Winter of the Wolves

[Jaded Jinx]

Beneath the streets of Novigrad

If someone had been lurking in the dreary muck pooling beneath the streets of Novigrad, they would have seen a young girl with fair hair, dressed in armor with twin swords on her back. But, no one would have seen, for the sewers were only for the dead, the dying, and monsters. The young girl was none of these and despite her outward appearance, Elka Tufala was nearly eighty. She walked slowly, boots already splattered with scum as she moved deeper into the twisting maze of tunnels and passageways. The air was thick and heavy with smells and moisture. Any light that would have filtered in through grates in the ceiling was diluted by the heavy fog that had been hanging over the city sense the night before.


She stopped now, tilting her head to listen. Sound behaved differently in the enclosed space of the sewers; noise from the streets trickled in, bounce around and mixed with what was coming form deeper under the city. She turned down a passage, following the the faint sent of earth and mushrooms to a spot where the floor had collapsed into a deeper section of the sewers. Elka crouched at the edge, inspecting the dirt and muck around the hole.





Rat, dog, ah, a ghoul? Old though... long gone by now. Ah, webbed toes. That's what I'm looking for... drowners. Elka started to stand when she barley noticing the slightly impression of a shoe. People running around down here as well? And she had thought only witchers had enough time on their hands to wander around in sewers. Smirking at her own jest, she pulled a small bottle form a pouch and wiggled the cork free before drinking the content. It was only a few moments for the potion to take affect. The sewers faded, loosing the little color they had and appeared suddenly brighter to her Cat enhanced eyes. With that, she dropped into the hole. She landed with a splash and casually flicked the water from where it had spattered onto her hands as her eyes darted around the space. Another tunnel, rounded ceilings and rounded floors but distinctly older masonry; how deep did this underground labyrinth go? Only having two directions, she following the faint flow of water lighting hopping back and forth over the stream as she went.


The footprint made her worry, well, worry as much as she could worry... which wasn't much. She wouldn't have noticed it if she had been looking so it must have been old or... someone of fleet footing. Had Rudrid tried to send someone else down here before he had hired her? Rudrid was a city guard of some rank but not high enough to have an extra title. Elka had been stopped at the gates, two imposing men who ha taken offense when she wasn't intimidated by their glares.


"Dismount!" Ordered the one who was as thick as a keg of ale.


Elka had waited just long enough that they thought she might decline before dropped to the ground beside her dapple gray stallion. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" She seemed even smaller on the ground next to large animal.


"You a halfing?" The other asked but it sounded more like an accusation. Elka gave him a look, recognizing their armor and arms were that of the city guard.


"What does my linage have to do with anything?"


" 'Aven't you heard? Novigrad's protected by the Eternal fire. Witches and non-humans are to be burnt at the stake! So answer the question! What are ya?"


"I may be short but I am surely not that short. What do I look like to you?" She asked, putting on an innocent and perplexed expression. She quickly formed her fingers in the sign of axii where it couldn't be seen. She didn't push hard, just a little nudge to leave them feeling receptive to answering rather than asking the questions.


"You look like a child." The large one said darkly.


"A child? But my armor is fitted and my horse is more than an child could own."


"A noblewoman then..." The other said hesitantly.


"A noblewoman? With two swords on her back and a medallion 'round her neck?"


"Witchers carry swords on their backs..." The one who was not large said.


His second elbowed him hard. "An't no lady witchers, you dunce."


"Aye, an't no such thing as lady witchers." Elka said with a wolfish grin.


"Oi! What are you two doing mucking about?!" A third man yelled as he approached the group. Elka smiled at him, completely amused but the expression looked rather odd in the situation. The two guards stiffened to attention. "I said, what are you two doing?"


"Sir! The lady has no papers!"


The third man, who was Rudrid, turn and scrutinized Elka. It was only a brief moment before his eyes widened. Unlike the other two men, Rudrid had look close enough to see the slit pupils set in an uncharacteristic chocolate. With the realization he was addressing a witcher, Rudrid quickly dismissed the guards back to their post and invited the witcher... the witcheress inside out of the fog to discuss business over an ale.


