T H E |¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯|
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( \/ \} )| | | | ( ( | |¯'. |( (¯¯¯ | _ ( | | | | | |
\ _ / ( | ( | \ \____ | | } | \ \___ | | \ \ | | | | | |
\_/ \_/ \| \| \_____||_| |_| '.___||_| \ \ | | | | | |
Game Script -by- Shotgunnova (P. Summers) \ \_| |_| |_| |__
EMAIL: shotgunnova (at) gmail (d0t) com \__________________|
I. WALKTHROUGH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WLKT
Kaer Morhen ...................................................... WK01
Lilac and Gooseberries ........................................... WK02
The Beast of White Orchard ....................................... WK03
The Incident at White Orchard .................................... WK04
Imperial Audience ................................................ WK05
In Ciri's Footsteps (Velen) ...................................... WK06
- The Nilfgaardian Connection ................................... WK6A
- Hunting a Witch ............................................... WK6B
- Wandering in the Dark ......................................... WK6C
- Bloody Baron .................................................. WK6D
- Ciri's Story: The King of the Wolves .......................... WK6E
- Family Matters ................................................ WK6F
- Princess in Distress .......................................... WK6G
- Ciri's Story: The Race ........................................ WK6H
- Ladies of the Wood ............................................ WK6I
- The Whispering Hillock ........................................ WK6J
- Ciri's Story: Fleeing the Bog ................................. WK6K
- Ciri's Story: Out of the Shadows .............................. WK6L
In Ciri's Footsteps (Novigrad) ................................... WK07
- Pyres of Novigrad ............................................. WK7A
- Novigrad Dreaming ............................................. WK7B
- Broken Flowers ................................................ WK7C
- Get Junior .................................................... WK7D
- Ciri's Story: Visiting Junior ................................. WK7E
- Count Reuven's Treasure ....................................... WK7F
- The Play's the Thing .......................................... WK7G
- A Poet Under Pressure ......................................... WK7H
- Ciri's Story: Breakneck Speed ................................. WK7I
In Ciri's Footsteps (Skellige) ................................... WK08
- Destination: Skellige ......................................... WK8A
- The King is Dead -- Long Live the King ........................ WK8B
- Echoes of the Past ............................................ WK8C
- Missing Persons ............................................... WK8D
- Nameless ...................................................... WK8E
- The Calm Before the Storm ..................................... WK8F
- A Mysterious Passenger ........................................ WK8G
Ugly Baby ........................................................ WK09
- Disturbance ................................................... WK9A
- The Final Trial ............................................... WK9B
- To Bait a Forktail ............................................ WK9C
- No Place Like Home ............................................ WK9D
- Va Fail, Elaine ............................................... WK9E
The Isle of Mists ................................................ WK10
The Battle of Kaer Morhen ........................................ WK11
Blood on the Battlefield ......................................... WK12
Bald Mountain .................................................... WK13
Final Preparations ............................................... WK14
Blindingly Obvious ............................................... WK15
The Great Escape ................................................. WK16
Payback .......................................................... WK17
Through Time and Space ........................................... WK18
A Final Kindness ................................................. WK19
It Takes Three to Tango .......................................... WK20
Battle Preparations .............................................. WK21
Veni Vidi Vigo ................................................... WK22
The Sunstone ..................................................... WK23
Child of the Elder Blood ......................................... WK24
Skjall's Grave ................................................... WK25
On Thin Ice ...................................................... WK26
Tedd Diereadh, the Final Age ..................................... WK27
Something Ends, Something Begins ................................. WK28
ENDINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NDNG
Bad Ending ....................................................... END1
Good Ending 1 .................................................... END2
Good (?) Ending 2 ................................................ END3
Ending Summaries ................................................. END4
OTHER NOTABLE SUBPLOTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ONPQ
Keira Metz: Magic Lamp ........................................... KM01
Keira Metz: An Invitation From Keira Metz ........................ KM02
Keira Metz: A Towerful of Mice ................................... KM03
Keira Metz: A Favor for a Friend ................................. KM04
Keira Metz: For the Advancement of Learning ...................... KM05
Bloody Baron: Return to Crookback Bog ............................ BB01
Triss Merigold: A Matter of Life or Death ........................ TM01
Triss Merigold: Now or Never ..................................... TM02
Vernon Roche: An Eye for an Eye .................................. VR01
Sigismund Dijkstra: A Deadly Plot ................................ SG01
Yennefer: A Last Wish ............................................ YN01
Skellige Isles: Possession ....................................... SK01
Skellige Isles: The Lord of Undvik ............................... SK02
Skellige Isles: King's Gambit .................................... SK03
Skellige Isles: Coronation ....................................... SK04
Sigismund Dijkstra: Reason of State .............................. SG02
MISCELLANEOUS PLOT-RELATED QUESTS ................................ MSCL
Ciri's Room ...................................................... CRRM
Ghosts from the Past ............................................. GHST
Redania's Most Wanted ............................................ RDNS
Brothers in Arms: Velen .......................................... BIA1
Brothers in Arms: Novigrad ....................................... BIA2
Brothers in Arms: Nilfgaard ...................................... BIA3
Brothers in Arms: Skellige ....................................... BIA4
It Takes Three to Tango .......................................... THRT
II. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FAQZ
III. UPDATES & CONTRIBUTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . UPDT
IV. LEGALITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LGLT
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Script notation:
¹ - sic (misspelt intentionally; appears in game in same fashion). I'll also
use this on words the subtitles omit and places where the subtitles don't
match the vocals.
² - dialogue option only appears in certain circumstances, like doing a
particular quest beforehand, having enough gold, etc.
• - possible comment, depending on questlines, race and/or other options. I
also use it for standalone comments Geralt may have (when investigating
objects with a red glow, for instance).
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01) KAER MORHEN [WK01]
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[In the main title video, an old timer preaches to a peasant crowd.]
Narrator: I see you gather before me...hungry...terrified... Clutching your
babes to your breast. Emperor Emhyr his marched his legions into
our lands... Laid siege to every fortress from here to the Blue
Mountains. Rabid and ravenous, he bites and bites away. Men of the
North, you stand at the precipice. Your kings have failed you, so
now you turn to the gods! And yet you do not plead? You do not kneel
to dust your heads with ash? Instead you wail, "Why have the gods
forsaken us?" We must look into the trials we failed long ago! In a
time passed, our world intertwined with another through an upheaval
scholars call the Conjunction of the Spheres... The gods allowed
unholy forces to slip into our domain. The offspring of that
cataclysm was the neferious force called magic... Yet we did not
banish it, instead studying the vile arcane for our power and
wealth! And the monsters at our door...the unholy relicts of this
Conjunction? ...the trolls...the corpse eaters...the werewolves? Did
we raise our swords against them? Or have we laid this burden on
others? On so-called witchers? Stray children taught the ways of
foul sorcery, their bodies mutated through blasphemous ritual. Sent
to fight monsters though they could not distinguish good from evil.
The flicker of humanity long extinguished within them. Yes, their
numbers have dwindled through the years. But a few still roam our
lands, offering their bloody work for coin. To this day they shame
us with their very existence! The North bleeds, flogged by war. The
battles are the gods' whip, chastisement for our sins! And let us
not forget the terrors, the scourges from beyond our world! The Wild
Hunt rides the sky with every full moon! The dark raiders abduct our
children into lands unknown! Some say they herald a second
Conjunction! Can we chart a course back into the light? Will we find
the strength to banish the mages from our kingdoms? Unite around the
warmth of the Eternal Fire? Nigh is the Time of the Sword and the
Axe! None will fight this war in our stead! Nigh is the Time of
Madness and Disdain!
[In the game-opening cutscene, two witchers -- Geralt of Rivia and Vesemir --
are seen scouring an old battlefield for clues to a sorceress' whereabouts.
Eventually, the two are shown at their hilltop camp, with Geralt dreaming of
his time at Kaer Morhen, the castle he trained at. His relaxing bath is
interrupted by one of the sorceress' conjured crustacean-like creatures
climbing in and nipping him.]
Geralt: You know I don't find that amusing.
[He tosses the crab on the ground near his reclining lover.]
Yennefer: It wasn't meant to amuse, but to prod you to hurry. It's midday
already.
Geralt: Pfff...
Yennefer: You promised Ciri you'd train with her. Go, before Vesemir bores her
to death with those etchings.
[He starts getting dressed.]
Geralt: So...later, then?
Yennefer: Mhm. See you later.
[If one talks to Yen again:]
Geralt: See, I thought Ciri could stand to wait a little longer.
Yennefer: It's uninstructive. Not to mention unreasonable.
Wanna stay with you a bit longer.
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Geralt: I missed you. A lot.
Yennefer: And I missed you. But we have plenty of time to make up for that.
Let's be unreasonable.
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Geralt: I don't want to be reasonable.
Yennefer: Aha! So that's the way the wind blows...
You're right. I should go see Ciri.
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Geralt: Ahh, yeah. Better go see Ciri.
Yennefer: Go and train with her. Then come back. It'll give me a chance to put
my face on.
Geralt: Of all the women I've known, you're the only one who does that
before...
Yennefer: You've known many?
Geralt: What's it matter? Only ever thought of you...
[If Geralt inspects things in Yen's room:]
• Got any clothes that aren't black and white?
Yennefer: Mhm. Undergarments.
• Nothing but silver...
Yennefer: Gold clashes with my complexion. You should know that.
• You're running out of juice.
Yennefer: I know. You might bring me some more once you're done training.
• Lilac and gooseberries, of course.
Yennefer: Geralt, stop fingering my toiletries.
[Descending a floor, he finds Vesemir sleeping in a chair by himself.]
Geralt: Old witcher's fast asleep... Ciri's disappeared somewhere, of course.
[From the balcony, he spies Ciri training on the castle wall.]
Geralt: Guess she prefers practice to theory...
Vesemir: Hm? What?
Geralt: Time to wake up, master. These lessons so boring they put you to sleep,
too?
Vesemir: Dammit... Had her taking notes on "Ghouls and Alghouls"... Wanted to
rest my eyes a bit.
Geralt: Huh. Making her slog through that brick? No wonder she took off.
Vesemir: John of Brugge lacks flair, true, bue he's reliable. Not like the
hogwash they print nowadays. She's tackling the pendulums, right? How
many times do I have to tell her? Don't train alone, it only embeds
your errors. Bring our young damsel to the lower tower courtyard. She
wants to practice? She'll get to practice.
Don't get mad at her.
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Geralt: Don't get mad at her.
Vesemir: Why the hell not? The whippersnapper refuses to do as she's told.
Geralt: You like that about her.
We've spoiled her.
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Geralt: Gotta admit we've spoiled her.
Vesemir: "We've" spoiled her? I've been saying from the start -- Ciri needs a
firm hand.
Geralt: Been saying that, true. But you let her walk over you just like the
rest of us do.
Vesemir: Hm. Fine, I suppose I'm partly to blame. But this has to end. Now.
Killing monsters is not something to be taken lightly. Ciri must
understand that if she's to become one of us. I'll see you below.
[Geralt goes down to the pendulum, a set of raised logs to stand on with a
bigger log swinging between them. It's a device to practice footwork and
swordsmanship; Ciri's doing it blindfolded.]
Geralt: Wrong.
[Ciri almost loses her balance as Geralt's eagle-eyed assessment proves true.]
Geralt: Now I see why you were so eager to practice. Strike!
Ciri: Ha!
[Ciri's showy moves disarms her on the log, but she catches the sword with her
foot and flips it behind her back.]
Geralt: You're not in the circus. Pirouette! Wrong. Footwork! Enough. Get down.
Ciri: With a flip?
Geralt: What do you think?
[She backflips off the platform.]
Geralt: All right, take off the blindfold. You've got work to do. Your reflexes
are still slow.
Ciri: Maybe for a witcher.
Geralt: Think drowners or strigas will go easy on you because you haven't
undergone the mutations? Though in your shoes I'd fear Vesemir more
than any striga. Disobeying his instructions... Unwise.
Ciri: Well, yes, but...that book was horribly dull!
Geralt: I know. And you know it's no excuse.
Ciri: Ugh. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.
Apology's not enough.
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Geralt: Sorry's not good enough. You're gonna read "Ghouls and Alghouls" in
its entirety. Appendices included.
Ciri: No, please...I'd rather clean the stables!
Geralt: End of discussion.
Better not.
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Geralt: Better not. Vesemir says if it does, he'll make you eat a bowl of
slugs. Covered in salt.
Ciri: Hahaha. Eeewwww!
Geralt: Exactly. So you'd best behave.
Geralt: Come on. We'll practice with the others down below.
Ciri: Shall we run the walls?
Of course. [BEGIN TUTORIAL]²
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Geralt: Of course. This a witcher school or an elven bathhouse?
Not this time. [SKIP TUTORIAL]²
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Geralt: Not this time. Believe me, you don't want to keep Vesemir waiting.
[If Geralt races Ciri:]
Ciri: Beat you to the bottom!
Geralt: Hah. Maybe if you fall. What did I tell you about breathing? Through
your mouth, in rhythm with your steps.
Ciri: Huhhh... Huhhh... Huhhh...
Geralt: Ciri. Cut it out.
Ciri: Run into trouble? Should I turn back and help you?!
[If Geralt takes a shortcut in the course:]
Ciri: Hey! You said we weren't allowed to do that!
Geralt: I said you weren't allowed to do it.
[If Geralt wins the race:]
Geralt: I win.
Ciri: Your legs are longer! I'll show you yet -- just need to grow a bit!
[If Ciri wins the race:]
Ciri: First! Hehe. Na-na-na-na-naaa!
[They reach the courtyard. Vesemir and two other witchers, Lambert & Eskel,
are there as well.]
• Ciri: Oh no... Vesemir's got that look.
Geralt: What'd you expect?
Vesemir: Anything to say for yourself, young lady?
Ciri: I'm very sorry, Uncle Vesemir.
Vesemir: Young blood craves action, I understand that. But when you fight a
beast, knowledge counts as much as your silver sword. At the very
least, you ought to be able to tell a ghoul from an alghoul...
Ciri: ..."by markings, like unto the panthera tigris that in Zerrikania dwells,
and the sickly paleness of its visage."
Vesemir: Hmm. So you did read the chapter. Still, you should've asked if...
Ciri: But you were asleep, Uncle Vesemir.
Won't weasel out of this.
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Geralt: Don't try to weasel your way out of this.
Ciri: "A witcher must know how to trick his opponent." You said so yourself.
Geralt: Might've. But don't use my words of wisdom on Vesemir, got it? That's
playing with fire.
Could've said you did the exercise while Vesemir was asleep.
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Geralt: So you did the reading. Why not admit it right off?
Ciri: "Never pounce on an advantage as soon as it appears. Wait till it
stands to have maximum effect." Uncle Vesemir's words.
Vesemir: Well, you're a quick study. Quick, but mischievous.
Vesemir: Fine, we've talked enough. Geralt, you're with me. Lambert, you're
with Eskel. Ciri with the dummy.
Ciri: Huh... Again?
Vesemir: Stop groaning and grab a sword!
[She walks off.]
Vesemir: What do you think -- should we start by reviewing the fundamentals or
go right to free training?
Let's start with the fundamentals. [BEGIN COMBAT TUTORIAL]²
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Geralt: Should work on the basics. Even skilled masters need to hone the
fundamentals...and Ciri's barely a novice.
Vesemir: Draw your sword, Geralt! Quick cuts! One, two, three! Strong strikes
now! Give it all you got! Never lock your elbow when striking, young
lady!
Geralt: Position, Ciri! Footwork! Remember!
Vesemir: Now -- parrying, Ciri, see how Geralt holds his sword? Its angle?
Ciri: What am I supposed to parry? I'm fighting a stupid dummy.
Vesemir: Pretend now, live later! Riposte. Strike, counter-strike! Now,
young lady, to bring the day to a close, we'll go over a few
witcher's Signs. Let's start with Quen. Ciri, Quen is sometimes
called the "witcher's shield." Now watch carefully to see why. Cast
Igni, Geralt. I wanna see sparks fly! See? If not for Quen Sign,
I'd be aflame by now. Aard, Geralt. Come on! See that, Ciri? Aard
will knock anyone or anything off balance, destroy their rhythm.
Time or Axii. Dammit, I hate this feeling... Ugh... Axii can really
muddle your mind. Yrden, now. Show her, Geralt. See this, Ciri?
Couldn't move if I wanted to. Throw a bomb. Don't worry, Ciri,
Quen'll dampen the blow. Fine, enough. Continue training at will.
Let's go straight to free training. [SKIP TUTORIAL]²
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Geralt: Let's skip to free training. No point going over the basics again.
[Ciri knocks the dummy's helmet off; it lands over the castle wall.]
Lambert: Whooaaa, you really showed him, kid!
[Ciri starts climbing the wall.]
Geralt: Ciri, get down here!
[She ignores him and hops over and out of sight.]
Vesemir: Huh, the little she-devil. Soon as she's back, we'll set her to
polishing all the swords at Kaer Morhen.
Geralt: Find that helmet?! Ciri?! Ugh, I'll make sure to find every last blade
for you.
[He notices part of the dummy's burlap is torn.]
Geralt: What the...?
[He peels back the cloth to reveal a corpse.]
Geralt: Vesemir!
[A blizzard starts, heralding a huge evil-looking ship pulling up to the wall.
Geralt's comrades are frozen in place by magic.]
??????: I've long awaited this, and you, White Wolf.
[One of his soldiers swings a sword at a frozen Ciri.]
Geralt: Noooooo!!!
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02) LILAC AND GOOSEBERRIES [WK02]
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[Geralt wakes up from the nightmare back on the Temerian hill with Vesemir.]
Vesemir: You all right?
Geralt: Mhm. Had a nightmare...
Vesemir: About...
Geralt: Take forever to explain.
Vesemir: Dawn's some way off. We've got time.
I dreamt of Kaer Morhen...
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Geralt: Started in the guest room at Kaer Morhen. I was relaxing in the tub,
and next to me...
Vesemir: Triss?
Geralt: Yennefer. Funny, isn't it? She's never been there. Seemed so real in
my dream, though.
Vesemir: Was she nagging you about something?
Geralt: Hm. Mhm.
Vesemir: True to life, indeed. We'll find her.
Then we trained with Ciri...
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Geralt: In the dream, I went and found Ciri. Then we trained.
Vesemir: Those were the days... Hm, little she-devil. I've trained kids who
were faster, stronger -- but none had her character. Didn't end
well, did it? Your dream.
Geralt: No. The Wild Hunt appeared, attacked Ciri... I couldn't move. Stood
there like a stump.
Vesemir: It was just a dream.
Time to go.
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Geralt: Be dawning soon. Time to go.
Ciri in my dreams -- might mean she's in danger.
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Geralt: That's the problem -- it was more. In the past, when Ciri'd
appear in my dreams, something was wrong. She was in danger.
Vesemir: We taught her how to defend herself from anything, wraiths
included.
We will. Not worried about that.
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Geralt: I know we will. That's not what worries me. You've seen her tracks.
She's at full gallop all the time, breakneck speed through wild
lands, devastated battlefields... She's in a hurry to get
somewhere, or fleeing something. Either way, it means trouble of
some sort.
Vesemir: Be surprised if she wasn't in trouble. She always poked her nose
in beehives. Courtly intrigues here, mages' conspiracies there.
What do you expect?
Geralt: Don't know. Guess I thought, once we were finally reunited, things
would be calm. At least for a while.
Vesemir: Calm? With Yennefer? Hmph. Good luck.
Really rather not talk about it.
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Geralt: Rather not talk about it.
Vesemir: Gotcha.
Geralt: So...time to hit the road?
Vesemir: Wait. Show me the letter from Yennefer, might've overlooked some hint
in there.
Geralt: Didn't overlook anything. We were meant to meet in Willoughby -- that's
what she wrote. Meanwhile one army or another burned the village to the
ground. All we can do is follow her trail, so...
Vesemir: Stop talking and give me the letter. Well, how about that! It does
smell of lilac and gooseberries.
Geralt: You were gonna read it, not sniff it.
[Vesemir looks over the parchment.]
Vesemir: "We must meet. Soon"..."Willoughby, near Vizima"... Hm, nothing else
to guide us there. What's this postscript? "I still have the unicorn?"
That's private.
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Geralt: That's private. Very private.
Vesemir: A-ha...I understand. At least I think I do. Maybe not entirely,
but...perhaps that's for the best.
Stuffed unicorn -- we used it as a bed once.
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Geralt: Stuffed unicorn. Used it once or twice. In certain...situations.
Vesemir: Hm! The things young folk get up to these days...
Geralt: Back on topic. How's it look -- how far behind Yennefer are we?
Vesemir: Two, three days... Trail's fresh. But it looks like it leads toward
the main road. Could be muddled there.
[The horse spooks a bit.]
Vesemir: Wait -- hear that?
Geralt: I hear it, I smell it. Ghouls.
[They slay the hellish intruders.]
Vesemir: Of course, when armies pass, necrophages follow. Let's go before any
more show up.
[They hop on their horses and head down the road.]
Geralt: I ever tell you about this sorcerer I knew? Couldn't stop talking about
how useful they are as creatures.
Vesemir: Because you can brew potions from their blood?
Geralt: Heh, no. Because by eating rotting corpses, they prevent epidemics.
Vesemir: Hrmph. Did he know they eat the living as well?
Geralt: No. Really upset him, too... His theory collapsed.
[They ride further, coming upon a looted village's makeshift gallows.]
Vesemir: War's not exactly going our way.
Geralt: We have a side?
Vesemir: The Northern Realms.
Geralt: Radovid's Realms, don't you mean? Temeria and Aedirn are no more.
Vesemir: Radovid's pledged to restore the old borders -- soon as he wins the
war.
Geralt: Believe that?
Vesemir: Hmph. Gotta believe in something. It's what keeps us going.
[They ride on to a nearby forest. A noise can be heard in the distance.]
Vesemir: We going?
[They find a cart in the aftermath of an attack.]
Man: Help me! Help!
[The witchers see a huge creature gnawing a corpse; a man hides under a cart.
Geralt manages to get a blow in before the monster takes flights with its
equine snack, though Vesemir has a minor wound from the scuffle.]
Man: Ha-has it gone?
Geralt: Yeah. Come out!
Man: Gods, that was close! I was sure I'd end up like my mare.
Vesemir: Provided you got lucky.
Geralt: Your horse died quickly. But griffins like to toy with their prey. Eat
it, alive, piece by piece.
Man: Ahh-ha. You'd...you'd like a reward, I suppose?
You don't owe us a thing.
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Geralt: You don't owe us anything. You were in need, we helped.
Man: And they call witchers heartless. Say they won't lift a finger without
pay.
Geralt: They also say mice are born of rotting straw.
We could use a few crowns.
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Geralt: Could always use a few crowns.
Man: Thing is, I've a meager purse at the moment. Nilfgaardians requisitioned
my goods, now this... Here.
Geralt: Back to the trail?
Vesemir: Like I said -- leads to the main road and ends there. Muddled.
Man: You seek someone?
Yeah -- a woman.
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Geralt: Yes, a woman, medium height, long, black hair. Seen anyone like that?
Man: No. But...
Why do you care?
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Geralt: What's it to you?
Man: Well, you see...
Man: There's an inn here in White Orchard. Sole one around. Gets its share of
travelers, perhaps you'll learn something there.
• Besides, the innkeep's my cousin. Tell her Bram sent you, she'll treat
you like family.
Geralt: Not a bad idea. Especially since that wound needs cleaning.
Vesemir: Bah, beast barely grazed me. But sure... Could use a good rye. Nice
and cool, you know, straight from a cellar?
Geralt: Let's go.
[The witchers get back on the trail.]
Geralt: So...a griffin this close to the village? Strange.
Vesemir: My thoughts exactly. In a forest or mountains, sure, but here? And
near the main road?
Geralt: Maybe it's the war. Corpses everywhere, stench of blood, burnt flesh...
Drives monsters crazy sometimes.
Vesemir: Men, too. We need to watch ourselves in White Orchard. And we should
leave as soon as we learn anything.
[The witchers finally reach the tavern. Inside, the innkeep is serving booze.
One of the soldiers pulls her aside, pointing at the shield above the bar.]
Villager: Take that down before there's trouble.
Villager 2: That is a coat of arms -- the Temerian Lilies! They've a right to
hang there!
Villager: This ain't Temeria no more, old man. It's Nilfgaard now.
Villager 2: My arse, it is!
[The innkeep starts taking the shield down as Vesemir and Geralt enter.]
Villager: Wha? Witchers...?
Villager 3: I'll not drink with weevil-arsed freaks.
Innkeep: Beg your pardon for those thugs.
Vesemir: No need. We're used to it.
Innkeep: Folk're jumpy 'round here. Armies just passed through, now a griffin's
prowlin' about...
Geralt: Mhm. Already had the pleasure.
• Geralt: One mean beast.
Innkeep: Mean? Light way for a hunter to put it! Clawed Lena so bad,
poor thing's one foot in the grave... But, does no good to
wallow in misfortune. How can I be of service?
Vesemir: With a drop of vodka for me.
Innkeep: And you? Something to wet your tongue?
• Geralt: Ran into your kinsman, Bram.
Innkeep: Bram? How is he?
Vesemir: Alive. Sends his regards.
Innkeep: Master witchers...food and drink on the house. What can I
get you?
Geralt: Looking for a woman. Raven-haired, violet eyes. Dresses in black and
white. Riding in from Willoughby. And, uh, strange as it sounds --
lilac and gooseberries, might've smelled that.
Innkeep: I've not seen nor smelt such a lady. Believe I'd remember.
Vesemir: Yeah. Especially hard to forget this one.
Innkeep: Plenty of travelers about, though, folk from all over. Might be worth
your while to ask after her.
Geralt: Pretty busy place you got.
Innkeep: Nation's on the move. Some search for kin, others just want to get out
of the way of the armies. They all need food, drink, and a night's
rest in warmth.
Geralt: So, war's been good for your trade?
Innkeep: Aye, so far. But it'd be best to know peace again. Times like these
you never know what tomorrow will bring.
Geralt: There a contract on the griffin?
Innkeep: Nay, not at the moment. Used to be, soon as a beast'd built a nest
nearby the ealdorman'd start a collection, or go to the lord for help.
Now the ealdorman don't use the privy without askin' the Black Ones'
permission first. And seems they hanged the lord... So, no contract.
Vesemir: Shame. We might have done something, but not for free.
Geralt: Thanks. For everything.
[If Geralt leaves convo but doesn't ask about the griffin:]
Innkeep: Master witchers, would you be of a mind to kill the griffin? Beast's
a scourge on our land. Only killed livestock at first, but it's got a
taste of human flesh of late. We're afeared to set foot outdoors.
Geralt: If someone'll pay us, won't say no.
[The witchers go sit down at a table.]
Geralt: Help you bandage that up?
Vesemir: Please. I'm not decrepit yet.
Geralt: Then I'll ask about Yennefer.
Vesemir: Mhm. Just remember -- we'd rather not draw any attention.
[Geralt goes over to the nearest table.]
Geralt: I'm looking for someone.
Peasant 1: And we seek some peace and quiet.
Peasant 2: Out of my face, freak, 'fore your breath sours my beer.
Just wanna talk.
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Geralt: Just wanna talk.
Peasant 2: You deaf, stray? No one here'll talk to ye.
Peasant 1: If it's company you seek, stick that mangy snout of yours in a
trough with the pigs.
Peasant 2: Heheheh! Showed that shiteater, Mikah!
Patience is running thin.
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Geralt: Running low on patience. Once it's gone, your heads will roll.
Peasant 1: Oh, we was jestin', no call for anger...
Geralt: See a raven-haired woman here? Dressed in black and white?
Peasant 2: We know nothing, sir. Leave us be.
[Axii Sign] Answer my question. Now.
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(same as "Talk. Now.")
[Axii Sign] Talk. Now.
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Geralt: Raven-haired woman dressed in black and white. Seen her?
Talk.
Peasant 1: Folk say the lady rode through the village a few days back.
Gallopin' so fast she knocked Radobor into a ditch.
Geralt: Which way did she go?
Peasant 1: Dunno... Lots of tracks leading off the main road. Coulda gone
anywhere.
Peasant 2: Oi, people! The freak's taken Mikah's mind!
Geralt: Uh-huh. And I'll take your tongue if you don't shut up.
Waste of words.
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Geralt: Waste of words. Don't have time for your kind.
Peasant 1: Smart. Nor do we have time for yours.
[Geralt goes to another table where a card game is underway. A man's outburst
drives his peasant company away.]
Man: What a waste of time! The earth shall revolve around the sun before you
comprehend these rules!
Geralt: Got a minute?
Aldert: Why not. Aldert Geert, assistant professor in contemporary history at
Oxenfurt Academy.
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Witcher with tenure. I'm looking for a woman -- long
hair, dressed in black and white. Seen anyone like that?
Aldert: Of course not. Unlike this populace, I know the Horsewoman of War is
pure poppycock.
Horsewoman of War? What do you mean?
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Geralt: Horsewoman of War -- what's that about?
Aldert: Folk say an omen, a beautiful phantom rides the fields at night.
Looks as you described her. Armies follow her, and all who cross her
path meet with misfortune.
Geralt: I can vouch for the last bit. Know where they saw her?
Aldert: No. Facts interest me, not fairytales.
Why are you here?
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Geralt: Not a place I'd ever expect to find a scholar. Take it you're fleeing
the war?
Aldert: Quite the opposite. Chasing it. I'm headed for the front.
Geralt: Tired of life?
Aldert: I seek knowledge, which I value more than life itself. I've a thirst
no dusty old tomes can quench. I wish to see the Nilfgaardian
invasion with my own eyes, understand it, and record it all in my
chronicle, my magnum opus.
Go back to your books, while you still can.
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Geralt: Take my advice -- go back to your books while you can. War's no
game. No faculty meetings to attend, no tenure to gain, endnotes to
compile. First soldier you see'll kill you.
Aldert: Why would he do that? Me, a neutral civilian, a scholar...
Geralt: Boots.
Aldert: Come again?
Geralt: He'll kill you for your boots.
Write about the war -- what it's really like.
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Geralt: Interesting. We need somebody to describe war -- what it's really
like. Not colorful banners and generals making moving speeches, but
rape, violence, and thoughtless cruelty.
Aldert: Ah, I see you lack the polish of the academy. Rape and cruelty are
acts of no import to the war's course. Trinkets on the garment of
conflict, one might say.
Geralt: Hm. Tell that to the people whose houses burned down.
War make it to Novigrad yet?
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Geralt: War reached Novigrad yet?
Aldert: No, but it's only a matter of time. Nilfgaard on one bank, Redania on
the other... Drooling over the city like dogs over a juicy bone.
Geralt: Many a ruler's choked on that bone.
Aldert: True. We value our liberty in Novigrad and we know how to fight for
it.
Geralt: Mhm. Scholars especially.
Aldert: The sword is not the only weapon. Do not forget, architects from our
academy designed the city walls -- walls no war machine has ever
crumbled!
Geralt: Gotta go. So long.
Aldert: A moment, witcher. You strike me as a man of the world. Are you
familiar with gwent?
Geralt: No. And I don't have time to learn.
Aldert: But the rules are quite simple. Come, let's play.
All right.
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Geralt: Hmm... Why not.
Aldert: Splendid! Here's how it's done...
[Afterwards...]
Aldert: • Well, well. You have a knack for this game.
• Hmm, well... It's not a game for everyone. Requires an analytical
mind.
If you ever find yourself in Oxenfurt and wish to play a true master,
ask for Stjepan. A simple innkeep by trade, but a true maestro when
it comes to gwent.
Geralt: I'll remember that. Thanks.
No thanks.
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Geralt: No thanks. Got some other things on my mind.
Aldert: Shame. I'd ask the locals, but since they can't count to ten,
the rules are a complete mystery. Ah well, I'm here if you
change your mind.
[Geralt visits the last table.]
Geralt: Looking for a woman.
Gaunter O'Dimm: Ahh, like everyone.
Geralt: Not like everyone, and not just any woman. Mine smells of lilac and
gooseberries, dresses in black and white.
Gaunter: Two schnappses! Hah. It'll lift your spirits.
Fine. I'll have a drink.
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Geralt: Fine, I'll have a drink.
Not in the mood.
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Geralt: Don't generally drink with strangers.
Gaunter: Come. I know this to be a vile place. You might down a little glass
merely to aid digestion.
Let's get to the point.
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Geralt: Finding her -- that'll lift my spirits.
Gaunter: You look haggard. It's just a few drops to improve your mood. A
little shnappsie's never hurt a soul.
Geralt: Can we cut to the chase? You seen her or not?
Gaunter: Yennefer of Vengerberg?
Geralt: Never mentioned her name.
Gaunter: Yet you described her perfectly. And once I hear something, I never
forget. Can't help it.
How do you know Yen?
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Geralt: How do you know Yennefer?
Gaunter: What a question. Master Dandelion's ballads, of course. The only way
a humble merchant might hope to rub up against greatness. Unless,
that is, he's as lucky as I am.
Geralt: And runs into a very patient witcher?
Gaunter: Into Geralt of Rivia himself. The Butcher of Blaviken.
Where's Yennefer?
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Geralt: You seen Yennefer?
Gaunter: Deepest apologies, but I must ask: Is this about love?
None of your business.
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Geralt: None of your business.
Gaunter: Yes, as a vagrant I deserve no explanation.
Of course it's about love.
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Geralt: Guessed it. It's love.
Gaunter: I knew it at once.
Geralt: What do you know? Tell me.
Gaunter: Before you appeared, it never occured to me that might've been
Yennefer. Who would've have¹ thought...
Geralt: Get to the point.
Gaunter: A Nilfgaardian scout from the local garrison saw her.
Geralt: Where?
Gaunter: At their camp. She rode in -- dark of night, black and white,
gooseberries and...yes, I know. Had a terse exchange with the
garrison commander and raced off.
Geralt: Where to?
Gaunter: I'm not omniscient. Ask at the garrison.
Geralt: Thanks.
Know who I am?
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Geralt: Recognize me from Master Dandelion's ballads, too?
Gaunter: (drinking) To your health.
Who might you be?
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Geralt: What do you do? Who are you?
Gaunter: A mangy vagrant. Gaunter O'Dimm, at your service.
Geralt: Vagrant -- that a profession now?
Gaunter: Ah, once a merchant of mirrors. The madding crowd dubbed me Master
Mirror, or the Man of Glass.
[Gaunter gets up to leave.]
Gaunter: We men of the road must stick together. Perhaps one day I'll be in
trouble and you'll be nearby to help.
[Geralt looks behind him and Gaunter's already vanished. With a clue in hand,
he exits the tavern, only to find the witcher-hating peasant from before are
waiting.]
Villager 1: Done drinkin'?
Geralt: Mhm.
Villager 1: Then fuck off.
Villager 2: Hrrk-ptoo.
Villager 3: Don't want your kind here.
Three against one? My, you're brave.
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Geralt: Better round up someone else to help. Three of you don't stand a
chance against me.
Villager 1: What? I could fuck you up by meself.
Geralt: If I had a bag over my head and my arms tied behind-- Actually, no,
not even then.
Villager 3: Chet, Lesh, back off. I'll teach this vagrant a lesson, man on
freak.
I won't stay long.
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Geralt: Wouldn't want to stay long, anyway.
Villager 1: Maybe not. And maybe you'll just stay forever.
Villager 3: Six feet under.
[Axii Sign] Back off.
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Geralt: Haven't done anything to you. So just stay calm.
Villager 1: Course not...nay, uh...ye done nothin'...
Villager 3: Whoreson's working witchcraft! Get him!
[Geralt finishes the brawl.]
Geralt: Nice meeting you.
[Geralt rides north to the Nilfgaardian garrison, a commandeered castle ruin
on the banks of the Pontar River. He approaches the main gate.]
Soldier: Military camp. No locals allowed without the express consent of the
garrison commander.
Geralt: I look like a local to you?
Soldier 2: You look like trouble.
Geralt: Dead wrong -- I make trouble go away. I'm a witcher.
Soldier: A witcher...? Captain Peter Saar Gwynleve is in the tower. Turn right,
past the gate.
See, you can be nice.
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Geralt: Huh, you Black Ones aren't so scary after all. Can even be nice when
you want to.
Soldier: Don't get accustomed, Nordling.
Soldier 2: To the tower. Go.
Got work for me?
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Geralt: Guessing your captain's got work for me?
Soldier: This is the army, Nordling. There is no guessing.
Soldier 2: To the tower. Go.
[Geralt goes to seen Gwynleve, finding him speaking to a peasant.]
Peter: How much grain will your village give?
Peasant: Whatever you say, Your Excellency.
Peter: Look at my hands. Look! See the calluses? These are not the hands of an
"Excellency," but of a farmer. So we speak peasant to peasant. How much
can you give?
Peasant: Forty bushels. There'd be more, sir, but our lads, the Temerians, that
is, took from us earlier and...
Peter: You will give thirty, and that will do. Let us settle on it. And I wish
to see the transport soon.
Peasant: Ah, thank you, sir! Thank you kindly!
[The peasant leaves.]
Peter: I summoned only the ealdorman and the smith, Willis -- but it is said
he's a dwarf. You are too tall to be him.
Can't argue with your logic.
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Geralt: Very perceptive of you.
Plan to requisition something from him, too?
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Geralt: Plan to requisition something from him, too?
Peter: If it is necessary -- yes, of course. We are at war, in case you have
not noticed. Who are you? Speak.
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Witcher.
Peter: A vatt'ghern -- that explains why I did not hear your footsteps. What
do you seek here?
Geralt: Yennefer of Vengerberg. Where was she headed?
Peter: That is a military secret.
Geralt: Haven't thrown me out yet. Haven't called the guards. So go ahead --
what's your price?
Peter: There is a griffin in the area. Slay it, and then I shall see what I
can do.
Geralt: Why do you care about this griffin?
Peter: Because I care about people. The beast has killed ten already. Including
a few of my men. To hunt it, I would need to mobilize the entire
garrison, comb the woods, organize a battue. Simply impossible.
Geralt: Too big a hassle?
Peter: No. Too high a risk. I cannot disperse my forces. Temeria's army we have
crushed, but its common folk remain, ready to answer a call to arms. So
as to this griffin, I can sit on my hands...or hire a professional.
Geralt: It's a deal. Some questions first before I start. Know where the
griffin has its lair?
Peter: It kept to the Vulpine Woods at first. I sent a patrol there, five young
men. A hunter found them two days on. I only recognized them because
they wore our plate. Since then, the griffin has grown bold. Attacks in
villages, fields, on the main road.
Geralt: Meaning it's abandoned its lair. Gonna have to set a trap.
Peter: I judge from your tone this will not be easy. What do you require?
Gather a specific herb.
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Geralt: I'll need bait, a specific herb -- buckthorn. Scent should lure the
griffin from ten miles off.
Peter: Buck...buckthorn? I do not know this. I am not yet fluent in the
Common tongue.
Geralt: Mhm. Probably mastered the basics, though. "Hands up," "kill them"...
Peter: No. First came idioms. "Don't play with fire," for example. Go to
Tomira, an herbalist. She lives near the crossroads. She will aid you.
Could use some more information about the griffin.
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Geralt: Need more information about this griffin. Its sex, why it's abandoned
its lair.
Peter: Shall I bring you witnesses?
Geralt: They won't say anything I don't already know. I need to go where
your men died, look around. What's the name of the hunter who found
them?
Peter: Mislav. He has a hut south of the village, very near the wood. Helpful
fellow. A little strange, though.
Geralt: Tomira and Mislav... Thanks.
Peter: (in Nilfgaardian) Good luck to you.
[After finishing the griffin contract -- read "The Beast of White Orchard"
below for continuity reasons, if not done already -- Geralt returns to the
inn with Yennefer's whereabouts, which starts "The Incident at White Orchard"
event.]
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03) THE BEAST OF WHITE ORCHARD [WK03]
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[After meeting with the Nilfgaardian commander, Geralt heads to Tomila, the
herbalist, who's nearby. She's digging for something.]
Geralt: Bad time?
Tomira: Not at all. Hand me the beggartick. It's the...
[Geralt immediately hands her the right item.]
Tomira: ...red bloom. Well, well, one versed in herbs.
Geralt: Probably saying too much...but I know a bit -- for instance, that
beggartick's poisonous.
Tomira: In large doses. Small ones soothe pain and bring forth pleasant dreams.
Which is all I can hope to do for her.
Looking for buckthorn.
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Geralt: Looking for buckthorn. Know if it grows anywhere around here?
Tomira: Mhm. Bottom of the river, where the channel's widest. But you do know
that once out of the water...
Geralt: ...it'll stink worse than a week-old carcass? Counting on it.
• I'm hunting the griffin. Need the buckthorn for bait.
• Tomira: Oh yes, the griffin. Might've guessed.
Tomira: I was thinkin'... A few years ago, we had trouble, drowners under the
bridge. Whole village had to pitch in for a witcher. Who now can
afford the bounty on a griffin's head?
Geralt: Captain Peter Saar...something something.
Tomira: Ah. Good to know the Black Ones are looking out for our welfare.
Captain Peter actually does.
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Geralt: Doubt Emperor Emhyr cares about you, but his captain just might.
Seems like a decent man.</pre><pre id="faqspan-2">
Tomira: there are no decent men in the army. There're only orders.
Nilfgaard values order.
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Geralt: Nilfgaard values one thing -- order. Griffin's
disturbing that, it's gotta go.
Tomira: Yes. First they'll tend to the monsters, then to the folk.
Geralt: Not from here, are you? Lot of bitterness in you. Too much for
someone who's spent her life in a hut in the middle of nowhere.
Tomira: True. And you're in a hurry. Elsewise you'd not use bait, just wait
for the griffin to attack again.
Geralt: Believe we could have an interesting conversation.
Tomira: Maybe next time.
Griffin do that?
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Geralt: Griffin do that to her?
Tomira: To Lena? Yes. Attacked her at night. She was walkin' in the woods.
Geralt: At night...through the woods? In wartime?
Tomira: Meeting a boy. The young, you know...do foolish things for love.
Wounds are healing, but she will die. Blood's poolin' in her skull.
Nothing my brews can do to help.
I'll kill the griffin. No more victims after that.
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Geralt: I've agreed to kill the griffin. No more victims after I do.
Tomira: Ugh, there will be, of course. With the griffin gone, others will
kill in its stead. Monsters, or men.
