{ pfsb } The Isle of Mists

[bialy_wilk]

He'd had to force himself to slow down, to take their time as they traveled. First to Novigrad, to speak with Zoltan and Roche; then to board a ship to Skellige, where Ermion agreed to assist without hesitation and where Queen Cerys offered the aid of her finest knight – her brother, Hjalmar. He gets a message to Triss, does his best to do the same for Keira and Letho, somewhere in the wilderness.

Geralt sends them all to Kaer Morhen, and knows it won't be enough.

Lan Wangji is a quiet, reserved traveling companion. Geralt feels a pang at separating him from his husband, but it's not enough to make him want to send the cultivator back. Selfishly, he wants the man here, in case Ciri is in trouble. In case he needs to send her with her friend while he himself holds the path behind them.

They rise early, travel all the day, and camp at dark. On the ship to Skellige, Geralt meditates, his only other option to prowl the decks like the wolf of his name. And once they've reached the islands and found their allies, Cerys gives them a small sailing dinghy and sets them on their way.

Geralt steers them to the very edge of the archipelago, past looming, jagged rocks and endless tracts of gray, wavering sea, until they reach a place where the mists curl ethereal fingers along the edge of Lan Wangji's robes. The witcher heaves the little boat to, then reaches for the bottle he's stored in the qiankun bag Lan Wangji had gifted him what feels like a lifetime ago. "This had better work," he mutters, and uncorks the glass bottle to free the firefly spirit which Avallac'h had conjured. It flutters into the air, then describes a slightly wobbling path into the gray, hazy depths of the mists which stretch before them.

Comments

[bialy_wilk]

The dwarf Ivo waves amiably to his compatriot, and Geralt turns back to Lan Wangji and the path.

"One more," he mutters, as they head back down towards the shoreline. "Not too excited about that roar Gaspard said he heard."

[lightamidchaos]

"I agree." Lan Wangji slants a sideways look at him, then returns to scanning the countryside through the mist. "If he is lucky it will not have eaten him. Yet."

[bialy_wilk]

"I wouldn't take bets on it," Geralt says, grim.

His expression only turns more sour as the path leads them down into a misty, swampy area. He holds up a hand to pause Lan Wangji, and kneels down to study an immense depression in the wet soil. "Fiend," he mutters, and takes out his bottle of relict oil to re-coat his blade.

"Relict oil, if you have it. And they hate loud sounds, so your guqin will come in handy. Don't let yourself look at its third eye; it can hypnotize hunters with it."

[lightamidchaos]

"I will remember," he says, as he reaches into his qiankun bag for the correct oil.

"If you secure its attention I could use the Chord Assassination technique."

[bialy_wilk]

"That won't be a problem," the witcher says, desert-dry, and nods to the swamp. "Let's go."

Maybe the only good thing about fiends is that their large size makes them easy to spot. Of course, it also makes them annoyingly difficult to kill, and gives them a real advantage when it comes to fighting. In this case, he hears the fiend and sees its immense shape materializing out of the gloom at almost the same time, then signals to Lan Wangji. "Watch out," he mutters. "They move faster than you'd think for such big creatures."

So saying, he shifts to the side, away from Lan Wangji, and raises his voice. "Hey! Over here!"

The fiend – right now looking more like a small hillock in the fog than a living creature, raises its head up... and up... and up. It towers over them, as tall as a hut, its many-branching horns like an old oak tree. Seeing the witcher, it bellows a challenge, paws angrily at the earth, and charges, each wickedly sharp prong aimed towards his gut.

[lightamidchaos]

Light gleams from Lan Wangji's hands as it commits to the movement, and a guqin string flashes across in front of the fiend, burying one end in a nearby tree and another in a large boulder. The string thrums and a wave of sound as sharp as a blade slices out toward the fiend.

As it does, Lan Wangji leaps into the air, flipping himself up and over to come down behind the thing, a second string snapping around its throat as he moves.

[bialy_wilk]

The fiend's head snaps back as the string catches it and as the sound wave slams into it. Its bellow of anger and pain shakes the ground they stand on and alarms a flock of birds that had been resting in a nearby tree. They take to the sky in a confused cloud as the witcher springs forward, his silver sword flashing as it slices into the fiend's tough hide.

[lightamidchaos]

The thought flickers that it is far, far easier to execute this technique with proper tools rather than cobbled-together bowstrings, before he ignores the past in favor of them both surviving the present.

The guqin string winds tight around the fiend's throat, sinking in. As it does, Lan Wangji strikes with Bichen, burying it to the hilt between the fiend's shoulders.