Elka felt a crawling sensation up her spine as she stepped into a open space where countless tunnels meet. She stood motionless, talking and drinks forgotten. She drew her silver sword in a slow motions, the blade soundlessly sliding over the well oiled sheath. Something was near by, but she couldn't quite pin down where.

@gwynbleidd


edit: I put in the missing bit about axii

 

[gwynbleidd]

gwynbleidd. // the white wolf. // the butcher of blaviken. // geralt of rivia.

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The monster’s screech rang in his ears and bounced incessantly off the walls of the sewer, but with a half-step and a large sweep from the left, its head flew from its shoulders and rolled in the shallow water surrounding the witcher’s ankles. Blood spattered across the blade and slid towards the floor as he lowered his arm, then shook it once to remove the excess before straightening and peering around him. There was no other noise he could pick up at present, but with narrowed eyes and dilated pupils, he stepped forward, listening to the sloshing of the sewage around his feet.


On this particular occasion, he had to keep reminding himself why he was down here, lurking under the streets of Novigrad and wasting his time with drowners. So deep in these passages, it was doubtful that the humans above could be harmed enough for this to be worth his while—but it was what the client wanted, and alongside that, he hoped it would lead to clues as to where said client’s beloved daughter had gone. He knew the amount of sense in this particular hunt was very small—but his pocketbook had been quickly growing slimmer over the last few months, and the witcher was growing uneasy about his finances.


So far, Geralt hadn’t seen any indication of the drowners’ nest. So far, they had only been scattered in his path, feasting on the brains and bodies of others in their species and the rats that also called the sewers home. Each one had been more surprised to see him than the last, probably because they were so unused to any other creature within these depths; but their unsuspecting nature had allowed him to clear them away relatively easily, and so Geralt was making good progress for the time being.


There was a sudden rustling and an echo towards the right, as he approached a crossway between two different murky streams. Geralt turned his head and gripped the hilt of his blade tighter, lightening his footsteps and moving towards the wall. He traced the bricks with his fingertips to assure little distance between himself and the sides of the sewer, hoping to provide some kind of cover should whatever the sound be prove to be only half as quick as he was.


The witcher listened closely, his breathing slowed for several seconds, before he sprung from the wall in a pirouette and brandished his blade outwards in a perfect diagonal, expecting to hear the sound of flesh tearing as he stiffened his elbows and found himself pressing silver against silver in an instant. Gold eyes rose and met fierce brown, human, and so forced him to lower his blade at least enough to shield himself as he spoke, falling into a heavily defensive positon.


“Who the hell are you?”

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[Jaded Jinx]

Beneath the streets of Novigrad

The witcheress spun at the screech that echoed through the damp tunnels, only sounding loud in her highly sensitive ears. That was the sound she was looking for, but did it sound oddly distressed? A disapproving rumble sounded from her chest as she thought of what might else be in the sewers, possibly, making a meal of drowners. She hesitated for a moment, spinning her silver sword in her hand as her mind ran through the list of possible suspects. It could be this, or it could be that, but there was only one way to find out.


She moved forward on stealthy steps. The farther she moved, the more she had to focus on keeping her heart rate even. The excitement of not knowing was killing her. Were drowners and drown dead fighting for territory? Or perhaps corpse eatters? Or something far more sinister.


In a flash of silver, something spun toward her. In an instinctual moving she brought her blade up to catch the other. Surprised by the force, and the fact she couldn't withstand it and suddenly angled the sword, delefcting the attack and sliding to the side. Her face had lost all its excitement and now she glared at her attacker, her first reaction was this must have been a crazed lunitic waiting in ambush for someone so deep into the sewerrs. She slid into crouched readying to return the attack, but as she saw the unnatural grace of the figure she knew this was no ordinary man, and then she saw those amber cat eyes she lacked. Her breath almost caught in her cheat at the rush of excitement. A witcher. The medallion around his neck labeled him as from the school of the wolf.


“Who the hell are you?”


He asked in a rough voice as he held a defensive position.


Elka retained her pose, adjusting her feet to be ready to move just in case.