Geralt: So what do you think I should do?
Tomira: Ply your trade. But don't think you can change anything.
I could try to help her.
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Geralt: Could try to help her with one of my potions. Swallow can
heal internal hemorrhages...
Tomira: But?
Geralt: Witchers' potions aren't for humans.
Tomira: She'll die as it is.
Geralt: Yes. A peaceful death, soothed by your concoctions. If I give her
Swallow and something goes wrong, the whole village will hear her
screams.
Tomira: I understand. Do as you will.
Got a potion that could help Lena.²
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Geralt: Got a potion for Lena. Swallow.
Tomira: First sign of spring, symbol of rebirth... Fitting, as names go.
Geralt: We'll see. Like I said, could harm her. Deeply. Works on me
immediately, but I have a faster metabolism. Effects won't appear
in her case for a few days.
Tomira: Why'd you choose this in the end?
Geralt: Decided it was better than doing nothing.
Tomira: I like you, witcher. Here -- a small gift. For giving a damn.
[After dealing with the herbalist, Geralt finds Mislav's cottage empty.]
Geralt: Anyone home? Must be out hunting.
[He looks at the boot prints.]
Geralt: Trail's fresh. Mislav just left home.
[A short ways into the forest, Geralt finds a man crouching.]
Geralt: You Mislav?
Mislav: Shh. Hear that?
Geralt: Wolves? No -- wild dogs.
Mislav: Yes...more dangerous than wolves.
Where'd you find the Nilfgaardians' bodies?
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Geralt: I'm hunting bigger game. The Nilfgaardians the griffin killed --
where'd you find them?
Mislav: Ah, I see... You a witcher? That monster slayer they's talkin' about
in the village?
Geralt: Mhm.
Mislav: I'll show you, sure. But, er, I gotta kill those mutts 'fore they
hurt someone. Will you help? That is, if you don't mind bluntin' your
silver blades on 'em.
Why not.
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Geralt: Sure. Griffin's not going anywhere.
Mislav: No, dogs might, though. So step careful, now. Come on.
No time.
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Geralt: Blades don't worry me. Time does. I'm in a hurry.
Mislav: Can't fault you for it. Come on, then. I'll show you.
More dangerous than wolves? C'mon.
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Geralt: Dogs more dangerous than wolves? Don't think so.
Mislav: It's the truth. Know why?
Geralt: No, but I guess you're about to tell me.
Mislav: Wolves hunt to fill their bellies. Wild dogs kill for sport.
Geralt: Just like humans.
Mislav: Aye, they've learned much from us. Why not cruelty, too?
[If Geralt agrees to help hunt the wild dogs:]
Geralt: These dogs been a problem for awhile now?
Mislav: Since the war started. Soldier on the march, he'll stop to rape a
woman, strangle 'er, kill her man for a chuckle, even butcher a cow.
But a dog? A kick in passin', nothing more. So these stray mutts form
packs. They're gaunt, guts stuck to their spines, covered in scabies...
but they just won't die. Cause¹ they're clever. More so than foxes. And
they hate men somethin' fierce.
[They find a corpse en route.]
Mislav: Too late. Attacked another one.
[They slay the feral dogs and go to the corpse.]
Mislav: Dieter...
Geralt: You know him?
Mislav: We served at the lord's manor together, where the black army's encamped
now. He was a stable hand, I was the lord's hunter. But that was
before... Well, a long time ago.
The Nilfgaardians -- where'd you find them?
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Geralt: Sorry. Hope you weren't close.
Mislav: No. Not at all.
Geralt: So...can you show me where you found the Nilfgaardians?
Before what?
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Geralt: Before what?
Mislav: Before they drove me from the village.
Geralt: What'd you do?
Mislav: Nothin'. I'm a freak. Sorry, I'd rather not talk about it.
Won't press you.
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Geralt: Don't have to, then. So...can you show me where you found the
Nilfgaardians?
I'm a freak, too.
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Geralt: I'm a freak, too.
Mislav: Aye, but of another kind.
Geralt: If it's lycanthropy, I can help.
Mislav: What?
Geralt: Lycanthropy. Werewolves? Handled a few cases in the past. It's
usually a simple curse that...
Mislav: The lord's son, Florian, and I... We loved each other. Dieter walked
in on us in the stables. They drove me away... Florian hanged
himself. Lord started drinkin', and the estate fell into ruin.
That's the long and short of it.
I'm sorry.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm sorry.
Mislav: Ah, ancient history now. I was to show you where I found
the Nilfgaardians. Come.
Let's go.
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Geralt: So...can you show me where you found the Nilfgaardians?
[Eventually, Mislav leads Geralt toward the massacre's site.]
Geralt: Griffin -- know anything about it?
Mislav: Oh, not much. It's not my kind of game.
Geralt: You're his kind, though. Survival instincts alone oughta make you care.
Mislav: I walk silent through the woods. No griffin can hear me nor spy me.
[They arrive at the corpses' camp, the ground still blood-stained.]
Mislav: Twas¹ here. One lay there, by the stump, headless. The other hung from
a branch, guts splayed, stretchin' down to... Watch out for yourself,
now.
I'll be fine.
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Geralt: I'll be fine. Not the first griffin I've dealt with. Not likely to be
the last, either.
Mislav: Hope you're right.
Nothing to mourn. They were Nilfgaardians.
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Geralt: Nothing to mourn. They were Nilfgaardians.
Mislav: They were lads, like ours. Just clad in black plate.
Mislav: Good huntin', now.
[If Geralt finds the campsite without Mislav's assistance:]
Geralt: Ground still damp with blood. Griffin attacked the Nilfgaardians here.
[Geralt will say things depending on what things are inspected.]
• A camp?
• Ground's black, saturated with blood.
• Nilfgaardians were celebrating. Griffin interrupted them.
• These prints are older. And deeper. Heavily armored... Nilfgaardians,
probably.
[Geralt follows the trail into the craggy hills, finding a trashed nest site.]
Geralt: Griffin's nest. What remains of it, at least.
[One can look around again.]
• Burned. Only a human could do this.
• Bones. Horse, dog...human. A few months' worth.
• Corpse is a couple of weeks old. Still alive when the griffin brought him
here. Took a long time dying.
[Geralt finds a dead griffin laying nearby.]
Geralt: Female. Larvae in her wounds have already hatched. Been dead at least
a week. Other griffin must be a male.
[Examine wounds.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Deep cuts over the whole body. Not a drop of blood on the
beak or the claws. Didn't defend herself. Crept up on her
while she slept.
[Determine age.]
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Geralt: Beak tip's worn, gray hairs on the coat -- ten, twelve years old.
Griffins pair off for life when they're young. Male must be about the
same age.
[Determine type.]
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Geralt: Thick shaft, dense barbs -- a royal griffin.
[Step away.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Explains why the male I ran into was so aggressive. Hunted the
Nilfgaardians down here in the forest first, then started prowling
the area.
[If both the herbalist and hunter portions are done:]
Geralt: Done all I could. Should talk to Vesemir.
[Geralt returns to the local inn. Vesemir is talking to a peasant.]
Vesemir: Good man, whose field is that the other side of the river?
Peasant: By the wood? Boyan Klimmek's. Good lad, master witcher, though he...
Vesemir: Yes, yes. This Boyan, will he venture out to inspect his grain any
time soon?
Peasant: What for? Harvest is a long way off yet.
[The peasant leaves.]
Geralt: Got good news and bad news. Good news first -- captain of the
Nilfgaardian garrison knows where Yennefer went.
Vesemir: And the bad's that we have to kill the griffin for him. What else
could he want from two witchers? Go on, tell me what you know.
Geralt: Griffin's abandoned its lair. Gotta make a lure, set a trap.
Vesemir: And how's that going?
About the griffin...²
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Geralt: Been busy with the griffin contract.
Vesemir: And?
[leads to the normal options]
Got some information about the griffin.
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Geralt: Learned some things. It's a male, had its nest in the Vulpine Woods.
The Nilfgaardians burned the woods down, killed its mate, smashed
their eggs -- thought they'd fixed things.
Vesemir: Hm. It's always the same. Instead of sending out for a professional,
they try to do it themselves, only end up making matters worse.
• But enough about that. Find some buckthorn and finish what they
started.
Got some buckthorn already.²
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Geralt: Got the buckthorn.
Vesemir: Oughta work like a charm. Powerful scent.
Geralt: More like stench.
Vesemir: City boy. Rotting meat, manure, piss -- standard smells of the
countryside. Remember Tretogor, hunting that zeugl in the trash
heap? You spent half the next day bathing, scrubbing yourself.
Geralt: How can I forget? You ever gonna stop bringing that up?
• Vesemir: Alright, about the griffin -- learn what you can. We gotta
make a lure that'll work. Soon as we do, we can start.
[If both bait and info have been gathered:]
Vesemir: Hm-hm. Fine, if everything's ready, say the word and we'll get to
work.
Geralt: I'm ready. No point in waiting. Let's find a good spot to ambush it.
Vesemir: Picked one out already. Other side of the stream -- there's fields and
a grove. Plenty of room and far enough so no one'll get in our way.
Geralt: Good. Meet you there.
[They rendezvous north of town, in the desolate field Vesemir chose.]
Geralt: A stream, amber waves of grain...charming place. Perfect for an ambush.
Vesemir: I know how to choose 'em. So, ready?
We can start.
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Geralt: Let's start. Wind's good, bait's scent will spread quickly.
Give me a bit.
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Geralt: I need a minute.
Vesemir: Ehh, drag a man outta the tavern, and then... Fine, but hurry.
[Vesemir plants the bait.]
Vesemir: Now all we have to do is wait. Come on. We can cower in the shade of
those birches.
[They wait for the griffin to show.]
Geralt: So, tell me...once we find Yennefer, what'll you do? Got your eye on a
contract?
Vesemir: No. I'll go to Kaer Morhen.
Geralt: A little early to settle in for the winter.
Vesemir: Snows are a way off, yes...and that's what worries me. Nilfgaard's
crossed the Pontar in the east. Puts them maybe a week's march from
Kaer Morhen. If they reach the valley before snows can cover the
passes...well, we'll need to cover our tracks, hide our paths.
Speaking of winter, and wintering -- think you'll come this year?
Geralt: Maybe. Might bring a guest.
[Later on, they hear the griffin's squawk.]
Vesemir: Hear that? It's close.
Geralt: Let's go give it a warm welcome.
Vesemir: Wait. Take this.
Geralt: A crossbow?
Vesemir: Won it in a card game while you ran around. Might come in handy.
Took you for a traditionalist.
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Geralt: A witcher with a crossbow? We breaking with tradition?
Gambling? Well, well.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How about that. Always lectured us on the evils, but you're a
gambler yourself.
Vesemir: Stop talking. Got a griffin to kill.
[The griffin lands by the buckthorn, disguised as a sheep.]
Vesemir: Watch out! Damn, it's fast! It's about to dive!
[The witchers steadily whittle its health down, but it takes flight.]
Vesemir: Don't let it get away!
[They chase it to the hilltop mill and eventually slay it.]
Vesemir: Not bad, not bad. Though you could stand to improve a some things.
Live and learn.
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Geralt: Man spends his whole life learning.
Vesemir: Not a witcher. Unless he doesn't want to live long.
Like what?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: For example?
Vesemir: Upward vertical strike -- it's too obvious.
Vesemir: But more on that later. Take the griffin's head to the Black Ones.
I'll ready our horses. Meet me at the inn.
[Geralt takes the head as a trophy and rides for the Nilfgaard encampment. As
he enters, he sees the commander inspecting grain brought by the peasant he
brokered a deal with earlier.]
Peter: What the hell is this?
Peasant: R-rye.
Peter: You take me for a blind man or a fool? This grain is rotten.
Peasant: I--...I didn't know.
Peter: So, a fool. Dammit, you never learn... Military codex, article two,
section three: "For the delivery of defective goods -- fifteen lashes
with a knout." Make it so!
Peasant: No, no, no! By the gods, no!
[Soldiers take the peasant into a nearby building, leaving Geralt with Peter.]
Peter: What?
Killed the griffin.
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Geralt: Fulfilled my end of the bargain. Your turn. Where'd Yennefer go?
Peter: To Vizima.
Geralt: She was a day's ride from here the whole time, right under my nose?
Might've said so.
Peter: Yes, I might have. But you would not have killed the griffin. Tit for
tat.
No more Captain Nice Guy?
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Geralt: Guess you've dropped your good uncle act.
Peter: It was no act. I extended a hand to these people. They spat on it.
Geralt: Could it be 'cause it held the sword that killed their loved ones?
Peter: Hah! A moralist! And what would you do in my stead?
Geralt: Wouldn't ever be in your stead.
Peter: Tell me why you've come.
[Geralt goes to leave.]
Peter: Halt! We are not done. It's yours, this gold. I would not want you to
say you were inadequately compensated.
[Take the coin.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(Geralt takes the pouch.)
[Turn down the coin.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(Geralt ignores the coin pouch and walks away.)
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04) THE INCIDENT AT WHITE ORCHARD [WK04]
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[After finishing up the griffin contract, Geralt returns to the White Orchard
inn, sitting at Vesemir's table.]
Geralt: Yennefer's in Vizima. Got a few friends there, so... Something wrong?
[He looks at the nearby table of ruffians and bandits.]
Vesemir: Look around. Trouble brewing.
Then it's time to go.
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Geralt: Time we were on our way.
Vesemir: Mhm.
Who are they?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who are they?
Vesemir: Patriots. Drinking their seventh round for Temeria, fists starting
to itch.
Geralt: Don't see any Nilfgaardians.
Vesemir: They'll find another foe.
Vesemir: I'll buy some provisions for the journey. Then we'll go. Geralt, we
should stay out of it...just this once.
[Vesemir goes to the innkeep. A woman notices the missing coat of arms shield.]
Woman: What happened to the Lilies?
Elsa: Took 'em down.
Woman: Took 'em down? To hang a golden sun there now?
Elsa: I cannot show Temerian colors. They'll come and burn the tavern down.
Woman: Maybe it's true what they say. You fond of the Imperials? You
Nilfgaard's whore?
Elsa: I'll let that pass. I know grief eats at your heart.
Woman: You know shit. They hanged my sister -- dragged her out o' the cloister
like a dog. Said Nilfgaard's no place for superstition. That they don't
fear the wrath of the gods. And you, do you fear it? If not for Annie
your child would have choked on its navel-string. You owe your son to
my sister attending to the birth. And you don't fear the gods' wrath?
Elsa: Let go!
Woman: You don't fear it, you cunt?!
[She slams the innkeep's head on the table several times, until Vesemir has
no choice but to intervene.]
Woman: Leave me be!
[The woman leaves, but the "patriots" walk over.]
Vesemir: Recognize this medallion. You know what it means. Back off.
Geralt: You all right?
Patriot: They say witchers steal young'uns!
Patriot 2: That true?
Patriot 3: What'd the emperor promise you freaks? Your own land? Like he did
the elves once?
Vesemir: Get out, all of you.
Patriot: We ain't goin' nowhere. And neither are you.
[They draw their weapons; the witchers do likewise.]
Vesemir: They won't back down now.
Geralt: I can see that.
[The witchers slaughter the attackers. Geralt cuts off one's head, and it rolls
to the feet of the female rabble-rouser.]
Geralt: It's all right. It's over.
Woman: Leave me be! Get away!
Man: See his face? Gods save us!
Innkeep: Begone. And don't ever come back.
Vesemir: So much for not getting involved. Come on. Let's go.
[The witchers leave, coming face to face with several Nilfgaardian soldiers.]
Geralt: That brawl? We didn't start it.
[Yennefer approaches from behind them.]
Yennefer: Excuses, excuses... You've not changed a bit.
Geralt: Ye...Yen? How?
Yennefer: I received a report. About a witcher who'd appeared in White Orchard.
I knew it was you. Looking for me. I might've waited until you'd
found me, but...you know me. Patience has never been my strong suit.
It's...good to see you, Geralt. I...I'd even embrace you...were you
not covered in blood.
Geralt: Sorry... Wasn't expecting to see you. To be honest, this isn't at all
how I imagined we'd meet.
Yennefer: How did you imagine it?
Vesemir: He didn't imagine you'd have a Nilfgaardian escort. Don't get me
wrong, Yennefer. I'm glad to see you...but I do think you owe us an
explanation.
Yennefer: And I shall provide it...in Vizima. Ready your horses.
Why Vizima?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We can talk here. Some charming orchards nearby. In bloom, even, so
you almost can't smell the corpses.
Yennefer: A tempting proposition. Sadly, I must say no. You see, someone
awaits you in Vizima. Someone who doesn't like to be kept waiting.
What's the rush?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Spent the last six months in the saddle. Haven't seen you for two
years. Can't we take a moment to--
Yennefer: Sadly, we cannot. Someone awaits you, Geralt. Someone who doesn't
like to be kept waiting.
Yennefer: Emperor Emhyr var Emreis...or, to those on more intimate terms with
him, the White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes.
Geralt: Doubt I number among that group. Far as I remember, last time we saw
each other, he wanted to kill me.
Yennefer: Well, now he wishes to make you an offer.
Vesemir: The kind one can't refuse?
Yennefer: I didn't. Though I could have.
Suppose I can hear him out...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine. Guess I'm willing to hear him out.
Yennefer: The emperor of Nilfgaard, Lord of Metinna, Ebbing and Gemmara,
sovereign of Nazair and Vicovaro, will feel honored, I'm sure.
Wonder what he offered you.
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Geralt: Must've been a damn good offer, then. Not many things you'd give up
your freedom for. And even fewer people.
Yennefer: The sooner we set off, the sooner you'll find out.
Geralt: What about you?
Vesemir: I'm going in the opposite direction. I somehow doubt the emperor's
invitation mentioned me. Besides, I've got things to do at Kaer
Morhen, remember?
Geralt: Yeah, I remember. Thanks for your help, Vesemir. See you soon.
[They clasp arms and part ways.]
Yennefer: How's your horse? Swift?
Geralt: Can't complain. Why do you ask?
Yennefer: I'd like to be back behind some thick city walls. As soon as
possible.
[Geralt waves goodbye to Vesemir as he, Yennefer, and the soldier entourage
start leaving White Orchard.]
Geralt: You know...had a dream about you recently.
Yennefer: Knowing you, it was probably filthy.
Geralt: Just the beginning. But then--
Yennefer: But then?
[Snow starts falling. Geralt looks in the treeline behind them and sees Wild
Hunt riders and hounds approaching at breakneck speed.]
Yennefer: Ride! Now!
Soldier: (in Nilfgaardian) Watch out!
[Yennefer's small retinue is decimated by the riding swordsmen, leaving most
knocked out of the saddle, and one poor guy dragged alongside his horse.
As they cross a bridge, the sorceress zaps the planks, avoiding any further
pursuers.]
Geralt: Yennefer, how'd they--
Yennefer: We shall talk of this tomorrow, all right? After the audience.
[In the horizon, Vizima can be seen.]
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05) IMPERIAL AUDIENCE [WK05]
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[Cut to a day later. Geralt is having his bath while maidens help scrub him. A
man, Emhyr's chamberlain, enters and bids them to leave, much to the witcher's
chagrin. He inspects the dirt level of Geralt's hair.]
Man: Hmm. It must suffice.
Geralt: Think Emhyr cares if I'm clean?
Man: The gentleman will refer to His Imperial Majesty by his full title or not
at all. The gentleman will be seated on the bergère.
Geralt: The what now?
Man: In that...chair.
[He looks at his attendant.]
Man: Cledwyn. Please shave the gentleman -- sideburns to half an inch.
Something wrong with my beard?
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Geralt: What's wrong with my beard? Always thought it added to my dignity.
Man: It does. Yet it also detracts from your elegance. In Nilfgaard we
consider beards hard on the eyes. Especially beards infested with lice.
Geralt: Been on the road awhile. Fine, do your thing.
Fine.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine...then what? Gonna do my nails, too?
Man: If time permits. Sadly, the day is short, while the list of hygienic
and cosmetic treatments that the gentleman should undergo is really
rather long.
Cledwyn: Tilt your head back, please. And sit still.
[A well-dressed man enters. If players didn't choose to simulate a Witcher 2
save, the conversation becomes about the latest ride.]
???????: How goes it? Preparations for the audience proceeding as planned?
Man: Yes, general. The gentleman will be more or less presentable.
Geralt: Who's this guy? He a barber, too?
Morvran: No. Morvran Voorhis. Commander of the Alba Division. Yennefer's escort
-- they were my men, all of them. Indeed..."were," for none have
returned to Vizima, have they? I truly wonder what happened on the
road yesterday. Perhaps you can enlighten me? You have time...and a
razor to your throat.
Your men died in battle. As soldiers do.
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Geralt: Your men died in battle. As soldiers tend to.
Morvran: I see their fate does not trouble you...overly.
Geralt: True. But I'm guessing the fate of those whose country they invaded
didn't overly trouble them.
Wild Hunt killed them.
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Geralt: Wild Hunt killed them.
Morvran: A cavalcade of wraiths dashing across the night sky? These omens of
war the peasantry babble about? Expect me to believe that?
Geralt: Frankly, I don't really give a damn.
Morvran: Nordlings -- ugh. We can bathe you, shave you and clothe you, but
teaching you manners...that will be a challenge.
Geralt: Nice meeting you, too.
Cledwyn: Done. Shall I shave him once more, against the grain?
Morvran: No. He himself is very much against the grain -- that's enough.
Farewell, witcher. Or, rather, see you soon.
Man: Good. Now the gentleman may dress.
[If players chose to simulate a Witcher 2 save, Morvran's intro and convo goes
differently.]
???????: And prepare to answer some questions.
Man: General, I am not certain this is the appropriate time.
???????: I can't think of a better time. Men turn honest when they feel a blade
at their throat.
[He approaches Geralt to introduce himself.]
Morvran: Morvran Voorhis, commander of the Alba Division. Before they take you
in to see the emperor, witcher, there's some information I need you to
verify. It's a formality, but one that must be seen to.
Geralt: Sure. Paperwork's gotta be in order.
Morvran: So, Geralt of Rivia. Place of birth -- unknown, parents -- unknown,
age -- unknown... All insignificant details. Let us proceed to more
recent events -- the siege of La Valette Castle. The fate of the
defending commander, one Aryan.
I killed Aryan during the siege. Just happened that way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Foltest ordered me to clear the path. The boy stood in my way.
Morvran: Cutting down the La Valette heir -- this made no impression on you?
I suppose it wouldn't. What's some baron to an assassin of kings?
I spared his life. He escaped.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We fought on opposing sides, true. Then we landed in the same
dungeon. Aryan escaped, set fire to the castle on his way out.
Morvran: Ahh, so that is how the blaze started. Our reports suggested the
dragon was responsible.
Morvran: Moving on. You found shelter in charming Flotsam, and from there made
your way to Vergen. My question is -- "how?"
Got out of Flotsam with Vernon Roche.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I got outta Flotsam with Vernon Roche, commander of the Blue Stripes
and...
Morvran: ...A murderer of nonhumans. We know this gentleman well, witcher.
I joined Iorveth, he helped me out.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I left Flotsam with Iorveth, commander of a Scoia'tael unit.
Morvran: A slayer of monsters and a slayer of men...
Morvran: You forge interesting alliances.
Geralt: Something tells me my most interesting is yet to come. Go on, next
question -- before my beard grows back in.
Morvran: We shall shave you again if it does. Very well. The infamous summit
at Loc Muinne. You were there. And once again meddled in the affairs
of the mighty.
Had to save Triss.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The mighty had imprisoned Triss Merigold. Oughta know I care about
her. And I tend to rescue those I care about.
Morvran: And so you did, handing Radovid control of the Conclave and Council
of Mages in the process.
Helped Roche rescue Anaïs.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not the way I see it. I helped a friend rescue a child.
Morvran: Anaïs was not just any child. She was a pawn in a game you did not
understand. You and Roche did not rescue her at all. At most, you
moved her from one edge of the board to the other, fanning the
flames of conflict.
Helped Iorveth lift the spell that held Saskia.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not at all. I meddled in a personal affair. Helped Iorveth lift a
spell that held Saskia.
Morvran: Yes, and in doing so gave Radovid a reason to begin his witch hunts.
Congratulations.
Geralt: Nilfgaard recently started a war. Unprovoked. So do us both a favor
and stop moralizing.
Cledwyn: The gentleman must sit still. I am almost done.
Morvran: I'm afraid I might find that difficult. Because from what I know,
shortly afterwards you watched a defective megascope blow your friend
Síle de Tansarville to bits.
Síle escaped.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I watched her get in the megascope, but ultimately freed her...from
the trap your man Letho had set. Write that down. I wanna be sure
the paperwork's in order now.
Got what was coming to her.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Huh, an old acquaintance, more like. Not so close that I felt bad
for her, but close enough that I knew she deserved it.
Morvran: "He believes he alone knows what is good and what is evil, and that
this gives him the right to dispense justice." Your comrade, Letho
of Gulet, described you so. Quite accurate, I'd say.
Geralt: My comrade -- your agent.
Morvran: Well, national interest calls on one to forge difficult alliances at
times. Alliances with witchers included.
That alliance is dead. See, I killed Letho.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Well, that alliance has been dissolved. Irrevocably. I killed Letho
in Loc Muinne.
Morvran: So we heard. And it's a good thing you did. Saved our agents some
messy and difficult work.
That alliance still alive? What happened to Letho?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That an ongoing alliance? What's Letho up to?
Morvran: I had hoped you would answer that question.
Geralt: Ah. So Letho's hiding from you. Must have a good reason. Was there a
shift in national interest that might've caused that? I don't know
where he is. Wouldn't tell you if I did, anyway. Blade or no blade to
my throat.
Morvran: I believe that is all. Your signature, please, affirming you stated
the whole truth and nothing but the truth, on pain of imprisonment or
death, et cetera, et cetera. Here...and here.
Man: With these formalities seen to, I would ask the general to leave the room.
We shall be choosing the gentleman's attire. An important matter, but one
that does not require the general's assistance.
Morvran: Shame... I might've given you some advice. So long, Geralt. Good luck
with your audience.
[Morvran leaves; Geralt's lead next door to an outfit display.]
• Man: Good. Now the gentleman may dress. Sadly, I did not receive exact
measurements. If the garments chafe, our tailor will adjust them.
• Geralt: Feels more like I'm being readied for a wedding.
Man: Were that so, I would have prepared the gentleman a frock, a tailcoat,
or possibly a dinner jacket. In point of fact, the gentleman will choose
from these garments.
Any color, as long as it's black?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Black, black...or black.
Man: We do not like garish colors in Nilfgaard.
Where're my clothes?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where're my clothes?
Man: Where they should have gone long ago. With the laundress. They will be
returned to you after the audience, clean and starched.
Man: The gentleman will tell me once he has chosen an outfit.
[Geralt picks out his fancy clothes.]
Man: • Black suits the gentleman.
• And they say clothes do not make the man.
• Hmm. A touch tight in the waste...but it will do.
Does the outfit satisfy the gentleman?
Suppose so.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: A studded doublet and a sword on my back -- that's what would satisfy
me. But tough, when in Nilfgaard...
Man: Yes...?
Geralt: It's a saying. So what now? Powder my nose?
Man: No need. The gentleman's complexion is light enough.
Lemme try on something else.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Rather try on something else.
Man: Go ahead, we've time.
Man: The gentleman is to stand before the Ruler of the North and South. I must
confirm that he knows how to bow.
Confirm away.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Confirm away.
Man: Please watch. Leg extended, hand flat, head down, chin to chest.
The gentleman will rehearse.
[Right leg forward, left hand on chest.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Man: Wrong, wrong, wrong. Once more. {previous demonstration repeats}
[Left leg forward, right hand on chest.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Man: Hmm, lacking fluidity and grace. But we've learned to expect less
of Nordlings. Come with me.
[Left leg back, hands at the side.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Man: Please, this is neither the time nor the place for such antics.
The gentleman will watch carefully. {previous demonstration is
repeated here}
This is absurd.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta be kidding.
Man: Not at all. I am mortally serious. Does the gentleman know the
penalty for breaches of etiquette in the emperor's presence? Two
hundred lashes. I do not wish that upon him, so I will not let him
leave until I am confident that he knows how to behave.
I'm not a boor. I know how to bow.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm not some boor. I know how to bow.
Man: Please, demonstrate.
[Geralt does a simple head nod.]
Man: That, sir, is how you might bow to a whore on the street corner, not to
the emperor of Nilfgaard. Please watch. {he demonstrates how to bow, as
seen above}
[Geralt follows behind the chamberlain.]
Man: The gentleman will address the emperor only when asked to and using the
appropriate title.
Geralt: Your Archmagnificency?
Man: I see the gentleman is in the mood for jests. I fear the emperor might not
share his disposition. "Your Majesty" will suffice. Spoken loudly, clearly
and with respect.
[They enter Emhyr's room; several nobles are already there. The chamberlain
acts as a herald.]
Man: (in Nilfgaardian) Bow before his Imperial Majesty, The White Flame Dancing
on the Graves of His Foes, Emhyr var Emreis! Bow!
[Bow.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your Imperial Majesty.
Man: (in Nilfgaardian) As your Majesty wished...
Emhyr: (in Nilfgaardian) All except the witcher will leave.
[Don't bow.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're Imperial Majesty.
Man: (in Nilfgaardian) As your Majesty wished...
Emhyr: (in Nilfgaardian) All except the witcher will leave.
[They leave Geralt to speak privately with Emhyr.]
Emhyr: • I thought you bowed before no man.
Geralt: Didn't want to disappoint the chamberlain. We're friends.
• So many months at Foltest's court...yet you still haven't mastered the
basics of etiquette.
Geralt: Know what they say -- can't teach an old wolf new tricks?
Geralt: Take it you didn't summon me to reminisce about the good old days,
so...
Emhyr: Silence. My daughter Cirilla...she's returned, and she's in danger. The
Wild Hunt pursues her. You will find her and bring her to me.
Why me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How many men in your army? Twenty thousand? Thirty? So why me?
Emhyr: You know why. Because she trusts you.
Geralt: She trusts me, yes. So tell me why you're looking for her. Doubt it's
about making up for all those lost years.
Emhyr: For reasons of state. As always. Enough of this banter. You will agree
regardless. If for no other reason than because I shall pay you. More
than you customarily receive for a contract. Considerably more.
Need information, not motivation.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I need information, not motivation. Ciri...leaves few tracks. She'll
be hard to find.
Emhyr: My corps of spies will help you. Count on them, and my army, should
the need arise.
Only doing this for Ciri.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Save your generosity for those whose houses your armies have razed.
I'll do it for Ciri. Not for your gold.
Emhyr: Your motives do not interest me. Only results.
She's back? You're sure?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Are you sure? Ciri...left. Went far, far away.
Emhyr: Do you believe I'd drag you here in the middle of a war to discuss a
rumor?
Geralt: I think anyone can be wrong, even an emperor.
Emhyr: I had forgotten how insolent you can be. I haven't the time to
convince you, nor the desire, in fact. Yennefer will do that -- after
the audience.
Emhyr: Yennefer will tell you the rest. This audience is finished. Mererid!
[The chamberlain from before enters.]
Emhyr: Take him to the sorceress.
[They leave the audience chamber. His responses change depending whether or
not Geralt bowed.]
Mererid: • Follow me, if the gentleman pleases. Please keep close. There are
many honorable guests in the palace, whom the gentleman...
Geralt: ...disgusts?
Mererid: ...need not bother.
• Did the gentleman not understand? Did I not emphasize adequately
that one must bow to the emperor?
Geralt: Relax. Nothing happened.
Mererid: To the gentleman. But I shall be punished.
Geralt: How?
Mererid: Please keep close and bother no one. We've had enough
breaches of etiquette for one day.
[Geralt can ignore Mererid's advice and speak to Morvran in the foyer. He's
alread conversing with another man.]
Morvran: (in Nilfgaardian) These days it's unwise for small realms to remain
fully independent. Take Toussaint...
Geralt: Mind if I interrupt?
Morvran: Why not join in instead?
Man: We're discussing neutrality. How difficult it is to preserve.
Know a bit about that...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Know a thing or two about that.
Morvran: Care to explain?
Geralt: Never changes. I try to stay out of things, stand aside...then
comes an urgent summons and an offer I can't refuse.
Always worth trying.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Still worth trying.
Morvran: Because?
Geralt: Because there are few causes worth serving. Even fewer men.
Geralt: Enough about that. Mind if we change the subject?
Talked to the emperor...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So, talked to the emperor.
Morvran: Hm. Why did he summon you?
Geralt: So not even you know.
Morvran: No. But I wager it's an ordinary witchers' contract.
Geralt: Mhm. Some werebbubbs.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: See you.
Morvran: Soon, mind you.
Mererid: The gentleman will have time for a stroll later. Please stay with me.
[Eventually, the chamberlain stops in front of a door near the garden.]
Mererid: Once the gentleman is done, he should see me to retrieve his
possessions.
[Geralt goes into Yennefer's chamber.]
Yennefer: Geralt! That tunic -- you look positively smashing.
Geralt: Ugh, dying to take it off.
Yennefer: I'd consider that a proposition under different circumstances...one
I might even take you up on. But we've matters to attend to. Now do
you understand why I'm at Emhyr's court?
Geralt: Mhm. And seems we're in the same boat, now. Ciri -- she's really back?
No chance he's mistaken?
[They stare at a parchment of Ciri's alleged likeness.]
Yennefer: Look -- that's more or less what she looks like now, or so our agents
claim. Our little witcher's grown into a young lady.
So they're our agents now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hm, so they're "our" agents now? My, my...you've clearly settled in
quick.
Yennefer: Geralt, don't twist my words. I know who Emhyr. He started this war
and its bloodshed. He had my friends killed. But I haven't any
other choice, so please...let's not belabor the pros and cons and
instead focus on finding Ciri. All right?
Yeah...all grown up.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How about that...she's grown up.
Yennefer: It's been years since you trained together at Kaer Morhen. A great
deal has changed.
Geralt: You haven't. Not a bit.
Yennefer: I missed those awkward compliments of yours... But let's focus on
Ciri, alright?
Geralt: Right. Emhyr said the Wild Hunt's after her. I'd find that hard to
believe -- before what happened yesterday. How did they track us down?
Yennefer: Because of me. You see...I've spent months searching for Ciri. Using
locating spells, haruspicy, geomancy, anything, really. I knew the
Wild Hunt might sense it, perhaps even find me, but...I thought I'd
tricked them.
Geralt: Well, guess you were wrong.
Yennefer: Hm. I've sensed them on my trail, hunting me, for some time. If not
for you and Emhyr's soldiers, they'd have gotten what they were
after. I can't risk another encounter like that. It's time to put
away the magic, turn to more traditional methods...to the best
tracker I know. You must find her, Geralt. Before the Wild Hunt does.
So where's Ciri been seen?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So where's Ciri been seen, exactly?
Yennefer: In two places -- Velen and Novigrad. The trail in Velen is most
promising. You should make that your first stop. Ask for a merchant
named Hendrik at the Inn of the Crossroads. One of the emperor's
agents, he should get in touch with you.
Geralt: That's it? No passwords, secret handshakes?
Yennefer: None. Sorry to spoil your fun, your boyhood fantasies about the
crafts of the trade. All we have in Novigrad are unconfirmed
reports, rumors. But there you will have the help of our mutual
acquaintance. Triss Merigold. Apparently she's got a cozy flat on
the main square.
Geralt: Sure she'll be delighted to see me. What about you? What will you do?
Yennefer: I shall sail for Skellige. There was a magic explosion there
recently, blew half a forest down. I believe this had something to
do with Ciri. I'll be in Kaer Trolde. Join me there once you've
learned something.
Time to get going.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(see fireplace scene below)
Before we part...why didn't you contact me earlier?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: One thing before we go... Why didn't you contact me? Didn't
need me, didn't even want to see me?
Yennefer: I didn't want to spoil things. I'd heard you and Triss
made a great couple.
Geralt: Yen...I'd lost my memory.
Yennefer: Really -- that's your excuse? Let's drop it, all right?
"It's not what you think" or "it helped to understand how
much I loved you" -- I don't wish to hear it, any of it.
What's the Wild Hunt want from Ciri?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The Wild Hunt -- what could it want from Ciri?
Yennefer: I've no clue, Geralt. Might've written them to ask, but I don't
have their address. I know as much as you do. It must be about her
blood, her gift. As for what the Hunt wishes to do with that gift,
I--I'd prefer not to think about it¹, really.
[The two stand in front of the fireplace.]
Geralt: Guess this means we need to split up again. Not my preference, but I
understand. Clock's ticking.
Yennefer: It is indeed. So, why don't I teleport you to Velen, get you there
at once?
Geralt: Not gonna happen. I'll go on horseback. Soon as I can get changed.
Yennefer: Have it your way. Oh, and...you really look quite dashing in black
velvet.
Geralt: Think so? Maybe I can have some of my armor lined with it. Hm. Good
luck, Yen.
Yennefer: Same to you. And if you wish to learn what's happened in the world
while you and Vesemir roamed the wilderness, talk to Ambassador var
Attre. That's him, over there. And Geralt, I know it's wartime, but
try not to be a hero, all right? Just check those leads and come back
to me -- in one piece.
[She gives him a kiss.]
Yennefer: I shall be waiting.
[She leaves via a portal. Geralt can follow up with the ambassador if needed.]
Geralt: Ambassador var Attre? Yennefer suggested I ask you about current
events. The war, and so on.
var Attre: Of course. The emperor's servants keep no secrets from each other.
If you will, let us approach the map.
How's the war going?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How's the war going? I mean, apart from the fact that Nilfgaard's
triumph is imminent?
var A.: I assume this to be a private conversation. We've no witnesses, so
let's dispense with propaganda, even that shrouded in irony. Our
offensive was going splendidly -- until winter came. Aedirn was in
such disarray that we encountered no resistance. We had reached the
Pontar before the first snows. Only a weakened Kaedwen remained...and
Radovid's Redania, which had ignored the rest of the North's pleas
for help. We thought they'd sue for peace, perhaps even submit to
vassalization. We waited for spring, certain of victory.
Geralt: Radovid? Submit?
var A.: Yes. A vain hope, I agree. Radovid sent no peace envoys, nor did he
advance on our position. Instead, he trudged over the snow-bound
Kestrel Mountains...and attacked Kaedwen, his ally. This attack took
the Kaedweni by surprise. They were still mourning the loss of their
king. Rudderless and dejected, they laid down their arms after a few
lost skirmishes -- and joined Radovid. And so by spring, instead of
two weak enemies we had only one powerful one.
That a note of admiration I hear?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That admiration I hear in your voice?
var A.: Radovid is our foe...but I cannot deny he is clever. He played us
both for fools. Particularly dense ones at that.
What about Kovir?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What about Kovir?
var A.: Kovir values its neutrality. Enough not to lend its
armies or, more importantly, even its coin to either side.
var A.: Returning to the war... This spring there was a massive battle in the
marshes of Velen. Massive, yet indecisive. Both sides suffered
enormous losses. Unprecedented, even. Radovid has retreated across
the Pontar. He's safe for now...until reinforcements come from the
south. Then Emperor Emhyr var Emreis will deal with him once and for
all.
Geralt: Couldn't you just go home? Save everyone a lot of marching. Not to
mention a few human lives.
var A.: I'm afraid the stakes are too high to fold now. We can only go all
in.
What's the situation in Velen?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hm. How do things look in Velen?
var A.: As bad as ever...perhaps worse. This land never flowed with milk and
honey, and now it flows with blood. Armies have swept through it
several times, trampling fields, looting granaries, burning villages.
Famine grips the populace.
Geralt: Mhm. So how's ruling that earthly paradise going for you?
var A.: Not well, to be honest. Our forces are spread thin as it is, and
Velen is chiefly swampy forests that are difficult to control. We've
had several patrols never return to their camps. Thus, we've
temporarily delegated authority in this region to a certain Nordling,
a former low-ranking officer in the Temerian army, one Phillip
Strenger. Better known by his nom de guerre, the Bloody Baron. I
advise you well -- avoid him.
What's new in Novigrad?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Any news from Novigrad? Is the free city still free?
var A.: Yes, although everyone knows this won't last. Radovid is in Oxenfurt,
and the emperor is here, in Vizima. At Novigrad's doorstep, both. And
both require coin and ships. Novigrad can provide these. Which is why
the mood in the city is rather...well, on edge.
Geralt: Meaning?
var A.: How do men deal with fear? They seek reassurance...and scapegoats.
The Church of the Eternal Fire understands this perfectly. And so it
promises to improve the lives of its flock by pointing out the
guilty. Who started the war? Who profits from it? Why, it's obvious</pre><pre id="faqspan-3">
-- mages, elves, dwarves. In a word, any and all deviants. I've been
stationed in Novigrad for thirteen years. First as a consul, then as
an ambassador. I've seen a great deal -- cruelty, cynicism, greed.
But what is happening there now concerns me greatly.
What's the latest from Skellige?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's new in Skellige?
var A.: Nothing. The islanders pride themselves on that, don't they? Doing
everything according to tradition? As their forefathers did. And like
their forefathers, they quarrel with each other, pillage,
occasionally attack our transports. This is cumbersome...but nothing
more. Skellige has always been a footnote in history. And so it
shall remain.
Geralt: Sound awfully confident. What if King Bran manages to unite the
Jarls? Lead all the clans against your fleet?
var A.: King Bran is a feeble old man. From what I know he barely remembers
the names of his own vassals. Uniting all might prove difficult.
Thanks for your help.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks for your help.
var A.: Think nothing of it. May the Great Sun light your Path.
[Geralt goes to retrieve his possessions from the chamberlain.]
Mererid: How might I serve the gentleman?
Geralt: By returning my things.
[Geralt crinkles his nose at his clothes' new smell.]
Mererid: Citrus and cloves. The fragrance will keep the gentleman's robes fresh
somewhat longer.
Geralt: Mhm. Thanks bunches.
Mererid: The Emperor is not known for his patience. He wants his daughter back,
safe and sound. As soon as possible.
Geralt: Yeah, mentioned something of the sort. So long.
____________________________________
________________________________________/ IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) | WK06 |_
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6a) THE NILFGAARDIAN CONNECTION [WK6A]
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[Geralt travels to war-torn Velen, the region south of Novigrad, in pursuit of
the lead on Ciri. He immediately heads to the Inn at the Crossroads, set up
near a major fording point in the river.]
