I am Lena Wolf, Lena's life as it happens Options

[Lena Wolf]

30-31 Last Seed, 4E202 - Catching up with Geralt

"Geralt! Back in Riverwood, are you?" - Lena embraced her brother. "I thought you were building a house on the moor?"

"It is being built" - Geralt nodded. "I don't have to supervise though. I'm a witcher, not a builder" - he winked. "And there are monsters here in need of my attention."

"Monsters awakened by the Oblivion gates - we've heard" - Lena nodded. "Werewolves and trolls and such."

"As well as rampaging ice worms and mammoths" - chimed in Garrus who was watching Geralt with rapt attention.

"That's just wild life spooked by the fighting" - Geralt turned to him. "I try not to fight wild life."

"'Try to' being the keyword here" - grinned Hauk. "We tried too, but that mammoth was set on trampling us to death."

"You've got to calm it first, of course" - Geralt smiled. "I thought you mages knew the spell... Oh wait - you're a battlemage."

"Touché!" - laughed Hauk. "I never thought of calming it..."

The tavern was getting loud with tales of hunting the mammoths while avoiding being trampled to death by the rest of the herd. After a while, Lena got up and tugged on Geralt's sleeve.

"We need to catch up - in private" - she shot a glance at Hauk - you know this already. Hauk nodded in understanding.

"Well, there's always Sven's mother's house - she gave me the attic, says it's good to have a man around the house again. I don't think Sven likes this very much" - he grinned. "Let's go."

"Isn't she talking your ear off with her praise of Sven?" - asked Lena on the way.

"She is, but he's still a little boy to her, she doesn't see him as a grown man, you know" - Geralt shrugged. "I wouldn't exactly call him mature either, but he's not a little boy."

"Is he still trying to impress Camilla with his poetry?"

"Not after you put a stop to it" - Geralt grinned. "It's open rivalry now between him and Faendal, to everyone's amusement - neither of them can fight, although Faendal is a fine marksman. Trouble is, it's no use in a fist fight."

Lena was glad to see that Riverwood was still a lively place.

Sven's mother's attic was set up as a large guest room not just with a bed but also with its own dining table, and Lena had to admit that aside of having to listen to Hilde's praise of her boy, this was a very comfortable place to stay. Geralt got drinks out of the cupboard and gestured her to the table.

"You look like you are about to burst with all the things you want to tell me" - he said, grinning. "So let's hear it, little sister."

Geralt didn't wear heavy armour, but he was sitting across the table from Lena, and was thus protected from sudden punches under the ribs. Lena had to settle on glaring at him instead.

"I found a letter from our father - to both of us. I found the fortress where he was stationed. He might still be alive. Lucien and I... I don't know what exactly... but I chose him. Also, I am pregnant."

"Whoa! Slow down!" - Geralt sat back in his chair. "Yes, I see the need to catch up. Who's the father?"

"What?"

"Who is the father of your child?" - Geralt grinned, knowing full well that his question was confusing.

"Oh... I am not sure" - Lena blushed. "Hauk or Lucien."

"Well, that's not too bad. I'm glad you finally admitted to yourself that there has never been anyone else for you besides Lucien. It wasn't really a choice, was it?" - he looked at her with his penetrating gaze.

"But when we were at Lake View..." - Lena hesitated. "You told me to leave him alone!"

"I told you not to toy with him, that's not the same. Also, I asked you about your feelings, and you couldn't answer."

"That's also what Hauk said..." - Lena nodded. "It is strange really that he and you and possibly even Lucien should understand my feelings better than I..."

"Nothing strange about it - happens all the time" - Geralt shrugged. "The same as me and Yen."

"Have you heard from her? She isn't here yet, I take it?"

"She isn't here yet, no, but I've had a raven" - Geralt smiled. "No messages - or rather the raven itself was the message. Sent through a portal - it was reeking of magic. Yen herself will have to travel by ship though, and that takes months and months."

Lena nodded - she made the journey to the Northern Realms and back herself. The Great Maelstrom in the Middle Ocean was unpredictable - not only could it swallow ships whole, but because of the time dilation around it, you never knew how long the journey would take, assuming you survived it. It was not surprising therefore that such journeys were rare, and so Yennefer could not be expected to arrive in Skyrim quickly.

"So, to the other news then" - Geralt changed the topic. "Our father. Tell me."

"Delphine gave me some old papers - in exchange for services still to be rendered - and I followed up on them, looked around and found the fortress where our father was stationed. Wolf Asgarsen, Commander of the Second Legion charged with protecting the border crossing into Cyrodiil. I found it, found the fortress and inside it found some papers. It's not far from here - we should go and you can see it for yourself."

"Just like that?" - Geralt was amazed. "I think there's more to tell, sis."

"There is, plenty more" - Lena nodded. "But it's best told when we are there. We'll take Hauk and Garrus as well - there were a lot of Legion papers there too, Hauk will want to see those, and Garrus I expect will just enjoy the adventure."

"Garrus seems like a steady fellow" - Geralt nodded. "Who sees much, says little."

"Exactly."

31 Last Seed

The Pale Pass Fortress was set into the rock on the Northern side of the Jerall Mountains - it was all inside the rock, the only thing visible outside being a heavy iron clad door. Last time Lena was there, she sneaked past the wraiths and skeletons roaming the old halls, but with four people going in, there was no sneaking to be expected - they'd have to fight the undead. But then again, with four people that wasn't going to be a problem.

The fortress was fairly large and it took them a few hours to reach the Commander's quarters in the depth of it. The two wraiths that guarded the office put up a remarkable fight, but they too were put to rest, for a while at least. Lena showed Hauk the Commander's desk filled with Legion papers, and Hauk quickly became engrossed in them. Garrus volunteered to try and rekindle the fire in the kitchen, leaving Lena and Geralt to talk.

"This was the Commander's bedroom - our father's bedroom" - Lena led Gerrit into the room behind the office. "There is a safe behind that tapestry where I found our father's letter. It's got a blood enchantment on it, and if it is done right, you should be able to open it."

Geralt didn't have to be asked twice. He pushed away the tapestry and put his hand on the door of a small safe. The lock clicked and he retrieved a heavy scroll. [1]

...

"So... we have a name now - Wolf Asgarsen" - Geralt rolled up the scroll. "That certainly explains your last name and the choice of the witcher school for me" - he mused. "And you think he could still be alive?"

"He could be" - nodded Lena. "He would be about three hundred years old now. Too much for a regular Nord, but he was - is - Dragonborn, that changes things."

"Well... but this scroll feels old. The letter was most likely written just after the death of your adoptive grandmother, and perhaps just as the Oblivion Crisis was unfolding. It could have been what prompted him to write it. That was two hundred years ago though, he would have been just pushing hundred then - nothing unusual even for a 'regular' Nord." Geralt wasn't convinced with Lena's reasoning. "I think you are giving in to wishful thinking. I too wish he was alive, but I think he's been dead for two hundred years now, sis."

Lena was sitting on the Commander's bed, looking rather forlorn. She so wished their father could still be alive... but she had to agree with her brother's arguments - it was highly unlikely. Geralt sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, at least we've found each other" - he kissed her forehead, pulling her into an embrace. "Or rather you found me" - he smiled, looking into her eyes. "Remember Flotsam? Master Witcher is still at your service." [2]

"Yes, I remember" - Lena smiled at him. "I also remember that Master Witcher was in need of my healing quite a few times. Remember Velen?" [3]

"Filthy beasts" - Geralt was reminded of the plague of ghouls spreading through the battlefields covered in corpses. "It isn't easy fighting a dozen at a time, even for a witcher."

"I want to go to Falkreath to see if there are any archives of the Second Legion" - Lena said quietly, not letting go of Geralt. "In case there are any records of where Father could be buried..."

"I'll come with you" - Geralt nodded. "But first - what about the wraiths?"

"What wraiths?"

"The two wraiths that were guarding the Commander's quarters - the wraiths of his two lieutenants that Mother had killed. They need to be put to rest."

"But we've just put them to rest?" - Lena already forgot about all the things a witcher could do, besides fighting monsters.

"No, we've just defeated them for now, they will rise again soon enough" - Geralt shook his head. "I want to put them to rest permanently."

"Oh right - with a ritual!" - now she remembered how it worked. "And you will need an object that binds them to this world... Like what? We've got nothing of theirs and nothing of our mother's that we could use..."

"We can do better than an object - you are here."

"Me?" - Lena wasn't sure where this was going.

"You witnessed it... after a fashion."

"I... Oh! The dream!" Lena remembered a strange dream she had when she fell asleep in this very room last time she was here. "But that was just a dream..." [4]

"Not just a dream - it was a memory. You were there - in your mother's belly" - Geralt was watching Lena's face, unsure how she would react. "You were there when Mother assassinated those two lieutenants, you witnessed it all. But to release the wraiths, you will have to relive the memory."

------------------------

[1] - 24 Sun's Height, 4E202 - The letter -- Chorrol version: page 11, post #218 -- Full colour version

[2] - 12 First Seed, 4E195 - Flotsam -- Chorrol version: page 1, post #1 -- Full colour version

[3] - 28 First Seed, 4E202 - The Fade - Memories -- Chorrol version: page 4, post #63 -- Full colour version

[4] - 23 Sun's Dawn, 3E417 - Pale Pass Fortress -- Chorrol version: page 11, post #216 -- Full colour version

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 04:39 PM

[Lena Wolf]

31 Last Seed - 1 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Wraith exorcism witcher style

"Geralt wants to exorcise the two wraiths here" - Lena told Hauk and Garrus when they were all sitting comfortably at dinner in the old Pale Pass Fortress. "So we'll need to wait for them to rise again - which won't take long - but it means that you two shouldn't be here" - she looked at them in turn.

"What about you?" - Garrus raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you leave too?"

"I am a part of the ritual" - Lena looked uneasy.

"Of course - those are the wraiths of the Commander's lieutenants that your mother had assassinated" - nodded Hauk. "They are here for you and Wolf."

"This sounds dangerous" - Garrus shuddered. "But I suppose you know what you're doing." He gave Geralt a long look. "Any chance I could stay and watch? I've never seen a witcher at work - especially at exorcism."

"Sorry, no" - Geralt shook his head. "I work alone."

Garrus sighed but didn't insist.

It was getting late in the day, and with the fortress now quiet, the four of them spent the night there, with Hauk and Garrus leaving in the morning. Lena and Geralt remained to exorcise the wraiths.

1 Hearthfire

"How long do we have to wait for them to rise?" - Lena asked Geralt when they were alone.

"We don't have to wait, really" - he smiled. "We'll summon them. But first we must prepare. Since they died together, they will appear together, and fighting two wraiths should not be taken lightly, especially the ones seeking revenge against us personally." Geralt was setting out potion vials on the table. "These are for me - witcher potions" - he turned to Lena. "I've been experimenting with local flora, and I've come up with a few things. But they are lethal to non-witchers, as usual."

