7 Midyear, 4E203 - Ohtesse's favour

Ohtesse was looking over her shoulder as she pushed the door of the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal. It wasn't forbidden for the disciples of Arkay to leave the Chapel, of course, but Ohtesse wasn't on very good terms with the Primate. "We serve Arkay here, not Dibella" and "You are a healer now, not a Priestess" were the Primate's two favourite phrases, and frankly Ohtesse had had enough. She was an ageing Altmer, and so much older than Primate Garrana who was an Imperial... which is why Ohtesse usually just ignored these comments. She used to be a Priestess of Dibella, she used to train novices, teach them the ways of beauty and pleasure... But she got old and felt that she was no longer doing Dibella a service in that capacity. A healer's position with the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal became available, and Ohtesse took it believing that she could now do more good with her healing than with her devotions to Dibella. And Arkay was waiting for her at the end of the line anyway, so why not make his acquaintance a little earlier.

What Ohtesse didn't count on was the animosity of the Primate towards Dibella and Dibellans. "Aren't we subjects of the Nine though? All of them?" Ohtesse asked once.

"You are naive if you think that," was the Primate's haughty response. "Arkay is miles above Dibella." And that put Ohtesse in her place right at the bottom of the clerical hierarchy, at least in the Primate's eyes.

This was some forty years ago - a long time in a life of an Imperial, but a short stretch for an Altmer. Yet much had happened in that time. The Great War had brought a lot of work for the servants of Arkay, both attending to the dead and to the living - Ohtesse treated more wounds than diseases in those years. Yet despite her best efforts, many soldiers didn't make it - they were brought in too late, their wounds were too severe. She treated so many elves... including the Aldmeri. Arkay took them all in, and it was not befitting for the Chapel to turn away the enemy.

Primate Garrana never liked Ohtesse. First, Ohtesse was an elf - an Altmer, not of the Aldmeri Dominion but of the Empire of Tamriel, but many people saw no difference. But even more than her elven origin, the Primate resented Ohtesse's prior devotion to Dibella - devotion that she never gave up. "We serve the Nine," she would object. It was true, and the Primate could not dismiss Ohtesse, not that she didn't try.

Then one day an Aldmeri agent was brought in with deep wounds, and Ohtesse saw immediately that he would not survive. She lifted his pain as she normally did in such situations - she did not believe in unnecessary suffering. He stayed with them for a few days, his last remaining days on Nirn.

"You are different from the others," he said to Ohtesse after one of the healing sessions. "You do not resent me."

"No," she smiled at him. "We treat all that need treatment. We do not turn away the Aldmeri, for we are all children of the Nine."

"Of the Eight, but yes," he corrected her with a smile. "Talos is like Vivec - not an Aedra."

"No..." Ohtesse paused, watching him and noting that he didn't say "a false god". "You've given it some thought, haven't you... Well, I do not normally pray to Talos, so I don't mind one way or the other."

"This is a Chapel of Arkay, is it not?" The Aldmeri looked at her intently. "But you are a Priestess of Dibella."

"I was," Ohtesse corrected him. "I am a healer here now."

"You don't stop being her Priestess any more than you can stop being an elf," the Aldmeri smirked. "Who do you pray to in your time of need, Healer?"

Their eyes met and they sat there in silence for a while, for they both knew the answer.

...

The Abandoned House across the street was boarded up, but that was only cosmetic. Ohtesse had discovered it a long time ago - she would sometimes go there to cool off after yet another stingy remark from the Primate. The house wasn't lived in, but it wasn't all that abandoned either - Ohtesse would often notice traces of someone having been there. There was even a bed and a few other bits of furniture, and the drawers kept unusual leather armour, daggers and soul gems. And of course there was the Black Door in the basement.

The Chapel of Arkay was overflowing with wounded after yet another big battle, and beds were in short supply. "Come with me," Ohtesse offered her shoulder to the Aldmeri agent who was now too weak to walk on his own. "I'll take you to a quieter place."

"I don't have long," he nodded. "Thank you."

She took him to the Abandoned House across the street, and no one paid any attention to them - this was just another wounded being helped by a healer. Which way were they going? No one noticed in the tumult. No one except the Primate.

The next few days were very busy, but even in the busiest of times the healers had to rest, or they would have no magicka for healing - everyone knew that. And with the Chapel overflowing, the healers would normally retire to the Mages Guild or to a friend's house, so again no one noticed that Ohtesse was spending time in the Abandoned House.

"You are no longer a Priestess of Dibella!" The Primate spat at her one morning as she entered the Chapel ready to start healing. "And we do not provide those services! You are a disgrace for sleeping with him!"

Ohtesse turned pale but bit her lip and didn't answer. It was her private affair, none of the Primate's business.

...

The Aldmeri agent died a few days later. He received the rites of Arkay together with the other soldiers who also died on that day. He was interred in the Undercroft in a "communal grave". Ohtesse stopped leaving the Chapel.

...

"You are a disgrace, you must get rid of that!" The Primate spat at her again, pointing at her pregnant belly. "That spawn of the enemy!"

...

A year later the War was over, and Ohtesse returned to the Chapel of Arkay to resume her services as a healer. The Legion no longer needed field healers, and the Council insisted that the Primate should accept Ohtesse back at the Chapel. "She is a gifted healer, a devote of the Divines, and you have no reason to refuse," she was told. Fuming, the Primate had to submit. "Oh, and no more talk about Dibella versus Arkay kind of nonsense!" The Councillor looked at the Primate sternly. "We serve the Nine... err... the Eight... regardless, we serve both Arkay and Dibella. Get over it!"

...

Ohtesse's child was an Aldmeri. The boy's colouration gave him away even at an early age, and Ohtesse had to admit that he would not be safe in Cyrodiil for a long time to come. He was born in a tent by a battlefield, surrounded by moans of the wounded and prayers for the dead.

"He is a child of Arkay," the Priest told her, having assisted with the birth. "The God of Life and Death will watch over your child. What do you wish to call him?"

"Sauron," she smiled at the Priest holding her baby. "Sauron Ohtaari Arawe Aldmeri."