Geralt: Looking for a man. Goes by the name Hendrik.
Innkeep: What you want with 'im?
Geralt: Wanna talk to him.
Innkeep: What about?
[Geralt senses he's being lead around because he hasn't ordered anything yet.]
Geralt: Gimme a bottle of something strong.
[Just then, riders can be heard galloping into town.]
Innkeep: You gotta go! I'll open the back way for ye!
Haven't finished my drink.
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Geralt: Haven't finished my drink yet.
Expecting visitors?
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Geralt: Got company. Who is it?
[Men in armor burst into the tavern.]
Man: Innkeep! Vodka!
Man 2: Who's this 'un?
Man 3: Brave warrior, looks like. Got two swords, see?
Man: Oi, gray boy! What's the point of havin' two swords?
Man 3: Wonder if he keeps an extra prick in his trousers, too.
Man: You fuckin' deaf? Gonna say who you are, or do I need to loosen your
tongue with me knife?
Back off or die.
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Geralt: Someone who'd prefer not to be bothered while he's having a drink.
Man: Heh! Hear that? We've a distinguished gentleman in our midst!
Man 3: Shine you boots, guv'nor?
Geralt: No. Wouldn't want the grime on your hands to rub off on them.
Man: Bolo...did you hear what I heard?
Geralt: Go away. Or I'll kill you.
Man: Dammit. Enough!
I'm a witcher.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher. Heard you wondering about my swords. Well, one's for
monsters, the other -- for humans. Only got one prick, though. In
case you're wondering about that, too.
Man: Don't touch 'im. Don't even look at 'im. Worse than lepers, that lot.
Man 2: Saw one in action once. Killed a half dozen, blood everywhere -- freak
didn't even show a drop of sweat.
Man: Got the stench o' corpses on 'im.
Care for a drink?
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Geralt: How about I buy everybody a round?
Man 3: Why would you?
Geralt: Got the coin for it, simple as that.
Man: I don't drink with strangers.
Geralt: We share a round, won't be strangers anymore. Then we go our separate
ways.
Man: And which way might yours be?
Not your concern.
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Geralt: Is it just me, or is that none of your fucking business?
Man: I must be hearing things.
Man 2: You ain't. He meant to insult.
Man: I'll have to kill 'im, then.
Heading to Novigrad.
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Geralt: On my way to Novigrad.
Man: City of whores and whoremongers.
Who are you?
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Geralt: Who are you?
Man: Oh, aye -- an' why do you care?
Like to know who I'm drinking with.
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Geralt: Like to know who I'm drinking with -- just like you.
Man: We're the baron's men. And you're in his land.
Cheers, then.
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(same as "Cheers.")
Who's this baron?
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Geralt: A baron holds these lands? Must be quite a man -- doesn't care a
lick about all the Imperials here. More and more are arriving,
too.
Man 2: Bloody Baron's not some poncey prick son of a rich lord. So no --
he's not likely to piss his britches at the sight of a
black-winged head.
Geralt: This is interesting stuff.
Man: Our baron's baron 'cause that's the way we want it. And if that
strikes anyone as wrong, well, we encourage them to speak their
mind.
Wonder what you're doing here.
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Geralt: Just curious. Wondering what you're doing here.
Man: I don't like curious types.
Geralt: Really. How badly?
Man: So bad that I kill 'em.
Cheers.
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Geralt: To your health. And mine.
Man: Bottoms up.
[If Geralt solves things peaceably:]
Innkeep: If you wanna rest, come with me. I've a bench you can use.
[Geralt goes around the corner with the innkeep.]
Innkeep: Thanks for not startin' a row with those swine.
Geralt: I don't generally poke my nose into other people's business.
Innkeep: Lookin' to stay the night?
Geralt: No.
Innkeep: Ahh...
Geralt: I'm looking for Hendrik.
[If Geralt kicks ass and takes names:]
Innkeep: Have you any idea what the Baron'll do when he learns of this
butchery?! The village -- he'll tear it apart before anyone can say
it was some wanderin' mutant done it! An iron fist, he's got--
Geralt: Where's Hendrik?
Innkeep: You deaf?! Y'understand what I'm sayin'? Baron won't let this stand!
Geralt: Calm down. Your baron's no idiot. Seriously doubt he'll think you
locals cut his men down with farming implements. Now where's Hendrik?
[Either way, the convo ends with:]
Innkeep: Man lives in Heatherton.
Geralt: Don't know where that is.
Innkeep: Other side of the hill. Looked thataway this morn and saw a strange
glow. Imperials on the raid, perhaps, but who knows...
What do you know about Hendrik?
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Geralt: Anything else you can tell me about Hendrik?
Innkeep: Odd fellow. Arrived from who knows where for no apparent reason.
Shacked up with a widow whose husband was stabbed for a scrap of
bread.
Geralt: Baron's men don't like strangers.
Innkeep: Aye, an' he stays out o' their way. Always seems to know when
they're comin', always manages to disappear.
Bye.
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---
Geralt: Thanks, innkeep.
• Innkeep: Go out the back. More o' the baron's men in the village.
Geralt: No need to worry about me.
Innkeep: I'd rather you not make any more trouble -- for yourself, or us
both.
[Geralt makes for Heatherton, a village at the foot of the western mountains,
across the river. The place seems completely deserted.]
Geralt: Air is strange... Like dropping into a deep cellar on a hot day... And
the mist...
[Geralt sees a survivor nearby; he kills the dogs accosting him.]
Man: Begone! Leave me be, whoever you is! Get away!
Geralt: Calm down. It's over.
[He weaves a Axii sign.]
Man: Aye, it's over... All's past, never to be restored. I'll not forget that
ever.
• Geralt: What happened?
Man: I dunno... I don't wanna know. They came for Hendrik...and they got 'im.
• Geralt: Looking for a man named Hendrik. Supposed to live in his village.
Man: Aye, he did. No longer. They nabbed 'im in that hut. If you'd o' heard
the cries, sir...if you'd o' heard how a man can scream...how he can
suffer.
Tell me what happened.
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Geralt: Tell me what happened here. Step by step.
Man: They took 'em... Took 'em all...
Farewell.
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Geralt: Farewell. And peace of mind to you.
Man: Hm. Mm hm hm...
[If Geralt inquires, the man will narrate the flashback in which the Wild Hunt
riders appear and enter Hendrik's house. They kidnap and kill villagers, plus
burn most of Heatherton to the ground.]
Man: The sun was waning, see...and the dusk went crimson like blood. Thought to
meself, "Strange. The toads -- I cannot hear them." I know not what
happened there, save terror through and through. Hendrik screamed, then
he begged. By the end he could do naught but moan...
Geralt: Dammit!
Man: Weren't here long, the terrors. Yet the village froze like the heart of
winter...
Geralt: You in that hut when they rode off?
Man: No. And I'll not set foot there. Never.
[Geralt goes into Hendrik's dwelling and can investigate things.]
Geralt: • Great.
• Dammit.
• Just wonderful.
[Hendrik's bloodied corpse is nearby.]
• Geralt: Face scorched, hard to identify.
• Geralt: Tortured him. Maybe they missed something.
Should search his trousers.
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Need to check his pockets. Trouser's stiff, as if hung out to dry mid-winter.
Might be something in his jerkin.
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Maybe hid something in his jerkin. Damn, he's cold as ice. Nothing here.
He hide something in his boots?
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Should check his boots. Blood, congealed... Key hidden in his boot. Gotta fit
a keyhole. Somewhere nearby, hopefully.
[Geralt inspects a skin-covered floor in the kitchen.]
Geralt: There's a draft... Gotta be a space under this rubble. Guess I should
do some cleaning.
[Descending into the hidden basement, the witcher looks around. He pulls a
false candlestick to reveal a chest behind a shelf.]
Geralt: Hmm...interesting. A ledger...payment for a sack of grain...amount due
for a charcoal shipment... Hendrik was masquerading as a merchant. Hm,
what's this? Notes among the ledger entries -- clever. Interesting
headings...
"Missing and Wanted"
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"Missing and Wanted." "Subject appeared in Skellige. Also sighted in
Novigrad." "Appearance unchanged. Ashen hair. Scar on her face." "Avoids
contact with others."
"Drunken Swine"
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"Drunken Swine." "So-called baron hosted subject at his castle, or should I
say, illegally-appropriated fort..." "Reason unknown." "Talk to baron at
Crow's Perch."
"Clashed with a Witch"
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"Clashed with a Witch." "Subject landed in swamp, encountered a witch."
"Conflict ensued. Cause unknown." "Find the witch." "Talk to the peasantry --
village of Midcopse."
"Caution Advised"
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"Caution Advised." "I'm being observed. Don't know by whom or why. Unsettling
signs..." "Dog ran off." "Water in bucket froze solid." "Strange glow
observed in the sky. Ill omen, peasants say."
Think that's all.
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Somehow they learned Hendrik was searching for Ciri. Thus the torture... I'm
too late. My only leads -- the baron, and some witch. Damn.
[His two leads in hand, Geralt goes off in search of them.
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___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6b) HUNTING A WITCH [WK6B]
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[From Hendrik's ledger, there's apparently a witch in Midcopse...perhaps the
same one Ciri seems to have encountered. Geralt goes there to snoop around,
and overhears a conversation.]
Woman: So, gonna try to charm him? Did the witch give
Woman 2: Aye, she did indeed. Didn't ask much for it, either.
Woman: Maybe I should pay her a visit. How d'ye get there?
Woman 2: Path past the pond -- follow it till you reach a lone rock. Round that
and head right off into the woods. Then keep straight. You'll know you
went the right way when you pass an abandoned cart.
Geralt: Ought to be able to find the witch now.
[Geralt follows the gossipers' clues.]
Geralt: Supposed to be a large stone near the pond. There's the boulder... Now
right, and on to the cart. The cart...witch's hut is somewhere nearby.
[At the hut, some peasants have gathered around the witch, none other than
Keira Metz, a sorceress from the first Witcher game. Geralt takes a seat as
they entreat her wisdom.]
Man: Miss... Cow's a-wheezin', won't rise from the barn floor. Pus streams from
her snout.
Keira: Do I look like a dairy maid to you?
Woman: No, miss, but you know things. 'Tis our last cow, none other left in the
village...
Man: Rest died of hunger, or soldiers lead 'em off. Oh...we're as good as dead
without her.
Keira: I shall give you herbs. Mix them with water drawn from the spring at
midnight, then make the cow drink them. But first you must clean out
your barn. Thoroughly, is that clear?
Woman: Thank you, miss! A thousand thanks!
Keira: Enough! I've had my fill for the day -- go home!
[The peasants leave and Keira walks inside, ignoring Geralt.]
Peasant 1: She's in a foul mood. We'd best come back on the morrow.
Peasant 2: Watch what you say. She's quick to ire, apt to take revenge.
Peasant 3: Bitch is in a proper fury. Needs a man!
[Geralt goes inside, finding the cabin empty.]
Geralt: Anyone home? Now where's she run off to?
[Numerous things can be investigated.]
• Ordinary ointment...nothing special.
• Hm, normal candle.
• Hm, managed to amass quite a book collection.
• Don't often see baubles like this in Velen...
• A pentagram in chalk.
[He finally finds an inscribed skull.]
Geralt: Powerful aura -- must be some artifact, or...
[It creates a portal on the pentagram.]
Geralt: So this is where she disappeared to.
[He enters, finding the portal leads to a tranquil glade.]
Geralt: Well, well. Nice.
Keira: I was wondering how long it would take you, Geralt. I'm upstairs. Don't
be shy. Greetings, witcher.
[He ascends the stony steps to find her lounging brazenly in an ornate bath.]
Geralt: Missed a spot.
Keira: Where? Hope you didn't come to gawk.
Geralt: No. To talk.
Keira: Turn around and wait.
[She exits and magically clothes herself.]
Geralt: Keira Metz deep in the heart of Velen... Thought you hated the
countryside.
Keira: I can assure you I do, now more than ever.
Geralt: Heard a witch lived out here. Never would have guessed it was King
Foltest's former advisor.
Keira: I'm so pleased the world's still able to astound you, Geralt. I actually
envy you that sense of wonder -- common in children, knights errant¹,
and morons.
Geralt: Hm, someone's grown irritable. Is that any way to greet an old friend?
Keira: I believe I "greeted you" with a pleasant view. Now tell me what brings
you here.
Looking for a certain young woman.
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Geralt: I'm looking for a certain young woman.
Keira: Oh really. Who?
Ciri.
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Geralt: I'm looking for Ciri. That Ciri. And no one can know. Understand?
Keira: Cirilla is here? The girl once sought by the Lodge of Sorceresses and
practically every ruler on the continent has landed here, in Velen,
and I know nothing of it? What is she doing here?
Geralt: Indications are she's hiding from someone. I heard she quarreled
with a witch, but if you don't now anything... Sure you haven't
seen her?
Someone who quarreled with a witch.
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Geralt: Apparently, she quarreled with a local witch.
Keira: Pff. Someone's been feeding you horseshit. The girls around here are
too stupid to quarrel with me.
Geralt: She's not from here.
Keira: You're up to something, Geralt. If I'm to help you, you must tell me
what's going on. Who are you looking for?
Geralt: Ciri.
Keira: Ciri? Well...now I understand the secrecy, not to mention the
brooding, the furled brow. And you say she had some sort of problem
with a witch?
Geralt: So you haven't seen her.
What are you doing in Velen?
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Geralt: So, betcha saw this question coming: what are you doing here?
Keira: Let me think... Enjoying the country air? Admiring the unspoilt
scenery? Or is it furthering the age-old alliance between the city and
its breadbasket? No. I'm in hiding, Geralt. Blind to the state of the
world? Don't you see what's happening?
Geralt: Mean the persecution mages now face?
Keira: Yes, that's exactly what I mean -- Radovid's new pastime, pursuing
anyone with a whiff of magic about them. Witch hunters -- sound
familiar? Murderers scouring the North from end to end. Burning books,
hanging soothsayers, torturing herbalists...
Back to the topic at hand.
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Geralt: Changing the subject...
Why Velen?
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Geralt: Picked a strange place to hide.
Keira: I didn't pick anything. In the North, Radovid's men hunt sorceresses
like fish in a barrel. Nilfgaard controls the south. Where was I to
flee?
Geralt: Emperor does keep mages on a short leash, but he lets them live and
ply their trade.
Keira: Radovid and Emhyr are different in every respect except one. They
share a deep hatred of the Lodge of Sorceresses. And I was a member.
Like playing the village witch?
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Geralt: So how's it feel to be the village witch?
Keira: Huh. Horrid.
Geralt: No joy in having the boundless respect and trust of the local
peasantry?
Keira: They'd respect anyone who could produce hemorrhoid cream.
Geralt: Been here awhile, haven't you?
Keira: Long enough for rot to set in. You cannot possibly imagine how much I
detest this place.
Any word from the other sorceresses of the Lodge?
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Geralt: Any news of your sisters from the Lodge?
Keira: None. We can't know too much about one another these days. It's safer
that way.
Geralt: Even tried to contact one another?
Keira: I've wanted to many times. But I've no way of knowing who would answer
-- or who might be listening.
See you.
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Geralt: See you, Keira.
[After letting Keira in on Ciri's alleged appearance...]
Keira: I'm certain I haven't. But recently someone asked me about an
ashen-haired young woman. He claimed she would stand out from the
peasant crowd.
Who did the asking?
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Geralt: Who was it?
What else did he say?
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Geralt: He say anything else about her?
Keira: Not so fast, Geralt. No humble plea? No offering for the witch?
How's a few dozen eggs sound?
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Geralt: What's your rate these days? A couple dozen eggs? Three hens, maybe?
Keira: My rate rises with every word you speak. I'm not sure you can afford
the information anymore.
Geralt: Hm, you're pricklier than I remember. Isn't living in nature's lap
supposed to be cleansing, calming...?
Keira: Nature stinks.
My gratitude good enough?
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Geralt: My undying gratitude. Good enough?
Keira: It's nothing to sneeze at, but you've a knack for getting into
trouble. I should probably ask for something more immediately
deliverable.
Keira: Oh, sod it, don't give me that look. I know it's Ciri we're talking
about. It was an elf -- this individual asking about Cirilla. No
flea-bitten Scoia'tael slob, either, but an elven mage.
What was his name?
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Geralt: He say what his name was?
Keira: He didn't. And he wore a mask. Very secretive all around, but...I
liked him. He was intelligent and composed.
Geralt: He say what he wanted with Ciri?
Keira: Only that they were to meet in Velen. He wished to know if she'd
arrived before he did.
What was he doing in Velen?
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Geralt: What was an elven mage doing in Velen?
Keira: Well, I tried to ask him, of course, about everything...
Geralt: Of course.
Keira: But you know how elves are -- he asked many more questions than he
answered.
He leave any message for her?
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Geralt: He leave any message for her?
Keira: No, but he asked were I to meet her, to lead her to him.
Geralt: So you know where to find him?
Keira: Yes, he said he'd found a hideout in some elven ruins near the village
of Midcopse.
[After learning about the Midcopse hideout, Keira opens a portal.]
Keira: I'll go there with you.
Geralt: Why? Think I'll have trouble finding this place?
Keira: I've unfinished business with this elf. He promised me something, but
he never delivered it. Besides, I know you think as I do -- that she
might be there. And I'd like to see Cirilla, too.
Can we go?
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Geralt: Let's go, then.
Keira: Yes, let's.
Can't go just yet.
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Geralt: Can't go just yet.
Keira: In that case we'll meet there. I'll await you near the cave entrance.
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6c) WANDERING IN THE DARK [WK6C]
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[Keira can teleport Geralt with her to the ruins instantly, or he can meet her
at the entrance sometime later. The dialogue changes somewhat depending on
this.]
• Keira: This is the place.
Geralt: Been here before?
Keira: No. I was hoping the elf would return as he'd promised, or else his
waif would appear. At any rate, I've no idea what to expect from this
place.
Geralt: Well, let's find out.
• Keira: There you are...at last.
Geralt: Can we go? I'd like to finally meet this mysterious elf.
Keira: I do wonder if the two of you will hit it off.
Geralt: Not like I wanna bed him. Just want to ask him about Ciri.
Keira: Come on! Gvella, glan!
[Keira's spell brightens the area a bit. A short ways inside, Geralt spies
familiar soldiers investigating across the room.]
Geralt: The Wild Hunt.
Keira: What?! Phantom riders? That means...I thought they didn't exist!
Geralt: Feast your eyes on the nonexistent, then.
[The Hunt members disappear into a portal.]
Geralt: Hm. Got a navigator with them.
Keira: A what?
Geralt: Can you teleport us to the other side?
Keira: I'd rather teleport us home. Do you really mean to follow them?
Geralt: Teleport. Hurry up!
Keira: Not sure I like any of this. Ready. Follow me! Aaaaargh!
[They get in the portal, but Geralt appears in a cave elsewhere. Alone.]
Geralt: Damn portals. Wonder where Keira is now.
[If Geralt doesn't get in the portal, it disappears.]
Geralt: Keira?
[Down a tunnel, he can hear Keira's incantations, as well as other phrases.]
Keira: • Aargh!
• Geralt!
• Lillad geach! ...Uuuugh! Lillad geach--
[He runs into the room, seeing she's found a literal rats' nest.]
Keira: Geralt, do something! They're crawling out of those holes...! Use a
Sign! Or bombs! Anything!
Geralt: Stay calm. They're only rats.
Keira: I hate...! Uggggh! I hate rats!
[Keira will continue shrieking throughout the fight.]
• Geralt!
• Disgusting!
• Get them off! Aaaah!
• Uggggh! It's disgusting!
• Do you know the diseases they spread?!
[Geralt destroys their nests.]
Keira: Whew, thank you.
Geralt: You that afraid of rats? Could've annihilated them with one spell.
[She gives him the evil eye.]
Geralt: Fine, won't say anything... So, what happened to you?
Keira: There's something here, something that distorts teleportation. I've no
idea how they managed to get to the other side problem¹ free.
Geralt: Wild Hunt's teleportation magic is different. Got specially trained
mages for that -- navigators they call them.
Keira: They can have three helmsmen and a parrot for all I care. I'll not risk
that again.
Geralt: Let's go. Wild Hunt got a good head start on us, but we still stand a
chance.
Keira: Have you gone completely mad? We must leave here at once!
Let's hurry.
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Geralt: Let's go. We might still reach the elven mage before they do.
Keira: But what does the Hunt want from him?
Geralt: If that elf has information about Ciri... Or if she tried to find
him, contact him, even, and they sensed her...
Keira: Very well. Let's move on. Perhaps we'll come across some clue, some
trace left by this elf. There's no guarantee the Wild Hunt is going
the right way.
Scared? Go back. I'm gonna keep going.
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Geralt: If you're scared, turn back. I'm gonna go on.
Keira: Stop it! That's emotional blackmail!
Geralt: You'd really worry about me if I went on alone?
Keira: You?! I'd be concerned for myself!
Geralt: Then come with me. Just...quick decision, c'mon.
Keira: Very well, have it your way. How did I ever let you talk me into
this ridiculous expedition?!
Need to find out what the Hunt's doing here.
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Geralt: I gotta know what the Wild Hunt's doing here.
Keira: But we came to find the elven mage, not fight the Hunt!
Geralt: If they reach him first, we won't get a chance to talk to him.
Besides--
Keira: Go on, finish. Wait, you've some special interest in the Hunt... Is
this about Ciri? There's something you've not told me, isn't there?
Geralt: Come with me and maybe I will.
Keira: Are you always like this? I'm beginning to feel sorry for Triss and
Yen. Oh very well. Let's go.
Keira: Gvella, glan!
[While walking, a hologram of the mysterious elf activates.]
Elf: (in elvish) Daughter of the Gull. Greetings. I await you, Daughter of the
Gull.
Keira: That's him! That's the elf!
Elf: (in elvish) Follow the sign of your sword.
[The hologram deactivates.]
Geralt: What was that? An illusion?
Keira: No... A morphotic projection.
It was a message for Ciri.
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Geralt: Message was definitely for Ciri. "Daughter of the Gull" -- Lara
Dorren's heir.
Keira: Indeed, it is what the elves would title Ciri. But what was the bit
about the sign of her sword? A riddle?
Geralt: Yeah, not a hard one, though. Not if you know Ciri named her sword
Zireael -- Swallow.
Keira: Come now, who aside from you would know that?
Geralt: Might've been the point. Your elven mage secured the passage, hid it,
so that only Ciri could find it.
Keira: He failed to foresee that someone like you would show up.
Geralt: Nevertheless, I think he was expecting uninvited guests, made some
preparations. Let's hope the Wild Hunt ran into some obstacles.
Keira: Well then, let's go. Do you think following the swallows will suffice?
Geralt: We'll see.
A what projection?
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Geralt: A what projection?
Keira: Something akin to a postbox for mages. Much safer than an ordinary
letter, which anyone can intercept en route to its recipient.
[They enter a large, watery cavern.]
Keira: An old elven...port?
Geralt: Must've been how they got here by sea.
Keira: I wonder how long ago that was...
Geralt: Careful! That oily yellow vapor -- it's toxic.
Keira: I hardly need instruction from you. I recognized the vulpine morel
immediately.
Geralt: Vesemir told me that soon after he'd learned to cast Igni, he tried it
out on a patch of these mushrooms.
Keira: Terrible idea. What happened?
Geralt: Well, he survived. And wounds heal awfully quickly on young witchers.
Come on.
[If Geralt approaches the submerged tunnel:]
Keira: How's the water?
Geralt: Refreshing. Don't know what you're missing.
[Nearby, familiar iconography marks a passage entrance.]
Keira: A swallow. Seems we're headed the right way.
[They enter a large chamber past the swallow-marked passages.]
Keira: Look. It's rather similar to that other pillar with the projection...
Elf: (in elvish) Swallow, the obvious route is not always the best. Find
Kelpie.
Keira: Kelpie? Does he mean that sea monster?
Geralt: No. That's what Ciri named her mare. Horse could apparently gallop
like a demon.
Keira: Hm, good name for a horse. So, shall we look for it? Gvella, glan!
[The sorceress looks at a nearby drawing.]
Keira: I wonder what all this means. They look hastily scribbled on with lime.
Geralt: Hunting dog. Can't see any connection to Kelpie.
[The dog picture booby trap blows up in his face.]
Keira: Must you touch everything? Geralt, are you all right?
Geralt: You might say so.
[Geralt finds another picture, this of a sea monster.]
Geralt: A sea monster. Looks a bit like a kayran.
Keira: Geralt, what the hell is that?!
[They see two ghost-like copies of themselves approaching.]
Geralt: Another security measure. Dammit all...
Keira: Do you think it's a mind game or something? You know, can you defeat
yourself? Are you willing to? Perhaps these apparitions believe they
are real?
Geralt: Sorry, I just don't share your doubts. Know exactly which one of you's
real. Now focus on the fight.
[They defeat the clones.]
Keira: Oof... Anything like that ever happen to you before?
Geralt: Weeell, almost. While back a certain doppler took a shot at
impersonating me.
Keira: Yes? And?
Geralt: He hated being me. Felt uncomfortable. Dopplers're kind-hearted by
nature.
[Geralt jumps into the room's central well, finding a picture of a horse.]
Geralt: Drawing of a horse. Clue for Ciri, must be.
[Through an underwater passage, he sees a second image scrawled.]
Geralt: Kelpie... Another horse. Almost exactly like the last one. Let's see
what this does...
[The room shakes.]
Keira: Geralt? I don't know what you did, but it worked! Come back here! Look,
they're opening!
[In the previous chamber, a hidden entrance reveals itself.]
Keira: Let's go.
[Further in, a massive sparrow design is seen above an inactive portal.]
Keira: Well, now I know what distorted my effort at teleportation. This very
portal.
Geralt: And I know why I landed in that drowner nest.
Keira: You should be pleased you emerged from the portal in one piece.
Geralt: And everyone still wonders why I hate to be teleported.
Keira: We must try to activate it.
Geralt: Think that's a...swallow.
[He touches a smaller swallow glyph, reactivating the portal.]
Keira: It worked. Come.
Geralt: Sure it's safe?
Keira: Of course. The elven mage prepared this passage for Ciri. Come on, now.
[The two emerge together this time, somewhere unfamiliar.]
Keira: It's grown awfully quiet.
Geralt: Is that bad?
Keira: A bit like the calm before a storm...
[The odd noise they hear is from next door, where a golem sentry waits.]
Keira: I've a bad feeling about this.
Golem: Zireael not recognized. Intruders. Destroy the intruders.
[With a bit of swords and sorcery, the golem is disposed of.]
Keira: And that would be that! I knew we'd manage.
Geralt: That so? Make sure and tell me beforehand next time.
Keira: My intuition's a fine instrument, witcher. Don't underestimate it. I've
some veeery good feelings about you, for instance. In several domains.
[They venture onward.]
Keira: Once you finally find Ciri, what will you do? Any plans?
Geralt: Depends what she wants.
Keira: Imagined it -- how it will...transpire? What will she say? What will she
look like?
Geralt: No.
Keira: I'm sorry. For getting ahead of myself. At times I forget...we hardly
know each other, certainly not enough to discuss personal matters.
Geralt: Not to worry. We'll get there.
[If they enter the room with the gargoyle:]
Keira: Uh-oh.
Geralt? What? Got that feeling again?
Keira: And more...
Keira: Look, they're opening! Let's go.
[Upon encountering the next teleporter room:]
Geralt: Teleport over there.
Keira: We must activate it quickly. I've a feeling another golem's about to
surprise us.
Geralt: Another swallow...
Keira: Look, it worked. Come on.
[They enter the new teleport, ending up back in the ruins' main room, only on
the opposite side, this time.]
Keira: Look, we managed to cross the bridge. This is where we saw the Wild
Hunt.
Geralt: Great. Means they're way ahead of us. Come on.
[By the next stairway, they see more dead golems -- frozen solid.]
Geralt: Wild Hunt -- definitely.
Keira: They destroyed the mage's sentries? They didn't come here for a friendly
chat with the elf.
Geralt: Meaning you ever thought they might've?
[They find another golem past the others.]
Geralt: Frozen 'em before they could attack.
[A short ways later, the duo finds a large chamber occupied by the Wild Hunt.]
Mage: Shaar'az!
Soldier: (in Elvish) They're here already.
Mage: (in Elvish) Tend to them. We've no time to lose. Go.
[He prepares to cast a large spell.]
Navigator: Shaent tah'vir!
[The room grows deathly cold as ice starts forming all over the cavern walls.]
Keira: What is this?!
Geralt: The White Frost! Mage from the Hunt summoned it! Can you seal those
cracks it's blowing through?!
Keira: They're too far! We must get closer! I shall shield us with Demetia
Crest's Surge! Stand at my side! Da'arian annoi!
[She erects a barrier that protects herself and Geralt from the chill.]
Keira: Ready! Stay close! Bhain'ne calar! We must close them...!
Geralt: Want me to go...?!
Keira: I'll do it, just cover me! An Gal Scam'Hanach!
[She closes the first frost-spewing portal.]
Keira: Whew, I'm beginning to think we might make it. Bhain'ne calar! An Gal
Scam'Hanach!
[Geralt yet again defends her from Hunt wolves as she closes the second.]
Geralt: Just one more.
Keira: Mhm. Bhain'ne calar! An Gal Scam'Hanach!
[She siphons the final magic from the portal, ending the freezing spell. The
sorceress is noticeably drained and soon collapses in Geralt's arms.]
Keira: It worked... Da'arian annoi!
Geralt: Keira! What's wrong?
Keira: It'll pass... That took...a great deal of Power.
Just don't faint on me.
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Geralt: Just don't faint on me.
Keira: Now, in your firm embrace? Not on your life.
If you can't go on...
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Geralt: If you can't go on...
Keira: You can't leave me here!
Geralt: I'd never do that. Ahem. Love to be able to say we could stay awhile
and rest...
Keira: I know, I know. We must go on.
[They go over to where the mage was. Ice covers the only exit.]
Geralt: Hm, they blocked the passage. Maybe I can try--
Keira: Leave it to me.
[Her lightning attacks steadily disintegrate the magical ice apart.]
Keira: Gvella, glan! Come. We might still catch them.
Geralt: Thanks for your help. Pretty tough slog.
Keira: Good thing I came with you. You'd never have managed without me, would
you? Come now, admit it.
Geralt: Yeah. Never.
[They come to another chamber containing a Hunt member.]
Keira: He awaits us...
Elf: You are stubborn, dh'oine.
Keira: Geralt, I shall help you--
Geralt: Step back.
Keira: Stop telling me what to do!
[As they beat on Nithral, he starts opening a portal.]
Nithral: Salah vatt'ghern!
Keira: Geralt, look! He's opening a passage!
Geralt: Stay calm. Focus.
[Nithral tries another rift later.]
Nithral: Salah vatt'ghern!
Keira: Geralt! Another rift!
[They finally slay the axe-swinging bastard.]
Keira: Are you well and whole? I feared--
Geralt: Unnecessarily. Let's look around.
Keira: If I've my knickers on straight, this looks like the elf's laboratory.
[Another morphotic projector's nearby.]
Keira: Look, the elf left another message for Ciri.
Elf: (in Elvish) Daughter of the Gull.
Geralt: All right, let's watch this message.
Elf: Zireael, this place is no longer safe. Do not tarry here long. Trust no
one, and above all beware the witches of Crookback Bog. Try to reach the
place where last we were together.
[The projection ends.]
Geralt: "Where last we were together." Not much to go on. Dammit!
Keira: Perhaps it's best he didn't leave a clearer message. The Wild Hunt broke
in here, surely they saw the projection.
Geralt: They searched everything...and if they had more time, they'd probably
have torn the place to the ground. But that doesn't change the fact
that we haven't learned anything -- not about the elf, not about Ciri.
Keira: Well, we know they were well acquainted, and traveling together.
Elf warned Ciri about some witches.
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Geralt: The Witches of Crookback Swamp...
Keira: Crookback Bog.
Geralt: Keira! If you're hiding something...
Keira: But -- I didn't say...
Did you know these witches?
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Geralt: You know these witches?
Keira: I've never met them, but I've read of them. In an old manuscript I
found in one of the huts in the village. It mentions the village
witches venturing into Crookback Bog at times -- to liaise between
the villagers in the Crones, the Ladies of the Wood. The Crones
appear to be intolerant of outsiders, but they help the local folk.
Apparently, they stopped the spread of the plague in Velen.
Geralt: Hm. What's your take on all this?
Keira: I'd love to shrug it off as the nattering of so many old women,
yet... Throughout my first fortnight in Velen, I had horrible
nightmares. Something was calling me out into the swamps. One night I
decided to enter the dream consciously, render it lucid. I confronted
the...thing directly. It broke contact at once. Peaceful nights ever
since.
Didn't mention them earlier. Why?
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Geralt: Why didn't you say anything earlier? I told you Ciri had a run in¹
with a witch.
Keira: I had no idea you meant them... If I'd told you something, you would
have rushed off to find them... But we needed first to confirm that
Ciri was here, right? I shall tell you everything now, of course.
Geralt: Now, after I safely lead you through the cave?
Keira: I can't believe you'd think so poorly of me. Perhaps you do bear a
grudge against sorceresses.
Geralt: Mhm. Can't imagine where that comes from.
Wonder why they split up.
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Geralt: Wonder why they split up.
Keira: Perhaps because the Wild Hunt was on the elf's trail, and Ciri would
be safer if they did.
How do I find the witches?
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Geralt: How do I find them?
Keira: The swamps are vast, dangerous, but they say the Crones mark the way
for peasants who wish to visit them. The manuscript mentions a chapel
in Crookback Bog. And from that chapel one must follow the Trail of
Treats.
Geralt: Treats?
Keira: Of course, they didn't read you bedtime stories at Kaer Morhen. All
normal folk know that witches live in gingerbread houses poised atop
chicken legs.
Geralt: I'll have to see that to believe it.
Keira: Take the tome and read it. I...I truly do believe you'll find your
Cirilla. All right, then. As a start, let's look for a way out of
here.
Geralt: Good idea.
Keira: Why'd we even come?
[Geralt can inspect things around the lab.]
• Hmm, a mysterious mage-herbalist...
• Must've burned these notes himself. The Hunt wouldn't have bothered.
Keira: Meaning he knew they were looking for him.
• What's this?
Keira: The potion I gave him. Seems he saw a use for it, drank it.
[The witcher observes an odd wall.]
Geralt: Strange. My medallion's trembling, but there's nothing here... What's
with this wall?
Keira: It's an illusion. I sensed it as well. I expected we might run into
such things, so I brought this.
[She holds out a weird disc.]
Geralt: Meaning what?
Keira: The Eye of Nehaleni. It dispels illusions. It's easy enough to build,
so you're welcome to this one. It's bound to come in handy. And, each
time it does, you will think of me.
Geralt: Hm, thanks.
[He dispels the illusory door, revealing a new passage.]
Keira: Simple, isn't it?
Geralt: Mhm. Let's see where the passage leads.
Keira: Do you feel that? A flow of fresh air, from the left. Must be an exit
that way!
Geralt: Good, let's get outta here.
Keira: Wait. There's still the magic lamp.
Geralt: The magic what now?
Keira: Lamp. The elf promised it to me in exchange for my help. And since his
return here seems doubtful, I must retrieve it myself. If I can find it,
that is... Will you help?
Fine. I'll help.
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Geralt: Yeah, I'll help.
Keira: Splendid. Come, then.
I'm going straight to the Bog.
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Geralt: Gotta look for it alone. I should go to Crookback Bog. Think you can
manage?
Keira: Of course I can. Best of luck to you.
Geralt: I'll stop by. You can be sure.
Keira: In that case, I shall be waiting.
Geralt: See you, Keira.
[Helping Keira is detailed in her "Magic Lamp" subplot quest. Regardless, this
quest ends and Geralt can leave.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6d) BLOODY BARON [WK6D]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[After being tipped off to Phillip Strenger, the current ruler of the region,
he decides to visit Crow's Perch, a massive hilltop fort protected by a small
ridge/moat encircling it. He approaches a shut portcullis further inside.]
Guard: Halt! Who goes there?!
Geralt: Baron home?
[If Geralt solved the Crossroads debacle peaceably:]
Guard 2: Depends who's askin'.
Geralt: A witcher. Wanna talk to him.
Guard 2: Hmph, yeah. And I wanna plough the lovely Queen Cerro.
Guard: Seen this man before. Inn at the Crossroads. You bought us a round.
As I recall, you were to go your separate way.
I did. It lead me here.
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Geralt: It lead me here. Gotta talk to the baron.
Guard 2: Oh, aye? What's about?
Geralt: Something important. His ears only.
Guard: Fine. Lodrin, let 'im in. If he makes any trouble...well, we outnumber
'im.
Got lost. Sorry. Bye.
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Geralt: Right. Guess I'll be going.
[If Geralt went right to Heatherton and thus didn't have any interaction with
the Baron's shoulders at the IOTC:]
Guard 2: Depends who's askin'.
Geralt: A witcher. Wanna talk to him.
Guard 2: Hmph, yeah. And I wanna plough the lovely Queen Cerro.
Geralt: Gonna let me in or not?
Guard: Eh, no passage for the likes of you.
(15 coins) Sure we can't come to an agreement?
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Geralt: Seems to me we oughta be able to come to some sort of agreement.
Guard: Hm, all right, in you go. But cause any trouble and we'll gut you
faster than you can say "Nilfgaardian vendetta."
I'll be back.
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Geralt: Fine. Maybe another time.
[If Geralt gets entry because of what happened at the Crossroads inn, he'll be
guided to the baron by a scarred soldier.]
Guard: Open the gate! Sergeant! Ardal! Witcher to see the baron! Don't want no
disturbances, that clear?
Geralt: What do you think?
Geralt: Guard called you a sergeant. You a Temerian soldier?
Sergeant: Not your concern, mate.
Geralt: Deserter?
Sergeant: Temerian army don't exist no more.
Geralt: So what're you all doing here?
Sergeant: Had a choice after the Black Ones thrashed us -- let it lie and try
to lead normal lives...or continue to resist, join the guerillas
and fight for our beloved Temeria till death do us part. We chose
the former.
Geralt: And the baron your commander?
Sergeant: Hmm, yeah -- commander...
===============================================================================
[If Geralt killed the guards at the Inn of the Crossroads:]
Guard 2: Not your concern.
Geralt: Need to talk to him. Open the gate.
Guard 2: Not a chance.
Guard: We heard what happened at the Crossroads.
Guard 2: We'll not let a man like that in here.
Geralt: Won't get in that way. Gotta find another. Oughta look among the
villagers. Might find one brave enough to help me.
[Turned away, Geralt finds an geezer in the lower village.]
Geralt: How about that -- takes a tired old man not to panic and run when I
appear. Greetings.
Man: Greetin's to you.
Geralt: Other villagers all scurried off soon as they saw me. You didn't.
Man: Oh, I-- I'm too old to scurry! Besides, what could you do to me? Kill me?
Go ahead -- I've not long to live. Tan me hide? Wouldn't work -- me skin's
right brittle.
Know the area well?
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Geralt: Lived here long?
Man: Hmm...erm... Since I was born. Reckon that'll be more than seventy
winters!
Geralt: Must know the area well...
Man: Not bad.
Geralt: Listen, I gotta get inside the fortress. Can I do that without going
through the front gate?
Man: Ye can, but few know the way. If you were to make an 'umble offerin',
call it, to this 'umble man, maybe I could point you in the right
direction.
(15 gold) All right, I'll pay.
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Geralt: Fine. Don't really feel like arguing with the guards.
Man: Years back, when the old lord still ruled Crow's Perch, the
blacksmith's boy went missing. Whole village looked for him. No luck.
Finally found the boy in the river -- he'd drowned.
Geralt: Tragic. But how's that supposed to help me?
Man: A few days on, an old woman who served the lord found the boy's cap
near the castle well.
Geralt: So, either he lost it in there, or he fell in the well.
Man: Clever man. Village folk built a shrine where they found the lad's
body. Northwest of here. Wager you'll find an entrance to the passage
nearby...
Geralt: Shrine, where is it exactly?
Man: Track that weaves through the village -- follow it to the bridge. Turn
right past that, then go on straight as piss till you get to a
crossroads. Turn right again, then follow that path up a hill. Shrine
stands atop it.
Geralt: Right past the bridge, then right again. I'll find it. Thanks.
Not about to let you cheat me.
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Geralt: Won't finagle any coin out of me. If there's another way in, I'll
find it.
Man: Maybe you will, maybe you won't.
Why help me?
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Geralt: Just looking to make some coin, or is there another reason you're
helping me?
Man: What you did at the Crossroads -- that's why they won't let you in,
right? The innkeep? My sister's husband.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Take care.
Man: Aye, you too. And fortune smile upon ye.
[He finds the boy's roadside marker.]
Geralt: There's the shrine. Passage must be somewhere around here.
[Through an underwater cavern, Geralt climbs toward the well's entrance.]
Geralt: Light. I must be close.
===============================================================================
[Regardless of how he gains admittance, Geralt will come upon the baron nd
his Nilfgaardian guests.]
Baron: In Vizima -- now those were balls! Attended a few, me and my Annie! Oh,
how we danced! How we twirled! Hahaha!
[He suddenly goes over to the maid and starts dancing.]
Maid: Ooh!
Baron: One, two, three -- one, two, three -- wayhey!</pre><pre id="faqspan-4">
Soldier: Enough! I don't care how you do it, but the deliveries must be weekly.
Baron: Won't you stay for tea?
Soldier: No. Besides, you've another guest.
[Geralt walks over when the Black Ones leave.]
• Baron: Ah-ha, our defender of the downtrodden. Greetings.
Geralt: News gets around quick.
Baron: That it does. When I learned you'd slaughtered my men, I thought to
have you captured and hanged. Or at least flogged. But then I thought
-- one tough cocker if he bested that lot of cutthroats. Man like him
could prove useful...
I'm no thug for hire.
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Geralt: I'm not a thug for hire.
Baron: I know who you are. But since you come here having perpetrated that
bloodbath, I assume you've something important to discuss.
Geralt: I do.
Baron: Very well. Then let's discuss it.
Useful for what?
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Geralt: Useful? How?
Baron: That's the spirit! We'll work well together -- I can see that
already. This way.
Baron: One thing -- you'd do well to behave this time. Remember, I've still
to decide what to do with you. Which I shall do after we've spoken.