"Yeah, I know this smell!" - Lena uncorked one vial and sniffed it. "Deathbell, nightshade, wolfsbane and... ectoplasm?" - she looked up Geralt in disbelief. "And that's a potion?"

"For me - yes" - Geralt grinned. "This gives resistance to spectral damage - the chill, among other things, and wolfsbane prevents transformation. I drink it for protection, but you will have to drink it to start the ritual."

"But it will kill me!" - protested Lena. "All that deathbell and nightshade - I am not a witcher, remember?"

"I know - you will drink this first" - he pointed at another vial. Lena uncorked it and sniffed.

"Pure nightshade extract?" - she exclaimed. "Are you mad?!"

"I am not trying to kill you" - Geralt took her by the shoulders. "Remember the Court Wizard in Windhelm? Wuunferth the Unliving?" Lena nodded. "Do you know how old he is? And how he is managing to still stay alive?"

"No, but I expect you'll tell me" - Lena looked at Geralt suspiciously. "I do remember him needing a lot of nightshade extract."

"Nightshade extract blurs the boundary between life and death, facilitating the transition between the two. Thus it is a potent poison - if the person ingesting it remains in death. But it can equally resurrect someone who's already left life - hence its use in Necromancy. Or it can prevent someone dying by allowing them to make the transition back into life as soon as they are dead." Geralt stopped explaining, noticing Lena's confused and disbelieving look. "The best way to stay alive is simply to not die" - he smiled.

"You want me to go into the Fade" - Lena remembered when she went there to look for Hauk's spirit. "And this extract will put me there similar to Jowan's blood magic ritual. The only question is: how will I return?" She raised her eyes to Geralt's.

"There is no portal with this - not like with Jowan's ritual. You will have to come back to life before the nightshade extract wears off." Geralt met her gaze. "I won't be able to give you more - I'll be fighting the wraiths."

"All right" - Lena swallowed, steadying her shivers. "So I will actually die - like Hauk died. But Hauk returned, so I know it is possible. I will simply have to... what?.. refuse to die?"

"Exactly" - Geralt nodded. "Wuunferth does it every day."

...

Geralt tried to explain what Lena might face in the Fade once she took the nightshade extract, but Lena stopped him fairly quickly - there was no knowing what she might face exactly. The important question was how she were to summon the wraiths. But Geralt didn't have an answer to that - she would have to improvise. Find the wraiths, make them appear in Mundus and come back before the potion wears off. Simple.

"The spectre potion should help you find the wraiths in the Fade" - Geralt tried to reassure Lena. "In fact, they should be looking for you. Drink it immediately after the extract - before you fall into trance."

"Well, there's no time like the present." Lena drank both potions.

...

Lena was cold. She was floating in mid-air surrounded by frozen mist. The place was eerily quiet, even though she thought she could see movement in the distance - but may be it was just the wind curling the mist into swirls.

"Is this death?" - Lena wondered. She didn't feel dead - although of course she didn't know how that would feel.

"Ahhh, you are here!.." - a voice echoed all around her. "Finally!.."

"Where are you? Show yourself!" - Lena called, looking around. A frost spell hit her by way of an answer. The wraith. The frost would normally chill Lena to the bone and trigger her vampirism, and so she braced for the surge in her blood, but nothing happened. "Wolfsbane" - she thought. "Geralt's potion is working."

Another frost spell was coming in, and Lena was just able to see the direction where it came from before it hit her. She threw a fireball and saw a shape light up in the distance. The battle was on.

But battling the wraiths was not why she came to the Fade - and indeed she could not hope to win, for even if she defeated them, it would be most likely already too late for her to return to life. No, she had to compel these wraiths to rise in Mundus instead - and she had to do it quickly.

"What is your name?" - she asked the wraith, dodging a frost spell and moving towards it.

"My name?" - the wraith stopped throwing frost for a moment. "You don't even know my name?" Now it was enraged, shooting frost spears with renewed vigour. "Am I just a target to you as I was to your mother?"

"You weren't just a target to her, she was quite particular about your death, but your name was not in the papers" - Lena tried to speak calmly, while dodging the frost. "I wish to know the name of my father's traitor who ordered his execution by his own wife."

"They weren't married - that union would have never been blessed by Mara!" - the wraith protested, but stopped throwing frost for some reason.

"Leave Mara out of it!" - cried Lena, now facing the wraith. "Where is your partner?"

"We should finish this Wolf spawn while she stands before us!" - another voice came from behind. Lena stood between two wraiths, who suddenly resumed throwing frost at her.

"If you kill me now, my brother will make sure you'll never find peace!" - she exclaimed, desperately trying to think of something to say to them.

"Your brother? You have a brother? There is more Wolf spawn?!"

"He is in the Pale Pass Fortress, waiting for you in our father's quarters" - Lena saw her chance to get them to rise in Mundus.

This seemed to have worked. The wraiths faded and vanished, crying "Insolence!" and "You'll pay for this!", and perhaps even "Why won't you die?!", but Lena could not be sure about that one. With her task hopefully accomplished, she now needed to return to the mortal realm.

"Simply refuse to die" - she repeated Geralt's words to herself. They made so much sense at first, but now, floating in mid-air surrounded by frozen mist, they weren't helping her to find a way out.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:10 PM

[Renee]

Post 53: The part when she heals Jowan with aloe is a nice touch, which hints at your first choice of a profession, Lena.

Lithnilian claims he guessed Lena's sign correctly, ha. Hmm, isn't that the mage who resides within Imperial Bridge Inn? Yep, sure is. He's the guy who rambles on and on ... something like "Ten years of research down the drain!"

Wow, his rant against Traven is spot on. I love how NPCs in Oblivion have rich little moments of dialog like this, how some are just commoners who have nothing much to say, while others really are ingrained within controversial stretches of society. I only mention this because those of us who love Oblivion used to sometimes get slammed by those who preferred earlier games. "Oblivion is shallow, all the NPCs have nothing to say but mindless banter about mudcrabs and goblins..." Which is BS. I mean, I don't know if Lithnilian actually says all the things in this chapter but I can certainly hear him doing so. Plenty other people in this game certainly do.

Whoa, Jowan has quite a tale to tell himself. Indeed, the stars don't have many answers about love and life, yet supposedly they are what created all of us.

[Lena Wolf]

Post 53: The part when she heals Jowan with aloe is a nice touch, which hints at your first choice of a profession, Lena.

Magic can only heal you so much. The real healing is done by your body.

Whoa, Jowan has quite a tale to tell himself.

Jowan is from Dragon Age Origins, and it is his story the way I played it - with the choices that I made. He screwed up so badly, there was nothing left to do but to board a ship and sail to Tamriel.

[Lena Wolf]

1 Hearthfire, 4E202 - The Void - Wraiths

"Goodness, look at you - you're frozen!" - Lena's grandmother put her arm around Lena leading her towards a fire. They were no longer floating in mid-air, they were in the Niben Valley where Lena grew up, walking towards their cottage. "Come - you need to warm up." The Niben could be cold in winter, and Lena would often be shaking by the time she'd had enough of swimming.

"Thanks, gran" - she smiled at her grandmother, embracing her. But... wait... something wasn't right. Lena's adoptive grandmother had been dead for two hundred years. Would her spirit really want to keep Lena in the Fade? "No, I won't come with you!" - Lena exclaimed, pulling away. "You are not my grandmother!" And without waiting for the demon to transform into its more powerful form, Lena broke free and dived into the frozen mist.

"I want to return to the mortal realm" - she said into the mist. "I refuse to stay here. I refuse to die - it isn't my time!"

...

"You cannot judge whether it is your time or not" - a strong but distant voice answered. "I may take you any moment."

Darkness penetrated the mist, brilliant darkness shining with ever changing tones of black. "A black light" - Lena thought, marvelling at the phenomenon. "Luminescent darkness. The Void." Which meant that the voice belonged to Sithis.

"I accept that you will claim me one day, but I have unfinished business in Mundus, including business in your name" - she said into the void. "Lucien will be waiting."

"Lucien..." - the voice seemed to search for the meaning of this name. "Oh - Lucien Lachance. His time has not come yet. Forgive me, but he is but one assassin... he holds no power over me."

The voice seemed to grow bored and trailed off, but the darkness around Lena didn't dissolve, it was holding her in The Void. She felt it thicken somehow, and was wondering whether the nightshade extract was wearing off. In the mortal world invoking Lucien's name brought most situations to a swift conclusion, but Sithis wasn't impressed - and why on Nirn did she think he would be? What was one assassin - no matter how brilliant - to an Old God?

And yet, mortals, or their souls, did matter - otherwise why would Sithis engage her in conversation?

"You ask deep questions, mortal" - she heard the voice again. "Yes, mortal souls matter, daedric souls matter, aerdic souls matter - for they all come from me through Anuiel and then Lorkhan - the path of Creation is long and convoluted. I am Chaos and Change, and you claim not to serve me. Yet you take lives in my name, then pray to Arkay for their souls - and who is Arkay if not my descendent? And soon you will bring another life into this world - and in whose name will that be? Look at you - Chaos and Change is all there is."

"What happens to the souls that I release in your name?" - Lena had to know.

"They come to The Void."

"But I pray to Arkay for them..!"

"And what do you think that means?" - the voice sounded amused. "Arkay's rites protect the bodies and souls of those mortals from Necromancy - from simple Necromancy, I might add, as performed by most mortals. It is a simple enchantment placed upon the body, for as long as at least some of it remains intact. The soul comes to The Void though - for where else would it go?"

"And there... you devour it" - Lena said mostly to herself.

"I what now?" - the voice laughed. "It is amusing to hear you say it. I do not feed on souls - I do not feed at all."

"But then... what is the difference? If all souls end up in The Void, in whoever name they are taken..."

"There is no difference" - the voice seemed to enjoy the conversation. "Daedric souls spend time here too, but they get new bodies to inhabit, while mortal souls do not. The only way to return a mortal soul to Nirn is through Necromancy - something that Arkay's rites seek to prevent."

"Do mortal souls persist forever?" - Lena was getting consumed by this discourse, but wasn't there something she needed to be doing quite urgently? She could not remember.

"No, they are mortal. They fade after a time - a very long time, but eventually they dissolve into The Void from whence they came."

So... then she was home. If The Void was where all mortal souls eventually went, then she had arrived already. But wait... something wasn't right about that... or was it? No, she must be imagining things...

Lena started to relax, letting go of that nagging feeling that she had forgotten something important. What could it possibly be? She didn't want anything, she didn't need anything, The Void had embraced her completely.

