's smart enough, he'll mourn for his wolves when he gets to his senses, and get away somewhere safer now that he can't rely on their protection.


...


It took a bit over an hour, or perhaps even an hour and a half, but the witcher found the right trail out of the forest. He followed the direction along the edge of the woods, and eventually treaded upon less overgrown grounds. Trees and shrubbery became more scarce, and he took notice that he was on high ground; this patch of earth was rising above the shoreline, as if in a past age the waters eroded the soil rapidly, only to be withdrawn and leave a cleft wound, like the waves have taken a chunk out of the land.


In the distance, he spotted a lone rocky cliffside, rising defiantly against the sky. That must have been it. He kept moving towars it uninterrupted, and the closer he got after a while, the more the sea's breeze smothered his sense of smell with an easily distinguised reek, a mixture of seaweed, salt-water conserved dead meat, necrophage feces and other non-human body liquids. He found the lair, alright. Standing on the cliff and looking down, he was at least twenty yards above the nest. Orsmun's plan was semi-decent if he planned to lower the oil from this vantage point, but inexperienced as he was with monster lore, the attempt was, by all means, ill-conceived.


The Sun was setting lower on the horizon. As night will dawn, the fiends will start acting up, and he'll have to ambush them. He started his preparations; kneeling down, he unfolded his potions and a casket of weapon oil. - "I have to make do with that..." - he sighed, wishing he had more supplies to spare. - "But at least that girl won't be underfoot."


@Jaded Jinx

 

[Jaded Jinx]

Aeka grudgingly nodded. Orsmun needed medical attention, but it truthfully only took one to lead the horse and the witcher had other work to do. She took the time to collect her spent arrows from the corpses of the wolves. A few had been snapped or the fletching damages but most were still good.


They found the horse munching away on a patch of clovers and she was to interested in her snack to do more then snort when Aeka grabbed her reins. With the witcher's help, Orsmun managed to rise into the saddle. Aeka now wished she had left the saddle bag on. She would have been able to tie the fisherman into the saddle and maybe leave him to manage so she didn't have to part with the witcher. "Travel safely. Don't ride too fast; he can't hold on too well crippled." She frowned deeply, wanting to say something, anything. She knew Orsmun would need help, that is was the best plan of action for her to return with him, but she wanted to prove her skills to the Corthis, beyond a doubt so when it came time to dealing with the fiend, they wouldn't have the discussion of leaving her behind again. And hiding beneath all the reason, she had this irrational fear that the witcher would somehow disappear back into the stories if she let him out of her sight. She bit her tongue, knowing any complaint against separating would now sound like childish whining.


"Very well. Good luck, Corthis." She said, not keeping her frustration hidden.


She lead the horse from the woods ignoring the fisherman as he huffed and cleared his throat, gesturing toward the marks he had left on the trees when she strayed form them. Avoiding the dense underbrush as best she could, they eventually came back out on the road, some distance from where they had entered. She walked quickly down the road, pulling the road along as the mare tried to meander. She glanced back at the injured man every few minutes. His face was pale and he swayed slightly in the saddle but his eyes were sharp.


They had been walking for almost an hour when he spoke.


"Who did you lose?" He voice sounded pained.


Aeka threw a glare over her shoulder but then let it fade with a sigh. It probably hadn't been hard to miss. "My brother." She didn't see Orsmun grimace. She continued after a long pause. "He's the whole reason I'm even here. I need the witcher's... I need Corthis' help to track down the beast."


He picked up on her meaning. "You hypocrite, scolding me when you plannin' to go out and fight a monster when you're but a young lass."


"A young lass who just helped save you're life!" She snapped back at him. "I have been using then," she jerked her hand at the bow slung over her shoulder, "Since I could walk. And I an't no fool, I'll have the witcher with me. I just want to be there to make sure that blasted fiend is riddled with arrows before he's finished with it."


The fisherman gasped quietly, "A fiend... Dear Fraya." He said it quietly and shook his head but that only served to make him dizzy. After a longer pause he asked half jokingly if she had any booze. She obviously didn't but a few moments later she stopped and jogged into the woods, returning with a plant she knew to ease pain. "Here, chew this." She said handing it to him and continuing on. "My mother used to give it to me when I ached so bad I couldn't get out of bed." She said it was a smile on her lips remembering. There was an uncomfortable silence behind her and she glanced back scowling at the man. "My muscles! From sword fighting and hunting with my brother, idiot." She snorted then continued. "My brother first taught me how to draw a bow when father was away. When he got back, I could hit a rabbit at twenty paces. And now... well, you saw." She let out a heavy sigh.


"You are a fierce, lass arn't ya." His tone was slightly mocking and she didn't dignify the comment with a response. But it changed when he spoke again. "But I can see the love you had for your brother... and now your words hold more weight. I... I am glad you two came along. If I had died there in the woods... I wouldn't ever want to put my sister through what you are going through. I'm sorry."


"Good... and thank you." They continued in silence until they reached the village. A few people were waiting at the edge of the village and Aeka called for them to fetch the village healer. Instead they quickly lead her to the correct house, the healer meeting them outside to help Orsmun off the horse. Aeka lingered inside until the mother and sister arrived. The sister was crying and the mother was fuming, scolding him up and down before she also started crying. Aeka slipped out before they noticed her and mayhaps smothered her. She sat outside, growing slowly more and more frustrated as she watched the sun inching toward the horizon.


The door to the hut opened and Aeka turned to look. The mother came over to her, eye red but dry. She took Aeka's hands. "Thank you. Thank you for being him back."


She smiled, "It was as much the witcher as me, never wouldn't have found him otherwise."


The older woman nodded seriously. "Aye, the witcher will be welcome at our table when he returns. But, my son wanted to speak with you."