• Baron: Look at that -- didn't even stay for tea. In spite of all that
blabberin' about how cultured the nation is...
It's just that -- blabber.
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Geralt: Rumors rarely find confirmation in reality -- especially the ones
about foreigners.
Baron: Heheh. Right you are.
Didn't come here to chat.
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---
Geralt: I'm...
Baron: I know who you are. Believe I also know why you've come. We'll talk
inside.
[The baron leads him to his isolated office.]
Baron: Make yourself at home. Now, where'd I put the bloody vodka...? Ah, there
it is! A snifter?
Glad to have a drink.
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Geralt: Why not.
Baron: Hah! A man after me own heart. Hmm...with Foltest dead and Natalis'
whereabouts unknown...bloody hell, who's a loyal Temerian to drink to
these days?
Geralt: Himself and his company?
Baron: Good enough.
No thanks.
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Geralt: No thanks. Didn't come here to drink.
Baron: Hmph. As you will. But I'll not sit here adry, if you don't mind.
Before the war, there was a distillery nearby, best in Velen. But the
whoresons burnt it to the ground.
Baron: To the matter at hand -- I'm Phillip Strenger, though the blobtits
'round here call me the Bloody Baron.
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Blobtits call me the Butcher of Blaviken.
Baron: I said already -- I know who you are. Truth be told, it's the only
reason we're talking. How do you like it here in Velen?
It's awful.
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Geralt: I don't. Swamps, bogs, marshes everywhere...
Baron: Exactly.
Lovely place.
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Geralt: Lovely place. Swamps, bogs, marshes everywhere...
Baron: Exactly.
Get to the point.
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Geralt: Didn't come here to talk about the scenery.
Baron: You're wrong to avoid the topic. You've just arrived, plain to see.
And the local swamps and bogs -- they're interesting to say the least.
Baron: Someone loses their way 'round here, he becomes damn hard to find.
Geralt: What're you getting at?
Baron: Many have lost loved ones here. Some their wives, others their
daughters...
Can you get to the point.¹
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Geralt: Get to the point already.
Baron: Ciri. That's why you've come, isn't it?
Geralt: So she was here.
That a threat?
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Geralt: What's that supposed to mean? That a threat?
Baron: Oi, not as clever as I suspected you'd be. No, it's no threat. I'll
spell it out for you -- I know who you're looking for.
Baron: She showed up some time ago -- exhausted, wounded, and stinkin' like a
soaked hound after a hard hunt. Later I learned she'd come from the
swamp... Said some beasts from the woods attacked her before she could
reach the village...
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6e) CIRI'S STORY: THE KING OF THE WOLVES [WK6E]
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[This chapter takes place during "Bloody Baron," telling part of Ciri's tale.
It starts with her fleeing some unknown enemies in the swampy Velen wilds,
then tumbling down a steep embankment into a mud puddle.]
Ciri: Oof. That was close. I must leave this place.
[Following the riverbed, she finds a young girl hiding from wolves.]
Girl: Go away! Stupid wolves! Go!
Ciri: She needs help.
[She slays the pack.]
Ciri: You can come down! Hello there. Are you lost?
Girl: A little, I guess. Are you?
Yes, I'm lost, too.
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Ciri: Yes. Though also just a little.
Girl: Does that mean...you know which way to go?
Ciri: Not quite, not yet. But I'm sure we'll find the way if we set off
together.
No. I never am.
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Ciri: I never lose my way.
Girl: Mmm. If that's true, what are you doin' so deep in the forest alone?
Ciri: Looking for lost little girls.
[She notices the scar under Ciri's left eye.]
Girl: What happened to you?
Ciri: This? Hm, it's...nothing.
How is it you're here?
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Ciri: How did you wind up here?
Girl: My father brought me. Told me to follow the trail of treats and
eat my fill. He said he would wait. So I started down the trail,
but then I saw a butterfly, and I ran to catch it, and I lost my
way.
Where do you live?
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Ciri: Why don't you tell me where you live.
Girl: In Lindenvale. They'd see to your wounds there.
Good idea. I shall walk you home.
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Ciri: You and your father -- when did you leave home?
Girl: This mornin'.
Ciri: And did the sun warm your face or your back?
Girl: It warmed my back.
Ciri: So we must go east.
How'd you get here?
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Ciri: How'd you wind up here?
(girl tells "My father brought..." part)
Remember how to get home?
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(same as "Good idea. I shall walk you home.")
Why follow the trail of treats?
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Ciri: Your father -- why did he have you follow the trail of treats? Do you
know?
Girl: Because...we had naught to break our fast with.
Ciri: I don't understand.
Girl: I was naughty...broke a jug...spilled all our milk...
Ciri: Your parents must've been angry.
Girl: Mother said I should be spanked, but father said 'twouldn't do no
good -- too many mouths to feed anyway. Sending me down the trail of
treats -- that would solve things.
Ciri: Come. I'll walk you home. And explain to your parents that they must not
lose their children in the woods.
Girl: We can't go home. 'Cause of the Wolf King and his pack...
Don't be afraid. I'll protect you.
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Ciri: See what I've got on my back? Wolves fear it. Kings do too. Come, I'll
help you up.
The Wolf King?
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Ciri: No kings among wolves.
Girl: These have one!
Ciri: And you've seen him?
Girl: Yes! I mean, no. From behind a tree. He was huge, with giant eyes and
great fangs, and he was terribly, disgustably horrific!
[Ciri helps the lost girl, Gretka, climb up a ledge, then follows after.]
Girl: Hrgh.
[They come across another wolf pack.]
Girl: Wolves!
Ciri: Quick! Hide!
[She slays the 8-9 attackers.]
Ciri: You can come out now!
Girl: My, you're brave! My father couldn't even do that!
Ciri: Heh. Mine could do a lot more. Come.
[She stops to investigate what the animal corpse the wolves were gnawing on.]
Ciri: Hmm, massacred...by something with immense claws.
[The girl soon finds a human corpse down the path.]
Girl: Look! There's something there.
Ciri: Wait here. Don't come any closer.
Girl: But...
Ciri: No buts. Stay here. I must see something.
Eyes.
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Ciri: Hmm... Bloodshot, but still moist. He died recently.
Head.
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Ciri: Lips parted and bloated... Bit clear through his tongue. Immense pain
before death.
Chest.
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Ciri: Ah, his chest is crushed. Ribs probably pierced his lungs. Something
picked him up and threw him against the tree.
Leg.
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Ciri: Hmm... Something tore his leg off. No, gnawed it off.
Girl: Eeew, that's horrible!
Ciri: Stay there, and look away. Hmm... What's this? Marrow's missing.
Interesting.
Belly.
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Ciri: Let's see... Oh, his liver's gone.
Girl: Why're you diggin' through his belly?
Ciri: Would you mind making certain your laces are tied?
Summing up...
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• Ciri: Everything seems to suggest a fiend...
• Ciri: The Wolf King's no fantasy, it seems. Except, he's a werewolf.
Girl: What happened to him?
Ciri: He...had a fall.
Girl: Mhm, I bet. The Wolf King got him.
Ciri: Hm, when did children get so smart?
Girl: What'll we do when the Wolf King finds us?
Ciri: Good question. I've no silver, but I can make a blade oil.
Girl: Oil? You mean like we make from rapeseed?
Ciri: No, a far more special oil.
• Of dog tallow, fool's parsley, wolf's liver and mistletoe. The fiend
will feel terrible, terrible pain...
• Of dog tallow, wolfsbane, fool's parsley and wolf's liver. The Wolf
King will feel terrible, terrible pain...
Girl: You're smart! How do you know these things? Did your father teach you?
Ciri: Not my father. My uncle. Uncle Vesemir.
[If the player chooses to create the oil...]
Ciri: All right. I have everything. Now for a spot where I can build a fire,
brew the oil in peace.
[Later, at the small campfire...]
Girl: What ye doin'?
Ciri: Greasing my blade. There. We'll see just how effective Uncle Vesemir's
formulae are.
[They find another wolf band.]
Girl: Hear that? Wolves.
Ciri: Hide, quickly!
[Ciri nixes the whole lot.]
Ciri: They're gone! You can come out!
Girl: You cut 'em up bad! The Wolf King will be angry.
[Ciri inspects another animal corpse.]
Ciri: Hm, it's dead. But a pig here? Must be a human settlement nearby.
Ciri: Hm... Belly's all in blood. Clawed open. No wolves did this.
[They continue toward the Wolf King's cave.]
Ciri: Do parents often send their children out to follow the sweets?
Girl: Sometimes they send their children, sometimes they go themselves.
Ciri: Do they return?
Girl: No, why would they? They've plenty to eat where the path ends.
[Finally, they reach the destination.]
Girl: This way. Through the cave.
Ciri: You lead.
Girl: It's a bit dark...
Ciri: Afraid?
Girl: Are you?
Ciri: No.
Girl: Then I'm not either.
[Deep in the cave, they see a werewolf approaching some human prey.]
Wolf King: Grr grr grr...
Man: Hey! W-wha...?
Girl: The Wolf King! Now do you believe me?
Ciri: I do. Hide!
• Girl: Will it be any good -- the oil you made?
Ciri: Not unless we want to anger it.
[She jumps down to the werewolf's level.]
Ciri: *whistles*
Man: Aah! Aah!
[Ciri eventually slays the abomination.]
Man: Why...you really gave 'im a drubbin'! Never seen anythin' like it!
Ciri: Girl! You can come out now! Come on!
We must get to the village.
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Ciri: You have bandages at home? Some spirit? He laid a claw or two on me,
unfortunately.
Man: I-I've naught, miss...but my lord -- he's a powerful man. He's sure to
help ye. Might even reward you for cuttin' the werewolf down.
Ciri: Very well. Lead us to your lord.
We found a corpse in the woods.
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Ciri: You're lucky we came this way. Found someone far less fortunate in the
forest.
Man: Oh, Yaren, must be. We was returnin' from Midcopse when the brute
attacked. I managed to flee, but Yaren, er...
Ciri: The little one -- no details.
[A few days later, Ciri and Gretka are seen eating at Crow's Perch, while the
baron glowers at the rescued man.]
Baron: Just who do you think you've brought me, man? That's not me daughter!
Man: And the little one?
Baron: Neither, dammit! I think I'd know my own child.
Man: Well, er...mi-might not be yours, the older one, but you've gotsta admit
the likeness. It's downright strikin'! So, any chance for the reward?
Baron: You'll not see one fucking copper! Get out before I set my hounds on
you!
[The man leaves.]
Baron: So, stew any good?
Ciri: Mhm, very, thank you. I'd not eaten in--
Baron: Clear to see. I'm pleased you like it. Had them prepare a bath for you,
once you've eaten. And you could do with some sleep. Gretka in the nook
behind the hearth, you in the guest room opposite the kitchen.
Ciri: Thank you, I--
Baron: Shh. Eat now. We'll speak once you've rested.
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6f) FAMILY MATTERS [WK6F]
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[The flashback ends. Geralt and the baron are still in the office.]
Baron: So I ordered my men to watch her and left her to rest.
Geralt: And?
Baron: Ahhh, that's a topic for another time.
I get what you're after.
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Geralt: Take it you won't give me this information for free.
Baron: Heheh, sharp you are. I regret your loss, commiserate.
Tell me. It's important.
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Geralt: I want--...I need to find her, understand? I need every last
bit of information available.
Baron: I understand.
Talk.
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Geralt: No. A topic for now. Talk.
Baron: That sharpness -- watch your tone, witcher. We wish to come to an
agreement, do we not?
Gretka -- where is she now?
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Geralt: The little girl who showed up here with Ciri -- what happened
to her?
Baron: Gretka? She's safe and sound. Helps out in the kitchen. Ciri told me
of the girl's parents, what they'd decided. So I decided not to send
the lass home. She's fed here. A roof over a warm corner she calls
her own. She wants for nothing.
Geralt: What happened to Ciri?
Baron: I've told you already -- a topic for another time.
Baron: But you see, it so happens my wife and daughter are missing as well. I
propose an exchange -- find my loved ones, and I shall tell you about
the girl you seek. All I know.
What if I refuse?
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Geralt: Huh, what if I refuse, 'cause I just don't want to?
Baron: Would you tell me to sod off? Go ahead. But then I'll do the same. And
what'll that make us? Two helpless, empty-handed sods. Think of it as
searching for your own daughter. Ought to go quickly, then.
Deal.
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Geralt: Fine. I'll help you. I'll find your family, but then you'll give me
every bit of information you have.
Baron: You have my word.
How do I know I can trust you?
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Geralt: Thing is, can I trust you? What guarantees do I have?
Baron: Hahah! None whatsoever. Only my word.
[If Geralt entered via the gate, Strenger whistles for his attending guard.]
• Baron: Guard! This man's under my protection. No one's to bother him -- in
any way. Don't stare -- I've not grown horns. Treat it as a token of
my good faith.
Geralt: When'd you see them last?
Baron: They vanished after the new moon, as if whisked away by shadows.
Geralt: What do you mean "vanished"?
Baron: Precisely that. I awoke one morn to find them gone.
I need more information.
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Geralt: I'll need to know a lot more than that. Can I see their rooms?
Baron: What for?
Geralt: I need clues, anything to latch onto.
Baron: I'll not let a stranger paw through their belongings.
Geralt: Want me to find them or not?
Baron: I do.
Geralt: Then let me work.
Baron: Huh, fine. But I shall go with you. The doors are locked.
Have you searched?
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Geralt: You try to search for them?
Baron: Sent men out right away. But they're not suited to it. It's one thing
to rip up floorboards in search of a peasant's last sack of grain.
Finding a living person -- they just don't know how. Besides...
Velen's naught but swamps and marshy woodland. Plenty of hard to find¹
nooks. If you're lookin' for to hide somewhere, this is the place.
Got any enemies?
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Geralt: Maybe they were kidnapped. Got any enemies?
Baron: None worth mentioning. Worthless little pricks and angry peasants is
all. None would dare raise a finger against my family. Any who
might've, they've been eating dirt long since.
Notice anything unusual recently?
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Geralt: Anything unusual happen before they disappeared? They act
differently, do anything strange?
Baron: Unusual? No... But not long ago, peasants came to complain that a
beast had ravaged a woman by the well. Devoured another lass before
her. Common occurences in Velen. And my women? Anna, quiet as a
mouse, as ever. And Tamara, occupied with her...things... Nothing
unusual.
Your men ever bother them?
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Geralt: This place -- must be hard to be the only two women here.
Baron: "This place"? What do you mean? They wanted for nothing here!
Pheasant for dinner? Not a problem. Blue ribbons from Toussaint? Say
the word.
Geralt: Had your men in mind, their company. Sure the wife and daughter
weren't being harrassed¹?
Baron: My men are a horde of whoresons, but they know their place. One of
them so much as looked at Anna or Tamara crosswise, I'd cut him down
like a dog.
What do they look like?
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Geralt: Can't start searching till I know what they look like.
Baron: Tamara, my daughter, turned nineteen in the spring. Slender lass,
about yea tall, comes up to my shoulders. Beautiful eyes. Green like
her mother's. My wife, Anna, has two score winters behind her, though
she'd never admit it. Dark hair, thick as tar. Keeps it tied up in a
bun.
[The baron goes with Geralt to unlock his family's rooms.]
Baron: When she was a babe, my daughter loved animals. Saw a deer trophy on the
wall once. Do you know what she asked?
Geralt: Haven't got a clue.
Baron: "Papa, is that deeh's wump on the other side of the wall?" Pwhahaha...
You see it there? Whoaho! What a trophy! Hahaha... I pity any bastard
who's hurt her... I'll flay him alive. Here it is. Oh, dammit! Jammed
again.
[He gets the door open.]
Baron: Our bedchamber. Tamara's room is there. Try not to make a mess. For
their return, I want everything to be as they left it.
[Geralt can investigate the smaller bedroom and den first.]
• Hm? Damn ugly for a doll. The kind you'd stick with pins to hurt someone.
• Incense, and an old key. Wonder what it unlocks... Anise, sandalwood and
something else... Saffron?
[If Geralt follows up on the incense clue, it leads to a weird basement room.]
Geralt: An altar. So, the Eternal Fire's made it to Velen.
[Geralt can investigate things in the massive bedroom.]
• Wooden candlestick. Stem's broken.
• Fresh flowers. He expects them to return any minute. Takes hope.
• Wall's a different color. Something used to hang here. Hm...that painting?
Right size.
[The witcher inspects the portrait.]
Geralt: The baron and his wife. Hm, look happy enough. What's this? Ah. Gotta
wonder who wanted to hide the hole...and what's on the other side.
[On the other side of the hole is a wardrobe. There's a piece of wood inside.]
• Hm, it gets interesting. Piece of wood looks like the stem of that
candlestick. No coincidence there. Hmm...fight might've happened here. Oughta
look for clues.
• Mangled bit of candlestick. Someone smashed it against the wall and broke
clear into the wardrobe. Getting interesting. Might be more traces of
fighting. Gotta look around.
[He resumes the investigation, looking at support beams and the floor.]
• Deep nicks. Hit with a heavy object.
• Huh, rest of the candlestick. And wine stains. Somebody smashed a bottle.
From Toussaint. Yeah, Erveluce. Scent hasn't died. Wonder where it'll lead
me.
[The scent leads to the 1F-2F stairwell.]
Geralt: Damn, trail breaks off. Could find something else though.
[He picks up a talisman stuck in the floorboard.]
Geralt: Hmm...spruce wood. Smells of juniper incense. Some sort of folk
talisman, protective. Question is -- against what? Won't find much else
here.
[Geralt returns to his client.]
Baron: Done pokin' around?
Know anything about this amulet?
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Geralt: Recognize this amulet?
Baron: Hmm... Yes. Anna began wearing it a time ago.
Geralt: Any idea where she got it?
Baron: None.
Geralt: Any witches or cunning women in the area?
Baron: A pellar. Old coot lives near Blackbough. And there's a cunning woman
in Midcopse, but I know little about her -- she's only recently
arrived. If Anna were to see someone, she'd choose the pellar, not the
woman. Anna was wary of strangers, newcomers.
I'm off to see the pellar.
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Geralt: Oughta have a chat with this pellar.
Baron: Fair warning -- he's a hard man to talk to. Rumor has it he killed
his own father with an axe as a lad, then went batty. Now they say he
sees ghosts and ploughs his goat.
Geralt: Not really interested in his hobbies. Just want to ask about the
amulet.
Found a doll.
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Geralt: Found a doll in Tamara's room. Tell me about it.
Baron: Heh! What could possibly be so interesting about a doll, witcher?
Geralt: Looks like it might've been used for some sort of black magic.
Where'd Tamara get it?
Baron: Black magic? Are you barmy?! I made it for her! She was four, perhaps
five winters old. We were in Vizima on market day and she saw the
sorceress Triss Merigold. Insisted she must have a doll just like her.
Couldn't afford a thing of that sort, so I made the doll with me own
hands.
Resemblance is uncanny.
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Geralt: So it is supposed to be Triss. Yeah, I see it now. Eerie. Looks
just like her.
Baron: Doesn't it? Time's taken a bit of a toll, but overall, it continues
to impress.
Geralt: You got something to fall back on if things don't work out with
Nilfgaard.
As I remember, Triss looks different.
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Geralt: This is Triss? No offense, but uh...not great with your hands, are
you?
Baron: Why don't you take some wood and rags, see what image of a grown
woman you can come up with?
Signs of a fight in the room.
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Geralt: Found signs of a fight in the room. Know anything about that?
Baron: A fight? What're you talkin' about?
Geralt: Someone was attacked -- probably your wife or daughter. Whoever it
was tried to defend themselves with a candlestick. Missed the
attacker, punctured the wall, instead. They tussled, too.
Baron: I...I don't know nothin' about this. That night...I was drunk, don't
remember a thing. They were gone by the time I awoke.
Geralt: Doubt you were the only ones in the castle. Maybe one of your men
heard something?
Baron: Three times I asked those bastards if they'd seen anythin', heard
anythin'. Nothin', not a one of 'em.
Somebody spilled wine on the landing.
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Geralt: Whole landing smells of wine. Tell me anything about that?
Baron: One of the lads, must be. Lushes one and all.
Geralt: Give your men Erveluce?
Baron: Oh, dammit, I might've spilled it. I told you I was good and marinated
that night. Why's it matter? Stench of wine in plenty a corner around
the castle.
[With the investigation done, it's off to find the pellar. He arrives, finding
several of the Baron's henchmen knocking on his door. They notice.]
Guard: Hey, look! Some stray's wandered our way.
Guard: Sod off, freak!
Guard: What do you want?
Geralt: Wanna talk to the pellar.
Guard: Too late. We've got dibs on a chat with 'im. A long one.
I'll pay you to go.
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Geralt: Maybe we can make a deal.
Guard: We'll not ploughin' bargain with anyone. Vengeance, that's what we
want!
[Axii Sign] You need to leave.
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Geralt: Think you need to leave now.
Guard: Do we?
Geralt: You do.
Guard: Well...let's go, then.
Guard: Aye, we oughta...
Guard: But where'll we go?
Guard: Away from here.
Leave or die.
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Geralt: Get the hell out. Now.
Guard: Heheheh... And here I thought we'd have a day without corpses.
Guard: Heard mages pay top coin for the special bits of rare creatures.
Wonder 'ow much we'll get for his eyes?
What do you want from the pellar?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What do you want from him?
Guard: To give 'im what he deserves.
Geralt: And that is?
Guard: He done conjured augeries. Said something evil had made its nest
between Edric's bowels. Told Edric to eat rowanberries, lots of 'em!
Guard: Ever since, Edric's lived in the outhouse, and he's got hardened
pustules all over him!
Tell you what -- you leave, and I'll heal Edric.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Just so happens I need the pellar alive. So if you agree to leave
him alone, for good, I'm willing to tell you how to help Edric.
Guard: Hmmm...well, all in all...
Geralt: Yes or no?
Guard: Fine. Let's hear it.
Geralt: A tea of mullein leaves for his belly, and cover his boils with
mallow. A few days and he'll be as good as new.
Guard: Noted. But if it don't work, we'll be back. Move out, boys!
Guard: Any of you fellows know where this mullein shite grows?
Guard: My old lady'll know. Got a knack for herbs, she does. The other
shite, mallow, ought to have that, too. Chops it, adds it to our
milker's feed.
Guard: Heheheh, Edric's dumb as your milker. Should suit 'im.
Guard: All right, let's get Edric, pull 'im outta the shitter, stuff 'im
full of herbs, and see if he gets better.
Guard: And if he don't?
Guard: We'll visit the pellar one last time.
[The guards either leave or die by the witcher's hand.]
Geralt: Gotta wonder about a man who could get Edric's friends all worked up.
Hey! Anybody home? Open up, it's safe now.
Pellar: Devils! Who do they bring?! What seek ye?
Geralt: I need your help.
Pellar: Ooh...a man -- nay -- a wolf, gray, though not old... 'Tis he the
pellar awaits.
Need your help.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Recognize this? Made of spruce wood, strong smell of juniper.
Designed to protect someone.
Pellar: Freshly cut spruce sprinkled with goat's blood, then tempered with an
incense of earthsmoke and jupiter. For Anna. To protect her.
Protect? From what?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So, designed to protect her. From what?
Pellar: Oh, the dear -- besieged, she was. Evil all around, wanting to
possess her. Old magic born of oblivion, from dark sources emerged.
Geralt: Old magic? Can you be more specific?
Pellar: Tis¹ naught for mouth-speech, nor for the touch. A small protective
charm -- not a thing a more a pellar could do.
I'm looking for Anna. And her daughter.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Anna and her daughter are missing. Know where they are?
Pellar: Nay, no, nay. Pellar don't know. But the spirits could know. The
pellar will augur, the spirits ask.
Geralt: Spirits, great, fine with me. Long as I know where to look, where
to find them.
Pellar: Lost, lost...must be found... Princess! None better than Princess
for findin' things.
Geralt: Princess? Which princess?
You make it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You make the amulet?
Pellar: Aye. Sure, 'twas the pellar. After the way of his forefathers, over
still waters, in the light of the full moon. Proper as amulets go.
It protected well. Should never 'ave taken it off.
Expecting me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You were expecting me?
Pellar: Aye, as the bones declared I should. "They shall come whose stench is
rape and death, but the wolf shall disperse them. The White Wolf."
And thus he comes. Omens never lie.
[The two exit outside, finding a small animal pen open.]
Pellar: Princess! My goat! She's fled!
Geralt: Those men must've scared her off. Can we get back to the auguring?
Pellar: Without the goat? Impossible. No goat? Hmph, won't work!
If I find your goat, will you help?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Huh, will you help me if I bring the goat back?
Pellar: Princess, Princess, where've you got to, girl?
Refuse to chase down some goat.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can't seriously think I'm gonna chase down your goat.
Pellar: A pellar without a goat makes for a mute prophet.
Fine. I'll find her.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
You're getting annoying.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Getting on my nerves, old man. I'm not going anywhere.
Pellar: No Princess, no prophecy, no augury.
Geralt: Fine. I'll get your goat.
Pellar: The bell! The little bell's ringing -- she loves it! Ring, ring, and
she will follow! Uh, for a while. But beware of wild strawberries.
Raspberries, too.
Geralt: Yeah, treacherous as beasts go. I always keep an eye out for 'em.
[The goat-catching mission is listed in the "A Princess in Distress" section
below. This main quest picks off after the royalty is returned.]
Pellar: Princess! Flee not from the pellar, for there are wolves about! Goat
of mine! Dearest, sweetest goat!
Will you help me now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Happy for you, but I'm kinda in a hurry. Anna and Tamara? They might
be in danger.
Pellar: The White Wolf helped the pellar, and so the pellar shall help him!
Let's do this.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can we talk about Anna and Tamara now? Know where they might be?
Pellar: Blood! We need blood. A living being.
Geralt: Fine. Be right back.
[Later, Geralt returns with a live rat.]
Geralt: Will this do?
[The pellar begins the ritual by sowing a circle of grain and milk around,
then eviscerates the rat for its veiny goodness. The geezer drops to his
knees, letting a spirit from beyond speak through him.]
Pellar: They are not here. They have gone. Blood! I see blood!
Geralt: Whose?
Pellar: No Anna...no Tamara...just a child.
[The weird augury ends.]
Pellar: A child that lives not, yet did not die.
You spoke of a child. Whose?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mentioned a child. Whose?
Pellar: Why, Anna's.
Geralt: Anna was pregnant?
Pellar: She was. And she miscarried.
Geralt: Hm, baron didn't mention it.
Pellar: Afraid, perhaps, or ashamed, or forgetful... Or perhaps he had no
wish to remember.
Baron have anything to do with this?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The baron have anything to do with his wife's miscarriage?
Pellar: Foul-tempered he is, and he's a fondness for hooch.
Geralt: No doubt makes his temper even fouler. Did he abuse his family? Anna
came to you, you must've noticed something.
Pellar: The pellar's old, near blind...but Princess came and licked her
hand.
Geralt: So what?
Pellar: She's a wise beast, only comes to those who suffer.
The child -- what happened to it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What happened to the child?
Pellar: In a grave thrown, without rite or ceremony, it awoke. Now it
wanders, it seeks vengeance.
Geralt: A botchling.
Pellar: White Wolf, wise wolf. Catch the botchling, the botchling will
help, lead the wolf to the loved ones.
Geralt: Botchlings suck the blood of pregnant women and eat their fetuses.
They don't help.
Pellar: Tis¹ a being cursed, and witchers lift curses. If the White Wolf
can't lift it, he should bring me its blood. Blood will always
find kindred blood.
You know all this how?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Anna tell you all this? Did she come here after it happened?
Pellar: Nay, not Anna. 'Twas the omens told me.
Geralt: Great, so I can be sure it's true.
Pellar: The omens need not your faith to be true, it is you who needs the
omens to lead you to truth.
Not enough, I need to know more.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It's over? Is that it?
Pellar: That is it.
Geralt: Spirits had nothing more to say? Like, where they went, or where they
are now?
Pellar: You came for an augury, and augur I did. They're gone. The child
remains.
[The pellar tells of the botchling.]
I need to know where the botchling is.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Whatever I do, I gotta find the botchling first.
Pellar: Seek it at midnight, near the grave that lies empty.
Geralt: If what you say is true, the baron oughta know where that grave is.
Why do you need its blood?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why do you want its blood?
Pellar: Blood, blood, blood! It binds men for all ages -- the living and the
dead.
Geralt: Sure, but what do you wanna do with it?
Pellar: Atimes, a century's too short for two brothers to reconcile. One dies
before the things are set right. The other then brings his blood to
the pellar.
Geralt: Mhm. And what does the pellar do?
Pellar: He awaits Forefathers' Eve. He mixes the blood with milk, herbs and
hens' feet. He drinks -- to reconcile the dead with the living. There
shall be no Forefathers' Eve this year...but we'll find a way, all the
same.
You mention Forefathers' Eve?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I hear you right? You mention Forefathers' Eve? Pretty old custom.
Thought it had died out.
Pellar: Death lurks in every bog and puddle 'round here. Folk know they could
die, their earthly matters unresolved. Then they require help, or
they'll not know peace. Forefathers' Eve must be performed. Light the
tallow candles to lead them through the dark, call them by name,
appease their regrets -- only then may they depart in peace.
How can I lift the curse?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Heard of one witcher who lifted a botchling's curse. Never tried it
myself, though. I know you need to bury it under the threshold.
Pellar: And give it a name! Perform the Aymm Rhoin.
Geralt: The Ritual of Naming? That's an elven custom.
Pellar: Human, elven, dwarven...ancient. Spirits have no race, they honor not
its meaning. Win a spirit's favor, and the spirit shall aid you. Ask
and it will answer. Seek, and it will show you the way.
[Geralt returns to Crow's Perch. As he approaches, he can see one of the main
buildings is on fire.]
Geralt: Lightning strike?
[With the alarm bell ringing nonstop, Geralt races to see the commotion. The
stable is an inferno.]
Guard: Oswin? Where's Oswin? Anyone seen him?
Guard 2: Believe I saw him headin' to the stable.
Guard: Whaat?
Geralt: Fire! You blind? Nobody willing to put it out?
Guard 2: Ain't that simple. Most're afraid! Baron flies into a rage, he takes
no prisoners!
Guard: My brother's in the stable! We've got to save him -- he'll burn alive!
Him and the horses!
I'll try.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: See what I can do.
Guard: Hurry, now! Quick!
Here to see the baron.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Somebody oughta see the baron before he burns the castle down.
[If Geralt agrees to help, he enters the burning loft and starts freeing the
horses.]
Geralt: Dammit. Lots of smoke. Gotta hurry.
Stablemaster: Over here! Can't get out! Roof's collapsed!
Stablemaster: Good work!
[If Geralt ignores the fire, he spies the baron in the courtyard, drunk as a
skunk, torch in hand. He's browbeating one of his henchmen. If left to his
own devices, he'll stumble around and ramble about many things. Sometimes the
entire conversation about Tammy won't play.]
Baron: Well? What will you say now?! Next time I ask you to drink, will I see
that grin again?
Guard: No! No! N-Never!
Baron: I don't believe you!
Guard: Baron, sir! Colonel! Calm yourself before you burn the castle down!
Baron: You dare tell me to calm down?! You?!
Guard: If Miss Tammy saw you like this--
Baron: Don't you mention my daughter! You! You took her, didn't you?! Admit it!
• Blargh. Just as you deserve, you ploughin' scumbags!
• What are you starin' at?
• Get outta here, damn clots!
• Now listen -- this is how it was! They told us not to shoot. I scaled
the walls and gazed down on the fields to see two hundred ballistas
thundering!
• Not one fuckin' man here who knows how to celebrate!
• Ardal! Where is Ardal?!
• I know you're in there! Ugh, brgh! Urgh. Open up, or I'll kill those
brats of yours!
[Geralt will encounter the baron after rescuing the horses/stablemaster or
right away, if he ignored the fire.]
Baron: • You, you...where do I know you from, eh? Ah, right! The witcher! Come,
drink with me! Pale as a ghost, you are!
• Hahahahahaah! We've a hero in our midst! You've earned yourself a
barrel of Lyrian!
• The horses! Why, I'm prepare to forgive you for the drubbin' you gave
those pricks at the Crossroads!
Geralt: I know your wife miscarried. Was that before or after you beat her to
a pulp?
Baron: What the fuck're you suggesting?!
Geralt: Don't play me for a fool. You'd been beating them for years. Finally,
they'd had enough and fled. Sound about right?
Baron: Aaarrrggghhh...
[They start fist-fighting.]
Baron: Fuckin' get out of here!
Geralt: They ran from you, didn't they?
Baron: Lying prick!
[Geralt soundly beats him, then puts his head in a trough to sober him up.]
Geralt: We need to talk.
[They go into Strenger's study.]
Geralt: Sit down. You beat them.
Baron: I never laid a finger on Tamara, not once.
Geralt: And on Anna?
Baron: That's another story. She always knew how to spark my ire.
You knew they ran away.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You knew they had run away from the start.
Baron: Yes, I knew.
Geralt: Why didn't you tell me? Wasted my time.
Baron: Say I had? Say I'd said I had troubles, couldn't control my
wife, my daughter? What kind of flaccid prick would you take me
for?
How did they flee? What happened?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tell me everything you remember about the day they fled. The truth
this time.
Baron: I'd been soakin' myself for three days straight. Anna came to me,
said they were leaving. I begged them to stay. She refused to hear
it. I tried to stop her. She wriggled like an eel, we struggled...she
fell. Last blasted thing I remember. Woke up in the morn, breeches
heavy with me own piss, a large bump on my head. Sadly, they were
gone. Know what that's like, witcher? No, how the fuck could you? I
was left with nothing! Nothing! Only the bottle...
They didn't run away -- you drove them out.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta admit I do think you're a prick. Not because you couldn't
control them, but because you drove them away.
Baron: What?
Geralt: Don't play the idiot. You gave them no choice.
No matter. I know how to find them.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Doesn't much matter now. I know how to find them.
Baron: How?
Geralt: I know about the baby.
Anna -- how'd she get you so angry?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your wife -- how'd she make you so angry? Too much salt in the soup?
Socks never darned?
Baron: Twenty years we've known each other. She's seen me drunk and sober,
she was there to greet me when I returned the victor, she was there to
patch me up in defeat. Like no other, she knew where to press, where
to pinch, so it would hurt.
Geralt: You beat her? For that? For criticizing you?
Baron: Argh, witcher, you haven't a clue, have you. Well, perhaps I shall
tell you about it one day. One day, but not today.
Never hit your daughter? Really?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Expect me to believe you were a loving father to Tamara? After that
scene in the courtyard?
Baron: You're free to believe whatever you wish, but she was always the apple
of my eye. She had the run of the place, ask anyone. She'd ride the
horses, hunt with the men, at times join them on their rounds. And
they'd send for her when I flew into a rage, for only she could calm
me.
Geralt: Make it sound like she led a charmed life. If that's the case, why'd
she run?
Baron: I'd hardly need you if I knew.
Baron: Anna...and I... It wasn't as it seemed, seems...
So tell me how it really was.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, I'm all ears. Tell me what happened. The truth this time.
(Baron tells story from "How did they flee? What happened?" segment)
What happened next?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What happened next?
Baron: Next...it only got worse. I awoke at sunset, not knowin' how many
days had passed. Thought it was all a ploughin' drunken nightmare.
An' then I went to the bedchamber, but Anna was not there. Instead...
there was blood, everywhere. I knew. She'd miscarried. My breath
short, my throat locked, I neared the bed...and saw it. It lay there.
A tiny thing, defenseless...on bloodied sheets...dead. And it was my
doing.
What did you do with the child?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What did you do with the child?
Baron: Wrapped it in a clean sheet and buried it.
Geralt: Just like that.
Baron: Damn you! I gave no thought to a funeral. It was a horror, I wanted
it to end. That child had been my dream. I told Anna, "A little one,
our little one, to make things right." Yet she died before she could
be born. Understand, witcher? My child was dead.
Keep it together, man.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Get hold of yourself. Men like you, when they break down, look
downright pathetic.
Baron: You're a heartless bastard.
Geralt: Huh, mutations worked, then. But here's the good news -- your dead
child might help us find the one who's still alive...and your
wife.
I feel your pain.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I sympathize, I do.
Baron: Thank you. And know that I hope you find your Ciri.
Geralt: Deal we made means I need to find Anna and Tamara first. Just so
happens your unborn daughter might help us do that.
Must've been quite a terrible sight.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Seen a lot of dead in my time, but that must've been hard.
Baron: Unspeakably so. My legs gave out. I saw fields of corpses at
Sodden...saw witches burn in Maribor... But compared to this...all
that was a rabbit's prick alongside a great oak. And the guilt is
all mine.
Geralt: We don't know that yet. The amulet Anna wore -- could be linked
somehow. Maybe the fact that she lost it.
What about the signs of fighting in the room?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Signs of a fight in the room -- hole in the wall, wine on the
landing. Was that you?
Baron: Aye. We tussled... She tried to whack me on the noggin with a
candlestick, but kept missin'. Hit the wall and the pillar instead. I
staggered backwards onto the table. Spilled the wine, slipped and
tumbled. Anna used that moment to flee. She rushed down the stairs,
still clutchin' that damn candlestick. I caught her on the landing.
We fell, I-- I thought I had her...then she turned around and smacked
me in the head. I blacked out, don't know what happened next. When I
came to, I was alone.
Tamara witness this?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tamara present for all this? She see you quarrel?
Baron: Through the doorway, perhaps. She didn't enter the room. Shame, too
-- things might've turned out differently. The sight of her always
calmed me.
Not interested.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't much care what you have to say. I'm supposed to find your
family, and I will. With your dead baby's help.
Baron: What? How?
Geralt: Sometimes miscarried fetuses, if they don't get a proper burial, turn
into botchlings.
Baron: Into, fucking, what...?
Lemme explain.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: A cursed creature that draws strength from killing pregnant women.
Once it's strong enough, it attacks those who scorned it.
Baron: But how...how does it know?
Geralt: Blood ties. They're a strong bond, a bond I want to use to find your
family.
You don't need the details.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Details you don't need to know. There's a bond of blood between this
creature and your wife and daughter. I can use that bond to find
them.
Baron: How?
Geralt: One of two ways. Legends claim you can bury a botchling under the
family's threshold, perform a ritual and turn it into a lubberkin.
That's a sort of, uh...hob, a guardian spirit that could lead me to
your family.
Baron: And the other way?
Geralt: We kill it and draw some of its blood. Take that to the pellar and he
does the rest.
Baron: Do not kill my child. It's suffered enough already. Lift the curse, that
it may finally rest in peace.
Where'd you bury the fetus? Show me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Whatever we do, we gotta find the botchling first.
Baron: I'll show you where I buried her. And I'll dig the grave at my
threshold.
Geralt: If it turns out we can't transform the botchling into a lubberkin,
they can bury us in it. Handy either way.
Let's do this.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The sooner we resolve this, the better. Best do it tonight, at
midnight.
Baron: Then wait here with me. Near midnight I'll take you to where I
buried her.
Geralt: Get word to the common folk. Oughta stay in their homes tonight and
draw a line of salt outside their doors. And try to sober up.
Baron: Do I take a shovel? To dig up the grave?
Geralt: Take it. You'll need it, but not for that.
Come get you later.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Need to tend to something first.
Baron: Be quick. And me? What am I to do in the meantime?
Geralt: Sober up.
Haven't decided what I'll do.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Still not sure what to do.
Baron: Whatever you decide, we must put an end to my child's suffering.
[At the appointed hour, the Baron takes Geralt on the short hike to the grave,
in a ruined part of the peasant encampment, isolated on the east hillside.]
Baron: A bit further, follow me.
Geralt: You give the child a name?
Baron: No... Why would we?
Geralt: Mistake. Names are powerful seals.
Baron: Here's the spot.
Geralt: Chose a lovely spot.
Baron: Dammit, will you relent? I ploughin' know I've done wrong.
Geralt: Good.
[They observe the burial site.]
Geralt: The grave's dug up. And empty.
Baron: What's that mean?
Geralt: Botchling's on the prowl.
[They see the horrible botchling -- a warped fetus with sharp teeth and a long
bloody umblical cord -- crawl through the palisade.]
Baron: Look!
[Attack the monster.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Get back!
[Turn the botchling into a lubberkin.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take it in your arms, quick!
Baron: And if it goes garrity?! It'll bite us in the arse before we know it!
Geralt: Keep screaming and it will turn rabid. It's calm, for now.
Baron: Bloody hell. What happens when it gets ploughin' restless.
Geralt: It'll bite through your jugular, and you'll bleed to death before I
can help. Tell me if it starts wriggling -- I'll calm it with magic.
Pick it up. Take it in your arms.
====================== IF GERALT WANTS TO HELP BOTCHLING ======================
</pre><pre id="faqspan-5">
[Only semi-convinced, the baron approaches the calm botchling and picks it up.
The botchling opens its mouth of razor-sharp teeth as if yawning, but doesn't
attack.]
Baron: Merciful gods!
Geralt: Back to the fortress.
Baron: What? With this?
Geralt: As I recall, you were the one who wanted to test the old legends,
change it into a lubberkin.
Baron: Oh fuck...
[As they walk back to the fortress, wraiths appear out of nowhere.]
Geralt: Hungry specters. Botchling's scent attracted them.
Baron: On my mother's grave! Do something!
[Geralt slays the ghostly interlopers.]
Baron: Pest take me, it's writhing somethin' fierce! I can't hold it! Calm it
somehow!
[Geralt uses Axii.]
Baron: Ooph, ooph... Quiet now. But...but what do you want to do with it?
Geralt: Me? Nothing. This is your job. Told you, gotta bury it under the
threshold. If the tales are true, by tomorrow it'll be a lubberkin.
From then on it'll watch over your house, and help you find your
family.
[Wraiths attack again.]
Geralt: More coming. Need to hurry.
Baron: On with it! I'll not wait till they devour us!
[Geralt lays the specters to rest.]
Baron: Squirmin' again! Like a daft eel! I cannot hold it!
[Axii calms the hideous creature again.]
Baron: It worked. It stopped.
Geralt: Chosen a name?
Baron: No...
Geralt: So think of one. It's important.
Baron: It's...it's a girl. What would Anna have named her?
[They reach the threshold. The baron cradles the infant-like monster.]
Baron: What now?
Geralt: Repeat after me. By the powers of earth and sky.