"Of Shimmerene?" The Priest raised an eyebrow, an Altmer himself. He passed the baby to Ohtesse and took out a scroll writing a birth certificate.

"No, that was his father," Ohtesse smiled, cradling the child, recognising his father's features in him. It wasn't true that all babies looked the same. "Sauron was born here... So what shall we say? Of Applewatch?" She winked, casting around for the nearest landmark.

"Of Rielle," the Priest offered.

...

Back in the Summer of 4E203 Ohtesse had had enough of the Primate's remarks regarding her past Priesthood of Dibella and "other sins", so she was now once again pushing the door of the Abandoned House in Cheydinhal - abandoned no longer, but known as the Wolf Sanctuary, or more recently the Lachances' House.

"Hello!" She cried out in the entrance hall, barely recognising it. She never came here after Lena took over the house and fixed it up. "Anybody home?"

"Up here!" She heard Lucien reply, then saw his face appearing at the top of the stairs. "Ohtesse. Welcome." He gestured her in, offering refreshments. "I am at your service."

"I..." Ohtesse blushed, not sure where to begin. "It's about my son. I want to find him... It isn't exactly in your line of work, I know..."

"And you are not performing the Sacrament either," Lucien nodded. "This has nothing to do with the Brotherhood, does it?"

"Not that I know of," Ohtesse agreed. "But he's a grown man now. Young for an elf of course, but adult."

"Where should I begin?" Lucien was taking it in, making mental notes.

"Falkreath. But he's not there - I already spoke to Runil, their Priest of Arkay. He thought Sauron was taken North... It wouldn't have been an orphanage - he would have stayed with the Chapels, at least while he was still a child." She paused, looking around uneasily. "He looks Aldmeri," she added.

"I see," Lucien nodded. "What should I say to him when I find him?"

"You seem certain..." Ohtesse looked at him with doubt in her eyes. "I don't even know if he lives!"

"Assume that he does. What shall I say to him?" Lucien insisted.

"Tell him of his father - Sarulian Arawe Aldmeri of Shimmerene. He fell in the Great War and is buried here. Our time in this world was short... And I could not keep the child... not then," she sighed. "But this is why I returned here, this is why I choose to ignore the Primate and her remarks. Sarulian is here, and so am I."

"It will take time," Lucien looked at her, having made up his mind how to proceed. "It will not go through the Brotherhood. And Skyrim is big. How much of a secret is it?"

"It isn't really a secret," Ohtesse smiled at him. "People know I had a son with an Aldmeri agent - the Primate made sure to spread the news!" The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. "But I don't want you to do anything about that - not yet, anyway."

"The Night Mother will hear your prayer if that time comes," Lucien smiled. "We don't do 'jobs on the side' despite people believing otherwise. Do not worry. But still, I think we should step lightly regarding your son - we do not know who he is or what he does."

They talked a while longer, with Ohtesse telling Lucien of the past events and everything she could think of that could be helpful. Finally, she rose to leave.

"Thank you, Luce," she smiled at him, stroking his cheek like that of a child. "You haven't changed a bit."

He kissed her hand, seeing a Priestess of Dibella before him and feeling sixteen again...

It is neat she summons Dessos the Dremora to watch over her sleeping. That'd be so much better than a guard dog which barks every time a delivery man shows up, or a raccoon scrambles through the trash.

She also uses that shout against the locked safe, nice. What is inside? -- Ooh, sounds disappointing. Her father feels bad for "failing" his children. Well, at least she knows the truth, now.

Wow, Lucien now has Poryporic Hemophilia. Hey, he made it this far without contracting that disease! Some characters don't make it through one dungeon without getting sick. -- Yeah, I don't think he can just "go to chapeL" to get cured. Seems the man's Infamy must be through the sky by now.

Sounds like Lachance cannot be helped. Maybe he can try asking one of the Daedra, but they might want something vile in return.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338224

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 25 2023, 02:21 AM

Yeah, he cannot just get a standard blessing, that's for sure. But you can always pray to one of the gods individually, and they don't all judge mortals in the same way. He got help from an unexpected corner after all, leaving Lena wondering.

She kills Corvus Umbranox, and then rammages through his contracts. Wow, I'm surprised that guy was still around after 200+ years! Cool, she's going to Sundercliff Watch. macole was just there with his Field Hippies. That's a fun place to explore, for those of us who love to delve DEEP.



That's the most polite psychic guard! Apparently Lena's not immediately branded as CRIMINAL SCUM!!

-- Anvil Bay Expansion looks really lovely.

Next she goes to Kvatch, and you've got something called Kvatch Finished. Never heard of that one. I seem to be the only one of us who hasn't used Kvatch Rebuilt (I've got Kvatch Rising). Anyway, I love the part when you describe her flashbacks. Even after all she's seen and done, that particular burning town still gives her the chills.



Nice. And despite her protest, they've given her The Wolf Residence, not even knowing if she'd ever return. Sigh. Why can't real-life be so rewarding?

Yah, that is bizarre, about the Dragon Armor being in this mod-added home. Okay, one more chapter. She's exploring the town, speaking to residents, and so on.

Really enjoy how you've just written up a couple chapters with nothing much going on. No bloodshed, etc. I think this is important for any RPG to not just be about pwn4g3 and buffing stats. It's so relaxing! 🤓

This post has been edited by Renee: Aug 20 2023, 03:26 PM

Kvatch Finished: it's a mod I found, someone took Kvatch Rebuilt and tried to fill in Kvatch as it was before the invasion. It isn't finished at all despite the name, but gives you another look at things, I guess.


Well, that's because I put it there. Because I built the house. And the mod that I was actually playing. It is partly based on Kvatch Finished and partly on Kvatch Roses of Success - another unfinished Kvatch mod. My version is also unfinished (there seems to be a pattern there). It was my very first serious mod and I botched it up so badly, it will take a long time to fix it up, now that I know a bit better what I'm doing. One day I'll return to it, it did have a neat story.

Glad you're enjoying peace as well as war.