“And I might be asking you the same question.” She retorted, the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. She gave him a more obviously glance. “But, I can see you are a professional, I wouldn't dare waste your time.” She relaxed her pose slightly, though she was still coiled as it was better be cautious than regretful. “I am Elka Tufala. City guard hired me to clear out the drowner population. I certainly hope they haven't double booked the job.” She spoke quietly, keeping an eye on blood streaked blade and an ear perked for any sounds.

@gwynbleidd

 

[gwynbleidd]

gwynbleidd. // the white wolf. // the butcher of blaviken. // geralt of rivia.

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Geralt narrowed his eyes for a split second, taking in the small girl’s form. He was confused about her stature and the myriad of medallions she wore around her neck—from the way her body seemed to be built, small and unassuming, it was almost a wonder that her collarbone could bear the weight of all of them. The name ‘Elka’ didn’t seem to ring any bells for him either—perhaps he’d have to speak with Vesimir the next time they met and ask about her. If he remembered, anyway. If either of them did. Clearly, his employer hadn’t remembered about the other witcher he’d hired out to do the city’s dirty work.


A scowl darkened the White Wolf’s face and he straightened, lowering his blade and letting the tip of it trail into the water around his ankles. He couldn’t pick up any drowner noise coming at them anytime soon, so he decided to pursue this other witcher a bit further. She’d introduced herself, so he supposed it was his turn.


“Geralt,” he said, a bit ruffly, “Geralt of Rivia. School of the Wolf,” he added, making a gesture with his head towards her neck. “I’m not going to attack you—not unless you provoke me, anyway, so go ahead and relax. I can’t say we’ve had the pleasure of meeting… Elka. And unless our client hadn’t made the mistake of hiring us both, I don’t think we would have. Though I wouldn’t trust the likes of a mere city guard to be able to realize that fact.”


Geralt shook his head and glanced around the sewers. “Did he mention anything about a missing daughter to you? Either we can finish these drowners off together and split the reward fifty-fifty, or demand he pay double for the hassle he’s caused.


What do you think?”

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[Jaded Jinx]

Beneath the streets of Novigrad

Elka almost purred with delight. "Geralt? The Geralt of Rivia?" Even in the far reaches of Zerrikania stories and ballads of the White Wolf were known. She relaxed at his comment, swinger her blade up to rest on her shoulder. It was almost an unseen action in the north, but common among the curved swords of the south when one side was often blunt. "Indeed, we have not had the pleasure. I am of the School of the Bear originally but I have been in Zerrikania for a long time."


The famed witcher was taller than Elka would have thought, but then again everyone but halflings were tall to her. And he was handsome! Ballads always exaggerated the splendor of their subjects, she had imaged a pretty boy to have catapulted the heart of a sorceress. But no, Geralt was far more handsome with the scars of his trade than the stories ever let on. Even if they had to split the bounty, it was more than worth it to meet the White Wolf in the sewers of all places. She simply had to find a time to ask after his teachings, but that would have to wait until later.


The mention of a daughter furred Elka's brow. "Hmm, no he made no mention. Rudrid, that is, my employer said he and his men were ordered to clear out the sewers themselves. But they thought it better to pool some coin and hire a professional before they risked their own necks." She absently turned and glanced around the space for a moment, thinking. "It would be better to have a second pair of eyes and ears. If worst come to worst fifty-fifty sounds reasonable."


"Mayhaps you should tell me what your employer said about the girl."

@gwynbleidd

 

[gwynbleidd]

gwynbleidd. // the white wolf. // the butcher of blaviken. // geralt of rivia.

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“Said she’d gone missing about two weeks ago. Didn’t think much of it since he was used to her running off with whoever caught her fancy. She normally came back within a few days, however, so once enough time went by he finally caved and asked for help. He’d heard rumors about the sewers and tried to connect the dots there. I’m not sure what kind of romantic date leads to the dirty underground of Novigrad, but I’m too old for such fancies. Who knows how the kids court these days,” the White Wolf said, his face reflecting his age as he straightened and flexed his shoulders, feeling the weight of his second sword lying across them.


“I’m still not sure this will lead to anything fruitful, and I wonder why he sent both of us down here, anyway. Probably looking for a cheap way to kill two birds with one stone.” Geralt shook his head.