[bialy_wilk]

The fiend shrieks and lashes out with its horned head, sending Geralt rolling to get out of the way. He arrows back in to hack at its side, the silver sword scoring its thick hide as the beast roars and attempts to catch them in either its horns or its huge clawed paws.

[lightamidchaos]

It rakes a blade-edged paw back over its head at him, trying to tear him loose. Lan Wangji rips Bichen free and leaps back and skyward, summoning his guqin again as he does. He hits the fiend with chord after explosive chord, keeping the target focus narrow so the witcher will not be harmed.

[bialy_wilk]

The fiend bleeds from a dozen gashes in its hide as it struggles against the enchanted string and staggers beneath the force of Lan Wangji's cultivation technique.

Geralt fights in silence, whirling in to cut and away again to avoid the fiend's claws and horns and teeth, striking swift and hard until finally the creature gives a great rattling cry and collapses to the ground, its great sides falling still.

[lightamidchaos]

He lands as lightly as a falling leaf and holds himself ready, waiting for Geralt to confirm its death before he relaxes his watchful defense.

[bialy_wilk]

No sense in letting a fiend's corpse go to waste. He ensures it's dead, then kneels to harvest the various parts that go into some of his more obscure recipes, or which sell well to the various merchants in Novigrad.

Finally, he straightens and looks around. "Any sign of the last dwarf?"

[lightamidchaos]

"There are signs of a scuffle," Lan Wangji offers, breaking off from his study of the surrounding area. "Leading that way."

[bialy_wilk]

"Better check it out."

He follows the tracks and the broken branches, then kneels beside the crumpled form of what probably used to be Ferenc. "Tried to outrun the fiend," he mutters. "Too bad."

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji lets out a quiet sigh and nods. "He would not have been fast enough."

[bialy_wilk]

"Stubby legs," Geralt agrees, and straightens. "That's the last of them. Let's go break the news to the dwarves in the hut. Hopefully those other two won't haven't gotten themselves killed in the time it takes us to get back."

[lightamidchaos]

He makes a disgruntled sound that makes it very clear he would not be surprised if they did, and walks with Geralt back along the winding path to the hut.

[bialy_wilk]

The dwarves have wasted enough of their time; if a foglet or harpy were to show up as they head back up along the hillside, Geralt's certain he'd be able to take them out in one hit, he's so ready to get back to the hut and to see what might be inside. "Come on," he growls to the two dwarves, when they reach the area in front of the hut again, and bangs on the door with his fist. "Brought you your friends."

"That so?" The voice sounds skeptical. "Let's hear 'em, then."

[lightamidchaos]

"Wake up," he orders Gaspard, who is falling asleep on his feet. "I'm awake!" the dwarf confirms, as Ivo gasps.

"Ye dinna have to be so cold about it!" Lan Wangji slants him a level stare, and says nothing.

[bialy_wilk]

The voice laughs. "Gaspard!" it chortles. "Ivo! Good to hear you, lads. Stand back, I'm openin' the door."

Geralt steps back, leaving room for the small band of dwarves that comes out from the hut, all clapping their two brethren on the back and shoulders. "What of Ferenc?" the leader asks, glancing at Geralt and Lan Wangji as the others tease Gaspard for his sleepiness.

[lightamidchaos]

"We were not able to reach him in time," Lan Wangji tells them. "A monster killed him before we arrived."

[bialy_wilk]

"Ach," says the leader, shaking his head. "Thanks for looking, anyhow."

"Everything's gone wrong," says one of the others, frustrated. "What'll we do now?"

"Got a boat," Geralt tells them. "You can leave with us. But I need to find someone, first."

"An ashen-haired lass?" asks another dwarf, and Geralt glances at him. "Yes."

"O-oh," the dwarf stammers, and Geralt feels his blood freeze in his veins. "Dreadful sorry."

[lightamidchaos]

"What?" It cracks from him as sharply as a whip, without his meaning it to. He's still as stone, desperately seeking answers in their faces, suddenly all too afraid of what he may find.

"She's cold," one of them says. "Spirit's left her."

[bialy_wilk]

It feels like one of the fiend's horns has finally found purchase in his gut; he sways, slightly, as if taking a physical blow as the dwarves all shake their heads, grim. "Must've passed shortly before we found her," murmurs one, as they quietly move past a stricken Geralt.

"Let's wait by the boat," another says, quietly, as they solemnly walk past. He hardly notices their passing, reeling as he is from their words.