Aeka frowned, but went inside. Orsman was set up in a bed, his blooded clothes changed and wounds bandaged. He motioned for her to come closer with a nod. "I must thank you, or my mother may follow through on her threat to beat me." He shook his head at the nonsense of an old woman punishing a grown man, "But I think there is something more than word I think you'd appreciate. At my home, hidden under my boat is more fish oil."


"What would I need fish oil for?"


"To take to the witcher. He said my plan wouldn't work, but I think he is wrong. Take the oil and make sure that foreigner kills every last one of those foul monsters." Aeka's eyes widened then she nodded vigorously. He continued, his voice a bit weaker as he seemed to be suddenly growing tired. "Follow the shore, there is a path. It becomes very steep as it climbs to the cliff and I couldn't climb it with the oil, but you, with your horse... it will be faster than through the wood. On the cliff, there is a pile of boulders barely hanging to the cliff, below that is were the nest is."


Aeka stepped forward and claps the mans good arm. "Thank you, Orsmun."


"Thank you... and don't be getting yourself kill either, you still have your brother to avenge."


She grinned, "Aye. Fraya watch over you." She left quickly, asking after her saddlebags then raced for the fisherman's home. She found two flasks filled to the brim with oil. They stank and were quite heavy but she quickly strapped them to the saddle bags and mounted the horse. As the sun dipped below the sea, she spurred her horse along the beach trail hopping she found the nest before the fight was over.


@Morris

 

[Morris]

Corthis did not rush himself. The cliff was a natural observation point; if for some reason, the drowners would start moving in or out below, he could easily take notice. He carefully applied the necrophage oil to his weapons, both daggers and speartips. He measured the potions. Swallow and Cat. He eyed the Swallow with a sense of resentment: despite how he abhorred the taste, the wonderous brew saved his life more than he could count, and now he had but one left, having used up his supplies during earlier contracts, unaware how Skellige had a much, much less developed infrastructure when it came to alchemical supplies. The Cat was likewise a great help in nocturnal encounters; while he did have the signature cat eyes his trade was associated with, Corthis knew first-hand his mutations were incomplete. He saw much better than an average person, sure, but in regions like Skellige where the Moon was oftentimes blocked by stormy clouds at night, stripping any natural light away, a Cat was a godsent assessment.


Which is what made this particular undertaking all the more stressing. To a witcher, a monster was more than a source of livelyhood: it was also a fleshy sack of potion ingredients. If he survives, he will collect the drowners' brains and internals, extract their fluids. He will then get celandine and berbercane fruit from an herbalist, and dwarven spirit he had a tankard's worth of. He will be able to brew potions, at long last. If he can concoct at least 3-4 portions of Swallow and a few swigs of Cat, the endeavor was already worth it. In honesty, this was one reason he was planning on taking this job, but he'd rather bite off his tongue than reveal it. All the better that the persistant girl wasn't present. Considering how much Skelligans honored the dead, even beasts, and were deeply abhorred by the idea of post-mortem desecrations, she'd just see him as an opportunistic scavenger. Undermining her borderline naivity was not high on Corthis' priority list.


Finally done with oiling, he shifted his sitting posture into a kneeling one. He pucked open the potions; Cat first. The sour, wretched taste still lingered in his mouth ten minutes later, when he decided to pour down the Swallow next. He shook his head vehemently, trying to surpress the painful sensations that was the side-effects of the potions' toxicity. At least he didn't try swallowing Blackblood - ye gods, if there was a potion he swore off for a lifetime, it was that one. Tried it but once, and he was off-work for nearly a month while his innards repaired themselves.


He focused back at the task at hand. Night dawned; the Sun submerged, and in its wake there was but darkness. He was beginning to hear faint tappings and scratchings from below. The drowners have been hoarding the remnants of their victims; they will probably chew on them today, before setting out for a new hunt. This was beneficial - all enemies in vicinity, no need to worry about stray specimen. He looked down, taking note of five drowners, soon joined by two more, feasting on salt-watered chunks of man-flesh as well as rotten fish scattered randomly about.


"No point in tarrying further." - Corthis sighed, steadying himself as he walked around, descending down a somewhat steep, but walkable natural ledge about a hundred yards aside. Spear in one hand, and essence for a Sign slowly massed in the other, he nonchalantly walked into the proximity of the vaguely human-shaped wretches.


Sensing his approach, one of the drowners scurried into his path, rising up and howling menacingly to raise attention. Corthis was hardly phased, going over his battleplan in his head. If the drowners decide to swarm him, he can climb the ledge quick and use the height advantage to his benefit. Without ranged weapons, he'd have to rely on reach and precision. His Signs were nowhere near the potence of a proper witcher's, and he only could apply two properly: Igni and Aard. Both would be force equalizers by virtue of distraction and division, but not decisive factors.


Two more drowners joined the first, one clearly positioning for a leap. Corthis shifted his hold on the spear. - "Hi there, fellows. I need your brains, it's not like you're using them much." - as if offended, the bent drowner leapt, and got impaled mid-flight as Corthis tossed the spear through it, drawing his curved daggers. - "Thank you for proving my point." - he remarked, and dashed towards the other two drowners. He evaded the incoming swipes, pouncing to the left, tearing open a neck artery as he spinned, and lodging the other blade between two ribs as he finished the piourette. Sheathing the daggers quick, he extracted the spear from the still twitching first drowner, stabbing it through the neck for good measure.


Within a mere moment, the uproar coarsed through the whole colony. Drowners were emerging from the nearby cave, and several hurled themselves to the adjecent waters, with the clear intent to encircle and corner the newly came huntsman. And so the deathly dance in the blackness of night began.


@Jaded Jinx