He lifted his golden eyes and scanned the walls around them, pausing for a moment to gauge the sound activity within a few miles’ range of them. The elder witcher furrowed his brow, listening closely, and then returned his attention to the female before him. “There are a handful more lurking around here. I’ll help you take care of them for the sake of getting the job done. Not that I don’t think you’re capable,” Geralt said, eyeing the collection of animal-shaped medallions around Elka’s throat, “but just so I don’t feel like I half-assed anything. May as well get the job done thoroughly.”


Elka’s nod led him to begin walking in the direction he’d heard the sounds coming from, the muted screeches and howls of the blue-gilled monsters they were currently pursuing. His right hand was grasped calmly but firmly around the hilt of his blade, the runes carved into the silver occasionally humming with the magical energy pulsating between the witchers, ready to be used to perform any of their myriad of Signs. Geralt led the way silently, his gaze narrowed and focused on any movement in front of or around him as they wandered.


The sudden screech of one of the beasts demanded his attention, and he lifted his sword in a catlike reflex to slaughter it. Two or three more seemed to descend from the shadows around them, and as a team, he and Elka downed the drowners one by one. He had to admit he was impressed by the speed with which the young woman moved; very nearly as smoothly as the air around her sword did when she swung, in perfect arc each time. She’s been very well trained, he mused.


Eventually the sewers quieted again, and the scent of rotting flesh filled his nostrils. Pungent and almost fresh, Geralt scowled and longed for the smell of lilac as he glanced towards his newfound partner and began moving towards the smell, hoping it wasn’t the cause for all of his efforts down here. His boots dragged in the sewage as they approached the apparent lair of the drowners, at a dead end of the sewers where the walls closed in and the signs of occupancy were increasingly obvious. In the dark murkiness of the water, he could see bright golden hair floating at the surface, and the skin-stripped fingertips of what was once a complete hand resting vertically against the far wall.


A sigh escaped the Wolf’s lips as he squatted, tilting his head this way and that and adjusting his vision to better assess the body’s condition. “This must be her,” he said gloomily.

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[Jaded Jinx]

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<p><span style="font-family:'Indie Flower';"><span style="font-size:24px;">Beneath the streets of Novigrad</span></span>

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<span style="font-size:12px;">She hummed, slightly amused at the statement, </span><span style="font-size:12px;"><em>kids these days</em></span><span style="font-size:12px;">. But in regards to the girl, it was obvious something nefarious had happened. The witcheress shrugged then a sound also made her prick up her ears. </span></p>


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</span><span style="font-size:12px;"><em>“There are a handful more lurking around here. I’ll help you take care of them for the sake of getting the job done. Not that I don’t think you’re capable, but just so I don’t feel like I half-assed anything. May as well get the job done thoroughly.”</em></span></p>


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Elka nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way and followed after the older witcher. She gave his swords an admiring glace. The rune work looked top notch indeed. Her silver sword was a relic sword from when she trained at the School of the Cat. It's length was marred with years of use and many trips to the blacksmith for repair. She had only recently began using it again, her Zerrikanian-made silver blade having been stolen during her return to the north. Just the thought would make her scalp prickly with irritation at the loss. On the other hand, her steel blade was something she was beyond proud of and rarely got the chance to show it off. The classic School of the Bear sword with a serpentine edge. It had its own set of runes and even a few enchantments to keep the blade sharp. She had spent a very pretty penny on the charm and had gone without food for nearly a week afterward. </span></p>


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The White Wolf moved with the silent strength of the giant cats roaming the hills of Toussaint, and he struck with deadly precision as the drowners seemingly materialized from the sewers. Elka flitted lightly around the moist creatures, her blade faster than any normal man might have been able to follow. The sword never cut deep, but always landed somewhere vital; a slash across the throat, slicing both jugulars; a jab between the ribs to pierce the heart; a series of quick slices through the femoral artery and across the back of the knees. </span></p>


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Between her pirouettes and spins she caught glaces Geralt dispatching the leaping beasts with ease. She was envious of the strength he had to slice one creature from shoulder to hip as if he were slicing through warm butter. When the last drowner stopped wriggling on the ground, she regretted not paying more attention to his technique. She kept her sword in hand as it dripped into the muck and followed the other witcher, her ears still listening for any stragglers as they neared the nest. She gave him a glance as he sigh but stood by his side as he crouched. The remains of a body floated in the scummer and dirty water and Geralt's words confirmed it was the missing daughter. Elka didn't let her emotions go beyond mild curiosity at the corpses condition. The drowners had been chewing on her for a while, the vile cocktail of bacteria in the waters had accelerated the bodies' decomposition and the flesh looked ready to fall off in areas submerged. </span></p>