A note to the readers. I have not given up on this story, in fact I still have so many adventures in my head! But I've been very busy building release 3 of TWMP Skyrim Alive, and besides the lovely creative side it also came to possess a rather boring technical side. Separating Northern provinces from one another, swapping out creatures that might be in breach of copyright, extending Tamriel Resource Pack - these are all very necessary tasks but alas! - they do not stimulate story writing.

As a consequence this story is taking a break. It will continue with Geralt going to Solstheim, just like he told Lena. He feels the call of Hircine and has to join the Great Hunt of the 4th Era - this will be based on the Bloodmoon DLC of Morrowind, played in Morroblivion. This is Geralt's story - he came to Tamriel looking for his roots, and so far he and Lena only found one letter from their father addressed to them, and no further traces. Yet it seems various people know more... And now, with his blood boiling, he has no choice but to heed Hircine's call and see where it leads him.

Stay tuned. It may take a few weeks, but Geralt is due to take central stage next.

Sure, but who put it there in imagination? Somebody in the gameworld must've known Lena would show up to claim this house after all.


Yes, and now it's time for more. Whoops, where's my bookmark?

That is really bizarre, the whole doubles thing going on in Kvatch. You mention something about an unfinished worldspace, while macole mentions Valenwood. I tried to explore Valenwood myself, was really psyched to do so. It's a mess to explore, though. CTD after CTD (while my mainland Cyrodiil rarely crashes) rips and tears in the terrain, and so on. I began trying to fix some of this, but as you've noted it's a lot of work. How far did you get with Kvatch "Finished"?

Whoa, the chapel full of ghosts is really cool. This is crazy. Martin is mad at Lena for starting the Oblivion Crisis! Come on, now! Don't be so daft, fellow.

Mehrunes Maze: never heard of that one, but it's made by David Brasher, one of my favorite authors/world-builders. Have you explored any of his work? Be forewarned: he's got a habit of making UBER enemies sometimes. Ridiculously overpowered with hitpoints! I would actually go through his mods beforehand in the CS, just to nerf some of those enemies. Because it's just not fun after a while, if every enemy is a boss.

But he's very good sometimes with making unique and fun dungeons to explore.

Are there twin ghosts, or just that one instance?

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338435

This post has been edited by Renee: Sep 12 2023, 07:45 PM

I had no issues at all with Valenwood. But of course that's because I explored TWMP Valenwood Improved rather that the original. It seems that Haldar fixed a lot of issues with it when he converted it for TWMP. It's exactly the same mod... minus the bugs.

"Kvatch Finished" is not my mod. It is an actual mod - here. My mod (code name "Kvatch Duplicated") is not finished. It is a combination of "Kvatch Finished" and "Kvatch Roses of Success". It was my first serious mod and I made every mistake you could imagine, so that in the end my game was crashing every 30 seconds or so. And I gave up! But by now I understand what I've done wrong, I intend to go back to it, fix it and finish it up. Because, yeah, the story is kinda cool...


I could not stand him when I played the Main Quest. Now he's getting it!


I like his stuff as well! I have explored some of it in game, and quite a bit of it in the CS. I used a lot of it in Skyrim and also in some other mods, like here in Kvatch.


Ghosts were not duplicated, only people. The cathedral is quite ordinary in the other Kvatch.

7 Sun's Dawn, 4E195 - The Butcher of Blaviken

The Butcher of Blaviken opened one eye and looked at the man holding the heavy tapestry of his tent open.

"King Foltest requires your presence, Sire," the man said without much conviction on the word "Sire". He looked at the red-haired woman on the luxurious bed in this tent fit for royalty, then dropped the tapestry, turning to leave. "The witch got what she wanted," he smirked to himself.

Geralt sat up in bed, he was having one of those dreams again when the man woke him up. An uprisal of humans against non-humans, and he, a witcher that should have stayed out of politics, just couldn't see elves, dwarves and halflinks being slaughtered. Not that they didn't put up a fight - one dwarf can easily take on three humans, size notwithstanding. But there were far more than three humans for each non-human in that mob in Blaviken. And so, hearing shouts "Mutant!" once again, Geralt joined the fight. He later learned with  surprise that "the Butcher of Blaviken" was what people took to calling him after that. Everyone, human and non-human.

He couldn't remember how the fight ended. He didn't see piles of corpses sliced in two with his razor sharp meteoric steel sword. The screams faded. The lights dimmed. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, saw a long wooden handle protruding from it - a pitchfork? Then - nothing.

That was half a year ago. Not only could Geralt not remember the fight, he could not remember almost anything that happened before that day either. What he knew of himself today, was what his friends and enemies chose to tell him. He was having strange dreams like the one he just woke from, he guessed they were flashes from his memory, but they were too vague to make anything out.

The red-haired woman turned languidly on the bed, waking up too. Her perfect body was craving attention, and Geralt paused his glance on her for longer than he had wanted. She smiled, confident of her charm.

"The king has summoned us," Geralt ripped his gaze from Triss' body. "Well, me," he corrected himself. "You can go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now," Triss smirked, letting the covers completely slide off and stretching her hand to lightly caress Geralt's many scars. "Foltest can wait." Her voice was expectant.

"Not today." Geralt got up and started getting dressed.

Triss was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he ever met. Red-haired and green-eyed, with perfect feminine curves, there was nothing that Geralt didn't like. Except when the dreams came. The dream made it all feel wrong somehow, and Geralt's desire for the redhead in his bed suddenly dwindled. He couldn't put his finger on it. If only he could remember!

...

"This is the day of the big assault, and with you as my bodyguard, nothing can go wrong!" The king asserted confidently seeing Geralt approach.

"Witchers don't mix in politics," Geralt reminded him. "I should not be here at all."

King Foltest smirked at that. How could Geralt not be there! It was he who saved King Foltest from an attempted assassination, and from that moment on, Geralt became attached to King Foltest's court. What better bodyguard than a witcher! Especially one whose memory had been wiped and who, therefore, could be made to believe anything the King wanted.