"Ouch!" - a sharp pain in her liver woke her up from her reverie. What was that?! "Ouch!" - there it was again. The pangs of pain were coming from inside her, as if something or someone was kicking her liver... "Ouch!" That last kick brought a flood of memories with it - her life, her friends, her baby kicking inside her belly - all of it in Mundus where she had to return to. Urgently. Now.

"I am going" - she said into the void around her. "It is not my time yet. My life is not yet finished - I have people waiting for me and I carry this new life in my belly. You cannot have me yet, Sithis."

"Ahhh..." - she heard a sigh in the distance. "There aren't many who can resist the pull of the Black City." The darkness around Lena turned into a whirlpool. "I shall wait for you, Dragonborn."

...

Lena opened her eyes and saw a dimly lit fort chamber around her, she was lying comfortably on a bed, someone had covered her in warm blankets, a fire was burning in an urn... A heavy wooden door was closed, but through it Lena could just about make out sounds of battle - clashing of steel, pops and bangs of destruction spells, shrieks of... wraiths? Wraiths! Geralt was fighting the two wraiths that she had summoned. Now she remembered.

"You filth!" - Geralt was muttering swinging his Blue Meteorite Silver sword from one wraith to the other. "You will depart this world!" It wasn't just a matter of defeating them - it had to be done in the right way, otherwise the wraiths would rise again.

"Can I help?" - Lena put her head through the door. She didn't want to spoil the ritual.

"Take the Viper Silver sword in the bedroom and join the dance!" - Geralt shouted without looking. "These two mean business!"

Lena looked around the room and spotted a silver claymore with a serpent etched on the blade. She lifted it - it was like a regular silver claymore, except of course a witcher would wield it with one hand... The Viper was a light and fast weapon - by witcher standards - Geralt called it his silver dagger. His usual silver sword - the Blue Meteorite master sword - was longer and heavier, a superior weapon if you could handle it, and he was now swinging it from one wraith to the other, Lena reminded herself. She grabbed the Viper sword with both hands and joined the battle.

"Ahhh - the younger Wolf spawn returns!" - screeched one of the wraiths throwing frost at Lena as she emerged from the bedroom. Lena dodged the spell just in time, but was unable to respond with fire - she was no battlemage and couldn't cast spells while holding a claymore, she had to hold it with both hands, or it would just drop to the ground. So instead she swung it at the wraith, not expecting to inflict much damage but hoping to distract it enough to give Geralt room to manoeuvre. The wraith gave a screech of pain and reeled back from the sword.

"What on Nirn..?" - Lena looked at the sword in amazement. "Oh - you don't like a witcher's sword, do you?!" It wasn't just a silver claymore.

"Your technique needs work" - Geralt grinned in between the swings of his own. "And your footwork is all over the place! Who trained you?"

"No one!" - Lena shouted, dodging another frost spell. "I had to learn as I went along!"

"That shows" - Geralt did a pirouette elegantly landing right next to her. "You're using that sword as if you're chopping wood. It's not an axe!"

"Save the lesson for a straw dummy - they don't fight back!" - Lena didn't approve of her brother's timing with tutoring. "These two are trying to kill us!"

"They won't kill us" - Geralt patted Lena on the shoulder, momentarily including her into his shield bubble. "Not now that you're here. Inadequate footwork or not - they still stand no chance against the two of us. Watch this!" He stopped his attack, allowing the wraith to hit the shield bubble several times before the bubble burst, pushing the wraiths into the far corners of the room.

"I feel better" - Lena said with amazement.

"That shield restores you with every hit it takes" - Geralt smiled at her. "And pushes away the enemies when it bursts, giving you a moment to explain its workings to your little sister - or to cast a new shield" - he winked at her. "What now, you filth?!" - he lunged towards the wraith, stung by its frost spell.

Lena watched, thinking that neglecting proper instruction might have been a mistake on her part. "He got it, even from that distance" - she marvelled at Geralt's moves. But she wasn't a spectator in this battle - a hit from the other wraith reminded her of that. "All right, here comes my inadequate footwork - watch out!" - she swung the sword wildly at the wraith making it screech with pain again. The dance continued.

...

"Depart this world never to return - I compel you!" - Geralt thrust his sword into the wraith for the last time as its essence shot upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. One down.

The remaining wraith switched its attention from Lena to Geralt, making Lena suddenly realise that this wasn't a friendly dance. These wraiths carried swords, and Geralt was bleeding from several wounds, yet his reflexes weren't slowed - he literally ignored the pain. "But he can still bleed to death while ignoring it" - Lena thought, shooting some healing spells at him, to no effect. Whatever potion he had ingested before the fight, was blocking common healing. She lunged at the wraith making it turn around. "Cast your shield! You are bleeding out!" - she shouted at Geralt, who seemed to only now notice a puddle of blood he was standing in.

"Bloody nuisance!" - he cursed, reaching for a potion on his belt. "That cannot be healed by the shield" - he swallowed the contents of the vial, grimaced, cursed again, and turned green - or so Lena thought. His veins bulged, covering his face in a strange blue-purple pattern, his skin getting ashen pale underneath. "I hate this stuff!" - he muttered, throwing the empty vial aside and resuming his attack on the wraith.

"You look awful" - Lena commented. "But your bleeding has stopped."

"Ekimmara decoction" - he shot her a glance, parrying the wraith's attack. "Restores your health with each..." - lunge - "successful..." - lunge - "hit" - lunge and twirl. The wraith screeched and backed off. "Depart this world, you filth!" - bellowed Geralt, attacking the wraith with renewed ferocity.

...

Finally the battle was over. Geralt walked over to the firepit in the kitchen and dropped to his knees.

"Leave me to meditate" - he looked at Lena. "This will take a while." He looked exhausted, the potions and decoctions that he had drank, had poisoned him as well as protected him, but he wasn't in danger of dying - Lena's experience with healing witchers during her stay in the Northern Realms had taught her that. He would recover, all he needed now was rest - the witcher way. Lena added some logs to the fire and left Geralt to his meditation, then crawled into the bed for some rest of her own.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:11 PM

[macole]

A really exciting tale. To go from sticking your thumb in death's eye, to waking up caught in the middle of a battle with wraiths had me on the edge of my seat.

[Lena Wolf]

Thanks, Macole! Caution isn't Lena's strong suit... So why not poke Sithis in the eye?

[Lena Wolf]

1 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Election of the Council of Mages

Raminus Polus wrote to all the Wizards in the Mages Guild inviting them to the Arcane University to elect a new Council and a new Arch Mage and to discuss the future of the Mages Guild and its direction. The Council chamber wasn't big enough for such a gathering, so they used the lobby instead. All of the chapter heads were present but most of the university wizards declined to join the meeting, saying that they would abide by whatever new rules the re-instated Council would agree on.

The discussions started with Necromancy, continued with Necromancy and ended with Necromancy, also touching on Illusion and Conjuration a little. The one thing that all the mages agreed on, was restoration of the school of Necromancy - whether or not the Mages Guild would practice it within its ranks. Various spells could then be re-assigned to the actual schools where they originated, and that included spells forbidden by other laws, such as the Levitation Act - just because a spell was forbidden, it did not seize to exist. With this definition, much of the old pre-Traven order could be restored, with all spells that tap into the life energies or deal with the undead to be assigned to the school of Necromancy.

"Except of course where they are beneficial to the living, because that's Restoration" - interjected Carahil.

"Like Absorb Health, perhaps?" - Caranya raised an eyebrow. "That's hardly beneficial to the victim."

"But it is even being taught by the chapel priests! It's beneficial!" - Carahil retorted hotly. "As well as Turn Undead!"

"There's a Necromancy spell if I ever saw one!" - Bothiel suddenly joined the discussion. As a curator of the Orrery, she didn't affiliate herself with any one school of magic. "How is it Restoration?"

"It separates the Living from the Undead" - Carahil looked at her with disdain. "I would have thought it was obvious."

"Life and death are one and the same" - Caranya defended her. "You cannot know one without knowing the other. Hannibal Traven knew that, which is why he switched to Restoration after he denounced his affiliation with Necromancy. And you know it too, Carahil." Caranya fixed her with a steady gaze. "You studied and worked with Traven long enough to have figured him out. Don't deny it now. He re-assigned Necromancy spells to other schools in order to be keep using them, but it backfired. You either accept they are Necromancy and include the school, or you exclude the school and give up the spells. You cannot have it both ways."

"Yes, I know, and we all agree with that" - Carahil returned Caranya's gaze. "Are you saying that I am trying to keep some spells under Restoration for the sake of keeping them?" - she sighed and sat down. "Yes, you are probably right. We should give up all of them."

Several people turned to look at Carahil. She was going to vote against Necromancy.

Lunch time was rapidly approaching, which prompted the gathering to finalise their list of spells brought under Necromancy. It included Reanimate and Summon Skeleton, Zombie, Wraith and Lich from Conjuration; Detect Life, Soul Trap and Spell Absorption from Mysticism; and Turn Undead and Absorb Life Energy - health, magicka, fatigue, skills and attributes - from Restoration. Turn Undead was a bit of a contested point - the spell had recently been moved from Conjuration to Restoration, but many felt that it would have been better placed with Illusion because it resembled Demoralise spell. But since it was going to be moved to Necromancy anyway, that argument was closed before it even begun.

The mages also agreed that Conjuration should include research into long term binding and that Mysticism be allowed to resume their research into Levitation, Teleportation and Telepathy, regardless of political constraints. They were putting forward a vision for an ideal world.

"The Psijic order are proficient in it" - Tar-Meena from the Mystic Archives pointed out to everyone's surprise. "And we have tomes and tomes on its theory and practice - it's time someone actually read them. Because when - and I mean when, not if - when the Psijic Order makes contact with one of us, we should be able to at least recognise it for what it is and not think we are dreaming!"

"Yes, this will happen soon" - Dagail said in a surprisingly clear voice. "I have seen this. Soon, if not already."

And with that, a kitchen aid came in to announce that lunch had been served in the dining hall, and everyone got up, eager to take care of the most important event of the day.

...

"Settle down, settle down!" - Raminus Polus called the gathering to order, waking up several mages who were snoozing after an opulent lunch. "We now have to elect the new Council, or perhaps should we vote on the use of Necromancy first?" - he looked around. "To ensure that we have like-minded people, and such." Raminus was eager to avoid the dissolution of the new Council on its very first day.

"Vote first!" - several people cried. After all, every Wizard who was willing to meddle in Mages Guild politics, was in that room. A show of hands followed.

"Necromancy is out" - said Raminus, having tallied the count. "By a large margin, too."

"I propose we vote on the other subjects too" - Irlav Jarol rose from his seat. "I imagine many of us will want to know whether their research will be welcome in the new Mages Guild." He looked at Raminus with significance. "Such as long term binding in Conjuration or Telepathy in Mysticism."