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Not wishing to crouch in the sewer water, she remained standing. "Can you tell what killed her?" She asked in a monotone. </span></p>


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<a contenteditable="false" rel="external nofollow" href="https://www.rpnation.com/profile/35334-gwynbleidd/" data-mentionid="35334">@gwynbleidd</a></p>


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[gwynbleidd]

gwynbleidd. // the white wolf. // the butcher of blaviken. // geralt of rivia.

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“Smells like vampire,” the witcher said slowly, after he realized that she’d asked him a question. He crinkled his nose and took in the sight before him, feeling pity as he scanned the dead end. The poor girl’s body had corroded into an incredibly grotesque representation of the human form. Geralt could hardly tell what was blood and what was faded tissue or simply the murk of the water he’d been crouching in. Standing, he turned halfway and gestured towards claw marks engraved on the wall to their right.


“Fleder, probably. Lesser vampire. My guess is that she stumbled around the sewers the last time anyone saw her, and it dragged her down here to finish her off. Might’ve gotten scared or overwhelmed by the drowners and left the body. They brought her here where they could continue the feast.” The White Wolf’s voice betrayed no sense of pity as he spoke, but there was a look in his eyes that was something akin to sadness as he watched the golden curls float about. “But there’s nothing we can do for her now. Let’s take a look around for the vamp.”


Splashing through the water was less of a chore now, and after spending a few more minutes inspecting the drowners’ lair, Geralt was able to find a small trail of dried blood, nearly imperceptible, along the edge of the brick running alongside the sewer’s current. The smell of their location went unnoticed to him at this point, but there were moments where the water became rather thick, and the witcher sincerely wished he could be stepping into a steaming bath instead, not wanting to think about what was rustling under his soles.


“This must be the way they came. Pulled it straight from the source. If this is the most recent it’s eaten, we should be looking for the fleder, too.” The comment was more to himself to start with, but when he remembered the female behind him, he passed the warning on just in case she wouldn’t be thinking the same thing. Silence fell between them again, and Geralt suddenly found curiosity within himself, interrupting it to inquire about the witcheress’ intentions.


“How did you find your way here, anyway? Novigrad is a big place—just passing through, or are you here for something?”

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[Jaded Jinx]

Beneath the streets of Novigrad

"A vampire, indeed." Elka responded her eyes widening slightly as she scrutinized the claw mark gouged into the stone wall. She nodded her agreement with his proposed story. It was truly impossible to tell beneath the decay and bite marks if there had ever been puncture wounds but there was a distinct lack of blood in the nest. But it made sense; Felders were ambush predators a turn down a dark alley that was a little to close to a storm drain could have been enough.


As the witcher stepped away from the pron figure, Elka took a moment to look at the drowner nest. It was tucked into what appeared to be a collapsed section of the tunnels, creating a dead end. It was quite a large nest and while they had cut through a good number of drowners, their still could be others wandering through the sewers. Eventually they would come back here, and find the corpse again. She dug into one of her pouches, pulling out a small vial of dark turquoise liquid, necrophage oil distilled to an almost toxic potency. While it took far more time and effort, having tiny quantities of oils always turn out to be useful. She removed the top and spattered the contents of the bottle over the nest and specifically on the girl's remains. Not only would the nest and water become uninhabitable, any corpse eater that took a bite of the body would like die of poisoning.


The witcher had evidently found a trail as he began moving away from the nest. Before she followed, Elka leaned over and cut a lock of golden hair form the sludge, stuffing it into her belt. She soon noticed the slight trail of blood Geralt was following and wondered if she would have noticed had see been looking for it. She came to the conclusion that she wouldn't have... her job done she would have returned to the surface rather than investigate the corpse.


“How did you find your way here, anyway? Novigrad is a big place—just passing through, or are you here for something?”