"When this is over, I am leaving," Geralt said in no uncertain terms. "It is not my place to be at any king's court. I should be out there fighting monsters."

"Well, if you must," the king conceded with a sigh. He knew he could not hold Geralt forever. "And with you I'll loose my Court Sorceress as well."

"You think she'll come with me?" Geralt's eyes lit up as he thought of Triss.

"Of course she will!" The king laughed. "The woman is infatuated with you, can't you see?"

...

The battle that followed was bloody as battles go, with Geralt having to do most of the butchery. Why him? He was no soldier. But he was able, and that was enough. Strangely, a dragon appeared in the end, and there indeed Geralt's skills came into their own, even though a single witcher, no matter how skilled, is no match for a full-grown dragon. Witchers don't fight dragons, in fact. And dragons rarely bother with people either. But this one attacked, probably woken up by the noise of the battle, or something equally mundane. Geralt fought it, trying to annoy the giant creture and make it fly away, not having any illusions about killing it. He wedged his silver sword in the dragon's mouth. That did the trick! The dragon roared, spit fire and took off, all with the annoying silver toothpick in his mouth.

"Let's not wait for it to return!" Someone urged the king to seek shelter.

Again, Geralt had to do most of the work clearing a route - the king wanted to find his children, his illegitimate children that he fathered with the local baroness. The children were the reason for the assault, as the king wanted to legitimise them and take them away to live with him, while the baroness... well, let's just say she wasn't keen on either losing her children or becoming the official king's consort (marriage wasn't offered). Hence the stand-off and the battle.

They found the children in one of the towers of the baroness' castle that they had been trying to storm. They looked frightened, which wasn't surprising.

"You must wipe away your tears and look danger in the face," the king cuddled his young son. "You will be king one day."

"The children are safe with me," a voice came from a corner. A blind monk gently nudged the king's daughter towards her father.

"But you are blind!" The king protested, taking his daughter in his embrace as well.

Geralt looked out of the window - the noise outside was getting stronger, the battle was far from over.

Then... swift movement out of the corner of his eye... He turned, leapt...

It was too late. King Foltest lay dead in a pool of blood with his throat slit, while the blind monk was leaping out of the window, having thrown off his monk's robes revealing well-fitting leather armour underneath. A witcher's armour. Only a witcher could have mastered a jump from such a height as well.

The next moment the guards ran in, attracted by the screams of the king's daughter, rightly horrified seeing her father being murdered right in front of her.

Geralt was arrested for murder.

...

"So, do you expect me to believe it?!" Vernon Roche slammed the table with his fist. He had been interrogating Geralt for a few hours already, examining and cross-examining every word. Geralt was tired, hungry and "well-seasoned" with many new scars and festering wounds. Temerian Special Forces did not joke.

"Believe what you like," Geralt shrugged. "I might be the first witcher to be executed rather than die battling a monster, but I've had enough."

Vernon snapped his fingers, the door opened and a very attractive female operative came in with food and drink. She put it on the table, smiled engagingly, caught Vernon's nod and left.

"I didn't know you had women in your outfit," Geralt smiled at his old friend. "I never met her."

"Ves is a jewel that we like to keep under wraps," Vernon smiled back. Whatever Geralt might or might not have done, an old friendship forged on the battlefield wasn't easily quashed, even if Geralt didn't remember it. Vernon did, and Geralt felt it. "Ves has been with us for a long time already," Vernon looked towards the door. "She is the only woman, and what a woman..." he sighed. "It's almost too easy, works every time. If you ever see her without her clothes, it will be while she's slitting your throat."

Both men stared at the door for a while.

"Anyway, duty calls - I've got paperwork to do, all your stories need writing up," Vernon grimaced. "Help yourself to the food and drink," he smirked as Geralt rattled the chains firmly cuffing his hands behind his back. "The road ahead is long and perilous, and you're on your own," Vernon added in a whisper, dropped a small key onto the table, got up and left.

...

"Geralt, this way!" Geralt heard Triss' voice from one of the boats on the river. Someone somehow had a boat ready and waiting. How long did it take him to unlock his cuffs, gulp down the food and drink, overcome the many guards in the castle dungeons, all armed with nothing but his bloody fists? It felt like hours, it probably was hours. Geralt was exhausted.

"This way, come on!" Triss' voice was urging him on. "We've got to cast off while it's still dark!"

Geralt shook his head to clear his vision somewhat, then picked his way among the crates and barrels littering the pier, trying not to fall.

"Finally! What took you so long? I was starting to wonder!" Triss helped him into the boat, someone whistled, the ropes where cut and the sails caught the wind.

"I was busy," Geralt retorted, feeling annoyed rather than grateful. "How did you know?" He looked at Triss with suspicion.

"She didn't," Vernon approached, handing Geralt a mug of beer. "You are still the kingslayer, make no mistake," he added grimly. "And your girlfriend here was about to be burned at the stake for treason for good measure."

"But..?" Geralt looked up at him, momentarily switching his attention from the sausages brought by Ves.

"But I believed you," Vernon sighed. "My trust in you is not enough to clear your name though, especially given our history," he shook his head. "You still don't remember, do you? Never mind, others do. But that's not why I believed you - I would have executed you myself if I thought you killed King Foltest. Instead, I and my Special Forces are on the run assisting a fugitive, all in the hope to find the real kingslayer." He smirked again and looked away.

They were sailing East, towards the pink horizon, but all Geralt could think of was sleep. He was spent and not ready for any new beginnings.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is the prologue of Witcher 2, seen through my eyes, the eyes of "my" Geralt. A fair warning: my Geralt is "all wrong". I haven't read the books, I haven't seen the movies, I only played the video games - Witcher 2 and 3. The games allow you to make choices which are not necessarily what the original author would have chosen. There are many among the hard core fans who say that the games "break" Geralt - make him "all wrong". Such as Geralt that you will meet in this story.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: May 13 2024, 05:24 PM

That was an engrossing suspenseful chapter. Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Thank you! I figured we needed a little background for Geralt before we get into his adventures in Tamriel. Also, I fancied another game of Witcher. So here it comes.