Baron: By the powers of earth and sky.
Geralt: By the world that was to be your home.
Baron: By the world that was to be your home.
Geralt: Forgive me, you who came but who I did not embrace.
Baron: Forgive me, you who came but who I did not embrace.
Geralt: I name thee -- say her name -- and embrace thee as my daughter.
Baron: I name thee Dea and embrace thee as my daughter.
[The botchling goes limp in his arms.]
Geralt: Good. Now bury the body.
[He watches the baron lay the creature in the grave, then cover it with soil.]
Baron: Agh. What now?
Geralt: In one day's time Dea should turn into a lubberkin. I'll stay here and
wait. You go home.
Baron: I'll wait with you.
Geralt: Out of the question.
Baron: But...that's my child. And the guilt, the responsibility for all this
lies with me.
Geralt: Time for parental impulses...it's long past. Besides, nothing else you
can do here.
Baron: But--
Geralt: No "buts." Just witcher's work left to do here. Gotta wait a day and a
night for the botchling to turn into a lubberkin. That's it. Go home.
And try not to drink yourself stupid again.
[Strenger leaves, letting Geralt meditate in front of the grave, until the
next midnight hour arrives.]
Geralt: By blood's power I summon you, with your name I beseech you. Hear my
call and arise, Dea! Lead me to those bound to you by blood.
[The botchling's spirit rises from the grave, glowing brightly like a lamp. It
leads Geralt out of Crow's Perch -- frightening plenty of guards in the
process! -- and down the eastern road, stopping at a deserted house.]
Geralt: *Sniffs* Ugh. Sure wasn't lavender they kept here. Might be worth
looking around, though.
• Horseshoe. No way a pitch burner could afford a horse.
• A bracelet. One of them must have dropped it.
• Clothing. They change in here?
Geralt: Both were here. I'm going the right way. Wants to show me something
more.
[The lubberkin floats eastward, stopping at a roadside massacre site.]
Geralt: Necrophages had a field day. Still worth a look. Should examine that
horse carcass. What do we have here...?
Bones.
¯¯¯¯¯¯
Bones have been here a while.
Saddle.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Chewed on the saddle? Necrophages'll eat anything these days.
Ribs.
¯¯¯¯¯
Giant claws. Wasn't a necrophage made these marks.
Legs.
¯¯¯¯¯
Horseshoe's missing. Is this the animal that lost one in the smokehouse?
Head.
¯¯¯¯¯
Head torn clear off. Takes incredible strength.
Let's summarize.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Must've been attacked by a powerful beast. Surprised 'em. Hope they got away.
Hmm, trail goes on. Good thing it doesn't end here.
[The lubberkin next leads Geralt to a riverside cottage, east of Crow's Perch.]
Geralt: A fisherman's hut. Seems she wants me to take a closer look.
======================== IF GERALT FIGHTS THE BOTCHLING =======================
[Geralt stands over the helpless-looking botchling and prepares to stab it with
a downward thrust. However, it surprisingly dodges it, and in retalitation, it
transforms into a larger, ghoul-like creature.]
[After wounding the botchling, wraiths appear.]
Geralt: Hungry specters. Botchling's scent attracted them.
[After killing the botchling...]
Baron: Bloody hell! You killed my child!
Geralt: You know I had to.
Baron: You were supposed to lift the curse! Save it, damn you! Not kill it!
Quiet down. Wanna draw a crowd?
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Geralt: Shut up before you wake someone. Last thing we need is a crowd.
Baron: Fuck it! I don't ploughin' care, hear me?! You killed my child!
Geralt: I killed a botchling. Your daughter died a while back. Go home. Get
yourself together. I'll try to find your other daughter -- the one
who's still alive.
Calm down.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Do anything stupid, and I'll kill you, too.
Baron: Go plough yourself! Kill me if you must. I've nothin' to live for
anyway.
Geralt: You've got another daughter...and a wife. And the botchling's blood
will help me find them.
Sorry. Unavoidable.
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Geralt: Forgive me. It couldn't be avoided. I truly am sorry.
Baron: Yeah, sure! Like hell, you're sorry!
Geralt: Calm down. Go home. With a bit of luck, I'll be back soon with news
of your family.
[Geralt kneels over the botchling's corpse.]
Baron: What...what will you do with that blood?
Geralt: Me? Nothing. Just hope the pellar knows what to do with it. Go home.
I'll come see you once I know something.
[Blood in hand, the witcher returns to Blackbough's pellar.]
Geralt: Got the botchling's blood. Know what to do? How to find Anna and
Tamara?
Pellar: Blood, blood, blood... The pellar knows, knows the ritual, ritual to
summon the spirits. The pellar will take the blood.
Let's do this.
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Geralt: All right, let's see if these old rituals hold any sway in these
foul times.
Pellar: You wish to go right away?
Mhm, no time to lose.
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Geralt: Yeah, don't see any sense in waiting.
Pellar: So shall it be.
No. Gotta get ready first.
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Geralt: Gimme a bit. Gotta get ready.
Pellar: The pellar shall await you here.
How's this gonna work?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So, how will this ritual work?
Pellar: A decoction the pellar shall brew, and when midnight tolls, off we
go, to the sacred ground in the woods.
Geralt: Mhm... We gonna need black candles?
Pellar: "Step onto the path of blood anight, standing upon bare ground,
facing the old gods." 'Tis not unlike Forefathers' Eve.
Geralt: All right. What then?
Pellar: The pellar shall summon the spiritling, the babe's ghost, and it
shall be our guide. And then...then you shall see something few these
days witness.
Need anything else?
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Geralt: Can I help? Bring any other ingredients?
Pellar: Hmm-hmm... Henbane...yes. Jimsonweed...aye. And lungwort. Ah, here's
the lungwort. Milk, why, Princess shall provide, and a pellar's
always got hen's feet. But, but... Eau-de-vie, fear that's all gone.
Ah! There's some hooch left! Do just fine. So, that's everything.
[The two exit the cabin.]
Pellar: The White Wolf must follow the pellar. The pellar will show the way.
Geralt: We got a long way to go?
Pellar: Nay, it's not far. Through the village, then the wood, and there we
will be.
[They start walking to Blackbough.]
Geralt: All this the baron's land?
Pellar: Tis¹ now. 'Twere not before.
Geralt: So who'd it belong to?
Pellar: To the lord. Vserad they called him. An evil man he were. Vile, cared
not a lick for the common folk.
Geralt: You all get together and drive him away?
Pellar: When the Black Ones came, the lord to the tower on Fyke Isle fled. The
invaders set the fields afire, and a great hunger descended on us all.
While the lord in abundance wallowed, there in the Tower of Mice. But
the old gods in their ire upon him visited a punishment. A plague of
rodents swarmed the isle. At first they ate all from the feast tables.
Then, the lord and all his court they devoured.
Geralt: Local gods just aren't known to be tolerant.
[They finally enter the wood.]
Geralt: Nilfgaardians hit you pretty hard.
Pellar: Folk're poor here. It's rare the mighty concern themselves with the
poor. But the invaders'll be punished, that's sure. Perchance they've
already been.
Geralt: How's that?
Pellar: A pestilence grips their camp and will devour them all. As the mice
devoured the lord's court.
[They soon spot an ancient ring of stones and lanterns, nestled in a clearing.]
Pellar: Nearly there, nearly there...
Geralt: What is this place?
Pellar: Shh...the Wolven Glade.
Geralt: Nice name. White Wolf should feel right at home.
Pellar: The White Wolf -- aye, good balance, for terrible things happened here
of yore. To this day, none dare mention the name aloud.
[They finally reach the glade and take in the surroundings.]
Pellar: Here. The place.
Geralt: What now?
Pellar: Light the fires.
Let's start.
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Geralt: All right, no reason to dawdle.
Pellar: Prepare, and prepare well. Once the spirits appear, there'll be no
recourse, no turning back.
Geralt: Nothing like a little encouragement...
Pellar: Light the fires. The pellar will treat that as his sign to begin.
Why do we need the fires?
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Geralt: The fires -- why do we need them?
Pellar: To keep malicious forces at bay. You must watch they do not go out!
Or else, it shall come!
Geralt: What'll come?
Pellar: Evil.
What will you do?
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Geralt: What about you? What'll you do?
Pellar: The pellar must clear the stone, then draw the signs. Then to the
gods shall the pellar pray, that no evil may take us.
[Geralt lights the three stone braziers nearby.]
Geralt: Ready.
Pellar: The fires, watch them. Let nothing break the circle.
[At midnight, the pellar stands on the blood-strewn rock to begin the ritual.]
Pellar: By the powers of the earth and sky! By the world that was to be your
home... I, who have tasted your blood, summon you to guide me! Come,
Blood Unborn! Come, Blood Spurned! Come, Blood Never Named! Hear me
upon the paths! Lead me along the trail of those bound to you by blood!
[In the storm, some of the lanterns start fizzling. The pellar, now possessed
by the spirit, speaks aloud as Geralt fights off the spectral invaders.]
Geralt: Dammit. Supposed to keep the fires lit.
Pellar: I see the blood of her blood! I see them bound! The blood calls. "I'm
leaving, Phillip, Tamara's coming with me!" I see a face swollen,
pulsing with blood. Blood! Dark upon a pale visage! A drop trickles
over bright gold. I am a fist clasped... I am darkened blood beneath a
white nail... I am a tear of blood. I see the blood of her blood! I see
them bound! The blood summons me... A thick flow upon skin! Dark blood
upon light stone! I am the Unnamed! I am blood immersed in blood! I...
I am dead! Show me the blood that is your blood! Show me the blood that
is lost! The blood summons me! "Just a bit further, mum, hold on!" The
blood leaves her face. Thorny boughs snag her, stop her... I am a drop
on a web. "Will Voytek wait?" Dark blood carries the question
downriver.
[Suddenly, the possessed pellar turns around to face Geralt. The spirit talks
through him but in a radically different voice.]
Pellar: Why do you seek the child of Elder Blood? Nigh is the Time of the White
Frost and White Light, the Time of Madness and Disdain. The world shall
perish amidst ice and be reborn of Elder Blood, of a planted seed. What
can you possibly offer?
[The pellar begins coughing, showing the possession's over. He slumps down
against the ritual rock.]
Geralt: You alright?
Pellar: Akh akh akh... Y-yes akh...
Geralt: Is it over?
Pellar: It's done. The pellar's seen what he was meant to see.
You spoke a name during the third vision.
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Geralt: Third vision seems most important.
Pellar: Hm, they were walking through the woods, both weak, but for different
reasons. Yet both knew where they were agoing.
Geralt: Not sure I heard you right, but you mention a Voytek?
Pellar: Hope filled both their hearts at the thought of him.
Geralt: Hm? And the prophecy at the end? Ithlinne's words, you quoted them,
then asked me a question.
Pellar: Forgive the pellar, he knows not what you mean. Spirits, spirits
speak through the ritual, not he.
Voytek -- where'll I find him?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: This Voytek from your vision -- know him?
Pellar: Voytek... Voytek... Two Voyteks have we nearabouts. In Blackbough
lives one. In his hut, there he stays, has for years. Gophers, with
gophers he lives, they say. And he can remember a time when in these
lands dwelled only elves.
Geralt: And the other? Somehow I doubt they went to a century-old rodent
lover for help.
Pellar: A fisherman. A family he has, lives in a secluded hut near the
river's mouth.
I should go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Time I was on my way. Thanks for your help.
Pellar: Refuse? Why, the pellar could never have refused. A man
seeks to do good in life, but evil is unavoidable. The ones
who encounter evil, they must be helped. Fare thee well, and
may the gods bless and keep you.
I'll walk you home.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You don't look like you can get home on your own. I'll walk you.
Pellar: Thank you.
Geralt: No. Thank you for your help. Let's go.
What was the second vision about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Didn't fully understand what the second vision was about.
Pellar: Anna miscarried, blood everywhere. Suffering, the pellar felt it on
her. She died her daughter's death.
The first vision -- explain it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What did you see first?
Pellar: The pellar saw the baron and Missus Anna. They quarreled, he did not
wish for her to leave. He shook her, but the pellar sensed no anger
in him... He wounded her, and in the blood the pellar sensed love. A
love sad and tormented.
============================ PATH SPLIT ENDS HERE =============================
[With the fisherman's location revealed, by pellar or lubberkin, Geralt goes to
find it. The house is along the river, south of Inn at the Crossroads. The
family looks at Geralt's entrance with fear. If Geralt used the lubberkin's
method, he won't learn Voytek's name, note.]
Boy: Who's that?
Woman: Other room. Go on, now.
Man: What ye seek here, sir? Our hut's out of the way, woeful. We 'as nothin',
we knows nothin'.
• Geralt: They call you Voytek?
Voytek: I... I... They do, kind sir, but I's not done a thing. Swear it on
the lives of my young 'uns!
Geralt: Just need information. Looking for two women -- the Bloody Baron's wife
and daughter.
Voytek: Not a soul abeen here, sir.
Geralt: Sure? Not even passing through? Daughter's medium height, about twenty,
her mother's thin, about forty. Seen them?
Boy: That's her came at night, right, mummy?
Woman: Quiet, boy!
Girl who stayed with you -- what happened to her?
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Geralt: Where'd the girl go? Your son's said enough, no point in playing dumb
anymore.
Voytek: Sorry, sir, but ye don't look like one of her father's men.
Geralt: Because I'm not. I'm looking for Tamara and her mother, I need to
know if they're alive and safe.
Voytek: Tamara is, aye. She's to my brother's place in Oxenfurt. But Missus
Anna -- that's another tale... Though anywhere's better than to
Crow's Perch...with the baron.
Geralt: Why?
Voytek: Cause¹...'cause he beat her, sir. Beat Missus Anna, I means. Everyone
knew! But not a one lifted a finger for to stop it.
Where's the baron's wife?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What happened to Tamara's mother?
Voytek: Ach. 'Twere like this -- I was awaitin' in the old smokehouse, with
horses. Cold as hell and so dark, couldn't see past two ells in
front of ye. Moon 'ad risen high, and still they hadn't come. Began
to fear some demon 'ad snatched 'em. But finally they came forth,
and we sets off towards the river. Suddenly, out of nowhere a gale
arose. Thought it'd tear my head off! And those damned birds! Swarms
of 'em coursin' o'er the woods, raisin' a racket to make your ears
bleed! Missus Anna screamed, bent over into herself. Tamara knelt
down, gripped her arms. 'Twere then I saw it -- fiery marks on her
hands.
Who'd you see? Describe her.
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Geralt: I want to help that woman. She could be in danger.
Woman: Young 'un's seen no one, m'lord. He's a kiddie, must 'ave dreamt it.
Geralt: I wanna hear this dream, then. So, kid, who did you see? Who came
here?
Boy: Pappy brought 'er at night, the lady does the medicines. She was all
afeared. Talked about an awful monster, said she had to go back. Don't
know where to. Mummy and pappy cheered her up, gave 'er clothes. Hers
were ragged.
[Voytek uses chalk to show the weird triskelion symbol in a triangle.]
Tell me about these marks.
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Geralt: What marks?
Voytek: They's...well...like burned on with a hot iron...on the palms, inside.
Geralt: Burned? Like a cattle brand?
Voytek: Aye, though these wasn't black scars, scabbed over. They's hot and
glowin' as if they burned with raw fire.
What happened next?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine, what happened next?
Voytek: Grew even darker, seemed someone 'ad put out the stars. Crickets all
went silent of a sudden, and then, from the woods, a roar. Broke out
in a cold sweat, and before I could catch my breath a beast jumped out
o' the woods -- big as a barn, with horns and two burning coals for
eyes! I thought I was done for! Beast attacked Missus Anna's horse,
ripped its head off! Carried her off into the woods! Our horses, mine
and Tamara's, got spooked and tore off willy-nilly. 'Twere the only
reason we escaped! The miss wanted to go back for her mother, but my
wife pleaded, said she'd die out there alone. Miss Tamara agreed not
to go.
Why did you help them?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why help them at all? You risked a lot.
Voytek: I'd a debt, owed Miss Tamara. Three moons past a fever gripped my boy.
We thought he was done for. Tamara learnt it, brought food and salves.
We're poorer than dirt itself... She saved my boy, no two ways about
it. Me, myself, I'd a never dared to help. But my missus told me, "A
time of war and contempt's come, a time of folk gone wrong. We needs
to repay good with good. Who stands idly by does evil as if."
Geralt: Married a wise woman.
Voytek: Cryin' shame we couldn't save Missus Anna in the end.
I know where Anna is.²
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Geralt: While back I met a woman in Crookback Bog. Had fiery marks on her skin
like the ones you described.
Voytek: Must be her! Missus Anna! Gods...she to Crookback Bog...
Geralt: It's where I saw her last.
Voytek: Gods of all the heavens protect us... 'Tis clear now whose whisper
'twere in the night.
Geralt: It is?
Voytek: The Crones took her! She must've made a deal with 'em, a pact! It's
why they marked her and took her like she was their own.
Thanks for your help.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Boy: The lady -- she'll be all right in the end, won't she?
Geralt: I'll do what I can to see that she is.
[When Geralt leaves, if he used the lubberkin as a guide, there'll be a short
automatic scene.]
Geralt: So here our paths diverge. Thank you, Dea. Go in peace.
[Geralt can return to the baron before heading after Tamara. If Geralt helped
during the fire event:]
Man: Remember me?
Geralt: Stable hand. Pulled you out of the fire.
Man: Won't ever forget that. Here, I'm grateful.
[The sergeant is standing near the garden.]
Sergeant: Witcher -- a word, please.
• Sergeant: Believe we've not had the pleasure. They call me the sergeant.
Leftover from my army days, you understand. When me and Phillip,
meanin' the baron, served under a Temerian banner. Wanted to ask
you about somethin'.
What is it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What is it?
Sergeant: That night when the baron ordered everyone to lock their doors,
stay inside -- what did you and the baron do?
No time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No time.
Sergeant: This'll only take a minute.
Geralt: Gotta ask the baron about that. Speaking of which, know where he is?
Sergeant: Garden. Spends a lot of time sittin' there of late.
Geralt: Drunk.
Sergeant: No. Don't drink, don't eat...just sits.
[Geralt goes to the baron.]
Geralt: There you are.
Baron: See the hollyhock there? The violet blooms? Brought the plants here from
Nazair. Anna had read some story. Insisted on having them. Spent hours
tending to them, trimming, pruning. She was so content at that! And
them -- the frilly ones? Called "birds of paradise" in Zerrikania. But
Tamara called them "dragons of paradise." She adored them.
• Damn shame I'll never never learn which blooms would please Dea most.
Though it's good to know her spirit's free.
• I'll never know which blooms would please my second daughter most.
Damn shame...
Geralt: She brought death down on others. The sooner you start
thinking of it that way, the better off you'll be.
Baron: Can't deny that. Doesn't make it any easier to live with,
though.
Gotta talk about your family.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got some information about your family.
Baron: You've learned something? Let's go inside. It's a bit chilly out.
Death of a family member's always hard.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your loss -- it must hurt, bad. But there wasn't anything we could
do.
Baron: No, not now, not anymore. It was too late, that was clear... Shoulda
acted earlier, taken them all from this damned Velen. In this hole,
this reasty mire...nothing could go right here.
[Geralt and the baron go inside.]
Baron: Any news for me?
Geralt: Your daughter's in Oxenfurt.
Baron: What the blazes...?! She all right? In good health? Safe? Why haven't
you brought her back?!
Geralt: Never offered to do that.
Baron: How do you know she's safe? You see her at least?
[If Geralt visited Tamara already:]
Geralt: I saw her, we talked. She said I could tell you she's safe...
Baron: When will she come home?
Geralt: And that she's not coming back.
Baron: She's not to return? But...I've prepared all for her, her rooms await.
I sent away for new pantobles from Toussaint. How can she not come back?
I don't blame her.
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Geralt: She's not coming back. Period. And I don't blame her. I wouldn't want
to return to a home like this, either.
Baron: Ah, horse bugger you blind. I know what you think already, you've no
need to repeat it. I've not been a good father, I know, but...perhaps
it's not too late.
Geralt: Can always try. Wouldn't count on succeeding, though.
Baron: I've nothing to lose.
You've gotta come to terms with it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sooner you accept this, the better. Face it -- you haven't been the
best father.
Baron: I have not, true. But I'd change, I'd be different. If only she'd
return, if only they'd both come back. Maybe all is not yet lost!
She's in Oxenfurt, you say? Maybe she hasn't left, maybe she'll hear
me out.
Geralt: You can always try. Wouldn't get my hopes up, though.
Baron: I shall try. I must. Life is pointless without her and Anna.
I've nothin' to lose.
[If Geralt didn't make contact with Tamara yet:]
Geralt: No, but I talked to the man who helped her escape, and then took her
in. Tamara is safe and sound. From what I gathered, she has no desire
to see you again, no intention to return.
Baron: I shan't trust some peasant dolt. I shan't trust whoever it is helped
her! I need to know for certain she's safe! Go to her. You must be sure,
see her yourself. I shan't believe anyone else.
I'll go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That much I can do.
Baron: I'm grateful. Take this -- call it enticement. And this may prove
useful.
Not gonna happen.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I've done my part. You've dozens of men -- there's gotta be someone
you can send.
Baron: You refuse to go?
Geralt: Mhm.
Baron: Fuck you. Yet, if you're ever in the area, by chance, even...take
this. And just make sure she's all right.
Geralt: What is it?
Baron: A letter of safe conduct. Ever since the Redanians took hold of the
Pontar Delta, they've made it damned hard to get to Novigrad without
one.
[After either conversation:]
• Baron: Incidentally, what of my Annie? Learned anything?
• Baron: Very well, you were to find them both. What of Anna? Learned anything?
• Geralt: We'll talk about her, don't worry. But right now, you'll tell me
about Ciri. Just like we agreed.
• Geralt: Nothing yet. But I'm on her trail.
Baron: Well, what're you waitin' for?
Geralt: For you to tell me about Ciri. Like we agreed.
Baron: Huh, fine. A word once given... When Ciri was on the mend, we took her
out on a hunt. Thought a bit o' gallopin' would warm her up her limbs
gone stiff from so much bed rest.
[The flashback is listed in the "Ciri's Story: The Race" section. See there
for details. The tale ends on a cliffhanger for Geralt.]
Baron: She screamed like a madwoman. In an instant, all had forgotten the
wager. Every man ran -- to save his own skin, even were he to break his
neck.
Geralt: And? They make it?
Baron: Some, aye. Others were not so fortunate. But what happened then...I must
say, witcher -- seen a lot, but nothing like this, never.
Geralt: Uh oh. I know that look.
Baron: You're a fast learner. You'll know the rest once you find my wife.
• Geralt: Working on it.
Baron: And making piss poor¹ progress.
Geralt: They split up -- hadn't considered that possibility before. But don't
worry, I'll find Anna, too.
[Geralt goes to leave, but the baron gives chase.]
Baron: Wait, witcher! When you find my daughter, will you give her this?
Geralt: A rag doll?
Baron: Uh-huh.
[Geralt sets off for Oxenfurt, a university city on the Pontar's largest isle.
The massive bridge leading into the city is closed off by Redanian soldiers,
however.]
Guard: Halt! No passage.
Geralt: Case of the plague surface in the city or something?
Guard: The plague? Err, no. We're to not let folk in the city. It's an order,
so I don't. Unless someone's got a pass.
I've got a pass.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: This what you mean?
Guard: Lemme look at that... Hmm... Hmm... Missing a seal, the red one...
Geralt: Impossible...
Guard: Department of Civil Defense,¹ forgot again... They're really off their
heads these days. Happens. So be it. You may come through.
What kind of pass are we talking about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What kind of pass're we talking about?
Guard: Well, a normal one, a transit pass.
Geralt: Who issues them?
Guard: How should I know? I'm a lowly soldier...
Who's restricted access to the city?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who ordered the city gates closed?
Guard: Word is, the king himself. Doesn't want paupers and refugees pissing
all over his beautiful city. Apart from which, when folk can go hither
and thither, always a chance some spy'll slink through. This way,
spy's got it harder... So, no pass, no passage.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell.
[Geralt goes to the house where Tamara's supposed to be. He sees only a man
smoking a pipe.]
Geralt: I'm looking for Tamara, the Bloody Baron's daughter. Your brother said
I'd find her here.
Man: Voytek send you, sir?
Geralt: How else would I know she was here?
Man: Wait a moment. I'll fetch her straight away.
[Finally, the sought-after woman appears.]
Tamara: You're looking for me. And who might you be? My father send you?
Geralt: Yeah. To see if you're still alive. And well. I'm Geralt of Rivia.
Tamara: I'm quite alive and extraordinarily well, Geralt of Rivia. Better than
I've ever been in this rotten life of mine. And now that you've seen
me, I bid you farewell.
Geralt: Wait...
Tamara: We've nothing more to talk about.
Father's worried about you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got every right to be angry at your father, but he's worried about
you.
Tamara: I have a right? Thank you kindly. So good to have the approval of his
hired thug. And my father worries only about what to get soused on
next.
He cares about you both.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: He's no saint, that's clear. But he's got the whole province on its
feet, looking for you. Finding you and your mother -- seems to me
there's nothing more important to him now. I know evil men. He's not
one of them.
Tamara: Shame he never showed such concern before. Especially for my mother.
Geralt: He made a mistake and knows that. I'm not defending him, just saying
that maybe he's come to realize what he's done. And what you mean to
him.
Tamara: Oh wonderful, I'll bear that in mind. Did you really come all the
way here just to tell me that?
You're right, he's a jackass.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're right, your father's a jackass.
Tamara: Glad we agree. But in that case, why are you helping him?
I don't blame you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your father's a vile man. You're angry and bitter -- can't blame you.
Tamara: Why do you help him, then? Why did you take this job?
Geralt: Because he knows something about someone dear to me. Promised to
tell me if I found you and your mother.
Tamara: Got it. A bit of blackmail -- just his style. Well, now you've found
me, you can tell him I'm alive and I'm never coming back.
Why'd your mother miscarry?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't mean to pry but...I know your mother had a miscarriage.
Tamara: His doing! He shoved her, she fell -- that's how it started. We were
alone, no one to help, blood everywhere... Worst night of my life.
Geralt: Sorry...must've been hard, for you both.
Tamara: Mum was in shock, she was raving that it was better this way, that
she never wanted the child! Must've had a fever -- she was losing
blood the whole time.
Geralt: She didn't want the child?
Tamara: Said she'd sooner cut open her gut than bear another child from his
seed.
What happened to your mother?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Voytek claims your mother had strange marks on her hands...and that a
monster dragged her into the woods. That true?
Tamara: We were riding towards the river. Suddenly mum cried out, bent over,
almost fell off her horse. I rode up to her and saw something strange
-- her hands were on fire. And then that creature leapt from the
woods! I don't know what it was but it roared so fierce my nose bled.
I saw it topple trees -- I've never been so scared in my life!
That...that thing grabbed my mum and disappeared into the woods! I
wanted to turn back, go after them, but the horses panicked! Now I
don't even know if she's alive.
What will you do now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What will you do now?
Tamara: Find my mum.
Geralt: You realize that might not be easy.
Tamara: Don't worry, I'm not daft enough to believe I can do it
alone. I've got some new friends now. Powerful friends.
They'll help me.
Who are these friends?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who are these friends? If it's not a secret.
Tamara: No secret. Heard of the Church of the Eternal Fire? A priest helped
me contact the Redanian witch hunters. Righteous, brave men.
They'll help me.
Geralt: Hence the candlesticks in your room. So, you believe in the Eternal
Fire.
Tamara: Once the heat of the Fire has set your heart aflame, it gives you
strength and leads you down the path of truth for the rest of your
life. I hope it'll bless me with its warmth one day.
Geralt: Thanks. Thing is, fire's tricky. It's easy to get burned.
What about your father?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What about your father?
Tamara: Who? Oh, him. I don't care. I won't go back to him. That bit of my
life -- forgotten it already.
Tell me your side of the story.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Before I agreed to look for you, your father told me his version of
events. Tell me yours.
Tamara: Mine? It's dull as life amidst the swamps. My earliest memories are
of a drunken father lying under the stairs, caked in mud and
clutching a bottle. Next dozen years, pretty much the same. Father
would drink, disappear for days, then come home in a rage and send
furniture flying. Thank the gods for war. I was glad every time they
sent him off. And the quarrels... I remember him screaming at mum,
the thuds as he beat her, then her sobbing. I'd hide under my bed and
long for silence. That's the long and short of it. Multiply by
nineteen and there you have my life. Finally we'd had enough, mum and
me. He crossed the line and we fled.
[A man walks into the house.]
Man: Well, well...a witcher. Never thought the baron would stoop to hiring a
monster slayer. Though I hear you're good at tracking things down.
Who are you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Glad you know who I am. Haven't introduced yourself, though.
Graden: Graden, witch hunter in the service of His Royal Majesty Radovid of
Redania. I'm certain you've heard of us.
Geralt: Rings a bell.
Graden: If the Bloody Baron sent you to fetch his daughter, you'd best face
it -- you will fail in your task.
Geralt: I appreciate your concern, but I don't need it. As for Tamara, she
can make her own decisions.
Graden: Hmm, akh akh... Noble of you. A killer for hire abandoning his bounty
for the good of another. The hunters and the Church of the Eternal
Fire thank you.
• Graden: So the baron hired a witcher to find his daughter. Interesting.
Where will you take her?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where are you gonna take her?
Graden: Tamara must rest. She's had a harrowing experience. When the warmth
of the Eternal Fire has restored her strength, we shall see about
finding her mother.
The baron's desperate.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Desperate fathers have been known to do a lot to find their
daughters.
Graden: Unexpected from a witcher. Akh akh...I thought your mutations
cleansed you of humanity, stripped you of emotions...
Geralt: You don't need mutations to strip men of their humanity. I've seen
plenty of examples.
[If Geralt got the Baron's doll:]
Geralt: Before you go, your father asked me to give you this.
Tamara: Clara? Father told you to give me Clara? Funny how he thought to buy
me back with a memory. Tell him one gesture could never make up for a
ruined childhood. So long, witcher. In spite of all I'm...well, I'm
grateful you gave me a choice, didn't force me to go back to the
tyrant.
Geralt: Hope you know what you're getting yourself into. So long. And good
luck.
[If Geralt didn't get the doll before finding Tamara:]
Geralt: Hope you know what you're getting into.
Tamara: I've never been more certain. The Eternal Fire is the best thing that
could happen to me.
Geralt: In that case...good luck.
Tamara: Thank you for respecting my choice. Farewell.
[Geralt returns to the baron after meeting his daughter.]
Geralt: Gave Tamara your gift.
Baron: How'd she react?
Geralt: Probably not like you'd have wanted. She threw the doll away.
Baron: Threw it away? Oh gods, I'd hoped, despite all... Argh... Ahh... What
of Anna?
Geralt: Still don't know anything specific, but I'm on her trail
Baron: Well, will you stand there like a knob? Find her!
[Geralt returns to the baron after completing "Ladies of the Wood," in which
he uncovers Anna's connection to Crookback Bog.]
Geralt: Got news of your wife.
Baron: Ploughin' hell, why'd you not say so forthwith? Where is she?! Why have
you not returned with her?
Geralt: She's in Crookback Bog. Got food, a place to live, and keeps herself
busy. Didn't look like she had the slightest desire to leave.
Baron: You were to bring her back, not report on the conditions she lives
under!
Geralt: I was supposed to find her. And I did. That was our deal, nothing more.
Baron: You still think me rotten to the core, a base bastard, don't you?
Believe I alone am at fault for what happened here.
Well, yes.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Actually, that's exactly what I think.
Baron: The world might seem black and white to you witchers, but for us
common folk it's shades of gray. As is my family's story.
My opinion doesn't matter.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Doesn't matter what I believe.
Baron: Yet looking at you I see contempt. Can't speak for the world you
witchers inhabit, but in ours, nothing is ever black and white.
Not interested in your family's story.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sorry, but -- your life story? Just not interested. This isn't a
social call. I'm here on business.
Baron: Will you at least tell me how Anna ended up in that blasted bog?
She made a pact with the Crones.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She made a pact with the Crones and...well, I think she might've
lost her mind.
Baron: A pact? What the bloody hell?
Geralt: She was with child, a child she didn't want to bear. Went to the
Crones for help. They promised to rid her of the problem in
exchange for a year of her service. And they kept their word, in
their own twisted way.
Baron: What do you mean?
Geralt: Anna must've thought the child inside her would somehow disappear.
Instead the Crones sapped her of strength, and ultimately forced
her body to miscarry. I think that's when she started to lose her
mind. Then they placed magic tethers on her, tethers that cause
great pain when tested. A guarantee she'll pay off her debt.
Baron: A pact with witches... Bloody nightmare, sounds like some jest! We
must get her out! We can't leave her there!
Do what you want.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Do what you will, but leave me out of this. You ask me? Wading
through the swamp to mess with the Crones -- just plain stupid.
Baron: What would you have me do?! Sit on my arse and wait for her
return?! I'll send men, go with them myself, and we will pull her
out!
Geralt: I've warned you. What you do -- that's your business.
I wouldn't recommend venturing into the swamp.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Venturing into the swamp, even with armed men, is just a bad idea.
It's a dangerous place, inherently. And I think those Crones are a
greater threat than anyone realizes.
Baron: I'll not sit on my arse waiting for them to return her! Would you
wait, count on their mercy if they had your daughter?
Geralt: Probably not. But I'm a witcher.
Baron: And I'm a husband and a father who's fucked up his life and the
lives of his loved ones. I'll gather my men, go there and retrieve
Anna!
Your wife is with the Crones.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your wife is with the Crones, as their servant.
Baron: What the fuck do you mean? What Crones?
Geralt: Ones who live in Crookback Bog.
Baron: Oh, I've heard folk speak of them, but thought it naught by tales
to scare the children with. How on earth did she land there?!
A fiend captured her.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: They fled by night. They were riding past the forest when a beast
serving the Crones attacked them and abducted Anna.
Baron: A beast? Bloody hell... And Tamara -- was she hurt?
Geralt: No.
Baron: Ah, thank the gods for that. So, Annie -- what happened to her?
Geralt: The creature carried her deep into Crookback Bog. Didn't harm her,
though. In fact, Anna seems content there.
Baron: Content? What is this tripe, witcher? What in bloody blazes is she
doing in that swamp?
So tell me how it was with you -- really.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Probably gonna say you're not the only one to blame. All right,
then. I'm willing to hear your side of the story.
Baron: With Annie...it was love at first sight. A spear tore through my
shoulder at the Battle of Anchor, she tended to my wound. Once I'd
recovered, I asked her to marry me. She wept with joy. Soon after,
Tamara was born, and after that they sent me to Cidaris. A warlord
had risen against King Ethain, and Foltest sent help. It was one
battle to the next, one conflict after another... 'Twas a life of
war, I was seldom home, and I found comfort in drink. Grew so fond
of hooch I couldn't part with it when I did get home.
What happened then?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right. What then?
Baron: I went from front to front, battle to battle, collecting soldiers'
coin, while Anna sat alone with the babe for months. Later I learned
she'd not been so alone after all. For nearly three years she'd
found comfort in the arms of one Evan, a childhood friend. A dog's
bunghole. Understand, dammit? One tussle in the hay I'd 'ave waved
aside, put it out of my mind, but the woman cuckolded me for years!
Without a whisker of concern for me, for my love!
Geralt: How'd you find out?
Baron: Came home one day and Anna was gone, her things, too. Found a
letter. She wrote that she didn't love me, that she'd left me for
some knoblicker and taken Tamara with her. Felt like I'd been rammed
in the arse by a horse. I went to find the bugger, to get the girls
back, bring them home. Yet soon as I saw him, something turned
inside me, something dark. I slaughtered the shit-eating twat and
fed his carcass to the dogs.
What did Anna say?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Imagine Anna wasn't exactly pleased...
Baron: Hah! Bloody understatement, if I've ever heard one! She flew into a
fit, hysteria, threw herself at me, kickin' and clawin'. Finally
grabbed a knife. It would've been the end of me if I'd not leapt
aside. It was the first time I hit her. I had to calm her. Felt I
had no other means. Things changed, they would never be the same.
Anna tried to take her own life -- and mine -- several times. She
would prod me, goad me, taunt me -- in the hope I would hit her
again, perhaps? She'd screamed that I'd robbed her of life of love,
that I'd destroyed the idea for her and so might as well kill her.
How many times I apologized, how many armfuls of blooms and gifts I
brought... She cared not a bit. Two years of her anger had turned
to indifference, broken at times by her bouts of hysteria and my
bouts of drunkenness. Cannot fathom how we survived those years,
but we did. Though as you now know, not everything was as it might
have seemed.
Seems you deserve each other.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're right -- fault on both sides, yours and hers.
Baron: I'm content that you finally see that. Very well, then -- if you
won't bring Anna home, you might at least tell me how she landed
in that blasted swamp.
You're at fault.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got only yourself to blame, I think. Leaving her to fend for
herself...
Baron: How was I not to? I was a soldier! I had no choice.
Geralt: There's always a choice.
Baron: Argh, sod it all. I see all my prattling's for naught. You won't
bring Anna home, I know that. Will you betray me as to how she
landed in that bloody swamp?
Can't say I care all that much about this.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't know why you're telling me all this. Your relationship with
your wife? Your concern, not mine.
Baron: Argh, a witcher. Should've expected as much. Very well, then -- if
you won't bring Anna home, you might at least tell me how she
landed in that blasted swamp.
Seems they call you Bloody for a reason...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Guess they call you the Bloody Baron for a reason after all...
Baron: What?
Geralt: Your nickname. Makes sense now.
Baron: No, no, that's an entirely different story.
So, your fault after all.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Still seems like your fault to me.
Baron: Will you let me finish?
[After the update, Geralt can remind the baron about his part of the bargain.]
Geralt: We had a deal. I've done my part. Your turn to do yours.
Baron: A word once given... Now what did I last...?
Geralt: Basilisk. It'd just attacked you.
Baron: Ah, right. Gargantuan. One solid brute. It landed right in front of us.
I thought we'd breathed our last.
[The second hald of his flashback is told in Ciri's "Out of the Shadows" tale,
in its own section. See there for details. When it ends, the conversation
starts up again.]
Baron: She mounted and rode off. It grew awfully empty without her...
Gotta go to Novigrad.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So there's a chance Ciri's still in Novigrad... Thanks for helping
her.
Been to Novigrad.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She disappeared from Novigrad, too. Checked that. Thanks for helping
her.
How'd Ciri get past the Redanian blockade?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Redanian army's blocked the Pontar crossing, yet you sent Ciri to
Novigrad.
Baron: She was looking for a sorceress, and all of them are in Novigrad.
Besides, I didn't leave her at the Redanians' mercy. I gave her a
letter of safe conduct.
Where'd you get these letters?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where'd you get these letters?
Baron: Haven't always led this pack of jesters. Served in the Temerian army
once.
Geralt: Redanians guard the crossing.
Baron: True, but with a bit of fame and a friend here or there...well,
banners and heraldry don't mean so much.
Baron: It's nothin'. Now you've learned what you wanted to know, you must be
in a hurry -- but...if you could...
Geralt: Spit it out.
Baron: I want to get back Anna. Free her, bring her back. I don't believe she's
there willingly.
Geralt: Must've not heard me. Any journey into the swamp is suicide.
Baron: I heard you -- which is why I could use your aid. I've no more tales of
Ciri to offer you, but go with me and I'll be generous with what I do
have. Very generous.
You've convinced me. I'll go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hmm... Extra coin never hurt.
Baron: Ha! True indeed! I'll round up my men and ride for Downwarren. You
can join us there.
Geralt: Fine. Sounds good.
Sorry. Just don't have the time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯</pre><pre id="faqspan-6">
Geralt: What'll happen if I don't go with you?
Baron: To you? Nothin'. Though I'll probably lose a few more men in the
swamps. I'm determined to make this journey.
Geralt: I'll think about it.
Baron: Fuck thinkin'. Just help me. I'll gather my men and ride to
Downwarren. Once you've mulled it over, join us there.
[As the baron mentions going to Downwarren, a weird humanoid creature, like a
toddler with several birth defects, bursts into the room, babbling.]
Geralt: What the...?
Sergeant: There you are! Escaped again. Sorry. We was never here.
[He drags the nonsense-speaking person/creature out.]
Baron: So, witcher! How do you like my court jester? Maybe you can tell -- is
he man or beast? My men call him Uma, claim he's a monster, but seems to
me he's a man, just hideous as Ardal's shit.
Geralt: What was that?
Baron: You tell me. Man or monster? My men call him Uma and say he's a beast,
but he seems more man to me, just hideous as Ardal's shit.
He's connected to Ciri.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Definitely man, trapped by a powerful curse. And somehow linked to
Ciri.
Baron: What do you mean? How can that thing be tied to your Ciri?
Geralt: Long story, but I know he's the key to finding her. I need to take
him to Kaer Morhen. Maybe the other witchers can help me lift the
curse.
Baron: Hmm... If it'll help you find your daughter, I'd be a pure bastard
to refuse. Take him. He has a corner in the stables, I'll tell my men
not to give you trouble.
[He whistles for a guard.]
Baron: The witcher here's gonna take Uma. No one's to get in his way.
Guard: Aye, sir.
Doesn't look like a monster.² / Where'd you find him?²
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• Geralt: Where'd you find him?
• Geralt: Hmm... Doesn't look like a monster, but my medallion's trembling.
Strange. Where'd you find him?
Baron: Funny story, actually. I won him in a game of cards.
Tell me how it happened.
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Geralt: Funny story? How so?
Baron: Went to Novigrad once, to rest, indulge in the city's pleasures.
Stayed at a tavern, and some folk there were playin', so I joined in.
Cards were kind that day. Had one devilish hand after another, robbed
the whoresons blind. One fellow, a merchant, took it especially hard.
He'd gambled away everything he brought from Skellige. Wanted
terribly to play another hand, so I agreed. Asked him what he had to
wager, and he showed me that sideshow. Not much in it for me, but
fuck it, I thought -- I'll give the man a chance to win something
back. Luck was not with him, and Uma wound up here at Crow's Perch.
End of story.
Now you've got a court jester.
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Geralt: Proper baron now -- even got a jester.
Baron: Aye... Though I feel something's not right with him.
Geralt: How so?