Noises of approval followed, and Raminus called a show of hands on each of the contested subjects.

"Sorry, Irlav, no long term binding studies, and sorry Dagail - no research on topics banned by the politicians" - he looked apologetic, realising that this was going to cost the Mages Guild its members. "And... sorry, Kud-Ei - but mind control spells are out too, upholding late Arch Mage's ban."

The assembly appeared to be intolerant to each other's research interests, opting for a very conservative approach for the Mages Guild instead.

"What do you propose to do with the Archives that house the tomes on all those forbidden subjects?" - asked Tar-Meena, her eyes narrowing.

"We must keep the Archives!" - several mages exclaimed from their seats. "Never destroy the books!"

"There is your answer" - smiled Raminus.

Tar-Meena nodded and folded her arms defiantly, but didn't say anything. Everyone knew she would not keep the Archives locked... and everyone felt that the Mages Guild was about to be split up.

"Are we ready to elect a new Council now?" - Raminus looked around him. There was no hostility among the mages, but most faces closed. "Please bring forward your candidacies."

"Well, don't look at me!" - Jeanne Frasoric said brightly as if she expected to be elected. "I'm with Necromancy, remember? We are out."

"The Leyawiin chapter will leave the Mages Guild" - Dagail looked around. "There does not seem to be room for true Mystics within your ranks any longer." Several people nodded - this wasn't surprising. The previous voting had stripped the school of Mysticism of most of its spells.

"Illusion is not complete without 'mind control' spells as you call them" - Kud-Ei said softly, but without hesitation. "I refuse to close half of our research. We won't stand with you."

"If that's what the Bravil chapter wants, then there won't be a Mages Guild hall in Bravil - and it won't be much of a loss" - Teekeeus glared at Kud-Ei. "You've always been too soft with your mages, Kud-Ei. Don't think we don't know about Henantier!" - he snorted. "The Chorrol chapter stays with the Mages Guild and we will not allow any research into long term binding!"

"Are you sure that all of your mages are behind you on this, Teekeeus?" - Irlav Jarol challenged him. "I know for a fact that Athragar has been working on long term binding. And what have you done with the book on the Finger of the Mountain? Stashed it in your private chest, no doubt?"

"You've got that book?" - Tar-Meena glared at Teekeeus. "And you didn't say anything? It belongs here in the Archives!"

"I... well..." - Teekeeus didn't expect that turn of events. "I had to keep it safe from Earana!"

"Earana at least could read it, and you cannot!" - Tar-Meena retorted. This caused a bit of a commotion in the assembly, with several people talking at once.

"I wonder if dishonesty can be tolerated among the heads of Mages Guild chapters" - Deetsan stood up, addressing everyone. "May I remind you of the events at our Hall when the previous head Falkar actually murdered an associate and attempted to murder another?" She too glared at Teekeeus. "I am not suggesting that Teekeeus would go as far as that, but concealing a rare and powerful artefact like the book on the Finger of the Mountain should not go unpunished!"

That met a round of applause and some noises of approval.

"Teekeeus no longer speaks for the Chorrol chapter" - announced Raminus Polus. "They will need to elect another leader, unless someone here would like to take it over?" - he looked at the mages before him.

"I would be honoured" - Irlav Jarol stood up. "Conjuration is my area of expertise, after all."

"True" - Raminus inclined his head. "But considering that this assembly just voted to ban research into long term binding, you would also immediately take the Chorrol chapter out of the Mages Guild." Raminus looked sad. "What's left of it."

"Yes, I would" - Irlav looked sad, too. "But do you have a choice?"

This was a difficult question and was put to the vote - a vote by the assembly of mages in the process of breaking up its own Guild. The vote put Irlav at the head of the Chorrol chapter, with all the consequences of that.

"Well... Is any of you still staying with the Mages Guild?" - Raminus looked dejected. "Mages Guild with a lot of prohibitions, as voted by this assembly."

Everyone started talking at once. Some argued that the rules should be softened so that all the chapters could remain within the Guild; others were pointing out that it would only lead to conflicts as there would be many mages opposing one another; yet others were advocating exemptions for the Arcane University so that forbidden research could still be carried out there... People wanted the safety of the rules with the freedoms of the lack of rules, and it wasn't possible - not even by magic.

After much criss-cross discussion, they decided to form two separate factions - one with strict rules that were voted for previously, and the other that allowed more freedoms. The teaching at the Arcane University would be undertaken by the conservative faction, but all research facilities would be open to both. If there ever was a compromise, this was it.

The conservative faction would not have an Arch Mage, but instead it would be ruled by its Council comprising the heads of its chapters and one or two prominent scholars from the University. It wasn't a large faction, with only the Anvil, Cheydinhal and Skingrad chapters joining it. Because it decided against electing a head, it called itself The Synod.

"Well, they seem pleased with themselves" - Caranya said to Dagail in a low voice. "Of course, those are the least controversial schools of magic - it will be easy for them to follow the rules."

"They didn't have half of their research banned" - added Kud-Ei softly. "We couldn't just throw out half of our spells!"

"And they didn't get either Conjuration or Necromancy" - Irlav joined them, equally quietly. "We can combine our efforts again."

Bothiel was standing with Raminus Polus on the other end of the room, watching the mages talk in groups that they've just formed.

"Will you keep the name of the Mages Guild?" - she looked at him with some sadness. "They are not enemies, these mages, the war is over. We now have The Arcane University, The Synod, and this... College of Whispers" - she pointed at the group of "quitters" talking quietly between themselves.

"What a brilliant idea!" - Jeanne Frasoric suddenly turned to her. "This is what we should be called!" - she beamed at everyone around. Like it or not, the name was going to stick.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:12 PM

[macole]

Dang, a fiesty, finger-pointing Mages Guild meeting. Exactly what I imagine would happen when Arch-Mage Jandaga announces his retirement to devote his time to the Archeology Guild and adventuring.

[Lena Wolf]

Thanks, Macole! That's based on real life, I assure you.

-------------------------

2 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Siblings

Lena woke up in the Commander's quarters in the old Pale Pass Fortress after a long and restful sleep. Her trip to the Fade and subsequent wraith exorcism with Geralt left her thoroughly exhausted. She stirred in the bed and listened for any sounds from the other rooms, but all was quiet. Geralt must still be meditating. Lena got up and walked over to the kitchen where she had left him by the fire the night before.

He was still kneeling in front of the fireplace, his eyes closed. The poisoning caused by his potions and decoctions had all but cleared, and his skin looked almost normal again. Now he just looked tired. "So much for witcher meditation being restful" - thought Lena. "It doesn't replace sleeping in a bed." She added a fresh log to the embers and cast a fireball at it as quietly as she could, but Geralt's eyes opened, regardless. "I'm just rekindling the fire" - she said in a hushed voice, not sure whether her brother was still meditating. His eyes closed again, so he must have been.

Sitting there in the kitchen pecking at some stale bread and overripe cheese, Lena absent-mindedly glanced over the vials of witcher potions set out on the table - many empty - and Geralt's satchel propped open with more vials inside. Vials and an old map - a map of the Northern Realms.

Click to enlarge

It was a piece of a larger and undoubtedly fancifully decorated map, but Geralt was only interested in the geography, not the fancies - at least not of that kind. It was a war map, and Geralt had made some annotations of his own. Lena folded the map to focus on the annotations.

Click to enlarge

Gors Velen and Flotsam in Temeria and Kaer Morhen all the way in Northern Kaedwen. Kaer Morhen - the seat of the Wolf Witcher school, Geralt's home. He even traced the fortress icon in ink - he missed it, Lena thought. She had never been to Kaer Morhen herself, having spent her time in Northern Temeria - from Flotsam to Velen, following the war, following Geralt, trying not to make him feel like he's being shadowed by his little sister mother hen. Coming to Skyrim meant leaving his home behind, and it must have been hard, in particular now that the old fortress of Kaer Morhen lay all but in pieces. They were no longer training new witchers, the old halls already felt empty without the young voices, but there were still enough of the old witchers around for drunken adventures during the long nights of the winter months... Would the fortress rise again? Would the Wolf school rise again? It all seemed very problematic. Perhaps if Geralt had not left... But he had. Was there ever a way back?

"What are you doing with that map?" - Geralt's voice brought Lena back to the reality of the Pale Pass Fortress. He looked almost refreshed after his meditation, the toxins now completely flushed from his blood.

"Reminiscing..." - Lena raised her eyes to him. "The same as what you are doing carrying it around with you, I expect" - she smiled. "You miss it" - she pointed at Kaer Morhen. "That I understand. But why Flotsam and Velen? There was nothing there but death and misery."

"You were there, for one" - he smoothed out the map. "I learned I had a sister, it was a big thing. And Velen - you followed me there, you know what took place." He smiled at her and winked. "Or did you think I never noticed? Waking up with bandages all over could only mean one thing - you put them on."

"It could have been Keira Metz!" - Lena protested, hinting at Geralt's fling with Keira, or may be rather her fling with him, but at any rate Keira was a good friend who would have bandaged Geralt without hesitation, especially if it involved removing his clothes first.

Geralt laughed but didn't argue. "Where do we go from here?" - he asked eyeing stale bread and runny cheese with suspicion. "I've just cleared poisons from my body, I'm not eating that."

"There's an old inn just on the other side of the mountains" - Lena rummaged in her bag producing an apple for him instead. "It's abandoned, but I stocked it up last time I was there - it's not far from Bruma. Roach likes it - it's got stables and hay. And a bath house."

"Roach has got good taste - yours and mine both!" - Geralt gave her a broad grin, devouring the apple. His horse was also called Roach - in fact, it was his habit to call every horse he owned Roach. Lena was now doing the same, and she couldn't explain why.

"All right, then we should not tarry. What do you want to do with that?" - she pointed at the scroll with their father's letter that they had found here.

"I'll take it" - Geralt stashed it in his bag. "We might need it in Falkreath."

"Falkreath?"

"That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?"

Yes, this is where Lena wanted to go to search the Legion Archives for any records about their father. It all seemed so far away and so long ago after her trip to the Fade... It must have been reflected in her face, because Geralt looked at her and frowned.

"You need to put that trip to the Fade behind you, don't let it eat at you like that" - he looked concerned. "You are back, you are here, and I am sorry for having put you through it - it was too much, I think. I should have gone myself."

"Yourself?" - Lena jerked back to reality. "And fought the wraiths there? Out of the question." She glared at him for making such a preposterous proposition. A contest of sibling rivalry - or sibling over-protection - was in full swing. Geralt was about to make a suitable retort, but then changed his mind.

"Well, it's good to see you are really back" - he grinned. "Come - I want to explore that bath house!"