I played Witcher I & II so I Know a little bit about it. I did enjoy both games.

This post has been edited by macole: Oct 11 2023, 04:40 AM

12 First Seed, 4E195 - Flotsam (again)

"Come on, jump!" A voice jerked Geralt out of his slumber. He never liked boats - they made him queezy, and they'd been sailing on this one for several days already. Why did it move so slowly? But it seemed they finally arrived somewhere. Any land was going to be better than this. "Come on!" The voice was urging him on. "The witcher's ass is going to get wet!"

"I'm getting too old for this," Geralt muttered, getting up. He wasn't sure how old he was exactly - he couldn't remember it, and his friends couldn't agree whether he was just turning sixty or already pushing hundred. He certainly felt like the latter. "All right, all right, coming!" He shouted back. "Where are you, anyway?"

Vernon and Triss were waiting on the shore. The boat - or was it a ship? - was too large to come close, and the river had shallow shores, so yes, there was no way around it - he was going to get wet. "Soggy boots and soggy leathers yet again," he cursed under his breath, wading to the shore.

"This is Flotsam," Vernon made sure that Geralt was following.

"What? Where..? No! Not again!!" Wading through water was bad enough, but wading through water with flotsam was something that Geralt hated with a vengeance. He didn't need to remember that, he felt it from within.

"Not that, the water is fairly clean," Vernon laughed. "This charming town is called Flotsam. Just beyond that bend." He pointed at a path running along the shore and set off.

"I don't like this," Geralt squinted at the high cliffs along the path.

...

"Vernon Roche!" An arresting voice came from above. "I scour the land for you, and here you are walking onto my turf!" An elf with a dirty bandana covering half of his scarred face appeared on a cliff ahead.

"You are aiding the kingslayer, Iorveth!" Vernon was as enraged as the elf. "I've seen your boats waiting under the walls of the castle!"

"A crowned dh'oine is still a dh'oine," Iorveth spat.

"We're here for the kingslayer, we have no quarrel with you," Geralt joined in, although he didn't think it would make any difference. The stand-off between Iorveth's elves and Vernon Roche's Special Forces was an old and hot one. Iorveth bared his teeth like a cornered wolf, raised his hand, and a dozen arrows were silently released at the three travellers below.

"You bastard!!!" None of them carried a shield.

"No, you don't!!" In a blink of an eye Triss built a sphere of flames around them. The arrows were deflected, for now. Triss collapsed to the ground.

"Whaa--??" Geralt was spinning in place. Was Triss dead? It didn't seem so, her protective sphere still held. Just fainted. Vernon drew his sword - the elves were coming for them on foot, as the sphere couldn't stop people. Geralt drew his sword too - but what about Triss?

"I am not dead," a remarkably lively voice said from the ground. "But I can't walk. One of you must carry me to Flotsam, the sphere will follow."

"All right." Vernon sheathed his sword, picked up Triss and started walking. "You deal with the elves, Geralt."

"Get your hand off my ass!"

"Shush!"

As they rounded the bend and looked back, a muscular figure of the kingslayer appeared next to Iorveth.

"Do you know this witcher?" Ioverth asked, not taking his eyes off Geralt.

"Oh yes, I know Geralt, but he doesn't remember," the kingslayer nodded with a sigh. "I know Geralt." He paused. "I know his weakness."

...

"Come on, we don't want to miss the hanging!" People were rushing towards the town square - there wasn't much entertainment to be had in Flotsam.

"Who's being strung?" Geralt asked.

"Oh, a couple of thieves, a dwarf and a dandy like," a woman laughed, rushing past him.

"Geralt!!! Help!!!" A very urgent voice was coming from the gallows.

"Dandelion!"

Dandelion and Zoltan Chivay stood on the gallows with nooses around their necks, right next to two thieves that the woman mentioned. A dandy of a bard and a dwarf craftsman... both Geralt's friends. This had to be a mistake!

...

"Phew, that was too close!" Zoltan was massaging his neck after Geralt and Vernon between them managed to "talk" the guards into seeing sense. Two thieves had to be enough for the crowd's entertainment. "Tavern! I need a stiff drink." Zoltan turned towards the tavern, with the rest of them following - it was high time to catch up.

"Well, watch where y're going!" A shrill female voice rang in Geralt's ear. So shrill, that even Geralt's amulet started buzzing - a witcher's amulet enchanted to warn of magic or danger, for often they were one and the same. "Keep your swords to yourself, you..!" The woman suddenly stopped yelling. "Pardon me, Master Witcher," she continued in the sweetest of voices. "But would you be so kind as to assist me with, ah, a delicate matter? After hours? I am the healer here, my practice is in that house just across the square. Please come and see me after dark."

Geralt nodded, she smiled and walked off.

"I wouldn't mind a bite of that ass myself, but she's not that kind of a healer," a rough yet educated voice said in Geralt's ear. "Come and see me after dark, we have matters to discuss."

That was the mayor of Flotsam, and he wasn't taking "no" for an answer.

The town square suddenly fell quiet, with everyone returning to their chores. The sun was still high on the horizon, the pigs had resumed rolling in the mud and the crows started assembling by the gallows. Geralt stood in the middle of Flotsam, deciding what to do next. For a sleepy provincial town, Flotsam appeared to pack a punch.

Strangely, he did not feel like going to the tavern to catch up. His friends would still be there later. Triss didn't seem the worse for wear - "Sorceresses!" - he smirked; you never quite knew where you stood with them. This was undoubtedly a shady town and he just got himself into a load of shady business, he thought. After dark! What was he supposed to do till then?

...

"Well, well, well, look who's here," a voice said in his ear as a bulky half-naked fellow appeared from a doorway blocking his way, his fists clad in heavy steel gauntlets. "You're worth more to me alive, but I'll settle for your corpse if I have to, kingslayer," he smirked. "There's good coin in that."

"Oh let's get it over with!" Geralt drew his sword. A leisurely stroll through town might not have been the best way to while away an afternoon in Flotsam, after all.

...