Baron: Well, he seems more beast than man, but there's wisdom, cunning in
the bastard's eyes. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Ever run into
anything like him?
Geralt: No. But he doesn't look dangerous.
Baron: Hmm...I guess that's that. Doesn't eat much, so as long as he's no
trouble, the boys might as well have some diversion.
Ha... Funny indeed.
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Geralt: Hilarious. Real side-splitter.
Baron: Ohh, you wouldn't know a good tale from a runny fart.
Nothing better to play for?
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Geralt: Must've been pretty desperate to play for that.
Baron: Ah, quit your carping, smartarse. Someone wagered him, so we played.
If anyone was desperate, it was the bugger's former master.
Where'd he get the name?²
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Geralt: Uma? Strange name.
Baron: Aye, strange. But he gave us no other.
Geralt: You mean he can talk?
Baron: Hardly... It was like this -- I asked what they call him. He sat
there, not sayin' a thing, tryin' to stick a toe up his nose. So I
grabbed his hand, looked him in the eyes and asked, "What's your
name?" Gave me this damned foolish look and stammered, "Oooh...Uma?"
And it stuck.
• Geralt: Thanks, Baron. So long.
• Geralt: Time I was on my way. So long.
Baron: Farewell. I hope you find your daughter. And prove a good father to
her...
[The baron leaves for Downwarren afterward, and the long quest finally comes
to a close. The baron's subplot ends with "Return to Crookback Bog," found
in the optional quest section.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6g) A PRINCESS IN DISTRESS [WK6G]
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[Armed with the pellar's bell, Geralt ventures off into the wilderness behind
the pellar's house. Hooven tracks lead on.]
Geralt: • Good
• Another clue.
• This way, I think...
[The bleeting eventually leads Geralt this dainty damsel.]
Geralt: There you are... Here, goat! Ahem... Here, Princess! Hoofed and horned
-- shoulda known it would be stubborn. All right, time to try the bell.
Come on. Let's go see the pellar.
[It runs off. Geralt will say various things while ringing the bell.]
Geralt: • Should've guessed as much. What's a witcher compared to a patch of
wild strawberries?
• Come on, dammit!
• Do I really have to keep ringing this bell for you to follow?
• This way, Your Grace.
• You're no Roach, but I bet we could become friends in time. You got
that all-important quality every Roach has to have -- you don't talk
much.
[The goat runs off again.]
Geralt: Where the hell'd you go?
[It stops in front of a cavern. His responses changes depending on if the cave
was cleared previously.]
Geralt: • Bear! Bear! Run, you stupid piece of shit!
• Bear prowled this area. Good thing I ran into him earlier.
[They unlikely duo finally returns to the cabin, concluding the mission and
letting "Family Matters" pick back up.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6h) CIRI'S STORY: THE RACE [WK6H]
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[During "Family Matters," after Tamara's whereabouts are learned, the baron'll
recount this tale. It begins with him and hits men sitting around a campfire,
talking about Ciri's score during the hunt.]
Baron: That lass of yours, pure luck in the flesh. To hunt down a wild boar
that size -- why, worthy of one of King Foltest's feasts, were he still
among the living.
[Ciri walks over.]
Baron: Ciri! Come! Whole haunch should be yours, as I see it!
Sergeant: Aye, you done well, lass.
Guard: Not bad, not bad at all, but who goes boar huntin' with a sword?
Ciri: No bow at hand, no spear. My sword was all I had.
Guard: Heheheh. Well, you brandished it beautifully. Where'd they teach you
that, anyway?
At Kaer Morhen.
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Ciri: At Kaer Morhen.
Guard: Witchers' school there, aye. But they only took lads, as I recall.
I'm the exception.
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Ciri: They made an exception for me.
Guard: Right. Mean to say you're a she-witcher?
Ciri: Not entirely. The mutations -- I was never subjected to them. But
everything else I know, I learned from the witchers there.
Guard: Know any of them potions?
Ciri: Not so much. A bit.
Guard: Cause¹ you see, atimes I get this pinchin' back here...
Guard: Shut it, Ygrin. Nobody cares about your backside!
I'm not a witcher.
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Ciri: I'm not a witcher. Just grew up there.
Guard: I believe it, seein' you swing that sword. Know any of them potions?
Ciri: Not so much. A bit.
Guard: Cause¹ you see, atimes I get this pinchin' back here...
Guard: Shut it, Ygrin. Nobody cares about your backside!
On the road.
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Ciri: Mh. A little here, a little there...
Guard: Not surprising given you wander the world alone.
Guard: Not alone no more! She's in the company now!
Guard: That's right! You're a member of the company! We're drinkin' together,
killed a wild boar as a pack, you might say, but we've no notion as to
how you arrived here. A woman in a man's garb, razor on her back...
Who exactly are you? You a mercenary?
Something of the sort.
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Ciri: Let's say I go about my business, and when there's coin to be earned,
I don't readily turn it down.
Guard: I've always 'eld -- with the world 'ow it is today, lasses ought to
know 'ow to fend for themselves.
Guard: All right, all right.
I'm a witcher.
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Ciri: Mm, a witcher -- though, not entirely. I never went through the
mutations.
Guard: A witcher? So, apart from the sword play, what, you know potions and
all that?
Ciri: Not so much. A bit.
Guard: Cause¹ you see, atimes I get this pinchin' back here...
Guard: Shut it, Ygrin. Nobody cares about your backside!
Just a traveler.
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Ciri: I just travel a lot. And I don't always happen upon such good and
civil company.
Guard: Aah, gift of the gab, she's got. Here's to good company!
Sergeant: This I like! Drinks like a lad, knows her sword work, kills a boar
as if it were a piglet! A she-wolf, if ever I seen one!
Guard: All right, all right.
Guard: A woman could swing a sword -- I've knowed one. But never seen a lady
mount anythin' but a cock proper. All tipsy on 'orseback. Nothin'
strange on account they bloody mount them sideways.
Ciri: Perhaps you'd care to wager?
Guard: Think you can outrun me on an 'orse? Hahahah, naturally! What's the
stake?
Ciri: Black mare. The one in the stable.
Guard: Oh, that won't do at all...
Coward?
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Ciri: What happened? You get the jitters?
Guard: No.
Ciri: Hahaha. So why not?
What's the problem?
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Ciri: Well that's an awfully gloomy face. Too much of a coward to race a
woman?!
Baron: The horse is mine.
Ciri: To race the baron himself -- I'd consider it an honor.
Sergeant: Oh-oh! That'd be a sight to behold!
Guard: Would it ever!
Baron: Done. But if I win, I take your sword.
Ciri: Agreed.
Baron: I'd not drink anymore this night. You'll want your head about you. We
start at daybreak.
[The next morning, Ciri, Strenger and his goons all gather at the hilly track
selected for the race.]
Baron: The day dawns.
Ciri: Ready?
Baron: As ever. First one to the tower.
Guard: Mount up!
Sergeant: Come on, Ciri! Don't you embarass us!
[They get on their horses.]
Baron: Your sword is mine!
Ciri: That'll be the day!
Baron: Wan't that horse, don'tcha?
Ciri: Had one just like it!
[If Ciri wins:]
Ciri: Aaaaa!
Baron: You're wind, not woman! Worthy of the best horse! The mare is yours!
Ciri: Thank you!
[If the Baron wins:]
Baron: Haha-hahahaah!
Ciri: Dammit! By a hair!
Baron: See that? Not nearly as haggard as you think me!
Ciri: Congratulations.
Baron: Unnecessary. Better bid your sword farewell. I await my reward!
[Either way, she bids him to be quiet. A squawking's heard in the distance.]
Baron: What?
Ciri: Another chance to win.
[As the basilisk nesting atop the tower dives toward the baron and Ciri, the
flashback ends.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6i) LADIES OF THE WOOD [WK6I]
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[Geralt's witch search has little to go on, other than Crookback Bog -- a mire
in southeastern Velen -- being the destination. Reading the book Keira left
gives info about the Trail of Treats' starting point, though. Geralt finds a
shrine soon enough. He picks up one of the sweet-looking confections and
crumbles it, revealing maggots inside.]
Geralt: I'm on the right path.
[He follows the cookie-laced footpath through the bog's puddles, eventually
coming upon a chapel and a couple outbuildings. Some kids walk into view,
singing a morbid nursery rhyme.]
Kid: Dog went in the kitchen, stole a hunk of meat.
Kid: Cook gave him a lickin', strung him by his feet.
Kid: Cook then bled him empty, stripped his skin off clean.
Kid: Laughed and said, "How tasty, best sausage I have seen!"
Kid: Cook's a stupid killer, shouldn't 'ave ate the pup.
Kid: Now we'll light a fire, gonna roast him up!
Kid: One, two, three, the one to fetch the kindling's...thee!
Geralt: Interesting rhyme.
Kid: Don't know you. Go away.
Ever seen an ashen-haired woman around here?
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Geralt: A young woman got lost in the swamp. She has ashen hair and a scar on
her face. You kids see anyone like that?
Kid: Ain't no lassies here.
Kid: What am I?
Kid: You're no lassie. Lassies got tits.
Kid: They do. Heard an ol' man say once, when the army was here, he says,
"Hide them lasses in the woods! They's dazzlin' the soldiers with their
tits, and it's torturin' the poor lads!" That's what he said.
This girl is in trouble.
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Geralt: Listen, the girl I'm looking for, she's in trouble. I understand you
might not want to help me, but you could try to help her.
Kid: How do you know she was here?
Geralt: I heard she visited the witches in the swamp.
Kid: But there's no witches here.
Kid: There's only frogs.
Kid: And snakes.
Kid: And Johnny.
You live here alone?
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Geralt: Anyone else here? Besides you?
Kid: Meaning who?
Geralt: Someone who might've seen the woman.
Kid: Like the six-eyed tree?
Kid: Tree's slept all year. But there is Johnny.
I'm looking for a witch.
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Geralt: I'm looking for the witches of Crookback Bog.
Kid: You looks like a witch you'self.
Kid: The wi...witches? Of the bog?
Kid: We can't go in the bog. Gran don't let us.
Kid: When my brother Zemek went missin', Gran said it was 'cause he went in
the woods and got lost. Gran cried an awful lot after that.
Kid: He could still come back.
What are you doing in the swamp?
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Geralt: What are you doing out here alone?
Kid: We's not alone, we's with Gran.
Geralt: But where did you all come from?
Kid: We's orphans.
Geralt: All of you?
Kid: There's a war, so there's orphans. Didn't know that?
[An older woman comes over to the gathering.]
Gran: What's this talk? What kind o' jabberin' is this? Eh? No one allowed
here! Just kids. My kids, they're allowed. But who are you? Wearin'
swords, like a bandit?
I'm looking for someone.
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Geralt: Just talking to the kids. Asked them if they'd seen a young woman.
Gran: I was a lovely young woman. Wore a long, beautiful braid my mummy did
up for me. Had dresses with flowers on 'em.
Geralt: Maybe you've seen her. Young... Ashen hair.
Gran: Your betrothed?
Geralt: Daughter, actually.
Gran: Daughter... My dear, sweet little daughter and her sister. Where are
they now? Maybe they've come to some harm...?
Please help me.
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Geralt: A bit of help, please? A young, ashen-haired woman. Just need to
know if you've seen her.
Gran: What are you looking at, children? Wash your hands, we'll go catch
crickets.
Geralt: Won't learn anything from you.
Gran: Aye. 'Cause I don't know nothin'.
Kid: Bet Johnny knows. He knows a lot. When I ask 'im omethin', he says:
"Wait, I'll scratch my arse and tell you."
Gran: Ugly word! What're you sayin'? To the hut. You'll stand in a corner,
I'll make sure you do. You -- begone. Begone.
Talk.
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Geralt: Had about enough of this. Asked a simple question. You seen the
woman or haven't you?
Gran: Fear not, children...
Kid: There's naught to fear, Gran. He's only angry 'cause he cares.
Kid: Maybe Johnny knows something. I'll take 'im to Johnny, afore he goes
barmy on us...
Gran: Johnny's your invention -- and you shouldn't be using those ugly
words. To the hut! Go on, now! You'll stand in a corner, I'll make
sure you do. And you stop scarin' the little ones. Now go! Begone!
Who's Johnny?
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Geralt: Who's Johnny?
Kid: Johnny, Johnny, ate the cat, come the morn some fur he shat!
Gran: Watch your language! They tells tales and tales. Naught but tales.
Are you a witch?
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Geralt: You one of the witches of the swamp? I hear Crookback Bog...
Gran: Witch? Me? Nay...I've no broom, nor owl, and not one wart on me nose.
Got a pretty nose. See?
Kid: Gran's got a lovely beak.
Gran: Oh, you darling girl. Kids are so sweet.
You take care of the kids?
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Geralt: You look after these kids?
Gran: They're my grandchildren.
Kid: Gran's good to us. Gonna be soup with scratchings for supper!
Gran: Kids get lost in the woods... I miss 'em... Seen 'em in the woods? No
one has.
[Geralt follows Gran and the boy into the cabin.]
Gran: Can't come in here. Not allowed in here.
Geralt: I just wanna talk to the boy.
Gran: Not allowed. It's not allowed.
Kid: I won't talk to you anyway. Gran don't like you. An--and Johnny's made
up. An--and strangers steal kids.
You don't want to talk to me?
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Geralt: Just got one question for you.
Gran: Don't be askin' no questions. You're a stranger. Not allowed to talk to
strangers.
Kid: Can we eat now? Soup with scratchings...
Gran: You hear? Says he's afeared of you. Stop scarin' my kids.
Where can I find this Johnny?
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Geralt: Just tell me where I can find Johnny.
Kid: Johnny's made up.
Gran: Begone, begone.
[Geralt exits, finding the other kids to talk to.]
Geralt: Why don't you wanna talk about Johnny? One of you knows about him --
the others must too.
Kid: It's just him who's pals with Johnny. They pick mushrooms. And hunt
snails. But Gran says Johnny's made up.
Help me out?
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Geralt: The girl I mentioned is in danger. You gotta help me get your gran
away from the hut so I can talk to Johnny's friend.
Kid: All right, but you got to do somethin' for us, too. Play hide-n-seek.
Gran never does, says her feet hurt.
Fine.
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Geralt: Let's play. You hide, but if I find you, you have to help me talk to
the boy who knows Johnny.
Kid: He thinks he'll find us easy.
Kid: Means he's never hid from the Black Ones.
Kid: No lookin', and you have to count out loud -- all your fingers. Toes,
too.
Geralt: One, two, three...
Isn't there something else you want?
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Geralt: Is there something else you need or want?
Kid: Hmm...I want...something sweet!
Kid: Me too!
Kid: Or fruits...
Kid: Give us a treat and we'll help you.
• Geralt: Here's some treats.
Kid: Yum!
Kid: Never eatin'¹ nothin' like this before in me life!
• Geralt: Don't have any treats.
Kid: Well here's what you can do: go get some, play hide-n-seek with
us, or get lost.
Fine, let's play.
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(same as "Fine.")
I'll be back.
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Geralt: Let me see if I can find some treats.
Have you ever seen Johnny?
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Geralt: Have any of you ever seen Johnny?
Kid: Course. Looks just like him.
Geralt: Then why do you say he's made up?
Kid: Gran says so, and Gran knows lots.
Gran ever hurt you?
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Geralt: Does your gran treat you right? She ever hurt you?
Kid: Never.
Kid: When we're bad, she cries.
Kid: She's scared, says strangers might take us...and we'll disappear.
Your friend's not afraid to go into the woods. Why?
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Geralt: The boy who plays with Johnny -- he must be brave.
Kid: Not brave, just stupid.
Kid: Sat his bare bum on an anthill once. But, yeah, he plays with Johnny.
He don't listen to Gran and goes in the woods, and then he's gotta have
a time-out.
Kid: And he eats snails. Yuck.
[If Geralt agrees to play hide and seek:]
Geralt: Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Ready or not, here I come.
[Geralt has to search for the youngins.]
• Geralt: There you are.
Geralt: I can see you!
Geralt: See you. Come out!
Geralt: Found you. You can stop hiding.
• Kid: Aww...
Kid: Found me.
Kid: How'd you find me?!
Kid: No fair. I'm 'sposed to win.
[When Geralt finds the last kid:]
• Geralt: Found you. You're the last one.
Kid: Bet you cheated. Come to the cottage, I gotta tell the others I won.
• Geralt: No one left hiding.
Kid: You're a wizard, right? Gonna show us some tricks when we get to the
cottage?
Geralt: No, we'll talk about your promise.
• Geralt: Guess that's everyone. Found you all.
Kid: You don't play right. But we'll help. Come on, let's talk to the others,
by the cottage.
• Geralt: Found you. Every last one.
Kid: But you found me last! Let's go back to the cottage. Can we tell 'em I
let you find me?
[After the hide/seek session:]
Geralt: Found you all. Now you gotta keep your word and help me talk to
Johnny's friend.
Kid: Why wouldn't we? Promised, didn't we?
[After appeasing the kids, Geralt waits for the distraction.]
Kid: Gran! Gran! Bumblebee bit Yagna in the arse! Gran, come!
[Geralt goes inside to talk to the boy.]
Geralt: Don't be afraid...
Kid: Don't know nuthin'.
Geralt: I won't hurt you.
Kid: Where's Gran?
Geralt: She's busy.
Where's Johnny?
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Geralt: I just want to talk to Johnny. He could know more than you.
Kid: ...Not gonna hurt 'im, right? 'Cause...he's real, he's not made up.
Geralt: I'm not gonna hurt him.
Kid: Johnny used to be by, 'cause Gran liked listenin' to his songs. When we
was pickin' mushrooms, Johnny said he saw a girl with ashen hair in the
swamp.
Geralt: Where can I find Johnny?
Kid: There's a little meadow on the edge of the swamp. This strange tree
grows there. Look around, you'll see 'im.
Geralt: Thank you.
Why are you afraid?
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Geralt: Why're you scared to talk?
Kid: I'm not scared of nuthin'!
Geralt: You're all scared of something. Woulda told me about Johnny
otherwise.
Kid: I'm worried about Johnny. He don't come 'round no more. Once when we was
mushroom pickin', I saw his burrow. But Gran yelled at me. Said not to
talk to strangers, 'cause then kids go missin'. She worries 'bout Johnny
too, though she says he's made up.
Where are your parents?
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Geralt: Where are you and your friends' parents?
Kid: Dead. Some starved...others were killed. Like mine... One day, I went
out at dawn, to look for berries in the woods... Still some around back
then. When I was comin' home, I hear the yells... Then laughing... Went
up and hid in the bushes near the woods. My mum yelled. And the soldiers
laughed. Laid my pa down by the barn door... His head clean off... And
then my mum...
Geralt: It's all right, that's enough...
[With new info in hand, Geralt sets off to find the marshy tree.]
Geralt: If Johnny's real, he must leave prints. Small footprint... Johnny's
been through here. Tracks lead to a burrow. Wonder what's inside.
[He kneels by the small burrow.]
Geralt: Johnny? Don't be afraid.
[A childlike, humanoid creature crawls out.]
Geralt: You're a bucca...?
Johnny: (shakes head)
Geralt: A lutin...?
Johnny: (shakes head)
Geralt: Ah, a godling. Not many of you left.
Johnny: (nods)
Geralt: I'm looking for a woman with ashen hair. Seen her?
[He indicates he has.]
Geralt: Tell me everything, from the start. Where did you see her, what was she
doing? It's important to me.
[Johnny shakes his head.]
Geralt: Why not?
Johnny: (covers mouth and points to it)
You can't talk.
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Geralt: What's wrong, can't talk?
Johnny: (nods)
Geralt: Why? Lost your voice?
Johnny: (nods)
Geralt: Can I help you somehow?
Johnny: (beckons to follow)
Want me to follow?
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Geralt: Want me to follow you?
Johnny: (nods)
Geralt: No choice, I guess.
Johnny: (shakes head)
I don't understand, try to explain.
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Geralt: Can't understand you. Try to explain it somehow...?
Johnny: (facepalms)
You know the kids from the clearing well?
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Geralt: You know the kids from the clearing well?
Johnny: (doesn't make any gesture)
Geralt: Don't be afraid. Not gonna hurt anyone.
You gotta know what goes on around here.
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Geralt: This where you live?
Johnny: (nods head)
Geralt: Cozy burrow, good location. Must know everything that happens in the
bog. Doesn't bother you, having monsters for neighbors?
[Johnny leads Geralt onward, right into a drowner patch.]
Geralt: Watch out!
[After slaying the abominations.]
Geralt: Stay close to me.
[They stop at the foot of a cliff.]
Geralt: This the place? Let me look around.
Johnny: (pointing upward)
Geralt: Something's on the ledge? Something that'll get you your voice back?
Johnny: (nods)
• Geralt: Guess I gotta make this climb.
Johnny: (nods)
• Geralt: Ah, the bottle from the nest. Already got it.
Johnny: (outstretches hands)
[He climbs up to the clifftop nest and slays some harpies. Inside the nest is
a few pieces of loot.]
Geralt: Maybe he meant this bottle...
[Geralt slide down the embankment to the godling. He offers the bottle.]
Geralt: Here.
[A white mist comes out of it.]
Johnny: Whiskey! Slither! Ringworm! Rubbish! Bumblebee! Flabbergasted! Ha! The
sound of it! Peter Piper picked Prince Proximo a peck of pickled
peppers by the Pontar. Hahaha.
Geralt: Done celebrating?
Johnny: My favorite words... Life without savoring the "surreptitious
shananacking" is like licking snails through a cloth. Thank you for
this, noble whoever-you-are. Long be your life.
Geralt: Hang on a minute... I helped you -- now you help me.
Johnny: Would you turn this beautiful act of altruism into a banal bartering of
favors?
Looking for a young, ashen-haired woman.
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Geralt: I'm looking for a young, ashen-haired woman. See anyone like that?
Johnny: Did I ever. Remember it as if it were yesterday. Soon as I awoke, I
went to empty me bowels -- my favorite part of the day. Defecatin' to
the sunrise -- downright glorious... Suddenly, heard a bang -- so
loud it couldn't have been me. And that lass appeared! Out of
nowhere. Young, ashen-haired -- just like you said. Wounded, and
panting to boot! She raced off toward the children's huts. Quick --
as if the Crones were after her. I yelled some unpleasantries --
she'd disturbed my morn. Sadly, I'd lost my voice, so I don't think
she heard me.
So she went off toward the village...
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Geralt: She ran off toward the orphanage. Kids could know something, or the
old woman who takes care of them...
Johnny: That old hag don't speak to strangers. And you're a stranger.
Geralt: Will she talk to you?
Johnny: I have spoken to her, got my ways... So be it. You helped me, and
I'm no boor. Come with me.
Know anything about the Crones?
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Geralt: What do you know about the Crones?
Johnny: They're as old as this forest... Cruel, vindictive... Not to
be crossed.
Geralt: What if someone does cross them?
Johnny: Might take his voice, might take his life -- depends on their whim.
They're nasty, although...they care for this land and its folk in
their own way. Supposedly they always keep their word, but you must
be careful what you ask for. Won't find them until they want to be
found, see them until they want to be seen. But remember, they see
and hear all that happens in the mire.
The woman from the village in the swamp... Who is she?
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Geralt: I've been to the village in the swamp, met a woman who might've been
a Crone.
Johnny: Did she seem...confused to you?
Geralt: Nuts, completely.
Johnny: Oof, so I'm not crazy. That's no Crone, that's the granny who takes
care of the orphans. Claims the kids made me up. Me.
Geralt: An orphanage in the swamp?
Johnny: What d'you have against swamps? Lived here my whole life and I
heartily recommend it.
Why did you lose your voice?
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Geralt: How'd you lose your voice?
Johnny: One morning I awoke and opened my mouth for my usual bout of singing
with the thrushes. Lo and behold, no sound escaped. I tried and
tried, almost burst a blood vessel. Then I went to the village,
'cause word has it the new cunning woman works miracles. But people
began crying out "A smudger! A smudger!" and sicced their dogs on me.
Do I look like a smudger to you?
Geralt: Not a bit.
Johnny: I thought not. So it must be the Crones' doing. Who else would curse
me? Blackbird friend of mine located my voice, but I was helpless to
retrieve it.
Geralt: Couldn't ask a raven friend to just give you the bottle?
Johnny: Ravens serve the Crones. They don't help no one.
How do you bottle someone's voice?
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Geralt: How do you lock someone's voice in a bottle? Just wondering...
Johnny: As am I -- especially as mine's a voice to crown all voices.
Sometimes it's like a forest brook, at others like a roll of thunder.
And let's be honest -- I talk enough to fill three barrels and more.
Geralt: Somebody used some powerful magic on you -- as a prank or just
to be mean.
[Johnny finds a water hag en route.]
Johnny: Careful! Watch out!
[They return to the orphans' village.]
Johnny: Good. It's clear. Not a Crone in sight. I need to sing to Gran, that
oughta calm her.
[Geralt finds a good place to hide and watch.]
Johnny: Little Johnny softy gazing, fire waning, pale
Pop! A spark jumped out and whispered...
Listen, I've a tale...
Gran: You...got your voice back?
Johnny: I did! Though I seem to have lost an octave somewhere in the process.
I shall look for it when I get home.
Gran: You're not allowed here, Johnny. You shouldn't 'ave come.
Johnny: Calm down, Gran. Don't get angry -- it's not good for you.
[Geralt walks over.]
The ashen-haired woman...
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Geralt: The woman I asked about earlier...
Lead me to the Crones?
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Geralt: Can you take me to the Crones?
Johnny: Forgive me, Gran, but this fellow absolutely must talk to the Ladies.
Gran: No, 'tis not allowed.
Geralt: Please. It's important.
Johnny: The fellow will be quiet. Gran, please hear me out. I found little
Yagna when she got lost, did I not? Did I break Genny's fever, too? I
did. I ask anything in return? No. Didn't even fuss about my stolen
voice. Well, now I want something. Gran, help this fellow. Because
otherwise he'll pester me day and night, even durin' potty time. His
lass is missing, mayhaps the Ladies can help find her, eh?
Gran: Well, since you put it that way, Johnny...I'll help him. Come with me.
[She leads Geralt into the locked chapel.]
Gran: Johnny's a good, good lad. Though the Ladies don't like him, no... "Foul
creature," they say. Don't like him.
[They stop in front of a tapestry depicting three women.]
Geralt: Who are the women in the tapestry?
Gran: Those're the Ladies.
[She goes up to the picture.]
Gran: Ladies lovely, with power o'er all
Beseech I thee, answer my call
Before you a worm crawls, wretched and small
[Her eyes roll back in her head as something/someone speaks through her. It
soon becomes apparent there's a couple people speaking through her]
Voice: How dare you disturb our rest, woman?
I wanted to talk to you.
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---
Not how I imagined you looking.
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Geralt: So you're the three Crones?
Voice: Crones? Where d'you get such an ugly word, young man?
Voice: Village bitches have been gossiping again. There's no limit to how
jealous and petty humans can be. Do we look like crones to you? Go
ahead, check. Touch me, White-Haired One. Where it pleases you most.
Are you cursed?
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Geralt: Is this a curse? You trapped in the tapestry?
Voice: Oh, he's curious.
Voice: We don't fall victim to curses -- we cast them.
What is this tapestry made of?
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Geralt: Is it my imagination, or is this tapestry made of hair?
Voice: Ooh, he's got a sensitive touch. Touch me more, boy, touch me more.
Geralt: Where do you get human hair?
Voice: Never heard of the Cutting? 'Round here a young boy turns into a man
when they cut his hair for the first time. Our sister weaves
tapestries of this cut hair. If the weft is straight, happy's the
fate.
Geralt: What if the weft's crooked?
Voice: Then it must be unraveled.
They speak through you?
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Geralt: Someone's speaking through you?
Voice: Good looking¹ and clever, too. Where've you been hiding, boy?
Geralt: I'm looking for the woman with ashen hair. I know you met her. Where is
she?
Voice: Ooooh, he's impatient! Perhaps he only likes ashen-haired girls?
What happened to her?
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Geralt: It's clear you met her. Tell me everything.
Voice: That was blunt. Well, perhaps it's for the best. Tell me, have you got
the bollocks? Do you fear woodland beasts?
Voice: Oh, hard times are upon us, White-Haired One. Brother has turned
against brother, the land is soaked in blood. Evil reigns stronger
than ever before.
Voice: A dark power has surfaced near Downwarren. It feeds on hatred and
disdain. Destroy the beast, and we'll be grateful, tell you all we
know about this ashen-haired maid.
Geralt: Dark power? You need a knight-errant, or a witch hunter, not a
witcher.
Voice: The ealdorman of Downwarren will tell you all. Remember to collect
your payment from him after you complete your task. And now our
servant will bring you the dagger.
It's a deal.
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Geralt: I'll talk to the ealdorman, but I can't promise anything.
Voice: Move, woman! Get the young man the dagger!
Voice: And you, White One -- return only once you've completed the task.
Why do I need a dagger?
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Geralt: A dagger? What for?
Voice: When the ealdorman sees this dagger, he'll know we sent you. He'll
aid with all.
She is like a daughter to me.
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Geralt: The young woman... She's my daughter by choice, I raised her.
Voice: Huhuha. If she's shapely, what does it matter?
Geralt: Matters to me.
Voice: I believe we've hit a nerve! He's bubbling like well-fed yeast.
Voice: Ooh, that's just how I likes 'em!
[Gran finally takes her hand off the painting, ending the Crones' chat.]
Gran: Aye, mistress. Right. On my way. Dagger. Gotta bring the dagger...
[She comes back shortly after.]
Gran: The dagger. For you. Ladies told me to give it to you -- here it is. The
dagger. Place the ealdorman's payment on the stone. Stone bare, stone
sheer, stone knows, stone hears...
[The witcher ventures to Downwarren, a hillside town north of the swamp. He
soon finds the ealdorman.]
Geralt: Nice village.
Ealdorman: Aye.
Geralt: A real pearl of the swamps.
Ealdorman: If ye say so.
Geralt: You get by all right?
Ealdorman: Aye, winter to winter, somehow we survive.
Geralt: Recognize this dagger?
Ealdorman: Aye, master. Didn't know you belong to them.
Glad we understand each other.
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Geralt: So, you know who sent me. Good, easier that way.
Ealdorman: Forgive me... Didn't know ye came from the Ladies of the Wood.
Geralt: They help you often?
Ealdorman: From the time of his Cutting, every man is theirs... They be harsh
mistresses, but they're fair, just. Demanding they can be, but
then nothin' in life comes easy. Who drove off the plaguey airs?
Who gave us seeds to plant? Round the other villages they be
eatin' the soles of their boots. Whereas we? Well, we get along
well enough.
Let's get to the problem.
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---
A certain young woman visited the...Ladies of the Wood.
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Geralt: Hear about an ashen-haired woman meeting the Ladies of the Wood?
Ealdorman: I ain't heard nothin' about that. Beg your question to the
Ladies, and they may answer. They knows all that happens in
Velen.
Geralt: They got informers?
Ealdorman: The woods listen for them. A lone word at an ill hour can arouse
their wrath. But they hear pleas and prayers as well. Once a
swineherd lost a sow, sat and cried at the crossroads. The sow
ran out o' the trees, as if chased by a devil. Straight to the
swineherd.
Ever seen them?
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Geralt: Ever meet the Ladies of the Wood?
Ealdorman: Never. They only show themselves to the chosen. Perchance one
day I too will be summoned.
I don't belong to anyone.
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Geralt: Don't belong to anyone. Down to business, I want to get this done
quickly.
Ealdorman: Ah. So that's how it's to be.
Geralt: I'm supposed to help solve your problem. Tell me what it is -- just the
essentials.
Ealdorman: The war awoke an ancient power. An evil one that feeds on bloodshed.
Nightmares haunt our nights and days. Folk sleepwalk from their
homes, never to return. Under the tree on the Whispering Hillock
they lie, unburied all: fathers, sons, daughters and mothers.
Folk're afeared to move them. You must go there. The dark powers
must be cast off.
I solved the problem.²
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Geralt: Solved your problem. Just in case, though, avoid the Whispering
Hillock for a while.
Ealdorman: Cannot be... Were somethin' lurkin' there?
(same as dialogue series at end of quest)
I'll look around.
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Geralt: Ladies of the Wood don't know what this power is?
Ealdorman: They know all. Old Thecla claimed they be punishin' us. Folk
stopped respectin' 'em. Some even call 'em witches. But most not
be they, for they sent you.
Geralt: I'll look around the Whispering Hillock.
Ealdorman: You be careful, master witcher. Don't ye treat this evil light.
More details.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Need more details.
Ealdorman: Ye must see for yourself. Me gran's mum whacked me crosswise for
strayin' near the Whispering Hillock. But what happens there
now's a wonder! A few times folk from 'round here gathered to
chop down the trees and burn the cursed soil back to use. None
returned. The ground 'neath the weeds is white with human bones.
How long's it been like this?
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Geralt: When did all this start?
Ealdorman: Three year back. I remember -- 'twas a warm day -- went to check
the snares for game. Pulled a hare from me trap. It grew dark of
a sudden, though it was nigh on noontime. Thought it was a storm
at first. A squeal pierced the air, near burst me ears. The hare
rotted in my hands, and the leaves shriveled and yellowed, though
it were yet the start of summer. Times've been ill ever since.
Folk's teeth turn black as charcoal. Womenfolk fight like
polecats, bawlin' and brawlin' over nothin'. The young'uns...
Born crippled... Lame... Fear and cursing... Long have we plead
for the Ladies' help.
[Geralt seeks out the Whispering Hillock, a creepy location northeast of the
swamp orphanage. What transpires there is recorded in "The Whispering Hillock"
quest section. This quest concludes after dealing with the hillock and seeing
Ciri's "Fleeing the Bog" flashback.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
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6j) THE WHISPERING HILLOCK [WK6J]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[Geralt arrives at the base of the hillock, near a corpse.]
Geralt: Fang bites.
[He ascends, then...]
Voice: Begone, come no closer... I know whence you come... The powers that
protect me... They sense whence you come... Begone... Begone...
Begone... The powers will not relent...
[After slaying the wolves, Geralt enters the cave at the ancient oak's base.
In its depths, he finds what appears to be a large, spike-encrusted heart in
the grip of the tree roots. Its fleshy writhing and creaky vine echo through
the chamber.]
Voice: Why have you come...? Why spill this blood...? Are you here to grant me
death...? Or is my freedom what you wish...?
You claim I can free you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You claim to be imprisoned. How so?
Voice: I am bound here... In fetters of magic... I wander endlessly... A
labyrinth of leaves... The children... I know all... I know what
awaits them... Free me, please... I must help...
Geralt: If something threatens the orphans, I'll help them myself.
Voice: The children have been taken... Free me, please... I can be a gale...
A gallop unchained... I shall save them... Only I can...
I'll help you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Deal. I'll help you.
Voice: Imprisoned for years...I shall be free again... Break my fetters...
Blood is my escape... A rite you must perform... With the black of
raven feathers...the white of my bones... And a swift steed... A
mare, wild and free...in meadow's pasture caught...dark as a
bottomless well...black as the depths of night... Such a beast, no
other. Gather these and bring them here...
Raven feathers.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got some raven feathers.
Voice: Find my remains... And bring me a mount... A wind-born steed... A
black squall turned horse...
A horse.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why do we need a black horse?
Voice: The beast and I shall be as one... As when I lived... We shall be a
gale... Nothing to stop us. A wild steed... From meadows moist...
Your remains.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where'll I find your remains?
Voice: My bones... They lie in a solitary mound... Nearby...due west...
Be back once I have everything.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll gather what I need to free you. Then return.
Voice: Gather and return... To the hillock's depths... To the tree's rotten
heart... Pierce my heart... Let blood flow... To be born again... I
must first be consumed... Go now... And return through the passage I
have opened.
I don't believe you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't believe you, spirit. Too many claim you're evil. Your words
alone -- not enough.
Voice: Dare harm me...and against you will rise...all the powers of
nature...
Gotta think this over.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I can't decide just yet.
Voice: You must come back... Free me... I beg you... Beware my sentries...
They stand guard still...
The kids in the clearing are in danger?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why do you think the kids from the meadow are in danger?
Voice: The sisters took them. They shall not return.
Geralt: Where'd they take them? I can help.
Voice: It is done already... It cannot be undone... There are no roads...
To Aard Cerbin... They shall all die... Let them be saved...
The Crones -- whaddaya know about them?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The Crones? Whaddaya know about them?
Voice: The sisters are older than the oldest trees... Velen is their
realm... All life here serves them... The sisters live concealed.
You will not find them. They hear all...you cannot hide.
Why was I attacked?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I was attacked.
Voice: This is my prison... A fortress besieged... Murderers I await... And
my forest protects me...
Geralt: Murderers?
Voice: Murderous sisters... Killed my body... Now my soul they hunt... For I
defy them.
Who are you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who are you?
Voice: I abandoned my Circle... Where I'd kept the balance... The Crones
killed me... And cursed my ghost...
Geralt: Never heard of a druids' circle in Velen.
Voice: I wander eternally through a maze of boughs... Helplessly sliding
o'er rustling leaves...
Why did they kill you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why did they kill you?
Voice: The Crones want this land. They'd rule the wood alone. I stood in
their way... I had to die...
What do you know about the Crones?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Must know the Crones pretty well.
Voice: They are Velen's curse... They hear all through severed ears... They
weave hair and twist lives... They take their strength from a broth
of human flesh...
[If Geralt is doing the quest before the witches' ask him to, instead of the
above options, Geralt begins with:]
Geralt: Didn't set out to hurt anyone. I was attacked -- had to defend myself.
Voice: I sense no wrath...
Geralt: Didn't come here in anger.
Voice: Beguiled by darkness. But your heart... It is not black...
Geralt: I can hear a voice. Can't see who it belongs to, though.
Voice: I am but a spirit... I am but a whisper...
Geralt: Whisper to the wolves. Tell them to stay away. Who are you?
Voice: Once I protected them... Now they protect me... I protected this spot...
from the Crones. The Crones killed me... My spirit they captured...
Imprisoned me in the tree... Help... Aid me... Free me... I wish to be
free again...
============================= IF GHOST IS HELPED ==============================
[Geralt goes to find the unmarked grave, and does.]
Geralt: Strange bones... Don't seem human to me.
[Geralt then brings the mare to the cave.]
Geralt: Ready. We can start.
Voice: Let me fly on raven wings... Lay bones amidst the feathers... Place all
beneath my heart... My heart you must pierce... And bring the steed.
[Start the ritual.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I offer raven feathers.
Voice: Once I was free... I shall be free once more...
Geralt: I offer your remains.
Voice: Once I was flesh... I shall be flesh once more...
[Trick the being in the tree and destroy it.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I offer raven feathers.
Voice: Once I was free... I shall be free once more...
Geralt: I offer your remains.
Voice: Once I was flesh... I shall be flesh once more...
Geralt: No, I should draw your blood now, let the horse drink it... But I
won't. I don't trust you. I have to stop you, destroy you.
Voice: Betrayed...! Betrayed...! Betrayed...!
[The heart shrivels and dies without a physical battle.]
Actually, I'm gonna kill you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't trust you, I don't believe you. I know I have to stop you,
destroy your heart.
Ghost: I will live...! You shall perish...
[Geralt fights the ghost as normal.]
[If Geralt goes through with the ceremony for real, he slices open the heart</pre><pre id="faqspan-7">
to have it bleed on the bones and feathers. When the horse drinks, the ghost
possesses it to become "Black Beauty."]
Horse: I live...
• Geralt: Free the children.
Horse: I shall... A word once given must be honored...
============================= IF GHOST IS FOUGHT ==============================
Voice: I shall live... Live... Live... Live... I must live... I must...
Nooo...! Nooooo...!
[Geralt slays the tree ghost.]
============================ PATHS CONVERGE HERE ==============================
[Outside the cave is the ealdorman and a dead werewolf.]
Geralt: Solved your problem. Just in case, though, avoid the Whispering Hillock
for a while.
Ealdorman: Cannot be... Were somethin' lurkin' there?
A spirit had possessed the tree.
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Geralt: An evil spirit had possessed a tree on the hill. It was responsible
for the killings.
Ealdorman: How'd ye dispel this evil?
Destroyed something, not sure what.
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Geralt: Not sure what was lurking there. But it lurks no more.
Ealdorman: What did you do, witcher?
You don't wanna know.
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Geralt: Believe me, you don't wanna know.
Ealdorman: What have ye done?
I freed the evil spirit.²
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Geralt: Didn't have to fight anything or anyone. I simply freed the spirit.
Ealdorman: Ye did what?! Freed the evil, so it can prowl the world as it
will?
Geralt: Did what had to be done.
Ealdorman: An' if it returns?
Geralt: Ask the Ladies of the Wood to help.
I destroyed the evil spirit.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Some being had come to possess the tree's heart. I destroyed the
heart and its inhabitant.
Ealdorman: So it were a ghost... Will it be back?
Geralt: No.
Doesn't matter.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Went up the hill, took care of the problem. The details are my
concern.
Ealdorman: Aye, truly as you said. I knows naught of such things anyway.
Geralt: The Crones, or Ladies of the Wood, as you call them, said to remind
you about payment. Take it you know what they want.
Ealdorman: Aye, I do. Gimme the dagger... Be back soon.
[The leader returns later, and hands his own severed ear to Geralt.]
Ealdorman: There's payment. Take it to the Ladies, will ye?
Geralt: What the hell was that?
Ealdorman: Tis¹ our pact. Ye're a stranger, ye don't know life here. It's
honest pay for their protection.
Geralt: So all those ears in the woods...
Ealdorman: Put it out yer mind, master. Ye soon be leavin', and we must tarry
on. Our young'uns, and their young'uns after them. No gods nor
masters watch over Velen. The land is no man's. He who wants to
survive must seek his own protectors.
[Geralt returns to the orphanage clearing and puts the ear on an altar/rock.
Soon, three grotesque women, all of different statures and outfits, approach
him. It's clear these are the actual Crones he's been seeking.]
Weavess: Sheathe your weapon, young man...
Brewess: He's even lovelier in real life...
Geralt: Hmm, in real life you're...different...than you were in the tapestry.
[Gran appears from behind them.]
Whispess: Well? Bring it here!
[The third Crone cuts her own hand with her fingernail, causing burning red
marks to appear on Gran's hand as she tries picking up the ear.]
Whispess: You were to bring it, not ogle it.