...

It was late afternoon when they finally made their descent on the Southern side of the Jeralls and saw the roofs of the old Pale Pass Inn in the valley below. Lena's Roach knew about the hay in the stables and picked up the pace, and Geralt's Roach followed suit sensing good things ahead. The inn looked untouched since the last time Lena stayed there, for it was completely out of the way of everything, and no one had any reason to go there. Geralt wasted no time chopping the wood for the bath house - he was serious about his baths.

"This looks like a proper Nordic bath house" - he remarked with satisfaction. "Bring the mead - you need a soak too."

"When was the last time we sat by the pool like this?" - Lena asked, descending into the water. "You know you're supposed to sit by the pool and not in it?" - she grinned at her brother.

"The Nords don't know what they are missing" - he stretched, returning her grin. "As for the last time... And you wonder why I marked Velen on my map?"

The night was young and memories were filling the room.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:12 PM

[Lena Wolf]

21 Second Seed, 4E195 - Velen - Fyke Isle - Oreton

"Geralt! Just when I started to miss you" - Keira Metz greeted Geralt on the doorstep of her cottage just outside of Midcopse, Velen. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Of course you do" - grinned Geralt. "Let's hear it."

"Bed bugs..." - Keira was lost in thought.

"Excuse me?"

"Bed bugs!" - she spun around to face him. "Keira Metz has bed bugs! Keira Metz, adviser to King Foltest, member of the Lodge of Sorceresses, Keira Metz has bed bugs!!" She looked at Geralt in desperation. "This place is killing me! I've got to get out of here!"

"So why are you here in the first place?" - Geralt raised an eyebrow. Velen was as opposite to the luxury of a Royal Court as one could imagine. Nothing but swamps, now largely filled with corpses left by the war.

"Hiding! I am hiding, of course!" - Keira exclaimed as if it was self-evident. "King Radovitz of Redonia is the last standing king of the Northern Realms - and he ordered all mages to be burned at the stake! That's enough to drive anyone into the swamps of Velen."

Keira looked dejected. A proud and wilful woman, she seemed to have been driven to despair by the filth and bed bugs of a rural hut she was now forced to inhabit. Like all sorceresses, she looked much younger than she was, and although she was younger than Geralt, it wasn't by much. Keira was a passionate woman, and one of the few sorceresses who believed that her ability to bear children had not been destroyed by her vocation, which in turn made her favour witchers for her romantic pursuits, for witchers were sterile. Geralt fell victim to her charms more than once - and never regretted it. Keira wasn't Triss - she was not likely to tease Yennefer about it, and Yennefer wasn't jealous of Keira - why not, Geralt wondered. May be because Keira was only after a bit of fun?..

It didn't look like she was after a bit of fun this time though, she might have joked about the bed bugs (or had she?), but she had her mind set on a serious endeavour - one that required a witcher. She needed Geralt to clear out a tower that had belonged to a local baron, a tower now infested with ghosts and wraiths that were terrorising the land around it - or so the locals believed.

"Do it for me, please" - she looked at him with her most innocent of expressions. "The locals think it's something I could undertake, but it isn't a job for a witch - it's a job for a witcher."

"All right, I'll look into it" - Geralt nodded. "Only, what is it that you're not telling me?"

"I... well..." - Keira could see that Geralt wasn't fooled. "There was a mage living in that tower as well, he was doing some interesting research..."

"Which was the reason the mob killed them all, right?" - Geralt had seen it before.

"It might have been, or it might have contributed to it, but anyhow... There was a plague outbreak then, and he was trying to understand it."

"Right... And you want his notes" - Geralt guessed.

"No!" - Keira looked outraged. "Well... yes. May be. But I need to look around there first, and I can't do it with all the ghosts and wraiths haunting the place!"

Click to enlarge

...

Fyke Isle barely rose above the level of the surrounding lake, making it into a particularly wet swamp. It had an ancient stone amphitheatre where the local druid conducted seasonal rituals, and a walled tower that used to belong to the baron. "What a desolate place for the Lord of the Land to live in" - thought Geralt, drudging his boots through the mud. "Best get to higher ground as soon as possible - fighting drowners in the water is never a good idea." It wasn't - drowners were quick and agile in wet conditions, reanimated corpses of people who drowned, they were at home in water, and although a single drowner was hardly a challenge to a witcher, a group of them presented a significantly greater threat. Add to that water hags and even a lechen, and Geralt was bleeding out even before he had reached the tower. He found an abandoned hut just outside a tall log wall surrounding the baron's estate, and decided to stay there for the night to allow his wounds to heal. He rekindled the fire in the grate, dropped to his knees and started to meditate.

...

"I told you - he's in there" - an unkempt individual in ripped Redonian armour whispered to his equally unkempt companion wearing bits of armour of several armies. "He's asleep - we grab his swords and run before he wakes up!"

"Those swords are worth a pretty penny" - chuckled the second individual. "But I want his armour too - these rags can't even keep the rats out."

"All right, but only if you're quick! I don't want to fight a witcher even if he's naked!"

They exchanged nods and glances and crept silently towards the hut. Approaching the doorway and looking in, they stifled a sigh and a curse, taking a few steps back to discuss a new strategy.

"He is not naked, and his swords are still on his back" - the first individual summed up the situation, embellishing it with a generous helping of swearing. "What do we do now?"

"What else is there to do?" - the second one looked grim, picking up a heavy rock. "We'll have to take it off him, won't we? And without fighting."

...

"I c-can pay for my d-drink!" - the noise from the table next to Lena's made her turn around. The inn in Oreton was getting loud, and the innkeep was refusing to serve any more drinks to some of the patrons. "I h-hic... have this f-fancy sword to sell, see?" - the fellow waved a long sword before the innkeep who was still refusing to serve him drinks.

"Oh that's one nice sword!" - Lena put on her friendliest smile. "I bet you are proper invincible with that!"

"Ay, that I am, miss-sh..." - the drunkard turned to her, swaying somewhat. "Best swordsman of the land, I am" - he pounded his chest proudly.

"Hey, no, you're not!" - his equally drunk companion interjected. "You can't even l-lift this other one!" He lifted the second sword, thankfully still in its scabbard. The effort made him sway dangerously on his stool.

"W-what good is a sword that you can't lift?" - remarked the first fellow, and Lena had to admire his logic. "W-what good is any sword without a drink?!" That was a good point, seconded by the rest of the inn - everyone was now watching the boast with great interest.

"Why don't you two show us your skill?" - a quiet voice suggested from the back corner of the room. "I'm sure the innkeep would serve you drinks then."

"Out! Out you go! Both of you! Anyone wanting to fight - out!!" - the innkeep wasn't about to risk her livelihood to a pair of drunken fools. Lena followed them to the yard, noticing familiar armour pieces distributed between them.

"That gear is not theirs" - the quiet voice from the corner said in her ear. "But you know whose it is and you want it."

She turned around. The man was unremarkable, not a farmer, perhaps a trader, a travelling merchant - she'd never met him before, but something about his face was familiar. The eyes... yes... something odd about the eyes.

"Is it that obvious?" - she smiled at him. "Yes, I want that gear."

"Then let me help you get it" - he smiled back, and before Lena could stop him, he walked over to the two drunkards, shook them awake, set them facing each other and cast a spell - barely perceptible, but Lena noticed. The drunkards unsheathed the swords they were holding and started swinging them wildly at each other... and soon they both lay dead.

"So much for the skill" - the crowd watching the fight was dispersing with yawns of boredom. Someone tried to pick the gear off the bodies, but the quiet man from the corner cast another equally imperceptible spell, and the people just walked away. He picked up the swords and pulled Geralt's armour off the bodies, taking it to Lena.

"Here you go, miss" - he handed it to her with a smile.

"Thank you" - Lena took the gear, trying not to look too mistrustful. "Why did you do it?"

"Is that what you want to know?" - the stranger lifted an eyebrow. "Not who I am, not what I am doing here - but why I helped you just now?"

"I know who you are, we've met before" - Lena looked at him darkly. "Of course I cannot refuse you now - what do you want of me this time?"

"Nothing" - the man smiled slyly. "Nothing at present. I'll be in touch." He turned to leave, then looked at her again. "He's on Fyke Isle" - he pointed South. "Bring bandages."

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:13 PM

[Lena Wolf]

2 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Pale Pass Inn

"And so when I woke up stark naked in that hut, all covered in bandages - I knew it was you" - Geralt looked at Lena with significance.

"It could have been Keira Metz" - Lena shrugged. "It was she who sent you to Fyke Isle in the first place."

"True" - Geralt conceded, a twinkle in his eye. "But if it had been Keira, I would have found my loincloth flung into the furthest corner of the hut, not hung neatly by the fire freshly laundered. Although I am flattered that you did not pass up the opportunity to see what's underneath. It did not require bandaging."

"I had to be thorough!" - Lena sent a splash his way. The pool of the Nordic bath house at the old Pale Pass Inn was steaming around them.

"But I heard of the incident in Oreton" - Geralt remarked, the smile gone from his face. "You should be careful with the Merchant of Mirrors. His help is never free."

"I know and I didn't ask for it - he intervened before I could remember who he was" - Lena looked back at Geralt. "I see you too have had the pleasure of his assistance?"

"On more than one occasion" - Geralt grimaced, rubbing the side of his face, it felt like burning. "Where had you met him before?"

"Here in Cyrodiil, but that's a memory for another time. You still didn't get to the bit of us sitting in bath house like this - you only got to the hut in a swamp."

"All right" - Geralt laughed. "So then, looking around the hut, I saw my armour folded neatly and the swords laid out as if on parade. I know I didn't do it - and Keira didn't do it either. I felt a bump on the back of my head, and figured out what must have happened. And yes - before you say anything - I did make a mental note to lock the door next time before meditation and not rely on me waking up in time..."

"Which mental note promptly got lost, considering the number of times I found you in an unlocked hut later" - Lena pointed out.

"May be" - Geralt grinned. "Or may be I didn't want to make it too difficult for you to enter" - he winked, sending a splash towards Lena. "And anyway, we're out of mead."

That was a serious situation, and Lena had to twist and stretch to get more bottles from behind her. With the drinks renewed, reminiscing continued.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Apr 10 2024, 05:13 PM

[Acadian]

It is fun how you are including numerous games into Lena's story. That certainly adds an unlimited scale to where she can go and what she can do!

[Lena Wolf]

Thank you, Acadian! But those are just some episodes, some memories, the main story is still in Cyrodiil. But of course now that Geralt is here, we need to know about his past a little.