"Now I'll need a healer," Geralt spat out a tooth. The six fellows that ambushed him were no weaklings. "Kingslayer," he shook his head. "Of course. There's a price on my head. I should be more careful. Now, where did she say she lived?" He returned to the town square looking for the healer's house, as the sun finally set.

...

"Geralt of Rivia, at your service," he greeted the young woman as she answered the door. "You said you needed assistance."

"Indeed," she smiled. "Please come in. We don't want interruptions," she added, throwing on the bolt. Geralt's amulet started buzzing again. Magic or danger? Or both?

...

"Where is Geralt?" Dandelion was getting impatient to embrace his friend who, for some reason, did not follow them into the tavern. "It's nearly dark already!" He hiccupped and called for another mug of ale. "Oh look - there he is! Hey..!" But Geralt walked right past the tavern and knocked on the door of the house across the square.

"Healer," Zoltan followed Dandelion's glance out of the window. "He looks pretty beat up too."

"Well, I could have healed him!" Triss watched him enter the house, saw a young woman's face behind the door, and didn't like any of it.

"When was the last time you actually brew an ointment for him, Sorceress?" Vernon squinted.

"Lena Wolf is a decent healer," Zoltan concluded the conversation. "I go to her every time I need my head cleared after a night of drinking - her stuff works! Nothing wrong with that."

"And by the looks of things we'll all be needing those potions tomorrow," Dandelion added as the waitress delivered another round of drinks.

...

"I am Lena Wolf," the young woman introduced herself when Geralt entered her shop. "A healer. I brew potions and know some spells. You need healing."

"And I am a witcher," Geralt smirked. "I heal myself. This will pass, it isn't the first time. What did you want to talk about?"

That didn't start well. They stood facing each other, their eyes locked, their wills also.

"Very well, we'll return to this later," Lena looked away and smiled. The most radiant smile you could ever imagine. Geralt shook his head - was he being charmed? "Your other name is 'The White Wolf', is it not?" He nodded. She nodded too, as if consulting with herself, then pulled a medallion from under her clothing. A wolf amulet. A witcher's amulet just like Geralt's, and it was buzzing in her hand. "Does yours buzz as well?"

"Where did you get this?" That was all that Geralt could think of. Witcher's amulets were rare but not impossible to find, but they would never - never! - respond to anyone besides the person for whom they were enchanted. "You are not a witcher!"

"No," Lena shook her head. "This was given to me..." She started, then interrupted herself: "But please, let's sit down. This will be a long night."

...

Lena and Geralt talked for hours. She told Geralt about an old witcher who came to her shop some months ago looking for herbs. His wounds were severe and she convinced him to stay in her little clinic for a few days. Days turned into weeks, and despite all their combined best efforts, the witcher succumbed to his wounds. When he could no longer get up, he gave her his amulet and said to always wear it and to look out for a white wolf with the same sort of trinket - that wolf would make her complete.

"I didn't take his words seriously, you see," Lena smiled with sadness. "I thought he was delirious. He was on his deathbed, after all," she sighed. "But I took the medallion in his memory and wore it ever since. It never buzzed before." She raised her eyes to Geralt's, smiled and opened another bottle of Cyrodilic Brandy.

"Why is your name 'Wolf'?" Geralt was puzzled too.

"My father's name, I believe," Lena blushed a little. "I have not known him. My mother died when I was four, and my adoptive grandmother - when I was sixteen. She said I was named after my father, she knew who he was but could not tell..." Lena took a sip of her drink. "All in all, I know about as little of my parents as you of yours."

"But I know nothing of them!" Geralt protested. "I was given to the Witcher School of the Wolf at a very young age. This damned amnesia... But even without it, no one seems to know a thing. Give me your amulet," he stretched out his hand. As Lena passed the amulet, it kept buzzing in Geralt's hand. As did his in hers.

"Well?" She looked at him expectantly.

"It must be..." Geralt's brow furrowed. "What else could it be..?" He paused, then said decisively: "You are my sister."

12 First Seed, 4E195 - Siblings

"How old are you?" Geralt squinted at Lena, taking in her appearance. "You look... twenty. But you are not."

"Perceptive," Lena smiled. "I've lived some hundred twenty to two hundred years."

"You don't know?"

"It depends whom you ask," Lena shrugged. "Time passes differently in other Realms."

Lena already told Geralt about Tamriel and how she boarded the biggest ship in Anvil that was bound to the Realms Beyond the Great Maelstrom. They docked in Novigrad and from there Lena made her way to Flotsam, not specifically having it as a goal but simply looking for a town that wouldn't be questioning her accent twenty times a day. Flotsam was a port on a river that crossed many kingdoms, it changed hands so often, that people got confused who the current king was. As such it belonged to itself first and foremost, a place where everyone was from somewhere else. Lena fitted right in.

"All right," Geralt tried to make sense of things. "So we can't compare calendars. But if you are my sister, are you younger or older? And by how much?"

"Younger. By just a few years," Lena said with conviction. "Mum died when I was four, remember? And grandma said..." she hesitated. She couldn't quite remember what her grandmother had said about her parents, but decided to go with it anyway. "Well, I don't know exactly. But I think it's just a few years."

"Fine." Geralt decided to accept it. "Are you a sorceress? How come you are still alive? And why do you look so young?" He squinted at her.

"Not a sorceress," Lena shook her head. "Well, I'm a mage, that is, I know some magic, but nothing like the sorceresses here. More like a hedge witch," she giggled.

"So?" Geralt wasn't going to let it slide.

"Well... err... I'm still alive because..." This was going to be painful. "I used to be a vampire."

"WHAT?!" Geralt looked up, puzzled, and Lena was suprised at that. He wasn't shocked or revolted, just puzzled. "Vampires are beings from another Realm. They are what they are, they cannot stop being vampires and change into something else. There's no 'used to be a vampire'." Geralt shook his head.

"Umm..." Lena was puzzled too. "No... Vampirism is a disease... No, wait. It's not the same thing," she brightened up. "In Tamriel vampirism is a disease, all humans, elves, beastfolk, even most animals can catch it. It makes you undead... There is usually no cure."