[The Crone adds the ear to the many hanging on her necklace. They speak to
Gran annoyedly. If the Whispering Hillock's ghost was set free:]
Whispess: You disobeyed us once more.
Brewess: We are forgiving creatures, but you -- you allowed the children to
escape.
Anna: They never wanted to flee. They liked it here. They played.
Weavess: Your punishment must be harsh. Now silence. We must speak to the
White-Haired One.
[If the Whispering Hillock's ghost was slain as asked:]
Whispess: Never seek to cross us again.
Brewess: We shall forgive you this transgression, for you've done well. Your
children are as plump as piglets, sweet as caramel.
Weavess: But now, we must talk to our white-haired friend.
[Either way:]
Geralt: I know that mark. This is Anna, the wife of the baron of Crow's Perch.
Weavess: She belongs to no man.
Brewess: A fruit ripened in her womb. A fruit spouted from seed sown by a man
she detested.
Whispess: We helped her. She agreed to serve.
Weavess: She bears the mark. She is ours. Come, it is another woman who
interests you. Speak, White-Haired One.
Tell me about the woman I seek.
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Geralt: Our deal -- I did my part. Now you do yours.
Whispess: A word once given we never break.
Weavess: The girl... Mousy blonde -- that's what they call it.
Brewess: Thin as a rail -- terrified, exhausted. She could barely stand, the
poor thing.
Whispess: We cared for her the best we could.
Weavess: Like she was our own daughter.
Whispess: Wasted affection. She proved a very naughty girl.
Weavess: Mischievous, stubborn, and selfish.
Where is she now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't believe you. They say you always keep your word. So tell me
everything, exactly as it happened.
Brewess: We shall tell you, brave boy.
I don't believe you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The young woman I seek never hurt anyone without cause.
Brewess: You've not seen her long. She's changed for the worse.
Geralt: Why'd she attack you?
Whispess: She's no longer the girl you once knew. Wrath consumes her.
You used me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You used me to tame the Whispering Hillock -- a lot of work.
Brewess: Naught's free, brave soul.
Weavess: Did you destroy the evil powers? Have you brought peace to our
domain?
• Geralt: Yes.
Brewess: So fortunate to have found so brave a knight, so able!
• Geralt: I freed the spirit trapped in the tree.
Whispess: Hear that, sisters?
Weavess: Traitor!
Brewess: She took the children! 'Twas her!
Geralt: We made a deal. I was supposed to help the villagers. I held up my
end of the bargain. They're safe now.
Whispess: So, a mockery, you chose to outwit.
What do you want the kids for?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What did you need the children for?
Brewess: Need? We? They needed us. Our care.
• Geralt: Where are they?
Whispess: They are far away.
Brewess: Their troubles are over.
• Weavess: You exposed them to great danger.
Brewess: We cannot help them! Because of you!
Whispess: Leave it, sisters. Everything in its time...
Who was the spirit bound to the tree?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Whose spirit was trapped in the tree?
Whispess: That of one who once cheated death.
• Brewess: But she couldn't deceive you, brave knight.
Weavess: You've rid the world of a great evil.
• Whispess: You've freed an ancient power.
Weavess: It will rise again. Elsewhere, beyond our reach. Blood will flow
once more.
Brewess: What foolish things men sometimes do.
Why do you look different now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You looked different in the tapestry.
Whispess: We're all dressed up just for you.
Brewess: If you only knew how much time we spent in front of the glass!
Weavess: Do you desire us?
Is that polymorphism?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm impressed. Polymorphism -- a rare talent.
Brewess: Oh, I'd suck every last drop out of you!
Weavess: Ah, to be woven together with you!
Whispess: I'd be your best -- and last.
Geralt: Hm, not what I came for.
You know why I'm here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You know why I'm here. You know what I want.
Weavess: You shall dream of us, and return for what you reject. They always
come back.
[At this point, the story begins another Ciri flashback. This one's in the
next section, "Ciri's Story: Fleeing the Bog".]
Geralt: You tried to kill her. Tried to butcher her like an animal and eat her.
Brewess: Her blood, the taste brought back memories of our youth.
Weavess: Elder Blood. Extraordinary girl. But you know that.
Whispess: Such a shame she fled.
I won't let you get away with it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You tried to kill her. Can't forgive you for that.
Whispess: Waste of words.
Weavess: Our fates are bound, true. But now is not the time for that to bear
fruit...
I'll find her. And come back for you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She escaped you, but I'll find her. We'll come back here together and
kill you.
Weavess: You'll return, you shall. Our fates are bound.
Whispess: And one of will die. But it shan't be one of us.
[Fog starts to seep into the clearing.]
Brewess: Now you shall chase shadows and wander midst fog.
Weavess: Each time you see her, she will be a mirage.
Whispess: And if you find her -- if -- the girl will die...hmheh.
Weavess: Heeheeheeheehee!
Brewess: Be seeing you... Handsome knight.
Weavess: Heeheeheeheehee!
Brewess: See you very soon.
[They disappear into the fog, laughing.]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
6k) CIRI'S STORY: FLEEING THE BOG [WK6K]
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[The Crones narrate the flashback. It shows Ciri suddenly appearing out of a
portal, dropping into the swamp. She wanders to the nearby orphanage clearing
and collapses.]
Brewess: We knew someone special was to arrive. We read beast entrails, saw
the omens.
Weavess: We would glimpse her likeness, a mirage in the puddle. She came from
the lower swamp.
Whispess: We knew not at first it was her the omens had spoken of.
Weavess: A child of the Elder Blood. The Sown Seed that will burst into
flame...
[Brewess picks up the unconscious Ciri and takes her to a building.]
Weavess: She fell into our hands. Elder Blood!
Whispess: Mmm, the blood of the Traitoress!
[As she sleeps in a hut, the Crones are discussing her outside.]
Brewess: Does she sleep?
Weavess: Like a lamb.
Brewess: Come, sisters, no point in dawdling. The table's set, the cauldron
bubbles.
Whispess: We cannot! You know she is meant for Him!
Brewess: Imlerith will get her, he will. But not whole.
Weavess: Well said. We'll just have a sample.
Brewess: I'll take her feet. Lovely, hmhm, plump. Perfect for a broth.
Weavess: Ooh, I can taste it already... Very well. Get on with it!
[As they discuss, Ciri can be seen awake and in full eavesdrop mode. She gets
out of the chapel while the getting's good. Her escape does not go unnoticed.]
Weavess: Oh, you'll regret that, girl, regret it dearly.
[As she flees, a shot of Imlerith, a high-ranking Wild Hunt rider, watches her
from horseback. Various monsters start climbing out of portals and the bog as
Ciri desperately flees the bog.]
Weavess: Come back... Come back... Come back... He has come...for you...
[Imlerith gives chase, but loses sight of Ciri. He rides back to the bog; Ciri
jumps from a tree, safe and sound. The flashback ends at the start of Ciri's
werewolf encounter in "The King of the Wolves".]
_________________________________________
___________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (VELEN) |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
6l) CIRI'S STORY: OUT OF THE SHADOWS [WK6L]
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[This is the second part of the baron's encounter with Ciri, told after he's
updated about both his wife and daughter's current whereabouts. The basilisk
lands in front of the two; the rest of the soldiers have fled.]
Ciri: Watch out!
Baron: If I don't survive this, you're to take whatever you want from the
fortress!
Ciri: You'll survive!
Baron: Pffgrr! Let's show this bastard what we're worth!
[They gravely wound the beast. It manages to disarm the Baron, then hop atop
him.]
Baron: Aaagh!
[Ciri slices at its six, saving the baron but getting knocked down herself.]
Ciri: Uuugh!
[The basilisk picks the baron up and flies to its nest.]
Baron: Aah...! Arrgh fuuuuuck! Aaa! Aaaa...
Ciri: Agh! Agh! Dammit! I can't leave him like that!
[Ciri looks for a way up in vain. Meanwhile, atop the tower, the baron goads
the basilisk, armed only with a dagger. He throws a brick at it.]
Baron: Well? C'mon! Bring it on, whoreson! Come here!
[As it's about to leap at the baron, Ciri teleports to the top of the tower,
slicing it in its fleshy underbelly. She leaps atop it and kills it with one
last swing, although that doesn't stop her from a few more safety slices. The
baron looks at her slack-jawed. Later, the baron meets Ciri at the Perch's
stables.]
Baron: You have everythin'?
Ciri: Yes, thank you.
Baron: What you did for me...I---I shall never forget it.
We're even.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Ciri: You helped me as well -- when your man brought me here. You fed me,
cared for me, had my wounds looked after. We're even now.
Baron: You needn't leave. You're in good company here. We'll always have a
warm corner for you.
Ciri: I must leave.
It's why I must go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Ciri: I certainly hope not. It's brought me no small trouble.
Baron: Meanin'?
Ciri: I must flee.
Ciri: Wraiths pursue me. The Wild Hunt. I was foolish to use the Power. They're
sure to have caught my scent.
Baron: The Wild Hunt? Pursuing you?
Ciri: I'll endanger all of you by remaining here. You must tell the people to
bar their doors and windows. And no one is to wander the night.
Baron: And you... Where do you think you're going?
Ciri: Now, I ride for Novigrad. And then who knows where.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
7a) PYRES OF NOVIGRAD [WK7A]
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¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[Geralt's trip to Velen learns that Ciri was going to Novigrad after her stay
at the Bloody Baron's. Yennefer had mentioned Triss lived there, making her
the first lead to track down. As he nears Heirarch Square, he sees a crowd
gathering for mage burnings. Caleb Menge, commander of the Eternal Fire's
temple guard, is preparing to burn a woman and a man, both characters seen
in previous Witcher games. He torches the woman first.]
Menge: Our Novigrad -- shining and brilliant! Pearl amongst cities! Cradle of
the Eternal Fire! Yet it is here that darkness raises its hideous head!
A deceitful doppler doubling as commander of the Guard! A band of
charlatans, diviners and witches poised to pinch your purity and
prosperity! The time has come for this to end! For us to cast off evil!
Do you renounce evil?!
Crowd: We renounce evil!
Menge: Do you renounce evil?!
Crowd: We renounce it!
Menge: May the Holy Flame of the Eternal Fire complete this cleansing, this
purging of pestilence into purity! How are we to fight pestilence that
changes form?! None can be certain of his father, brother or bride! Look
upon your neighbor, for he too could be a doppler! Will we submit to
uncertainty?! Will we allow monsters and charlatans to overrun our
city?!
Crowd: No!
Menge: May the Holy Flame of the Eternal Fire complete this act of cleansing!
[He lights the woman's pyre.]
Felicia Cori: Aaaaa! Aaaaaaaa!
Menge: No evil can survive the Holy Fire! The Holy Fire enlightens, burns and
cleanses!
Crowd: Holy Fire! Enlighten, burn and cleanse!
Menge: Behold the flame of grace and mercy!
[He walks over to a bound man.]
Menge: Special pyre for you, freak -- nice, slow burning! You'll beg for mercy
in all the voices known to you, like the others of your species.
Chappelle: I've done no wrong! None! I only wanted to live like you! Help me,
kind folk! Please! Akh akh akh akh... Akh akh akh! Akh! Akh aaaaaa
akh!
Crowd Man: Gods! Look! A doppler!
[Geralt pushes his way through the crowd, helpless to stop the executions.]
Geralt: Sure hope Dudu hasn't met the same fate.
[As he approaches Triss' house, he sees two men at her front door.]
Looter: She couldn't 'ave taken it all with her? Could she?
Looter: Sorceress -- it's like a witch with muscle. Casts a spell and all's
gone in a flash.
Looter: Well, she was in a rush. Musta left somethin'.
Looter: And what of it? This place has been picked through.
[Geralt approaches.]
Looter: Hey! Sod off! We're lootin' here.
Get lost.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Want you gone by the time I count to three. One...
Looter: Hear that?
Geralt: Two...
Looter: Ooh, lookie. Thinks he can scare us off.
Geralt: Three...
[Geralt beats 'em up.]
Looter: Ah! Nah...don't! No more, please!
Geralt: Where's the sorceress who lived here?
Let's talk.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not here for the loot. Interested in the sorceress who lived here.
Looter: We're supposed to believe that?
Geralt: Yeah.
Looter: Most likely hiding in some rattrap with the rest of 'em.
Who might know?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Someone's gotta know more.
Looter: I'd look for 'er in the Putrid Grove.
Where's the Putrid Grove?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Putrid Grove -- where is it?
Looter: I wouldn't know. Rumor has it it's a place for freaks and oddities.
Looter: You'd fit in well there.
Geralt: Maybe. Thing is, gotta know how to get there.
Looter: They say you gotta get there through the sewers, but you gotta
enter them outside of town. Few know where exactly, though.
Looter: Ask a beggar. Or spot yourself a thief, follow him... Beggars and
thieves gotta pay tribute to the King of Beggars. Word is they do
it in the Grove.
Geralt: Mean to say the local beggars have a king? Crown, scepter and all
that?
Looter: Wouldn't scoff, mate. King of Beggars, it's a moniker, yeah, for a
man who everyone in Novigrad respects deeply.
Looter: And watch yourself. Menge himself don't even go to the Grove.
Lovely name.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Putrid Grove... Interesting as names go.
Looter: A hive of scum and freakery, if there ever was one. No decent folk
show their hides there.
Geralt: That why you think I should look for my friend there?
Looter: I meant no offense.
Why's she in hiding?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who's she hiding from?
Looter: Temple Guard's crackin' down. All mages're fair game.
Looter: They round 'em up like rats.
[Caleb Menge and a few thugs approach from behind.]
Menge: Someone call for me? Wonder why.
Looter: It's Menge...
Looter: Temple Guard...
Menge: Thieving vermin to the confession chamber.
Looter: But, sir... What's the offense? This is some sorceress bitch's shop!
Menge: Think that gives you the right to steal her property?
Looter: Well... Sorcerers, mages of all types are outlaws...
Menge: But by law, the Temple Guard takes possession of their belongings. And
the rule of law still holds in Novigrad.
[The guard takes the thieves away.]
Menge: You know a bat can sniff out a moth a mile away?
Don't know much about small animals.
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Geralt: Small animals -- can't say I'm really interested.
Menge: I know your trade. Spotted those yellow eyes amidst the rabble in the
square right away. Did you notice how much common folk love flames?
The Eternal Fire will consume them all one day, one way or another.
It's about their hearing, not sense of smell.
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Geralt: Got nothing to do with their sense of smell. It's about their
hearing.
Menge: Well, well... Man knows his bats. Here I thought you only cared about
monsters.
What do you want?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's your point?
Menge: I ask the questions...witcher.
Menge: And as bats sense moths, so I sense freaks. And start by warning them --
Novigrad's no place for your kind.
Got nothing on me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I haven't done anything wrong.
Menge: But you will. Sooner or later your kind always causes trouble. And
this city's mine to protect. Mine, and the Eternal Fire's.
Who's it for, then?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Heard Novigrad was no place for mages. Now you're telling me it's
no place for witchers. So who's it a place for?
Menge: Righteous folk professing the one true faith in the Eternal Fire.
Menge: Nothing I can do to you now, but just know that I know you're here. One
misstep, one error... You'll make a mistake, it's inevitable... I'll be
the first to learn it. And when I do, it'll be standard procedure. Like
for every other magic oddity who dares taint this city's air. Be seeing
you.
[He leaves with his guard detail. Optionall, Geralt can go inside for clues.]
• Herbs... Roots...? Triss turn to healing?
• Hairbrush -- only ever known Triss to use one like this.
• Amulets're emanating magic... Gotta be Triss'. She was allergic to potions.
• Triss'. Never known her to drop 'em on the floor...
• The rose of remembrance... All dried up.
[Geralt returns to the street. A theft occurs right nearby, using the old "bump
into the stranger to pickpocket" routine.]
Thief: Oh! Deepest apologies, guv'nor.
Noble: Fetch some mettle, you wretch. I've been robbed! Thief!
-==================== IF GERALT WANTS TO ASK A BEGGAR =========================
[BEGGAR #1:]
Beggar: Take pity on me misery, good folk, and aid a man crippled by
misfortune.
Geralt: Word is nothing's free in Novigrad.
Beggar: Hnn, another come burstin' with questions. Now where'd you folk gain
the idea we beggars know everythin'? "I need to see this 'un, I need
to find that one." "Who robbed me brother?" ...Fuck if I know...
Geralt: There's this place in Novigrad they call the Putrid Grove.
Beggar: Aye, s'bout right. Well, Novigrad's full of nooks and crannies with odd
names. Lookin' to sightsee, buy a bloody map.
Geralt: Heard men like you frequent this alley.
Beggar: And I've heard they fed you horse shit and you smiled and ate it. Now
-- don't mean offense. Go in peace.
[BEGGAR #2]
Beggar: Aid a veteran of the struggle against the Black Ones?
Geralt: Where'd you fight?
Beggar: Angren early on. In Cidaris last, along the banks of the Pontar. So,
help me out?
(30 gold) Sure, then you help me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Here. Now you help me. Gotta find the back alley locals call the
Putrid Grove. It's important.
No. I need information.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm looking for the Putrid Grove. Need you to help me find it.
Beggar: Don't know naught about no grove, putrid or other. Don't generally
care much for orchardry.
Geralt: This is urgent.
Beggar: Leave me be. I don't know.
So long.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell.
[BEGGAR #3:]
Beggar: Alms for the poor?
Geralt: You lame?
Beggar: No chance! Both legs in perfect order. And me arms -- look, like a
windmill's wings. There -- see me wavin' 'em? Lookie here. Just look!
And my mind -- thorough addled.
Been addled long -- your mind?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Been like this long -- addled?
Beggar: Since me mother birthed me. Here's where it's addled. There. Showin'
you with me finger. See that? Me indicatin'!
You're the picture of health.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Healthy as a horse as far as I can tell.
Beggar: Priests have looked, medics, herbalists. All claim I'm bewildered.
Geralt: Well they're wrong.
Beggar: Matters little either way. Folk are generous to me. They enjoy
watchin' me point, like this: there, there.
Guess you're happy. That's what counts.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're happy. That's what counts.
Beggar: I am. When folk ask me the way, I like that most. 'Cause I can
point -- like this, there, ah! 'Cause I know my way around the
city. Oh, do I ever.
Geralt: So you gotta know where the Putrid Grove is, right?
Beggar: Most certainly do! It's where I live! Over the, uh, there, there,
thataway.
Geralt: Thataway, meaning where?
Beggar: In Lacehalls. There's this alley, past a gate. Not at all putrid
and not a grove. Fools call it that, but I know better.
Geralt: And anyone can go there?
Beggar: O' course. Unless he forgets to say "The old sow's farrowed
piglets." Might not let you in, then. But that's easy enough to
say. Listen: The old sow's farrowed piglets. See?
Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Looking for the Putrid Grove.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I gotta find the place they call the Putrid Grove.
Beggar: I know it but won't say. I know it but won't say.
Geralt: Why not?
Beggar: Not allowed to say. I would tell you, though. If you didn't push,
weren't so insistent. If you like, come again. Might tell you then.
Geralt: Guess your mind is truly addled.
Beggar: Didn't I say so?!
[BEGGAR #4:]
Beggar: Look kindly a wretched soul, aid one who last saw nourishment three
days past?
Geralt: All right. Give you a crown.
Beggar: Crown's enough, m'lord, when your gut's so empty it's stuck flat to
your spine.
Geralt: Could give you more, on one condition -- you tell me where you drop
your takings for the day.
Beggar: I drop 'em with m'lady. Serious trouble if I didn't.
She live in the Putrid Grove?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I think you take them to the Putrid Grove.
You're lying.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Go on lying like that and you won't get a thing.
Beggar: I swear it! Honest as a child, I am, m'lord.
Geralt: I know you pay tribute to the King of Beggars. Don't have a choice.
Beggar: Far as I'm concerned, the King of Beggars can stick his crown up his
arse then shove it even deeper with his scepter. Bugger won't get a
broken copper from me!
Geralt: You're either pretty damn brave... Or just plain stupid.
Beggar: What's he gonna do? Break me legs? Let him! Me takings double as a
cripple.
Geralt: From what I hear, they'd break your legs just to start...
Beggar: Some coin for me future widow, then?
(50 coins) Fine, I'll pay.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: There. Now tell me where the Putrid Grove is. It's the least you
could do.
Beggar: I don't know and believe you me -- I don't wanna know. Gods protect.
Sorry, no deal.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You didn't tell me anything.
Beggar: I don't know nothin'. On your way -- I've no use for you.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So long.
======================== IF GERALT FOLLOWS A THIEF ============================
[The witcher waits for a pickpocketer to strike and walk off.]
• He's sensed something. Gotta stay further back.
• More cautious than I thought. Can't get too close.
[Geralt follows him to a theater stage. A beggar accosts him.]
Beggar: Sir, sir! Be merciful. Give us a crown, eh? Me mum's sick and if I
don't feed her, well, she's like to die o' hunger!
(20 coins) Here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Here.
Beggar: Thank you, you gold-hearted man! Care to hear me tale o' woe?
Geralt: Some other time. I'm in a hurry.
Where will I find the King of Beggars?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, I'll give you some coin, but you gotta tell me where the
Putrid Grove is.
Beggar: I don't know that. Keep your coin, I don't know a thing. Move on.
Begone.
Piss off.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Get out of my way.
Beggar: What a crown to a gentleman like you? Easy as spitting!
Geralt: Piss off while I'm still willing to let you go.
[Geralt continues following the thief, then the next one after a hand-off
takes place.]
============================ PATHS CONVERGE HERE ==============================
[Geralt reaches the Putrid Hall's locked gate and knocks on the door.]
Geralt: Open up!
Man: Who are you and what d'you want?
Can't tell? A freak.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take a look. Whaddaya see?
Man: Yellow eyes... Pair o' swords... Mutated killer, methinks...
Geralt: Heard this place was a meeting spot for oddities.
Man: Heard right. Know the password -- get in free. Don't know it -- gotta
contribute to the Grove's upkeep.
Old sow's farrowed piglets.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Old sow's farrowed piglets.
Man: Oh... Welcome to the grove, brother.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
Man: Nope. Not the password.
Geralt: Don't know the password.
Man: Pay up, then.
I like to tiptoe through the tulips.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I like to tiptoe through the tulips.
Man: Nope. Not the password.
Geralt: Don't know the password.
Man: Pay up, then.
What've you got back there?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Doing some sightseeing. Kinda curious about what's beyond this gate.
Man: My brother-in-law was curious. Worms been eatin' him for five years now.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell...
Man: I fare just fine without your wishes. Don't come again!
[If Geralt doesn't know the password:]
(50 gold) Fine. I'll pay.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Catch.
Man: You may enter. Oop. Right after you leave me your weapons. They'll be
safe in me locker, here.
Fine.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine. Make sure you don't lose them.
Man: No worries. Be waitin' for you once you're done with the king.
No chance.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not in the habit of parting with my swords.
Man: In that case, we must part. Sod off, now.
[Axii Sign] Let me in.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I won't pay. Let me in.
Man: Yes, sir.
Fresh out of coin.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Might be a problem there.
Man: Then come back once you've solved it.
[Eventually, Geralt gains entry to the King of Beggars' domain. He enters one
of the buildings, finding Triss speaking to Francis Bedlam, the King himself.]
Bedlam: So, how are things?
Triss: Good. More and more people come to our secret clinics looking for help.
Bedlam: Menge's hounds not scarin' 'em off any more?
Triss: I guess incurable disease is more terrifying than torture.
Bedlam: In that case, I'll count on more tribute comin' in.
Triss: You already take eighty percent of what we receive.
Bedlam: Aye, but don't forget it's me who secures the nooks and crannies where
you and yours can hide.
[Geralt walks over.]
Bedlam: Bout¹ time we made something clear, sorceress.
Triss: Yes. High time.
Bedlam: Me and my men will manage just fine without the help of you or any
other mages, but -- well, without your help you're sitting ducks for
the Temple Guard. Who do I spy...?
Triss: Geralt...?
Geralt: Hey, Triss.
Bedlam: See you two know each other. See you two know each other well. I was
curious whether you'd manage to find me, witcher.
Knew I was looking for you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your spies tell you I was looking for the Putrid Grove?
Bedram: My skull'd be a home for bottom-feedin' river fish if I didn't keep
an ear to the ground. And please, "Putrid Grove"? Ugly name for our
cozy little hideout, wouldn't you say?
Temple Guard ever bother you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Temple Guard tolerate your little operation?
Bedlam: Let's say they appreciate the value of a Novigrad crown.
Geralt: Hm, Menge doesn't seem like the type that can be bought.
Bedlam: Anyone can be bought...but like as true -- Menge'd cost me a
fortune. Luckily, he's got officers, and they're mere mortals.
Illnesses catch 'em at times -- other times they wanna catch a bit
o' diversion.
So what would you call this place?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So what would you call this dive?
Bedlam: Dunno... The Garden of Liberty, maybe?
Geralt: For a man who shakes down beggars and thieves for tribute, you're
quite the romantic.
Bedlam: You say "tribute," I say "taxes." You say "thieves," I say
"hard-workin' street clerks."
Got something to take up with me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Am I mistaken, or you got something to take up with me?
Bedlam: Who knows... Man with two swords and the skill to use 'em could be
very useful these days.
Geralt: Could've sent some underling to fetch me.
Bedlam: Could've. But I admit I wanted to see how you'd manage. See if you're
as crafty as you are...well-crafted.
Bedlam: See, witcher -- I've got big plans. Big plans. Far-reaching plans to
reshape this city head to toe.
Geralt: Ever thought of seeking a seat on the City Council?
Bedlam: City Council is a puppet troupe with the heirarchy of the Church of the
Eternal Fire as its puppeteer. Until recently, that is, when Radovid
and his witch hunters took the reins. The semblance of power don't
interest me.
Whaddaya want?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: A man with a vision.
Bedlam: One day the so-called free city of Novigrad will be truly free. But
before that can happen, we gotta rid it of superstition. Farting
around about the hallowed essence of the Eternal Fire -- nonsense
for kiddies.
Geralt: Apparently not. Cheering crowd at the execution -- mostly adults.
Bedlam: Any crowd of rabble'll cheer to the stench of burning flesh. But one
day folks'll understand the Eternal Fire's naught but a leash around
their necks. They call this place the Putrid Grove. But it's the
rest of Novigrad that's putrefied. This here's the last bastion of
normality, sanity, reason.
You don't stand a chance.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You face the Temple Guard and the witch hunters, armed to the teeth.
All you've got is a gang of tramps and a handful of mages. I wouldn't
bet a single crown on you.
Bedlam: Nor would I. Not at the moment. But war shuffles the deck. In
wartime, folk start to understand things. Start to wonder why magic's
outlawed even though it's so damn useful. Folk come to me, knowin'
full well it's forbidden. You know why? 'Cause they fear death by
disease more than torture.
Bedlam: I'm actually glad someone like you's found his way to our city. 'Cause
it will be our city one day, Geralt. Mark my words.
Geralt: Yours plural?
Bedlam: Yeah, mine...and me friends'. But that's a tale for another time. For
now, I'll leave you two alone, 'cause I can see...well, you clearly
need it.
Triss: Geralt, I have a lot of things to take care of in town.
Geralt: I'll be glad to tag along.
[They leave the King's establishment.]
Geralt: What's your arrangement? He using you?
Triss: Helping me to survive, actually.
Geralt: Six months ago, if someone had said Triss Merigold would be working for
a Novigrad criminal, I'd never have believed it.
Triss: Six months ago Triss Merigold parted ways with someone very dear to her
and had to start anew. Hasn't turned out like I imagined. Come on, let
me give you a taste of my life.
[As they leave, the guy who annoyed Geralt at the gate walks over.]
Man: Madame sorceress, beautiful as ever. Damn shame to part.
Triss: Don't fret, bound to be back soon.
[They exit onto the street.]
Triss: I take it you're in Novigrad on important business?
Geralt: Important doesn't do it justice. I'm looking for someone.
Triss: More precisely?
Geralt: Young woman who's like a daughter to me.
Triss: Her?! Here?! No. Impossible.
Geralt: She was here -- there're witnesses, evidence. Was hoping you'd heard
something. You've been here a while -- I need you to help me find
something, anything, a trace.
Triss: I'll do everything I can, of course. Who might know more?
[Geralt follows Triss to a seedy apartment where a man's waiting.]
Triss: Hello, Kluhg. Manage to get those magic incense ingredients?
Kluhg: Yes...somewhat with, uh, difficulties, you might say. I was walking
along the canal with a sack full of goodies for you. Looked up and
spied a trio of Temple Guards coming the other way.
Triss: Get to the point, Kluhg. No time today for one of your long stories.
Kluhg: Wait! A sack full of magicalities and they were coming straight towards
me! I don't easily frighten, but, uh, I felt a cold sweat on my arse, I
did. I'm afraid I had no choice. I dropped the sack in the water -- I
had to! When asked why, I claimed it contained a dead cat. You shan't
believe this, but they believed me!
Triss: I need that package, Kluhg. I've got a contract.
Kluhg: It must be on the canal bed. Luckily it was heavy enough to sink. I'm
sure it will turn up if you search.
Triss: You expect me to pay you, then dive for my goods into that ice-cold
filth?
I'll get it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I can do that. Where'd you toss the package?
Kruhg: Near the crane. Second bridge in from the harbor.
Triss: I didn't expect such devotion.
Geralt: Wanted to freshen up anyway. Let's go.
Gotta be prepared to make sacrifices.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Well...some causes require a sacrifice.
Triss: Causes...what about people?
Geralt: For people...same holds true.
Triss: So maybe you'd care to dive in after that sack for me?
Geralt: You win.
Kluhg: Stop... Hear that...? They've come for us.
[Outside the window, two patrolling guards stop for a conversation.]
Guard: The fool didn't break until I began to prick his heels.
Guard: Every man's got his sensitive spots. Interrogated a mage once, pain
couldn't touch him. Tore off his fingernails, crushed his bollocks...
Nothing. Turned how he was devilishly ticklish. I placed a beetle on
his belly and set a mug atop it. Damn near went mad.
[Kluhg slinks away from the window.]
Kluhg: We were lucky this time, but...you'd best leave via the sewers. The
trap door's in the floor.
Triss: Take care of yourself, Kluhg.
[They enter the sewers and take out a drowner]
Triss: There's a draft. Should be an exit here. Kluhg wouldn't 'ave sent us
here if there wasn't. Must be a lever on this wall that'll open the
secret passage.
[Geralt hits the switch, opening a secret tunnel to the canal.]
Geralt: The free city of Novigrad -- name actually used to mean something.
Triss: The very reason so many mages came here after the massacre at Loc
Muinne. Thought they'd be safe from Radovid's reapers. Instead they
jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. But Novigrad stands atop a
mountain of coin, and winning a war takes three things: Coin, coin, and
even more coin. That's why they're exterminating mages, confiscating
their property and possessions. And they'll go after nonhumans next.
The elves occupy slums, but the dwarves practically control financial
life in the city.
Geralt: Official word is that Novigrad'll remain neutral. Somehow doubt anyone
believes that anymore.
Triss: Judging by what Kluhg said, the parcel should be around here, on the
bottom. Unless the poor man was mistaken. He's been forgetful ever
since Menge interrogated him. Seems to be suffering from a persecution
complex, too.
Geralt: Current must've carried the sack seaward. I'll swim towards the port.
Coming with?
Triss: Maybe some other time.
Geralt: Don't know what you're missing. Water's thick with pungent oils.
Guessing it'll do wonders for my complexion.
[Geralt recovers the package from the canal bed.]
Triss: Find the parcel, or did you get wet for no reason?
Geralt: Nothing like a refreshing swim in a filthy canal. Found a few fish, a
rusty anchor, the carcass of a boat... Oh, and this.
Triss: My package. Hope the contents aren't soaked through. You're a doll.
[They start walking again.]
Geralt: Seem to be in your element.
Triss: Still remember my elements, how I use them?
Geralt: Come on, six months isn't that long. And it's not like I'm senile.
Triss: But you do have a history of amnesia.
Geralt: I've recovered my memory, completely.
Triss: Good. That should stop people from taking advantage of you.
Geralt: Someone's been taking advantage of me?
Triss: I have, for one.
Geralt: I've never even intimated--
Triss: We need to hurry.
[They stop in front of a warehouse, where a man's waiting for them.]
Brandon: Greetings, sorceress.
Triss: Greetings, Brandon.
Brandon: I didn't expect you to bring company.
Problem?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Is that a problem?
Brandon: By the Eternal Fire, no! I'm surprised, that's all. Together I
expect you'll resolve things twice as fast. You've the look of
true experts.
You told him you're a sorceress?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Triss, you told this man you're a sorceress?
Brandon: Of course. She was looking for work -- that's her chief asset.
Geralt: Are you Triss?
Triss: I know it was reckless, but competition's stiff here. No one would
hire me if I claimed to be a common rat catcher.
Brandon: More importantly no one would believe such a beauty could be an
exterminator of rodents.
Brandon: But I prefer you not to tarry and begin.
Geralt: Triss, you and Brandon here -- you've agreed on a price?
Triss: We've settled on a full coin purse.
Brandon: Brandon and Co. is a serious outfit. We've the largest granary in all
Novigrad.
Let's get to work.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, then...let's get to work.
You'll pay -- in advance.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't much like merchants who flatter with cheap praise before the
job's done.
Brandon: That was not cheap praise! I was merely stating a fact.
Geralt: So am I. I want you to pay in full in advance.
Brandon: I'm afraid that's impossible.
Geralt: Then trap your own rats.
Brandon: Well, now I know why she brought you along. Fine. A full purse of
Novigrad crowns. As proof of my good will.
Half in advance.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're a merchant, familiar with how commerce works.
Brandon: Of course. Honest pay for honest work.
Geralt: Half up front, half once the job's done.
Brandon: You're asking a great deal.
Geralt: I'm a witcher. Gotta admit I've met my share of people who say one
thing beforehand, another after the fact.
Brandon: Hm, very well. Your first installment.
Triss: We need to place these crystals around the granary. Near anything that
looks rat-related.
[They enter the deserted granary.]
Triss: I'll cover half the space, you take the other half. Look for evidence
of rat activity.
Geralt: Mhm... Thing is, I know what evidence of manticore activity looks like,
but rodents...?
Triss: Geralt, we'd both rather be somewhere else. I'd rather be in a royal
council meeting, but they killed my king. Look for crevices... And
droppings...
Geralt: Once we place this incense, what then?
Triss: I'll cast a spell and the rats will leave.
Geralt: Can't do that without sprinkling incense? Don't really feel up to
looking for rat shit.
Triss: Stop whining!
[Geralt places a crystal.]
• Looks like a good spot.
Geralt: I don't like that guy.
Triss: Brandon? I don't either. He's much too fat.
Geralt: Can't help but agree. But no -- notice how he didn't try to haggle?
Triss: Must really want the rats out.
Geralt: Triss...he's a merchant. He makes his living by haggling.
Triss: If I'd worried about that sort of thing, I'd starve to death in this
city.
[Geralt places a second crystal.]
• A master monster slayer in the world's largest city...looking for rat shit...
Sheesh.
[When the last crystal's place, the two reconvene.]
Geralt: Think I plugged every hole in there.
Triss: All right. Get ready for some magic fireworks. Once I activate the
incense, we'll have a moment to talk.
[The sit and wait while the incense does its trick.]
Triss: Now we wait for them to scurry away.
Geralt: Interesting method. Never had much luck with rats. Once, I hit one with
a fork in complete darkness. Trying to show off my witcher senses...
Masterful throw, really. Problem was no one else saw it -- how could
they in the dark?
Triss: Hahah. So, what do you think? Rat catcher? It's a long way to fall from
being advisor to Temeria's king.
Geralt: I'm just glad to see you safe and sound, and...
Triss: Reconciled...?
Are you truly, or just pretending?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Knew a man once who reacted to everything, especially adversity, by
mocking it.
Triss: Healthy attitude. Must've lived long.
Geralt: Came a day he lost both his legs in battle. He shrugged, said it was
better that way -- he'd never feel pain in them again.
Triss: I understand him perfectly.
Geralt: I know. Thing is, he was lying to himself.
Triss: I think he just didn't have much of a choice...
He could've faced the truth.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We all lie sometimes. But lying to yourself is running away, whereas
there's really nowhere to run.
Triss: Sometimes you have to escape to forget. Your friend might've dwelled
on his lost legs. But it's not like by grieving he could've grown
another pair.
Maybe you're right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You could be right. But only he knows the truth...
Triss: We're only ever the ones to know the truth about ourselves.
Geralt: Which we share at times with those we hold dear.
Triss: Even if it's hard to swallow?
Geralt: Even then.
Triss: Who knows...maybe one day...
It's good there aren't any bad feelings between us.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I was worried about seeing you again. Doubted it could be pleasant...
Triss: We said everything there was to say six months ago. I don't want to go
back to that.
Geralt: I'm not going back to it. It's just... It's one thing to say
something, it's another to actually do it.
Triss: We promised to remain friends. I hope nothing'll change that.
Triss: So, tell me how Yen's doing?
Geralt: How do you know I found her?
Triss: You didn't answer my question. How's Yen?
She's fine.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She's fine.
Triss: That's good.
Not bad.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not bad...
I don't know.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't know yet.
Geralt: Asking about anything specific?
Triss: Never mind. I got my answer.
[They watch the rats voluntarily flee the granary in droves.]
Brandon: Well, well... Our lovebirds having themselves a chat instead of
working?
Triss: The job's done. Geralt, those are--
[Some Eternal Fire witch hunters enter.]
Geralt: I know who they are, Triss.
Brandon: My friends...begged me to notify them if I encountered a mage,
sorceress, what have you. Didn't have the heart to refuse...
Triss: It's a trap, Geralt.
Geralt: This stank from the start.
• Brandon: Such a sharp sense of smell, you should've legged it while you had
the chance.
Geralt: I don't generally leg it. Here's what I think you should do: pay up
and march your boys outta here. While there's still time.
Brandon: Don't be ridiculous. I didn't hire a sorceress in order to pay her.
Hunter: Take my advice, mutant. If it's not your business, stay out of it.
Geralt: Thank for the advice, but...I can't take it.
• If these boys are here to help us kill rats, they're late. You paid up front
and got what you paid for. Not half a rodent left in the granary.
Brandon: I paid in advance because I knew I'd recover my coin.
Triss: Such is life for sorceresses in Novigrad these days.
Geralt: I can see that and I don't like it. So here's what I think: the
hunters have come, and now they can go.
Hunter: They'll do no such thing.
• Let's agree your friends were never here. Now pay the rest and let's part
in peace.
Brandon: You don't set the terms, mutant.
Hunter: Stay out of it. We're here for the witch.
Geralt: We're inseparable, see? Afraid you'll have to take us both.
Triss: Geralt!
Hunter: If you say so...
Geralt: All right. We've talked. Do what you gotta. Just remember...I can't
help but get in your way.
Hunter: Heard enough from this whoreson.
Brandon: As have I. Neither is to leave here alive.
</pre><pre id="faqspan-8">
[Brandon leaves his men to fight. Triss and Geralt easily slay them.]
Triss: That bastard hired me on the assumption he wouldn't have to pay me!
Duped and trapped like a child... If not for you... We need to find
Brandon.
[They find Brandon outside.]
Brandon: Don't kill me! Good sir, no... They forced me... Had I not told them,
they'd have set fire to my home, my warehouse... The mage hunters
know no mercy... Spare me, good man... Be not like those murderers.
Geralt: Shut up. I should kill you. Thing is, you're no good to anyone but the
gulls as a corpse. So you'll live and you'll pay us double. Now.
Brandon: Ff... Fine... Your coin...
Geralt: Now get!
Triss: Thanks, Geralt.
Should watch out for yourself.
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Geralt: You should try to keep better company.
Triss: He was still better than some mages.
No need.
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Geralt: No need. Glad I could help.
Triss: You know, I've been thinking...who might know something about Ciri. And
I just got an idea. There's an oneiromancer in town -- Corinne Tilly.
Very capable, supposedly.
Geralt: Never trusted in dreamers' abilities myself.
Triss: Corinne's been very effective -- you should at least try. She's taken
a job close by. Follow the canal, away from the fish market. The house
is near the first bridge. Its owner, de Jonkheer, is a rich banker.
Geralt: Not coming with me?
Triss: I've got some things to take care of.
Geralt: Another rat-infested warehouse?
Triss: Not exactly. Nothing even remotely satisfying. Such are the times.
Nice seeing you again.
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Geralt: It was nice to see you again.
Triss: You too, Geralt. You should go now, before Corinne Tilly goes back
into hiding somewhere.
Geralt: What if I want to find you?
Triss: I live in the Bits, near the fish market. Stop by. It'd be nice.
Geralt: All right -- see you later.
See you later.
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Geralt: Thanks for everything. See you, Triss.
Triss: Mhm. See you.
Geralt: How do I find you if I need you...?
Triss: I live in the Bits. Head up the hill past the fish market. Stop by.
Geralt: Be seeing you.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7b) NOVIGRAD DREAMING [WK7B]
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[Geralt goes to the house Tilly's supposedly at -- a boarded-up dump of a
multistory brownstone. The house's owner, Rudolf de Jonkheer, is waiting by
its entrance.]
Rudolf: Just passing by, wanderer, or do you seek something specific?
Geralt: Who's asking?
Rudolf: Rudolf de Jonkheer. Of those de Jonkheers, yes. My ancestors laid the
foundations for this city, I now own its largest bank.
Geralt: Didn't need a recommendation. Name would've been enough.
Rudolf: Father always said: "All ought to know your merits. Don't hide them
under a bushel."
I'm looking for Corinne.
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Geralt: I'm looking for Corinne Tilly.
Rudolf: You've come to the right place, then. Corinne is inside... Been there
for a few days, dreaming the home's history.
Let me in?
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Geralt: I'd like to go inside, look around.
Rudolf: I don't usually let strangers rummage around my home. Twin swords,
though...you're a witcher. You may enter -- call that my whim.
The house's history -- why do you care about it?
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Geralt: Why do you need to know the house's history? You a historian, or on
a whim?
Rudolf: I bought this property a short while ago -- paid a pretty penny, I
might add. Soon after, I witnessed...disturbances. Led me to fear
the home might be haunted.
Geralt: What're the symptoms?
Rudolf: Oh, they vary. Giggling...in the night. And furniture moving about
in the attic, and last week...well, you shan't believe it -- I found
human feces in the parlor.