The truth is that the other games that I draw in, do not give me such freedom for storytelling as Elder Scrolls - they are much more story-oriented, and as enjoyable as it was to play them two, three, even half a dozen times, once you've gone through the possible combinations of scenarios that you cared to explore, the game was truly exhausted. So in order not to allow Geralt to get "archived" in the Witcher, I had to bring him over to Tamriel where he can tell stories of his past exploits to his little sister, with whatever embellishments he chooses. See if she can spot what's real and what's there on artistic license.

[Lena Wolf]

22 Second Seed, 4E195 - Fyke Isle tower

"This tower is filled with wraiths" - thought Geralt, having fought off half a dozen of them in the entrance hall. "The baron, his family and his servants were slaughtered here by the angry mob - so we've got their wraiths and the wraiths of the dead intruders, too. But there is more - a more powerful spirit is presiding over this place."

Geralt looked around. Overturned furniture, dried blood, rotting corpses - a usual scene of a massacre presented itself. Was the house ransacked for valuables by the surviving attackers? May be, a little, but most of all it's the food cupboards that had been turned inside out. A trail of discoloured blood stains led to the basement.

The basement offered more of the same. "All of the remaining food is gone" - thought Geralt, checking empty shelves and barrels. "But what the..?" - he cursed, feeling a bite on his leg. Rats. Dozens and dozens of them.

...

"A fire spray is the best weapon when you are surrounded by small vermin" - the voice of his mentor echoed in his memory once the basement floor was covered in charred rats.

"But witchers aren't supposed to fight small vermin, Master!" - he heard himself reply. He was just a boy then, feeling more excited to learn swordplay than magic.

"A witcher must be able to fight anything. You won't get very far trying to hit a rat with your greatsword."

It seemed so long ago. Their home fortress, Kaer Morhen, filled with the mischief of young boys who thought they could conceal their misadventures from their masters. "Of course we knew what you were doing" - Vesemir told him years later. "But we let you have a bit of a childhood in between the training and the study." But of course. Geralt smiled at the memory, sending another gout of fire to the last rat still alive.

"So that's what was really keeping Keira away - not the wraiths but the rats" - Geralt grinned to himself. Keira was a powerful sorceress, she would have been able to put an end to all of that without much effort, but she was terrified of rats. "And there were too many of them here" - he thought. "Of course they fed on the corpses and multiplied, yet there must have been too many to begin with. And what's with the cages?" He lit up a torch to have a better look. A pile of small cages was taking up a whole corner. They were cages, not death traps - designed to capture small animals alive without harming them. Small animals like rats.

Geralt continued exploring the tower. The rooms on the upper floors were in a better shape - the attackers definitely did not ransack the house, they must have caught the family at dinner downstairs. There was just an odd corpse here and there, with more rats feeding off it. Did the rats stop them rummaging through the house? Were country folk afraid of rats? Stranger things had happened...

In the master bedroom Geralt found some letters thrown around on the floor. An argument had taken place here - an argument between the baron and his daughter, who fell in love with a local fisherman, and naturally her father disapproved. A tale that Geralt had heard before.

The upper floor seemed to have been occupied by a different person altogether - it was filled with books, bookcases and chests with books. "The mage" - Geralt remembered. "There was a mage living here who studied the plague. Ah. That explains the rats." Spotting a lever, he found an entrance to the mage's laboratory.

The laboratory was untouched, the mob must have never found a way in. Several human corpses were suspended in liquid in huge cylinders - victims of the plague that the mage had been studying. Did he kill these people? Or did they die of the plague, infected without his intervention? It didn't matter either way, the mage was now dead, too. His corpse was no where to be seen, although bones littered the floor. "The rats have eaten it all" - thought Geralt with disgust, spraying fire on the vermin but taking care not to burn any of the papers. "Keira would be right angry if I accidentally set the place on fire" - he thought. Besides, he wanted to know more about the mage before he returned to her.

When the rats' scuffles stopped and all was quiet, Geralt noticed a presence.

"You must be the spirit that possesses this place" - he addressed the room around him. "Show yourself."

He felt a movement of air but nothing appeared. "Not a wraith, must be a ghost" - he thought. "Well, let's see if I can bring you to light..." He lit up a magic lamp and a ghostly figure stood before him.

"You can see me?" - she said in surprise. "No one could see me..."

"Yes, I can see you with the help of this lamp" - Geralt pointed at the device. "What happened to you?"

"I was eaten alive!" - she cried. It was a young woman, Geralt realised, perhaps the baron's daughter. "The mage gave me a potion when the mob attacked, said to drink it to save my life, and I did, but when I woke up, these horrible creatures were all over me - eating me alive! And everyone else was dead! And he left me here, just left me behind to die!" She was wailing now. If ghosts had tears, she would have been crying.

"The rats" - Geralt concluded. "The mage gave you a sleeping potion so that you would appear dead to the mob, but he didn't think of the rats."

"He tried to save me" - the ghost nodded, calming down. "I am grateful to him for trying, but it didn't help - he still abandoned me!" She broke down in sobs again.

"He - who?" - Geralt thought he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from the woman.

"My beloved... He was a fisherman down in the village... He wasn't with the mob when they attacked, but he came later, I saw him, and yet he just left me here to die! Father was right all along - he wasn't worth it!" She sounded angry now more than sad, and Geralt thought that perhaps hers wasn't a simple ghost.

"Is that why you are still here - because of your anger?"

"I want you to take my bones and bring them to my beloved for a burial, and that would appease my spirit and allow me to move on" - she looked at him, both pleading and commanding.

Geralt looked around the room - there was no shortage of bones strewn around, and he would be able to pick out the ones belonging to a young woman... except... Except that taking away the bones of a woman who had died a violent death would under no circumstances appease her wraith - for this is what she was, a wraith, not a ghost. And if she was asking him to do it, it was only to make her stronger. "It's a Pesta" - Geralt thought, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "She spreads the plague on the neighbouring lands, the locals were right about that. She looks like a peaceful ghost now, but the moment I refuse her request, she'll turn on me. And there is no way of simply defeating a Pesta."

Geralt braced himself for a fight.

"I won't take away your bones - this will not lift the curse" - he said to her.

"Damn you, witcher!" - she shrieked, changing into a black wraith - a Plague Maiden, a Pesta. "You men are all alike!" And with that, she attacked.

...

This was a fight for survival, not a fight to win.

Not much is known about how to fight a plague maiden, though one can assume they possess many traits in common with other phantoms and wraiths. They undoubtedly pose a great danger, though a witcher's immunities should at least prevent him from catching the contagious illnesses they carry.

Geralt recalled a passage from a textbook - it wasn't much help. "Extremely rare" and "believed by some to be a hallucination of a diseased mind" - perhaps, but this particular hallucination was now slashing through his armour as if it was butter. "Are those fingernails..?" - he caught himself wondering, noticing long sharp blades extending from the tips of the wraith's fingers. And what was that about the diseases? "A witcher's immunities should prevent him from catching them" - should? Oh, this sounded promising indeed. "I will have to submit to Keira's full examination afterwards" - Geralt thought to himself, half-grinning, half-grimacing. Some aspects of it were quite pleasant, while others... Let's just say that Keira was quite thorough.

The wraith however wasted no time attacking Geralt. It was all he could do to block her attacks as much as possible, for she left him no time to cast a shield or to drink a potion. She was almost immune to fire and took little damage even from his silver blade... while Geralt was bleeding from more and more wounds. She led him outside and danced around him, vanishing from before his eyes only to reappear right behind him - this was as bad as wraiths went, he thought. She was playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse, certain of the final outcome.

"But may be you shouldn't be so certain" - thought Geralt, feeling for a particular vial on his belt and gulping down the contents between the wraith's disappearance and reappearance. His vision blurred for a moment and he staggered as the toxins in the decoction hit, but an extra wound from the wraith was worth what was to come. The Succubus Decoction was raising the power of his attacks, slowly and steadily, until finally the wraith began to reel back in pain from the hits of his sword.

She got enraged - she was shrieking more than usual. Then she vanished. "Wait for it..." - thought Geralt tensing up, he knew this trick. Trying to keep the entire area around him within his field of vision, he braced for an attack from behind - somehow it was always from behind, whichever way he was facing. Three wraiths appeared instead of one, surrounding him and attacked all at once. "Not taking turns like good girls, are you?!" - Geralt cursed, this wraith was not playing by the rules. Each of the three sisters was weaker than the original, but the three of them together were stronger and more dangerous than before. Again they hardly suffered from Geralt's attacks, but the wounds they were inflicting on Geralt were also less severe. The dance continued.

"I am done with you!" - Geralt caught himself before he called a Pesta sister "filth". He lunged at the weakest sister and she vanished with the thrust of his sword. Switching his parries between the two remaining sisters, he managed to end another one, after which the last one presented little challenge. "This isn't finished" - he reminded himself, fumbling for another vial. Not a decoction - never drink two decoctions at once, the combined toxins were enough to end even a witcher. Except this one - White Raffard's Decoction. "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" - this could be a witcher's motto, for the combined toxicity of the two decoctions blurred Geralt's vision and dimmed the light, and not just for a moment. Yet White Raffard also restored his vitality, bringing him back from the brink of death. At that moment the wraith reappeared and attacked. She was almost finished, and it only made her stronger.

"No!!! You cannot win this!!" - Geralt bellowed, lunging at her, twirling to throw off those razor sharp blades of her overgrown fingernails. Twist and slash, lunge and thrust - a sword fight against an ethereal being was quite different from one against an opponent of solid flesh, and Geralt silently thanked his mentors again for insisting on that particular training. Of course by now he'd had plenty of opportunities to train with actual wraiths, not imaginary ghosts, but moves learned as a child were the deepest ingrained, he could do the dance with his eyes closed, as they had trained, and by now his vision had blurred so much, that he was dancing practically blind. And then... he felt no new cuts on his skin and heard no shrieks from the wraith. Was it over? He stopped moving, allowing his vision to clear slightly, and looked around him - the wraith was no where to be seen. "But no remains either" - he checked the ground. She would either reappear and attack again in a moment, or she could have retreated.

Geralt waited, trying not to drop to his knees of exhaustion. Standing still was dangerous - without a fight, his adrenaline levels would fall, and in his current condition he would collapse with them. He decided to find shelter and hope that the wraith wouldn't come back. The hut where he had spent the night before, seemed like paradise. He made for it, bolted the door behind him and finally dropped to his knees. This would be a long meditation.

[Lena Wolf]

23 Second Seed, 4E195 - Keira's Elven bath house

The embers in the fire grate were all but out when Geralt finally woke up from his meditation after the fight with the Pesta. The wind was howling in the trees outside, and Fyke Isle looked as desolate as ever. He didn't defeat the Pesta, he never thought he would - he just needed to survive the fight. In the end, she retreated just before she could be finished, as Geralt knew she would do. If he wanted to lift the curse from this place and send the Pesta to the next world, he needed to find a way to appease her spirit.