"But you got cured."

"Yes," she nodded. "It was hard to obtain. May not have worked fully either..." She looked sideways. "Sometimes I feel..." She paled. "But no, I am NOT a vampire. Not any more," she said defiantly. "I do NOT require blood."

...

The discovery that he had a sister was a bit of a shock for Geralt. He didn't know anything about his parents, true, and therefore it was not inconcievable that he could have a sibling; but now that it appeared he had one, he struggled to assimilate this news. The woman before him was his younger sister, he was her big brother, what did it mean? What was he supposed to do? What would she expect him to do? Why did she have to be so pretty? (That thought made him shake his head violently.) It was much easier with Ciri - his adoptive daughter. She was but a child. He simply assumed responsibility and tried to help her grow up as best he could. But a sister was an entirely different matter.

"I don't know what to do with it," he finally said. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Nothing," Lena smiled. "No - wait." She got up and brought a jar of ointment. "Take off your shirt - you are bleeding."

...

The dawn was already breaking when Lena declared that it was time for bed. Lavander oil in the burner did the trick and Geralt allowed her to make him sleep in her clinic. The number of revelations that descended upon them during that night was nearing the number of empty bottles of brandy under the table, and it became obvious that neither of them was in any shape to face the shining rays of day. Lena's practice stayed closed.

"He stayed there all night!" Triss was fuming, looking at Lena's door. Vernon smirked and walked off to nurse his own hangover.

...

When Geralt eventually left Lena's house, the sun was already setting again. Wasn't there something he had to do after dark? He struggled to remember. Oh yes, visit the mayor. Well, that could certainly wait, so he went to the tavern instead. Dandelion and Zoltan were still there, having spent the last twenty four hours drinking, it seemed.

"A day late, but there he is at last!" Dandelion jumped up to greet Geralt and miraculously managed not to fall over.

"Getting into fights and beds as usual, I see," Zoltan patted Geralt on the back. "Barman! Vodka!"

"No, no vodka," Geralt shook his head a bit too violently and winced. "I'll tell you later."

Triss had just walked in, and for some reason Geralt didn't want to talk about the big discovery of last night in front of her. Not just yet, anyway.

"Ah, there you are," Triss said coldly, joining them at the table. "What's the matter? Your head hurts?"

"Lay off him, Triss," Zoltan shot her an angry glance. He didn't dislike her, but sometimes she did get on his nerves. "So what's that with the king's murder that I hear?" He turned to Geralt, changing the topic.

...

"Save yourselves! The beast attacks the harbour!" Someone rushed in, for where better to hide from a dangerous beast than in a tavern.

"Someone is casting spells," Triss seemed to be sniffing the air. "Let's go see."

The harbour was just outside the door, and the air was charged with lightning. A giant tenticle shot out of the water and slapped across the pier knocking out one of the fishermen. A powerful lightning bolt coming from nowhere shot at the tentacle making it retreat. No, not from nowhere - an elegantly dressed sorceress came forward from the mist, the air still buzzing with discharges around her.

"Sile de Tansarville," if Triss' tone had been cold at the tavern, it was now glacial. "Here to hunt some rare ingredients?"

"Triss Merigold, sharp as ever," Sile replied coolly. "Indeed. Toad's gallbladders, chicken livers and virgin blood - all the things we love to throw into a cauldron come Sabbath."

"Virgins are a dying breed indeed," Triss glared. What was all that about?

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" Sila smiled at Geralt.

Triss rolled her eyes.

"Sile de Tansarville, adviser to the Queen of Kovir," she said. "Here to hunt the river beast, I presume."

"And I suppose we know each other?" Geralt was searching Sile's face hoping it would jog his memory. It didn't.

"Yes," Sile nodded. "But let's just say, I've heard of you."

"Aha," Geralt gave her a long look. What kind of a history did he have with the woman? But neither she nor Triss wanted to bring it up, so Geralt had to settle on treating Sile as a new acquaintance.

"I am here to hunt the river beast, as you say. I already got the contract." She got down to business. "And I'm not sharing the reward. You'll have to negotiate your own payment if you want to join in. Some of the merchants here should be willing to splash out, seeing how the beast is blocking the river and preventing them from moving on." She paused watching Geralt's reaction, then smiled noting relief. Geralt was all too glad to just stick to the matter at hand. "I am staying at the tavern, upstairs. Find me when you're ready."

"The tavern is also a brothel, you know that, right?" Triss put in with a snigger.

"Well, thank you for the warning," Sile answered politely, said gooodbye to Geralt and walked off. The tavern was the only inn in town anyway.

"Don't go with Sile," Triss turned to Geralt. "I don't trust her."

"Is that why you went all pale when you saw her?" Geralt squinted at Triss.

"Oh, that was just..." she paused searchingly. "I'm just still a little weak from casting that shielding sphere the day before. I don't jump into the first bed I see in a new place!" She glared.

"What..?" Geralt was confused - he hadn't even been to the brothel yet! "Oh..." Lena. Of course Triss was talking about that. "Never mind that now," he cut off. While Triss' jealousy was flattering, it was also annoying. "I better go ask around about that beast. I hear there's a ship wreck nearby that might have been its victim. And other things too," Geralt hoped it was enough.

"I'll come with you," Triss smiled pleasantly.

Triss' idea of accompanying Geralt did not actually involve walking. She opened a portal and teleported straight to the ship wreck leaving Geralt to make his way there on foot and deal with monsters and bandits along the way. Geralt didn't mind - he hated teleports.

At the scene of the ship wreck they found some deliciously decomposed mucus of the river beast, along with a group of drowners, as was to be expected. These bloated bodies of drowned people were a particularly nasty variety of zombies, and like all zombies, they were strong, toxic and hard to kill.

"Ugh, I don't know what I like less - drowners or river beasts," Geralt was muttering under his breath trying not to inhale as he was splitting the drowners' skulls open and removing their watery brains. As unpleasant as it was to perform this surgery, he was not about to forgo collecting ingredients. In the meantime Triss examined the mucus of the river beast.