"How did I find my way to being ankle deep in scummer? A lot of wrong turns I suppose." She smirked. "But simply wondering on the Path now. Though I will admit I came to the city hoping I might eventually run into another in the profession of monster hunting." She said, keeping her voice quite as it seemed to echo off the damp walls. Suddenly she caught a whiff of salty air beneath the refuse. They were getting closer to the surface or an exit for her to be smelling the sea so far underground. "Smell that?" She asked, her voice now barely a hiss. She moved to Geralt's side rather than following, spinning her blade absently in her hand.


They came upon a space that was very different from the claustrophobic tunnels. A large open room with a domed ceiling, at the center of which was a grate letting in a feeble bit of light from the foggy world above. She hesitated at the edge of the tunnel, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Her eyes took in the gated passages leading away, the second level of tunnels above those on the other side of the room. She heard nothing, saw nothing but still she felt agitated. Her eyes flicked to the wolf's and she motioned that they should each go one direction, split up. Something was in that room and she wanted to flush it out.

@gwynbleidd

 

[gwynbleidd]

gwynbleidd. // the white wolf. // the butcher of blaviken. // geralt of rivia.


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He gave a sound of acknowledgement as she spoke, keeping his eyes forward and focused while they wandered the tunnels. “You don’t come across other witchers very often,” he responded quietly, with a bit of remorse, “so I’m surprised that you’ve been looking for one. An odd sort of hope to possess, but it might be a good thing after all.” The elder witcher eyed the woman from over his shoulder, and nodded in affirmation at her inquiry. “Yeah. Something’s ahead of us.”


The size of the room that opened around them was like many he’d seen before, oozing age and the majesties of modern architecture. A part of him questioned the need for such a decorated sewer system, but he was only a witcher, and so figured that the concept of city planning was outside of his field of expertise. Geralt’s gaze passed slowly over the tunnels above and in front of them, while he assumed Elka was tying up the ones around them, carefully listening and examining the area before making any movement further in. He could feel the tension emanating from the young witcher, and couldn’t blame her for it—but he’d sensed the presence of something sinister here before they’d split, each moving slowly in their own direction, blades drawn.


He took the way forward, slightly crouched and prepared for an ambush should it arrive. Geralt knew to practice patience in situations like these, but remain alert enough to attack on reflex on the off-chance that a target got the better of him. It had happened before, and he’d only become the wiser after all this time. Listening to the sounds of Elka’s boots on the stone floor of the domed room was hardly distracting, and he attuned his ears to the tiny echoes of sound around him, the shadows between the bricks which were numerous, considering the feeble light from above the two hunters. There was little to be found going forward, until one of his feather-light footsteps landed atop something that cracked underneath his boot.


Geralt crouched once more, picking up the small piece of bone—apparently human—between his fingers and turning it once, twice. Eyes narrowed, he dropped it back to the stone and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something was watching him from behind. It was close, and menacing…


The howl that erupted from the beast was sudden and shook the walls of the dome. Geralt spun around and gripped his blade, gritting his teeth as he eyed the vampire they’d expected huddling between the wide bars of one of the tunnels above them. Elka had turned just as quickly, her face upturned and lit somewhat by the grate from above. For a moment he cursed himself for failing to down any of his Black Blood prior to this engagement, but nothing could be done about that now—the fleder wouldn’t give him enough time to do so in its attempt to feast on his own blood. The monster’s dive was incredibly characteristic, and without thought as it dove from its perch Geralt sprung backwards and moved to circle the beast from its right, his blade held closely to his side until he was ready to attack.


The fleder howled again and watched him closely, allowing the witcher to come several yards from where it stood before it launched into the air again, its claws glimmering with dried blood. Geralt lifted his sword and started towards it, spinning in a pirouette and slicing the side of the vampire’s leg as it landed back on the stone, blood dribbling down its thigh. Fangs parted, the fleder howled in rage this time and swung in Geralt’s direction, but the attack was easily dodged with a step to the left and the wrangling of his sword with the monster’s claws. Gritting his teeth, Geralt’s fingers instinctively formed the Sign of Igni, and the beast recoiled at the flames that burned against its face. He had a brief moment to step away again, huffing and preparing to launch at the vampire once more.

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