Those who think that the work of a witcher consists exclusively of fighting monsters, know only the half of it, if even that. Lifting curses and sending lingering spirits onto the next world is a duty that requires empathy, diplomacy and understanding of human nature - for the clues often lie with the living left behind. And it is not always by fighting that the spirit is sent on, either.

Now that Geralt knew what had occurred in the Fyke Isle tower, he thought that lifting the curse of the Pesta would involve her beloved somehow - the fisherman from a nearby village. He could ask around and find him, certainly, but that might be too blunt an approach - Geralt had to know the man's side of the story first. With the Pesta controlling the tower, he could not go back there to look for any letters or notes either, now that she was angry with him, she would not allow it. So Geralt decided to return to Keira for advice - she had been living in Velen long enough to have noticed what was going on.

...

"Geralt!" - Keira met him with an impatient welcome. "How... oh. Follow me!" And without allowing him to reply, she stormed into the back room of her cottage and... vanished.

"Typical" - smirked Geralt. "Now where is she gone to? Follow me, indeed!" But looking around, he noticed a strange glowing object on the dressing table - a portal. He touched it and felt a teleport tear at him. "I hate portals!!!" - he had time to think before emerging in a rather idyllic spot, a garden with an elegant Elven ruin converted into a bath house. Keira was standing there, handing him a goblet of wine, and Lena came from behind the ruin.

"We need to give you a good going over first, by the looks of you" - said Keira cheerfully. "And have your... err... gear cleaned - what's left of it. Gods, Geralt, did you roll in the dung or something?!"

"Close" - he nodded, accepting the wine. "The tower was filled with rats..."

"Ugh!" - Keira reeled back as if he had brought some rats with him. "So that is... ugh!"

"That is mostly blood, Keira" - Lena joined in, unbuckling the many belts on Geralt's armour.

"Hey, I can take it off myself, thank you!" - he protested, without much conviction. "It'll need repairs, too."

It didn't take long before the three of them were sitting in the bath house, with Geralt dutifully washing himself in the pool. Lena was going to soak his clothes in the stream, but Keira stopped her. "We have a spell for that" - she said, winking. With a wave of her hand, she had the smell, the dirt and the blood stains vanish, most of it anyway.

"Hmm" - Lena examined the result. "I still think conventional laundry does a better job... but this is certainly more convenient" - she winked at Keira.

With the two healers attending to him, Geralt was sure to get a thorough check-up for any diseases he might have contracted from the Pesta or elsewhere, so when he was given an all-clear, he breathed with relief. There was still a not such a small matter of his festering wounds left though, and as the ladies went about attending to them, he had no choice but to submit.

"You don't want any additional scars for your collection, I don't think" - Keira was saying, rubbing a smelly ointment into his skin. "As attractive as they are to some women, I think you've got enough as it is."

"But each scar tells a story" - interjected Geralt. "This one here is from a striga, that one is from a cockatrice, and these... umm... I have no idea" - he laughed.

"And most would not have been there if they weren't left to fester without proper treatment" - Keira cut him off. "Turn over."

Geralt started muttering something about not normally having mother hens follow him around, but then gave up. Lavender oil in Keira's ointment was making him sleepy.

...

"That's just the point, isn't it - longevity" - Geralt woke up to Keira's words to Lena. "Regular folk just don't have it."

"Unless they are elves, of course" - Lena pointed out. "Or dwarves."

"Or halflings, and so on" - Keira nodded. "And it seems that where you are from, it is a lot less controversial, but here humans are the dominant race, they've been waging wars, both open and covert, against the other races, and it isn't pretty. Of course now King Radovid is waging a war against mages, and I am forced to hide in this swamp..." - Keira sighed. "Oh, I don't know... I just never met anyone who I would want to have around all the time, more than a friend or a... you know."

"And here I thought you loved me!" - Geralt raised his head in mock anger. "I fell for you, you know!"

"You fell on top of me - literally" - Keira laughed. "From a roof. That doesn't count."

"We need to talk about the tower" - he sat up, stretching. "The baron's daughter turned into a Pesta."

"So the peasants were right - she is spreading the plague over the land" - Keira nodded. "And it explains the condition you were in. But what now? I can't examine the tower with her around!" Keira's disappointment seemed disproportional somehow. Why was that tower so important? The mage who lived in it, had studied the plague, and obviously Keira was hoping to find something useful among his notes... Useful for what? Geralt wondered.

"You have a plan for the mage's notes" - he said, looking at her shrewdly. "Let's hear it."

"I... well... it rather depends on what I can find!" - Keira started defiantly. "But assuming he had discovered something useful... I was going to take that to Radovid and become his adviser."

"Keira! You want to weaponise the plague?" - Geralt exclaimed, this wasn't what he expected. "Are you out of your mind? And go to Radovid? To get burned at the stake?!"

"I intend not to get burned, I assure you!" - she exclaimed hotly. "And weaponise the plague - yes, what's the difference, it's already spreading on its own! Radovid would have to accept me if I were to present him with such a weapon."

"He would have to do no such thing" - Geralt shook his head. "Keira - why?"

"Bed bugs!!" - Keira shivered all over. "I cannot stand the filth! I've got to get out of Velen!!"

"All right, all right" - Geralt was saying soothingly, moving to sit next to Keira and putting an arm around her shoulders. "I can see it really gets to you. But have you considered Kaer Morhen? It's not what you call luxury, but we do have clean sheets."

No, Keira had not considered Kaer Morhen. How could she? No one could even find the place unless they had a charm with them - the entrance to the mountain pass leading to the witcher fortress carried a concealment enchantment. Not that it stopped those assassins recently... or the mob a few years before... perhaps it was wearing off, Geralt mused to himself, watching Keira's face transforming from desperate anger into hope.

"Well, if I travelled through the mountains, I could avoid the war zones" - she was already planning her trip. "And whatever the state of the fortress, it will be better than Velen. And may be even could be improved..." She got up and started pacing the garden, talking to herself at times, having completely forgotten about Geralt and Lena still sitting by the pool. After a while she caught herself. "Yes, thank you, Geralt, this is exactly what I shall do. So, if there's nothing else..."

"Wait - wait!" - Geralt grabbed her arm. "Sit down. I still have to lift the curse of the Pesta, and I need your help" - he reminded her. "She's the baron's daughter, and she had an affair with a local fisherman - do you know who he is?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard of that!" - Keira sat down, now quite calm. "He lives in Oreton. Don't know the exact details, but everyone was talking about the two of them - a baron's daughter and a fisherman! But I don't know if he really loved her or not, if that's what you're asking."

"What are you going to do?" - asked Lena, wondering where this was leading. "Assuming he did love her, that is."

"Yes, we have to assume that, otherwise the curse could not be lifted" - agreed Geralt. "Because then the wraith's anger would be justified, you see... there would be no way to appease her spirit. But if he did love her and wanted to save her but was prevented through some misunderstanding or some other misfortune... well... there could be a way." He looked at Lena and she knew it didn't bode well for the fisherman.

"You have to sacrifice him to stop the plague and save everyone else around here" - she answered his unasked question. "If there is a way, you have to do it."

"What are you two talking about?" - Keira looked at each of them in turn, watching the unspoken part of their conversation.

"Sometimes longevity is of no importance" - Lena turned to Keira. "If he chooses to join her in death, they would be together in whatever world comes next."

"If any" - nodded Keira. "Beyond the Fade... no one knows what happens there. Which is why I prefer to linger here for a bit longer. Perhaps I'll still meet someone who could be more than a friend..." She looked at Geralt with a longing. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh no, I didn't mean you" - she smiled. "I thought of Yennefer. Of what the two of you share."

"Twenty years of quarrels, you mean?" - Geralt smirked.

"She's taking her time, that's all" - Keira shrugged it off. "Neither of you are exactly house trained, moving around all the time as you do... But one day..."

"One day what?" - Geralt looked at her with interest, but she didn't continue.

...

The fisherman claimed to have loved the baron's daughter. He did try to save her but found her dead - or so he thought. When Geralt told him that she wasn't dead at that point but had taken a potion, the fisherman got distraught, lost even. He followed Geralt to the tower, happy to be reunited with his beloved. Geralt knew that the fisherman hadn't realised what it meant to be reunited with someone who'd died. But Geralt had a job to do, and this was the only way to do it.

The plague was lifted from the surrounding lands, and one more corpse added to the tower.

...

Keira left Velen within the next few days, staying only as long as was necessary to prepare for her long trip to Kaer Morhen.

"You can have my cottage, if you can stand the filth" - she told Lena. "It's probably better than the inn, unless you are looking for company" - she winked. "I leave the portal to the bath house here too - I've got others."

"Thanks, Keira, I'll see what I can do about the bed bugs, in case you need to return" - Lena smiled at her.

"I won't return! I'm going North!" - Keira exclaimed. "Well, East at first, crossing the whole of war-torn Temeria... then North, crossing equally war-torn Kaedwen... yeah... we'll see how that goes."

She smiled and mounted her horse, considerably less sure of herself, now that she took a bird's eye view of the road before her.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Oct 26 2021, 03:49 PM

[Renee]

Post 54--the part where it says "Are those Ayleid stones I see in the distance?" ... that is very VERY true in TES4: Oblivion. A lot of times those ruins can be hard to spot, especially with all the vegetation in this game. So many times we've thought we've discovered a new place, only to find the white stones we're seeing are merely an Ayelid Well, or a Nine Shrine!

Yep, good job Lena. Sometimes it's better if we explore on our own for awhile.

I love those gigantic mechanical traps. Even more, I love luring mindless undead and somewhat clueless necromancers straight into them.

"His ribs were crushed..." again, I notice you include the medical aspect within your gaming. I know another gamer (who's also a doctor) who does this.

Oh wow, she can summon daedroth. Were you gaming on console during this portion of the story? Or PC? If it's console, it sure sounds like those higher levels of the game are challenging.

Blacch.... you described the disgusting necromancer practices well. I need a drink.

Until next time...

[Lena Wolf]

Oh wow, she can summon daedroth. Were you gaming on console during this portion of the story? Or PC? If it's console, it sure sounds like those higher levels of the game are challenging.

This is still Xbox360. We were level 25 or so. Yeah, the enemies get interesting abilities on higher levels...

Rising floor traps are good for the necromancers but not so much for the undead. You cannot squash a wraith!

[Lena Wolf]

3 Hearthfire, 4E202 - The Jeralls West of Bruma

"Which way do you want to take - through Southern Skyrim or Northern Cyrodiil? Neither will be straightforward" - Lena looked at Geralt over breakfast at the Pale Pass Inn.

"Do you want me to guess? I don't know what to expect along either route" - Geralt didn't like unreasonable requests.