"The beast is ill - it is dying," she declared.

"How soon?"

"Soon! A couple of years, no more!" She looked pleased with herself.

"Not soon enough!" Geralt swore.

"And it is therefore exceptionally toxic at present," Triss continued radiantly. "A single drop of its mucus would kill you outright!" She concluded triumphantly.

"Err..."

"So leave this to Sile."

Ah. He should have known. It was, then, about Sile rather than the river beast. Just what sort of history did he have with that cool and composed sorceress? He wondered again, but couldn't remember, and Triss wasn't telling.

"Mongoose," Geralt turned to Triss. "Perfect poison resistance - you know the potion. I'll use that."

"Well, if you must," Triss sighed, giving up. "I know you can't resist going after this beast, but for gods' sake, don't go with Sile!"

And with that she turned around and stepped into a portal, leaving Geralt to finish off a few drowners and do the right thing and not go with Sile. Of course by that point Geralt made up his mind to the opposite.

...

All this running around took another day, and it was once again nearing sunset. Geralt needed an uncommon herb for the Mongoose potion, a herb that could only be found in dump gloomy caves usually infested with monsters. That would normally not be a problem, but he felt tired from everything happening at once again and him not knowing who he was. Only having half a year worth of memories when you had supposedly lived for a century, just wasn't enough.

Ordinarily in such a situation Geralt would have gone to a brothel - that always made him feel better. But here in Flotsam he had another option, and he knocked on Lena's door. A bowl of hot stew, a delve into her memories, then restful sleep with lavander incense burning brought peace where even the best brothel would have struggled.

...

"I see you hadn't gone to Sile," Triss greeted Geralt in the morning as he was leaving Lena's practice. She finally got a grip on herself and no longer looked terse, even though she was boiling with jealousy inside. She remembered that arguing with a man was not the best way to his heart and decided to play it cool. Even though Yennefer could argue with him all day long and he would still... But no, he didn't remember, Triss smiled to herself. "Have you found that herb for the Mongoose potion?" She asked pleasantly. "Is that why you went to the healer?"

"I..." Geralt stared at her. Of course. He never even thought to ask Lena about the herb, but Triss was right - as a healer, she probably had it in stock. He turned around and went back to Lena's shop. Triss sneered and walked away. The women in Geralt's life were proving problematic.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Oct 15 2023, 10:15 PM

"It depends whom you ask," Lena shrugged. "Time passes differently in other Realms."

Lena already told Geralt about Tamriel and how she boarded the biggest ship in Anvil that was bound to the Realms Beyond the Great Maelstrom. They docked in Novigrad and from there Lena made her way to Flotsam, not specifically having it as a goal but simply looking for a town that wouldn't be questioning her accent twenty times a day. Flotsam was a port on a river that crossed many kingdoms, it changed hands so often, that people got confused who the current king was. As such it belonged to itself first and foremost, a place where everyone was from somewhere else. Lena fitted right in.'

- - I very much like how you handle moving across time and worlds. I only play one character so we have to do much the same thing as she moves through the different eras of Tamriel and even to other worlds (games).

Thanks, Acadian! Time is a tricky thing, and easily distorted by things like The Great Maelstrom... whatever it is. Sounds dangerous.

Lena's still in Kvatch, that's where I'm up to anyway. Ah, she's supposed to be looking for Nocturnal's Cowl, but has gotten WAY sidetracked!

Sounds like this 'merchant' is rather shady. He tries to sell her property which isn't even there? Whoa, he claims to know all about every, uh, murder Lena has committed. Who in oblivion is this guy?

Okay cool. She's got the cowl. Very strange.



I totally look at it this way. After the OC a lot of things expand and change, etc.

That's really cool she gives the cowl back to its rightful owner. Maybe this is how the quest goes as Bethesda wrote it, I haven't a clue. Never did any of those Daedric Shrine quests, unfortunately. Either way, I'm sure Nocturnal's appreciative to have this rare unique possession back.

The 4 Bravil mods you added are more ergonomic than Better Cities (which I've got installed). Just.. tidier, from the looks of them. Alright, one more chapter. It is now Last Seed 4, Year 202.



Ha ha ha, so true. I mean, a lot of NPCs in the game go nuts when it comes to combat, but Modryn Oreyn is particularly ferocious. My elf archer had him as a follower for a while.

Wow, Recessive Vampirism by Lena Wolf! Very nice, my dear. If I ever roll another vampire I'm getting this one, for sure.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338615

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 17 2023, 05:10 PM

The story with Nocturnal's Cowl and the contract on Corvus Umbranox are a part of my yet-to-do-properly mod on Dark Brotherhood. A remake of the second half of the DB quest line which gives you choices. If you choose not to purify the Sanctuary in Cheydinhal, you enter my alternative quest line which unmasks the traitor, cleans up the Brotherhood and promotes you to Lachance's Silencer. It then pits you against the Thieves Guild. The culmination of that is that you obtain Nocturnal's Cowl, and if you choose to return it to Nocturnal, the "Nightingales" quest line begins.

However, it is still a very big question whether I shall ever release any of it. I features Lucien Lachance quite heavily, and I have received some very unpleasant emails in real life promising me a nice hot fire down under for allegedly admiring the guy. Ugh, I don't need that kind of bother.

However, the story will be told in full as it unfolds in this thread.

Very nice, I like the sound of that. When my DB vampire did got to Purification she couldn't go through with it. No way was she going to do that to all of her guildmates; she'd become especially fond of all of them, even the rude Khajiit who often insulted her, she'd gotten to the point that she looked forward to his taunts and insults! -- She actually tried to kill Lucien instead. Found out where he'd been staying, and then tried several times to off the guy. Wasn't happening.

That was on PS3, though. So if I ever do the DB again (this time with mods) I'd look forward to whatever alternative could be. It's been my idea to try Dark Brotherhood all over again, writing it as a story here in Fan Fiction perhaps. No pressure, though. I want to finish Joan's tales first, so we're talking 2024 or 2025, since I'm such a slow gamer.