"Well... perhaps I was being a little unfair" - Lena conceded. "I can tell you what to expect in Cyrodiil, but in Skyrim we'd have to try and find a way through the mountains, and I don't even know if there is a pass we could use."

"But if we went through Cyrodiil, are you sure there is a crossing into Skyrim near Falkreath?"

"No."

"So, we do have to guess then" - Geralt concluded, studying the map. "What are all these places in Cyrodiil? There seems to be a road connecting them."

"Most of them, yes" - Lena poured over the map.

Click to enlarge

"We are here" - she pointed out the Pale Pass Inn. "The road to the Northern Inn is the Old Pale Pass, Riverwood is North from there. The other road is the official New Pale Pass Crossing, but it's only good for people on foot - you can't take a horse through there without breaking its legs several times" - she grimaced at the memory of taking Roach along once and having to return soon afterwards as Roach could not scale the narrow stairs, not to mention go through low doors and cramped passages. "This is Bruma of course, and from here there's a road going along the Southern side of the Jeralls almost all the way to the Hammerfell border here" - she pointed at the left most corner of the map.

"There are a few settlements seemingly in the middle of nowhere in the mountains" - Geralt pointed at the isolated villages and inns along the Jeralls. "What's all that about? How do you even get there?"

"Well, this one is Pinevale" - Lena pointed at the village in the mountains West of Bruma. "There's a mountain pass from below. It's a pretty setting, up there, with great views. Not much going on though, and completely cut off from everything else, unless you like tumbling down the mountain." They both shook their heads. "Then this here" - she pointed at a marker of an isolated inn further West. "It's supposed to be a mead hall right in the mountains, virtually impossible to get to, unless you are already properly drunk... It is said they wanted to get away from all those sensible people who interfered with their drinking" - she smirked. "What I want to know is how they get the mead in."

"All right, and this then?" - Geralt pointed at a Daedric Shrine symbol. "Right next to a village?"

"The shrine to Hermaeus Mora. That's right along the road. I've been there but don't remember a village - perhaps that's lower in the mountains, don't know. But from the shrine the view is fabulous and the descent into Skyrim appears to be acceptable. We could try that way."

Geralt nodded. "But let's leave the horses here. With all the mountain passes and whatnot, we'll only get complaints."

"There's supposed to be a pass into Helgen here somewhere too - between Falkreath and Riverwood. But Helgen isn't even on this map" - Lena grimaced. "It's a border watch post, you see, with a bit of a town grown around it to serve the Legion. All burned down to the ground now by the dragon, of course - yes, I've been there, but don't ask me how - I got intercepted trying to cross the mountains... Was I trying to slide down from Pinevale? Could have been."

Click to enlarge

"Just how much mead did you drink that you can't even remember?" - Geralt grinned.

"Well, there was nothing else to do in Pinevale, I told you - it's in the middle of nowhere!" - Lena exclaimed defiantly. "We'll just have to go there and you'll see for yourself."

Geralt shook his head muttering something along the lines of "as if I haven't seen enough boring villages in my life already".

"Why is the Southern Mine marked on your map?" - Geralt continued his study. "Have you been there? It seems close to that turn of the New Pale Pass."

"The one where we got ambushed by werewolves?" - Lena shuddered.

"That isn't very descriptive - where did we not get ambushed by werewolves?" - Geralt laughed. "But yes, I mean this turn here" - he pointed at the turn just South East of the Southern Mine.

"We could try and see if the slope is not too steep - the werewolves certainly didn't think so."

"Perhaps if we'll find Helgen around there somewhere - wasn't there a mine nearby?"

"Yes" - Lena nodded. "After the dragon attack, Hadvar led me through a passage that could have been an old mine. Perhaps even this mine..." Lena was lost in thought.

"And then - from Helgen to Falkreath, is that straightforward?"

"Of course not!" - Lena laughed. "Travel is never straightforward in Skyrim! They've got a lot of bears around there too."

"Yes, as well as amateur assassins, novice necromancers and walking skeletons" - Geralt grinned. "Like those by Lake View. Where is Lake View, by the way? It's not on your map."

"Why would I be marking something if I already know where it was?" - Lena raised her eyes at Geralt, innocence itself.

"I would submit a complaint to the cartographer if I were you" - Geralt smirked. "You don't even have the lake that the house is looking out onto."

"Lake Iliata, yes" - Lena nodded. "But at least this map has roads marked on it, not like these modern terrain maps that you buy in Skyrim."

"All right, roll it up and let's go" - Geralt finished his breakfast. "I'll take these flags for sticking into the ground to mark where we've been. Snow bears don't make for very reliable markers."

They packed some extra provisions and set out West from the Pale Pass Inn.

[Lena Wolf]

4 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Pinevale - The Red Hall

It was a misty and chilly morning when Lena and Geralt set off from the Pale Pass Inn going West. They passed a hunter headed into the wooded hills ("The deer won't see me in the mist") and circled around Bruma on its Northern side. There the road had several branches, and they met a confused Imperial Forrester not sure which branch to take ("Which way is Bruma?" - "It's that mountain over there - it just looks like a mountain in the fog, but it is actually a city wall"). Continuing on and getting equally confused themselves, they eventually stumbled upon Applewatch ("Did you say you knew this area?") where they ran into several fog-brained bandits, with predictable outcomes. A Legionnaire was pacing in circles a little further up ("We have received reports of bandit activity around here, but I don't seem to... oh, killed them already, did you?"), and seeing how it was well past lunchtime, Lena suggested going to Pinevale for a meal ("They do have an inn, you know"). An hour later they even found the entrance to the mountain pass.

"It's really quick, I wonder how they've done it" - Lena was saying to Geralt with her hand on the door handle. "You blink - and you stand in Pinevale."

"Oh no, it's a..." - Geralt started saying when Lena blinked. She stood by the pass door in Pinevale but Geralt wasn't with her.

She looked around. Everything was as she expected it to be, so whatever could have happened to Geralt? She walked around the village, perplexed. Then took the passage back - Geralt wasn't there either. Ok, back to Pinevale - if you get separated, it's always best to wait where you were supposed to go. After an hour or so she heard hoofs and heavy breathing of a horse climbing a mountain - with Geralt on its back.

"That bloody pass is a portal!" - Geralt swore and Roach's ears curled up. "I hate portals!!" Roach grunted. "I had to call Roach and make her climb the mountain to get here over land. It is possible, but rather hard." Roach noticed stables with hay and took off. "Where is that inn? They better had mead! Or brandy!"

"This way" - Lena took Geralt's arm thinking to herself that those cat eyes of his seemed to be glowing. And may be they were. Now, where did she see a glow like that fairly recently? Oh... Alduin, in Helgen, just before he... Oh. She hoped the inn had brandy.

...

After a few drinks at the inn and some walking around the village, they decided to continue on, even though it was almost dusk already. They went down the mountain the conventional way avoiding the portal, then coming out near Applewatch, they took the road along the Jeralls towards the shrine of Hermaeus Mora. The mist was growing steadily thicker and thicker, so when they almost bumped into some Dwemer ruins along the way, Lena looked up in surprise.

"I don't remember seeing those before!" - she exclaimed, watching the mist momentarily lift. Was that just in her head? "Wow, look at those towers and domes!"

"We are not going in just now" - Geralt took her hand. "Exploration of Dwemer ruins is a serious business, and we are leaving it for another day!"

The mist descended again as he was leading her away from the ruin.

...

They reached the shrine of Hermaeus Mora when the mist turned black, or may be the night turned misty, it was hard to tell, they could barely see where they were going. Lena told Geralt to look out for a sculpture with tentacles on the right side of the road, and eventually he spotted it. Damn, that witcher vision was working even in the mist.

"Are they having a celebration?" - he asked in surprise.

"I am not sure" - Lena too could now hear faint sounds of bells in the wind. "Let's go ask."

They climbed the stairs to the shrine podium, but all was quiet there, although the faint sound of bells was still present.

"Oh, it's the mead hall just down the road" - one of the worshippers told Lena. "They put on the bells from time to time."

"Mead hall? What mead hall?" - Lena looked at the worshipper, round-eyed. "I've been here before - I don't remember any mead hall!"

"Well, perhaps you haven't walked the path of Hermaeus Mora yet" - the worshipper shrugged her shoulders. "Or may be you've walked a little further by now so that you can at least see the mead hall" - she added, turning away, bored.

"A mead hall is just what we need right now" - Geralt said in Lena's ear. "It's close to midnight and we need a place to spend the night."

"That must be that 'village' on the map" - Lena said as they approached the mead hall, indeed just down the road. "How could I have possibly missed it?" - she wondered and pushed the door of the Red Hall.

...

"What? Geralt, is that you? Who's this?" - Lena felt someone's hands touching her in places where only very few people could touch her and still keep their hands.

"Oh don't mind me - have a drink!"

Was that an Orc? No, two Orcs. Three Orcs?

Lena's vision was undulating from blurry to tripled to fogged to normal, in no particular order. A strange rhythmic noise filled her ears. The hall was lit with red light - in places, as everything else here, it seemed. A Nordic fire pit gave off enormous heat, undoubtedly required to keep the dancers warm... but no one seemed to mind, except may be those dead people piled up in the corner... Were they truly dead or just passed out? Who could tell. Lena wasn't sure there was a difference here.

She went to say hello to the man on a throne - he must be the host. He said something odd, then yawned and turned away. She was welcome to stay, it seemed, no one minded. The revellers along the back wall were particularly enthusiastic, perhaps she should say hello to them.

They were... a bit odd... and not very talkative... "What is this place?" - wondered Lena, catching those brief moments of clear vision to look around. A mead hall. It was definitely a mead hall. With mead. And wine. And whatnot. Beds, too.

"Come, let's get you to bed" - she heard a clear voice in her ear. "Walk this way."

Geralt. Whatever was in the air, didn't seem to affect him very much. He held her arm firmly and directed her up the stairs. On the first floor they found a room with beds and bedrolls where some of the dancers were still sleeping, and Geralt pointed Lena at a free spot on the bed. "Use it." She did.

"My cousin has the best ass of them all" - she heard a voice behind her, with Geralt replying something that made the voice gasp, then footsteps hurried away. Lena fell asleep.

...

When she woke up, the scene didn't change much, except that the dancers were now awake and dancing around her. No one paid much attention to her presence, and she figured that all in all, it was a very good thing. She went downstairs to look for Geralt, found him right by the giant fire pit, grabbed his arm and dragged him out.

"Did you even go to sleep at all?" - she looked at him with suspicion when they were standing outside in crisp cold air.

"Why?" - he grinned. "The dancing continued all night. Drinking too."

Lena shook her head in disbelief.

"Come on - let's try to find Falkreath. It must be somewhere that way" - she pointed North. A road was branching off just there, and they took it.