Why're you standing here?
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Geralt: Not interested in what's going on inside? Seeing it for yourself?
Rudolf: I'm a banker. Cursed homes scare me -- do you know how a haunting
can affect property value? Point of fact, Corinne requested she not
be disturbed.
Farewell.
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Geralt: So long.
[Geralt enters the cobweb-filled home.]
Tilly: Put it down, please... That's blood... Don't spill it... Please...
[He rushes upstairs to Corinne's voice. She's dreaming in agony on a bed while
a small, childlike creature stands over her. It runs off when it sees Geralt
reach for his sword. He shakes the woman.]
Geralt: Wake up. It's just a dream. Wake up!
Tilly: The doll... The attic...
Geralt: All right. Time to check the attic.
[He leaves the sleeptalking oneiromancer and goes to the third floor.]
Geralt: Way to the next room is blocked.
[Smashing his way in, he locates a picture of a crib and a rag doll.]
• Strange stuff... A doll... Drawing shows it lying in a cradle. Maybe I should
find one.
• There was a cradle on the second floor. Wonder what'd happen if I laid a
doll on it.
[As he finds the cradle, the door shuts, revealing a picture on its back.]
Geralt: Another masterpiece. An oven and a blackened grate. Oh joy, a riddle...
• Guess I should find an oven.
• Saw an oven in the cellar... Maybe I'll find another clue there.
[In the basement, he finds an oven. The childlike creature emerges from it.]
Sarah: Boo! Did I scare you? Scared you, didn't I? Can tell you was scared.
A big brave men scared of wee little Sarah. Ain't that funny!
Geralt: I wouldn't do that anymore if I were you, Sarah. You might scare
someone so bad they'll hurt you.
Sarah: Why would someone hurt me? Havin' a spot o' fun's not allowed anymore?
Geralt: What're you playing?
Sarah: That lady fell asleep, and I've sent her some horrible dreams. I'll not
her wake, neither. I can do that, you know. Funny, isn't it?
Geralt: Very funny. Thing is, I gotta talk to the dreamer, so I'd like you to
let her wake up.
Sarah: Little Sarah doesn't want her to wake. Little Sarah wants to play.
I know what you are.
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Geralt: You're lucky. I know you're a harmless godling. But others might not
know, and then...
Sarah: And how d'you know I'm a godling, eh? How's that, eh? Eh?
Geralt: If it looks like one and acts like one... Trust me, you're a godling.
This is no game.
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Geralt: The way you play, well, it's only ever fun for you.
Sarah: That's 'cause you're a dullard. All you humans are dullards!
Geralt: You give the dreamer nightmares, and won't let her wake up. Why are you
tormenting her?
Sarah: I'm not tormenting anyone. Scary dreams are great. What I love is when
this big 'en chases me. Hen's got these red...
Geralt: Why do you live in a haunted house?
Sarah: Tell you a secret. The house ain't haunted, not one bit! I just pretend
it is, make everyone think that. It was sittin' here all empty, so I
moved in. Bigwig from the bank then came and bought it. I don't like
bankers, 'specially not to live with, so I decided to give 'im a scare.
Geralt: Gave the banker a really big scare. See, he paid a lot for this house
and won't give it up easily. Which is why you need to find another
home.
Sarah: I don't want to! I don't! I won't!
Let's make a deal.
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Geralt: Sarah, Novigrad's no place for a godling, but if you want to live
here, that's your business. So let's make a deal.
Sarah: A deal? What kind?
Geralt: Leave the dreamer alone. In exchange, I'll tell the banker the house
is haunted -- for good, no way to lift the curse.
Sarah: You'd tell him that? What if he doesn't believe you?
Geralt: I'm a witcher. He'll believe me.
Sarah: Yes, yes, yes! Do that and I promise not to bother your friend. Not
even a little. You're awfully nice, you know?
Geralt: I don't hear that often. Thanks.
Sarah: Now go wake that sleepyhead. I won't stop her, she'll get up.
Guess I'll have to throw you out, then.
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Geralt: See now, wanna do this the nice way, but you just won't let me...
Sarah: What'll you do to me, eh? Eh? Eh?
Geralt: Burdock -- godlings hate the scent. How would you like a whiff?
Sarah: You're stupid and a pig!
[If Geralt chooses to evict Sarah, he buys a bundle of burdock at the local
herbalist, then returns to the oven.]
Sarah: Akh akh akh... You pig! Tryin' to suffocate me, you oaf, you dolt!
Someone'll do the same to you someday! Bleugh akh... Take this stupid
'ouse, you burdockin' bully!
[Either way, the woman upstairs awakens.]
Tilly: Who are you?
Geralt: Triss Merigold sent me to see you...
Tilly: Gods... Horrible nightmares. I was supposed to dream the history of this
house... Instead, I saw furniture, hungry furniture that wished to
devour me... I know it must sound foolish, but in the dream -- well, it
was all too real...and not at all amusing.
Geralt: The work of a godling. She made people believe the house was haunted.
Also injected your dreams with her little jokes.
Tilly: And you managed to wake me? I feel fortunate.
Geralt: We witchers have our ways.
Tilly: I thank you. Very much. The dreams, they were awful. Any way I can pay
you back?
Geralt: There is, actually. I'm looking for a young woman who was seen in
Novigrad.
Tilly: I can certainly try to help. But I'll need to clear my head first. After
those deranged dreams, I feel it's full of cobwebs. Find me at the
Golden Sturgeon. I rent a room there.
Geralt: All right. See you there.
[Geralt leaves after Tilly.]
Rudolf: I saw Miss Corinne leave, but she refused to speak to me. Is the matter
resolved? Or quite the opposite?
• Geralt: Burned some burdock in the stove. Godling couldn't stand the smell
and fled. And Corinne simply...awoke. Anyway, house is clean.
Rudolf: Excellent! I must admit the experience has put me off the building
-- I shan't keep it. I'm mindful of the reward I owe you and you'll
receive a sizeable commission. As soon as I'm...I'm able to sell
the house. Come by from time to time and ask. The de Jonkheers never
break their word once given.
Geralt: Thanks.
House is still haunted. Can't seem to lift the curse.
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Geralt: A bit of both. A demon had captured Corinne. I managed to free her,
but the house is still haunted.
Rudolf: Did Corinne dream of the building's past?
Geralt: Yeah. Pretty horrid, apparently, though she refused to talk about it.
Nobody should inhabit the place.
Rudolf: So many crowns, I paid... Ah, well... It shan't put me in the
poorhouse.
I know why the house is haunted.
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Geralt: Got a godling in your house. Name's Sarah and she's an ornery little
thing. Left her alone but thought I should tell you about her.
Rudolf: I thank you for being candid. Could you rid me of the beast?
Geralt: You can do it yourself. Just burn some burdock in the oven. She's
sure to run, godlings detest the smoke.
Rudolf: I will not wage war on a beast, large or small. Piss on the godling,
piss on the house. I must merely find a fool willing to buy it.
[Geralt meets Tilly at her above-tavern room.]
Tilly: I dream in here.
Geralt: Never witnessed a séance like this before. Let alone participated.
Tilly: I will guide you. We must first achieve a kind of mental accord: I must
ask some questions, you must answer them. It's important you're
truthful, answer from the heart.
Let's do this.
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Geralt: Let's begin.
Dreaming -- what's it about?
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Geralt: Your gift -- tell me how it works?
Tilly: It's hard to describe... To start with, I must gain an understanding
of the bond between the person and the object I'm to dream about. I
ask questions, try to flesh out feelings, emotions... Truth is
essential in this, and though most who come to me acknowledge that,
many refuse to speak openly of certain matters. Apart from which they
remain unaware of others, further obscuring things.
Geralt: What do you see in your dreams?
Tilly: I don't. It's my client who sees. My gift lies in summoning the right
dreams. At times, nightmares or strong desires impose themselves on
true events. It takes skill to separate seed from chaff.
[Geralt agrees to begin.]
Tilly: To start with, tell me a memory you have with this woman.
Geralt: What for?
Tilly: Do as I ask, please. I need the strongest, most complete memory you
have of...
Geralt: Ciri. The woman's name is Ciri.
I remember when we first met.
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Geralt: I accepted a job once, did it. Asked to choose my reward, I invoked
the Law of Surprise. Never thought I'd actually meet the child
promised to me at that time. Years later I was in the Broklion
Forest. Happened on a girl there. Didn't know who she was. The dryads
wanted to keep her, turn her into one of their own. But the Waters of
Oblivion -- they failed in her case. Ciri came out of Broklion with
me. I sent her back to her grandmother then... But already I felt
bound to her...
Tilly: By destiny?
Geralt: By something more.
Tilly: Thank you. Would you be willing to share another memory?
No.
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Geralt: No. Let's continue.
Yes.
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Geralt: Yes.
Tilly: No need to rush. We have time.
I trained her at Kaer Morhen...
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Geralt: Ciri was orphaned. During the second war with Nilfgaard. Had no idea
what to do with a young girl, so I did what I would've done with a
boy and took her to Kaer Morhen. Figured some physical training,
sword work, development of her stamina -- couldn't hurt. I remember
her standing on a crumbling wall. A stone came loose, she lost her
footing... Caught her at the last possible instant. Strongest memory,
though, is of her coming out of her room one day, wearing a dress and
claiming she was indisposed. Knew then that Ciri was maturing, it was
unavoidable. I was lost in the face of that.
Tilly: I see... Do you wish to tell me anything more?
No.
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Geralt: No. Let's continue.
Yes.
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Geralt: Yes... I think so.
Tilly: In that case, I'm listening.
Saved her life once.
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Geralt: It was after her time training at Kaer Morhen. After the moment when
Yennefer first called Ciri her daughter. We'd been separated. I knew
she was in danger -- I'd dreamt of her, multiple times. I found her
at Stygga Castle. She'd gone there to free Yen and gotten herself
captured in the process. They wanted to hurt her. I remember fighting
side by side with Ciri on stairs slippery with blood. It was the
first time she'd ever deflected a crossbow bolt with her sword. Told
her never to try it again.
Tilly: These memories, they're intense. Do you wish to continue?
Let's move on.
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Geralt: No. Let's continue.
I have more to say.
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Geralt: I have more to say.
Tilly: Then please do.
She was there when I died.
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Geralt: It was in Rivia. The second war with Nilfgaard had just ended. There
was still tension in the air. For gods know what reason, race riots
erupted in the town. I tried to do something, but... Couldn't stop a
riled crowd. A boy with a pitchfork. He ran it right through my gut.
Yennefer lay dying as well... Ciri had us carried onto a boat... We
sailed to a place where apple trees bloom eternal. She left us there.
It was the last time I saw her.
Tilly: Is there anything you'd like to add? Another memory, perhaps?
No.
¯¯¯
Geralt: No. Let's continue.
Yes.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yes... There's something else...
Tilly: All right. Tell me no more than you wish to.
That's everything.²
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Geralt: Let's continue, please?
(skip to "You claim the woman has...")
Tilly: You claim the woman has...abilities. Tell me about them.
Ciri is a child of the Elder Blood.
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Geralt: She's a child of the Elder Blood.
Tilly: A descendant of Bloody Falka? The rebel burned at the stake? The
prophecies claim the world's destroyer will be born of the firebrand's
cursed blood.
Geralt: Pure legend.
Tilly: Know when a legend transforms into prophecy? When it gains believers.
I think you're right to be reticent in talking about the woman.
They call her the Lady of Space and Time.
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Geralt: They call Ciri the Lady of Space and Time. Once I asked Yennefer why.
She...travels between worlds... Hm, turns out I don't know how to
talk about it. Didn't really understand much of what Yen told me. I
just know there's more than traveling to different places. And that
Ciri carries immense power in her blood.
She has trouble controlling them.
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Geralt: I remember Ciri having trouble controlling her abilities. Yennefer
tried to teach her to cast simple spells, and Ciri destroyed a shed
near the temple where they were. Really upset her, but it was just
an old shed. I know it took her a while to gain control. And frankly,
I doubt she controls her abilities fully to this day.
Let's move on.²
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Geralt: Let's continue, please?
(skip to "Make yourself comfortable...")
Tilly: I see. Do you wish to say more?
Yes.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah, there's something else.
Tilly:
No.
¯¯¯
---
Geralt: No. Can we start?
Tilly: Naturally. I know you cared about her. But your tone, the emotions you
so carefully conceal...
Geralt: Let's continue, please?
Tilly: Make yourself comfortable and try to relax. You must take my hand and
talk of Ciri. Tell me where you think she might be, who could be at her
side.
Geralt: Mhm... If Ciri couldn't find me, I'm sure she would've looked for
another friend.
Tilly: Who do you mean?
Dandelion.
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Geralt: Maybe Dandelion? They liked each other a lot...
Yennefer and Triss.
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Geralt: Yennefer wasn't in Novigrad... Triss was, but Ciri never found her...
Maybe Dandelion? They liked each other a lot...
[Geralt reclines on the bed and dreams of his bard friend Dandelion in a room
with a bird. Next, Dandelion is in a sewer and plugs his ears from a bomb
blast.]
Geralt: Ugh. Dreamt of a swallow at first... After that, just nightmares.
Tilly: At times the dreams can multiply. Show the past as well as the future.
Geralt: The swallow -- it symbolizes Ciri. She contacted Dandelion. I didn't
know he was in town...
Tilly: The poet? Heard about him. Someone left him the Rosemary and Thyme in
their will.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Tilly: Good luck, witcher. I hope you find your Ciri.
The Rosemary and Thyme? That an inn?
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Geralt: The Rosemary and Thyme? Where's that?
Tilly: As you enter the city through the red light district, you come upon a
bridge. The Rosemary is just past it.
Geralt: Dandelion inherited a brothel?
Tilly: So I've heard.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7c) BROKEN FLOWERS [WK7C]
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[Geralt approaches the Rosemary and Thyme, an establishment in the southeast
of Novigrad. As he approaches, he can hear an old friend berating vagrants
who had taken up shelter there.]
Zoltan: And never come back, ye stinkin' scadges!
Vagrant: All's we wanted was...
Zoltan: Don't give a flyin' fuck what you wanted! Get!
[The witcher tries going in, but quickly moves aside, as Zoltan kicks three
vagrants out onto the street.]
Zoltan: Next time I'll rip your fuckin' legs off and shove 'em up your arse
till you've toes for teeth! Geeeralt! In the nick of time, as always!
Geralt: Zoltan, with your boot in someone's ass, as always. Who were those men?
Zoltan: Local color. I wasn't gone more'n a moment. Long enough for them to
turn our home into theirs!
[Some of the vagrants reenter, preparing to fight.]
Zoltan: All right, time for some spring cleanin', I've got to boot 'em all out.
Care to join me?
Geralt: With pleasure.
[Zoltan and Geralt start beating the crap out of 'em.]
Zoltan: Ah, reminds me of our days of yore, eh?
Geralt: Yeah, almost like we never left Vergen.
[Eventually, the vagrants leave to lick their wounds somewhere else.]
Zoltan: I'm pleased. That went well. Now we can great each other like the gods
ordained! Ages, pal!
Geralt: Hey, Zoltan. You look good.
Zoltan: Trainin' plenty lately. What with the war on, no Mahakaman mead to be
found, but Redanian lager's standin' in just fine. You, though --
you've withered a bit. Somethin' worrying you?
I'm looking for Ciri.
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Geralt: It's about Ciri. I know she came to Novigrad. Might still be here.
Zoltan: You mean, she's come back? I'll be damned. I wonder if I'd recognize
her... How many years is it now? Six? Seven? But what'd she be doin'
here?
Geralt: Hiding, probably. She might be in danger.
Zoltan: See her in your dreams?
Geralt: Couple times. Her, and the Wild Hunt.
Zoltan: Ooh...not good.
Geralt: Not at all. But I know she came here and contacted Dandelion.
Zoltan: We've a wee problem, then...
Where's Dandelion?
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Geralt: Where's Dandelion?
Zoltan: Hah! Like to know that meself! Maybe he could explain what the
hell's goin' on! I just barely returned, as you saw. Expectin' to
come home to a hot leg o' boar and some cold ale. What do I find
instead? A shitestorm. Dandelion gone, the tavern chock full of
bums. Haven't a clue what happened.
Geralt: Hmm... Let's look around. Might find something that'll put us on his
trail.
Zoltan: Prime idea. I say we start on the ground floor. It's where he sat
and wrote.
A couple things...
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Geralt: There's a few things...
Zoltan: Let me guess: Triss? Yennefer, perchance?
Geralt: Triss and I...talked. Cleared some things up. As for Yennefer,
well...
Zoltan: So you found her! Hah! Need to tell me all about it!
Geralt: I will, some other time. Got something a tinge more important to
take care of now.
Zoltan: Meaning?
Rather not worry you.
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Geralt: Ugh. Got some problems. Rather not burden you.
Zoltan: Fuck off, Geralt. Need to spill your guts to me, now.
[The two agree to look around.]
Zoltan: Ahah! A note from a grateful muse!
Geralt: Reading someone else's letters? Tsk, tsk.
Zoltan: ...my visage red and hot...I plunged into purest ecstasy, imbibing its
nectar...your dextrous digits on my soul's yearning chords.
[Geralt can find several things to inspect.]
• From the finest vineyards, every last one.
Zoltan: No one knows the fruit of the fruit of the vine like Dandelion.
• Hmm...this the lute he got from the elves at Dol Blathanna?
Zoltan: Aye. Must've been in a great rush to leave it behind.
• The Faculty of Oxenfurt University is honored to grant Julian Alfred
Pankratz, viscount de Lettenhove, the title of Master of the Seven Liberal
Arts.
Zoltan: Keep forgettin' he's got that damn fool name.
• Annual Balladry Contest, Silver Laurel, awarded to Master Dandelion.
Zoltan: Prince Hereward himself did the honors. And the feast afterwards, to
celebrate the laureates. Dandelion taught a swine to yodel, and I...
ah, another time.
[Geralt picks up a ledger sitting around.]
Geralt: Hmm... Ten barrels of Toussaint dry, five cases of Sodden triple
mead... Hmm -- nothing here.
Zoltan: No, no, no! That's exactly what we're lookin' for! It's his planner.
That's rich -- Dandelion and planning?
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Geralt: Hah, Dandelion and planning? Good one. Besides, anything he wrote
here -- probably had a special system, chaos only he could ever
decipher. Actually, in the past, sometimes not even that.
Zoltan: Give 'im a chance, might not be that bad.
Starting to look like a man serious about his business.
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Geralt: Seems Dandelion's taking the tavern business seriously.
Zoltan: If ye only knew. Gives it everythin'. Not seen him this obsessed
ever.
[Zoltan takes the book.]
Zoltan: Seems when he inherited this fine establishment, it came with some fine
responsibilities. Bookkeepping among 'em. He's also made a habit of
notin' down the times of his meetings -- official and private. So,
who'd he been seein' of late...? Ah! Here it is! Hm, seems he's only
been meetin' women of late, the dog.
Not interested in his romantic outings.
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Geralt: Zoltan, please. You really wanna track down the women Dandelion's
been wooing? Most likely all angry women by now.
Zoltan: Got any better ideas? 'Sides, Dandelion's a blabber. They're sure to
know somethin' of his doin's.
That could help.
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Geralt: Hmm... Not a bad idea. Dandelion's pretty loose-lipped, might've
blabbed something to a lady friend that'll put us on his trail...
Zoltan: That's what I'm countin' on.
Zoltan: Hm... We should divide these somehow... Perhaps... Ah, fuck it.
[He rips pages out.]
Zoltan: I'll ask the lasses on my half, you interrogate the ones on yours. Suit
you?
Geralt: Zoltan, wait. This is in verse.
Zoltan: And you figure that's unnatural because...?
Geralt: Wonderful. Meet me back here when you're done. Share our findings...
Zoltan: Right y'are. Need to do a wee bit o' tidyin' 'fore I go, can't stomach
the idea of comin' back to this mess. And you'd be wise to read your
bit 'fore you scurry off. If ye need anythin', I'll be next door.
[Geralt reads through the planner, learning of six women: Louisa la Valette,
Elihal, Vespula, Molly, Marabella and Rosa var Attre.]
Geralt: Still here? Looking for something?
Zoltan: Ah, just checking to see that everythin's in place. Buggers mighta
hauled somethin' off for pawnin'...
Geralt: Actually, glad you're still here. Wanted to ask you about someone.
Molly.
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Geralt: Though well she knows the touch of silk and lace, she shuns not straw
when gripped in lust's embrace.
Zoltan: Molly. Keeps things tidy for the Baroness la Valette.
Geralt: A baroness within reach, and he settled for a chambermaid?
Zoltan: Dandelion's not one to judge folk by their station -- you know that.
Like he says, "In the alcove, we're all equals."
Geralt: Yeah, guess the true poet observes life in all its aspects, examines
it from all perspectives...
Marabella.
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Geralt: If I didn't now any better, I'd say he was jealous about this
Marabella.
Zoltan: Argh, doubt it. Former pupil, and, well, the tales he told me 'bout
her...
Geralt: Doubt I want to hear them...
Zoltan: Probably better off not. Things 'tween them took a turn for the
strange at some point...
Geralt: Meaning?
Zoltan: She had him wearin' mummer's costumes, took to callin' him Christian,
referrin' to herself as Anastasia...
Geralt: Hm, truly perverse.
Zoltan: Ye dinnae ken the half of it! Called 'im her stallion, once --
'course the fool took it as a compliment...till she pulled a bit and
reins outta her cupboard. Ho ho! Poor bastard fled out the window.
Vespula.
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Geralt: Vespula...Name rings a bell... She threw his knickers out the window?
Zoltan: That's her.
Geralt: Hollered something about him being a scoundrel with a voice like a
consumptive pheasant?
Zoltan: That's her.
Geralt: Threw flower pots at him?
Zoltan: Guess old flames never die.
Rosa var Attre.
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Geralt: Like a rose abashed of its crimson hue, fair Rosa would sink into
humors blue. She shunned her lessons in civility to swing her Dwarf
with agility. Dwarf? Never expected he'd be so humble.
Zoltan: Heheh, Dwarf's what Rosa var Attre named her gwyhyr. Well chosen, eh?
Geralt: All right. But var Attre? Her dad happen to be the Nilfgaardian
ambassador?
Zoltan: He is. You know 'im?
Geralt: Wouldn't say that. Had a brief conversation with him at the palace in
Vizima.
Zoltan: Well, then you've a good notion to the kind of bloke he is.
Commissioned Dandelion to tutor Rosa and her sister in the art of
rhetoric, but wee Rosa preferred swordplay.
Geralt: How dare she reject the great bard in favor of a common swordmaster?
Zoltan: More than one, it seems. Week on week we get fresh gossip 'bout her
thrashin' another instructor. So bad he resigns. Word has it her da's
now looking to hire her next victim, I mean, instructor.
Elihal.
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Geralt: A figure most rare, her nature dual. Look deep in her eyes, or be
made a fool. Well, well... Seems fascinated with this one...
Zoltan: Err, not without reason... Never been much for elven women meself,
but this one's exceptional. Dare say Francesca Findabair'd be
jealous.
Geralt: You wanna take this one, then?
Zoltan: Nah, you can have her.
Geralt: Why?
Zoltan: You see...elven beauty's like a young Beauclair wine. Whereas I
prefer vodka straight up.
Know all I wanted to know.
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Geralt: Well, know about all I wanted to know. Thanks for your help.
[Geralt visits Vespula, the closest target to Dandelion's bar. He finds her
being accosted by some of Whoreson Junior's cronies in the outer Novigrad
slums.]
Thug: Junior claims you agreed to pay him more.
Vespula: But what we didn't and couldn't agree is that there'd be a war, now,
could we?! My custom's been cut in four!
Thug: Quite a coincidence that's what I aim to do to you.
Vespula: I will give you every last copper -- with interest. Gimme a week,
please!
Thug: Whoreson's no banker. He's an honest man -- you pay on time, you get
protection. You don't pay...
[He smacks her.]
Vespula: Help!
Thug: What you hollerin' for, stupid wench! What you hopin' for, a knight in
shinin' armor?
Geralt: Close enough.
Thug: Keep outta this, grayhead. Not your concern.
(200 coins) I'll pay what she owes.
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Geralt: Take this coin and leave.
Thug: That ain't how it works. Vespula's to pay...or be taught a lesson.
Geralt: Already given her a verbal repremand. Now go, before I teach you a
lesson.
Thug: Come on... Gold's gold.
Vespula's got new protection.
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Geralt: Vespula's got someone else's protection now.
Thug: Really? Whose'd that be?
The King of Beggars'.
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Geralt: The King of Beggars'. Made a deal with Junior. This is his turf now.
Thug: Didn't hear nothin' about that.
Geralt: But you have heard what Bedlam does to people who cross him? Or you
need a demonstration?
Thug: C'mon, Fritz... Boss wants it that way, it's how it's gotta be.
Mine.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mine. Offered her a better rate.
Thug: All right. Let's see if you're a good bargain, or just cheap shit.
Get outta here.
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Geralt: Go. Now.
Thug: Now listen... You might have two swords, but there's four of us...
Geralt: Yeah... Four men. Collecting tribute from one washerwoman. Don't
think I have much to fear.
Thug: Best think again.
[The thugs leave or are killed. If Vespula was saved without violence:]
Vespula: Thank you, oh thank you! To think there're men who'll help a stranger
outta the kindness of their hearts...
Geralt: Not entirely outta kindness, and you're not entirely a stranger.
Vespula: What're you...? Oh, I know you! You're that witcher took Dandelion out
whorin'...Jerald, right?
[If Geralt slew the bastards:]
Vespula: Covered in blood -- all of it! So much work, for naught.
Geralt: No need to thank me. It was nothing.
Vespula: Sorry... Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but... Everything I had...
I just lost.
Actully, Dandelion's why I'm here.²
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Geralt: Not Jerald...Geralt.
Vespula: Oh... Dreadful sorry.
Geralt: Whaddaya think... Where could Dandelion be?
Need to ask you about Dandelion.²
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Geralt: Don't know if you remember -- we've met.
Vespula: I don't-- Wait, wait! I know you! You're that witcher I near
clobbered with a vase when... Well...
Geralt: When you kicked Dandelion out...through the balcony. Actually, he's
the reason I'm here. Know where he is?
I took Dandelion out whoring?²
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Geralt: Not Jerald...Geralt.
Vespula: Oh... Dreadful sorry.
Geralt: Explain something, if you don't mind... You say I took Dandelion out
whoring?
Vespula: So he said. Claimed I was his one and only, but he fell in with the
wrong folk -- you and that dwarf who always looks like a cow licked
him. Said you two were a bad example -- wine, women...
Geralt: ...song. He pick that habit up from us, too? Gotta have a word with
him...
Relax. It'll come off.²
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Geralt: Relax... It'll come out in the wash.
Vespula: Course it will. Just gotta soak it in white vinegar -- but that's
not my point. Junior shan't forgive me. Either I close up shop
meself, or he'll burn me down.
Geralt: Sorry... Didn't think about that.
Vespula: A woman's lot... Men have their fun, and we're stuck with the mess.
Oh well... I suppose I must move to Oxenfurt. Professors need clean
undergarments, too.
Vespula: Probably out whorin', that hoarse pheasant, that lyin' scoundrel!
Geralt: Ouch... What'd he do to get your goat?
Vespula: Same thing as ever. Prize bullshitter came back, sayin' it was till
death do we part this time. And? No more'n a week passed before I
spotted him in Harborside, strollin' with some trollop on his arm!
Twas¹ the last straw. All those question 'bout the washerwomen at
the bathhouse, then this. I beat 'im black and blue and threw 'im
out on his ear!
Who was he with in Harborside?
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Geralt: This woman he was with in the harbor... Who was she?
Vespula: Claimed she was his niece from Kovir -- hah! Whore-vir, more
likely! Corset so tight her eyes were poppin' out her head. His
too, come to think of it. An artist or a whore -- doesn't much
matter as they're one and the same...
• Geralt: An artist?
Vespula: Or a whore.
Geralt: Apparently Geralt was seeing a trobairitz, a blonde, most likely.
Vespula: That's the one! Wait, what was her¹ name... Callonetta! Sounds
like an artist, a foreigner and a whore -- three in one.
Dandelion asked you about other washerwomen?
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Geralt: Dandelion asked you about other washerwomen? Not terribly subtle,
even for him.
Vespula: Maybe he likes 'em sudsy?
Geralt: Uh, maybe... But what'd he ask about -- exactly?
Vespula: Oh, this and that, really... What's it like at the bathhouse, have
I got any friends there, what're their workin' hours... I dunno,
maybe he's lookin' to hire one for his tavern. Maybe I got all in
a huff for no reason.
Thanks, good luck.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help. Listen -- when I find Dandelion...anything I
should tell him?
Vespula: No! I mean... Tell him he's a two-faced snake, but...it would be
nice if he dropped by.
[Next Geralt visits Elihal, who lives near Vespula in the outer district. He
enters and only finds an elven man.]
Geralt: I'm a friend of Dandelion's. Looking for Elihal.
Elihal: You've come to the right spot. How might I be of service? Need
something shortened? Patch your trousers, darn your socks?
Geralt: You Elihal?
Elihal: Yes. Now pick your jaw up off the floor.
Geralt: Sorry, I thought...thought Elihal was one of Dandelion's girlfriends.
Elihal: Ahhh, so it's that. Wait here.
[He goes behind a screen, emerging once he's gussied up in woman's garb.]
Elihal: Any better?
Geralt: So you're...
Elihal: Elihal.
Geralt: Did you and Dandelion...I mean -- how'd you two meet?
Elihal: I met him one night in a tavern. He was blind drunk...
And then?
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Geralt: What happened?
Elihal: What do you think? We spoke.
Geralt: That's it?
Elihal: I'm not sure what you're getting at, but I should make one thing
clear -- men don't interest me. Told him that as well.
Don't want to know the rest.
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Geralt: Don't think I wanna know what happened next...
Elihal: Oh, stop. He wasn't so drunk as not to figure it out. Besides, men
don't interest me. I told him that from the start.
Elihal: Luckily, Dandelion's an open-minded fellow. We had a lovely evening.
He became a loyal customer afterwards.
When'd you last see Dandelion?
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Geralt: Dandelion visit your shop often?
Elihal: I tried many times to talk him into a decent doublet. Sadly he'd only
come in to get a button re-affixed or a hole patched...
Geralt: When'd you last see him?
Elihal: Some time ago... He brought in one of Zoltan's jerkins, insisted I
sew on an extra pocket. Odd as requests go. I had the distinct
feeling he'd actually come to talk.
What did you and Dandelion talk about?
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Geralt: What did you and Dandelion talk about? He ask about anything in
particular?
Elihal: Hmm... Let me think... Had an ordinary chat, really. Although...
indeed, he did keep asking me about Kalkstein. If Dandelion and I
hadn't laid our cards on the table at the start, I might have
suspected he had a history with the alchemist. He spoke like a
lovesick beau. In fact, he desperately wished to meet with him.
Geralt: Kalkstein's in Novigrad? Wouldn't mind seeing him myself.
Elihal: You're too late, I fear. The witch hunters nabbed him recently,
burned him at the stake in Heirarch Square... But as he perished --
ooo, the goings on¹! Impressive. Fiery beasts circled his pyre, then
rose into the sky and exploded to form letters.
Geralt: Really. What'd they spell?
Elihal: "Radovid sucks flaccid cock."
Why do you dress that way?
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Geralt: I know this is none of my business, but why do you...
Elihal: Why do I dress up? As a child, I dreamt of becoming a doppler when I
grew up. I became a tailor instead... Discovered clothing, costumes
can express all the complexities of one's personality. I'm a Redanian
countess one day, a dockside thug the next. That is true freedom!
Geralt: Mhm...
Elihal: Have you never thought to become someone else -- even for a moment?
Must be horribly boring being a witcher all the time.
Geralt: I manage to stay interested.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help. And...nice to meet you.
Elihal: I can help with much more. If you need new trousers or a vest, you
know where to find me.
[Next, Geralt goes to see Molly at the baroness' villa.]
Geralt: This Baroness la Valette's villa?
Sentry: Shouldn't interest you. The baroness don't mingle with just anyone.
Geralt: Don't worry. I'm here to see her chambermaid, Molly.
Sentry: Out of the way. Baroness is ridin' out. Begone.
[She exits the palace with Morvran Voorhis, who he met in Vizima. If Geralt
killed her son in Witcher 2, her disposition is rather sour:]
Morvran: Greetings, witcher. I must admit it's curious to see you here. I don't
quite believe in coincidences.
Louisa: Geralt of Rivia. Slayer of monsters...and my son.
Geralt: You're right, general. My visit's no accident. I'm looking for someone.
Louisa: There's no one here who wishes to see you. Captain, this man is not to
enter. Forgive me, Morvran, but I've lost my appetite for the races.
Morvran: Kill a woman's son, then appear on her doorstep? My, my, I thought
witchers had better survival skills than that.
Geralt: Looking for a girl named Molly, heard she works here.
Morvran: I fear your information's out of date. Molly no longer works here.
She get fired?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Baroness fire her?
Morvran: Quite the contrary. Molly decided she no longer wished to serve.
Where can I find her?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Seem to know who Molly is. You also know she doesn't work here
anymore... Know where I can find her, maybe?
Morvran: This time of day? Probably sipping punch and considering which horse
to bet on.
Geralt: Not in the mood for jokes.
Morvran: I jest you not.
Morvran: After Aryan's demise, Louisa's nephew came to pay his respects. Got
one glance at Molly, and -- well, they wed soon after. They now await
his inheritance. With the baroness' son dead, the estate will go to
the nephew...and Lady l'Attard, known until recently simply as Molly.
Where can I find Molly?
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Geralt: All right, so where'll I find the newly-minted Lady l'Attard?
Morvran: Our dear little Molly has a new passion -- horse racing. To my
knowledge she should be at Countess Vegelbud's villa right now.
That's exactly where I'm going. Since you stripped me of Louisa's
company, perhaps you'd agree to come along?
She marry for the gold?
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Geralt: Gotta wonder if Molly fell for the nephew or his inheritance.
Morvran: We cannot know that just yet. But I'd wager she has strong feelings
for both.
[If Geralt didn't kill her son, the reception is sunnier:]
Louisa: Geralt of Rivia at my doorstep? Surely, this is no chance encounter?
Geralt: Greetings, Baroness. Greetings, General. You're right. I'm here for a
reason.
Louisa: There's no mistaking you. But for etiquette's sake, Mary Louisa la
Valette. An imperial general and a witcher meet...and know each other.
Surprising.
We've met before.
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Geralt: We've met before...
Morvran: And how! Imagine this, Louisa -- the emperor desired a chat with the
witcher. I, too, was fortunate enough to meet him then.
Louisa: Hm... So Geralt of Rivia now works for Emperor Emhyr...
Interesting... Has var Emreis sent you to rid Novigrad of monsters?
Met Voorhis in Vizima.
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Geralt: Yeah, we had an opportunity to, uh...talk when the emperor summoned
me to Vizima.
Louisa: Had you run afoul of var Emreis? No, you'd be long dead if that were
so. It seems then that you share some interests... But I shan't
question you out of doors. Will you accept my invitation, tell me
what brings you here?
Geralt: Looking for a girl named Molly, heard she works here.
Louisa: My maid-servant. I'm afraid she's currently at the home of my dear
friend Patricia Vegelbud.
Morvran: Perhaps Geralt could accompany us. He could speak with Molly at the
races.
Louisa: Is that something you'd consider, witcher? Care to partake of some
sophisticated diversion?
[Either way:]
Find my own way to the Vegelbuds'.
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Geralt: Think I can find my own way to the Vegelbud home.
Morvran: Very well... Perhaps I can convince you to join me later at the
races. I shall keep an eye out for you.
Happy to go with you.
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Geralt: Well, if Molly'll be there...
Morvran: On our way, then.
[If Geralt goes with the Morvran and/or Louisa on horseback:]
Morvran: We've arrived.
[If Geralt chooses to walk there, and he's on good terms with Louisa, he can
overhear the two talking:]
Louisa: Soothing, the scent of the freshly cut lawn.
Morvran: Not all appreciate it. The races are a privilege of the wealthy.
Louisa: Some of the wealthy are too occupied minding their wealth to appreciate
any form of diversion.
Morvran: Fortunately, you do not number among them, m'Lady.
Louisa: Perhaps because the imperial army seized most of my wealth?
Morvran: We meet again, witcher.
Geralt: Yeah, managed to get here. Truth be told, hard to miss an estate this
grand.
[The real conversation changes depending on whether Louisa's present or not.]
• Geralt: Nice place.
• Morvran: I see you managed to find the place.
Geralt: Not that hard. It's not exactly a small, concealed hovel.
• Morvran: I must say of all the creatures in this region, I find steeds most
intriguing. Horses interest you at all, witcher?
Geralt: All the same to me. Call each one I ride Roach.
Morvran: Strange... The gray is Cantarella. Sired by Cahir, the champion from
Vole.
Geralt: Yeah... Gray's a good color. Even looks good on horses.
Morvran: My coin's on the black stallion -- Nemrod. Purest Nilfgaardian
stock.
• Louisa: My father owned a similar estate in Brugge. As a young girl, I'd
travel there often to ride.
Morvran: Shall we look at the horses? Do you like horses, Geralt?
Geralt: I guess so. Called every horse I've had Roach.
Morvran: The gray mare is Cantarella. Sired by Cahir, the champion from Vole.
Geralt: Gray's a nice color. For horses, too.
Morvran: My coin's on the black stallion -- Nemrod. Purest Nilfgaardian stock.
Geralt: Surprised he didn't salute you, general.
Know a lot about horses?
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Geralt: Seem to know your horses.
• Louisa: "Know" is not the word. Morvran's a true expert.
Morvran: I find them to be far more honest than men.
Know much about the others?
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Geralt: Know anything about the chestnut or the bay?
Morvran: The chestnut is Thunderbolt, a pureblood Redanian. Gallant steed,
but too headstrong for my taste, difficult to control. And the bay
hails from Zerrikania. Lord de Volte acquired him recently. I know
little about him, though Zerrikanians are reputed to have incredible
stamina.
I'd like to talk about Molly.²
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Geralt: Is Molly a horse?
Morvran: Pardon?
Geralt: I did come here to see Molly, after all.
Louisa: Patience, witcher. She ought to arrive soon. I asked Molly to join
us as soon as she was done with her chores. She shouldn't be long
now.
Geralt: All depends what you asked her to do, m'lady. But I don't really have
a choice -- I'll wait.
Morvran: Must say, I'm curious how you manage in the saddle, witcher.
Geralt: Mostly just try to stay in it.
Morvran: What would you say to a little race?
Geralt: Not what I came here for.
Morvran: Don't make me beg, witcher. Tell you what -- win, and I shall give you
my finest saddle. Made in Nilfgaard proper of beautifully tanned
leather.
Let's race.
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Geralt: Why not. Wouldn't mind seeing if your knowledge of horses translates
into riding skills.
• Morvran: Hah! Splendid. In that case, you must choose a mount.
• Louisa: Well said. So, which steed do you choose, witcher?
I'll take Cantarella.
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• Geralt: Think I'll take the gray mare.
• Geralt: The gray mare looks nimble. Besides, knew a man named Cahir once.
I'll go with her.
Like to give Nemrod a try.
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• Geralt: I'll ride Nemrod. Pit a Nilfgaardian stallion against a
Nilfgaardian general.
• Geralt: The black's your favorite? Let's see what a Nilfgaardian
stallion's made of.
Redanian chestnut's my choice. Thunderbolt, yeah.
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• Geralt: Hmm... Redanian chestnut looks promising.
• Geralt: Radovid's encamped nearby. Redanian chestnut might want to impress
its king.
</pre><pre id="faqspan-9">
I'll ride the Zerrikanian bay.
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• Geralt: Think I'll give you a run on the Zerrikanian bay.
• Geralt: Heard tales of Zerrikanian horses. I'll ride the bay.
I'd like to talk to Molly.² / Came here to talk to Molly.²
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Geralt: I'd rather resolve what I have to with Molly.
• Morvran: Well, there she is. See the slim young woman? Resolve what you
must. I shall play the horses for a time. If you wish, we can
ride back to the city together.
• Morvran: Very well, I shan't insist. The attractive one -- that's Molly.
Speak to her. The baroness and I will place our wagers. You can
then ride back to Novigrad with us if you wish.
[If Geralt decides to race, after choosing:]
• Louisa: I'll not ride with you, but I shall bet on a steed. Nemrod will win,
no matter the rider.
• Louisa: I'll not race, however I will wager on a winner. The gray mare's my
choice.
• Morvran: Cantarella for me, then.
• Morvran: In that case, I shall try my luck on the Zerrikanian bay.
• Morvran: I see no point in delaying this. Let's begin.
• Morvran: The horses are saddled. Let's begin.
Ride Master: Riders, ready?!
[If Geralt wins the horse race:]
• Louisa: What a thrill! A beautiful victory!
Geralt: Thanks.
Morvran: For one whom every horse is a Roach, you carry yourself exquisitely
in the saddle. My congratulations. That...is yours.
• Geralt: The Roach I chose put in a nice run.
Morvran: Exceptional. I've not lost a race in a while. I congratulate you.
That...is yours.
[If Geralt loses the race:]
• Louisa: Oof, so close!
Geralt: The General's not only knowledgeable, but skilled. Congratulations.
Morvran: Thank you. It was a good race against a worthy opponent.
• Morvran: Acknowledge it, witcher. I'm the superior rider.
Geralt: I'll acknowledge your Roach proved faster. Congratulations.
[Either way:]
• Morvran: Ah, look! Lady l'Attard has just arrived.
Geralt: Who?
Morvran: The woman formerly known as Molly. There she stands.
Geralt: Right... Thanks.
Morvran: I shall be here for a time. Find me if you'd like to ride back to
the city together.
• Geralt: Now, could I talk to your chambermaid, m'lady?
Louisa: Ah! Yes, Molly. That is why you came for, after all. The portly young
woman. That's her.
Morvran: Speak to her. And you must find us when you're ready to return to
Novigrad. We'd be delighted to join you for the journey.
[Geralt finds Molly in the bleachers.]
• Geralt: Who do you favor, m'lady?
Molly: Can't decide between the black stallion and the gray mare. Keep goin'
back and forth, back and forth. Sorry. Don't believe we've been
introduced.
Geralt: I'm Geralt.
Molly: Geralt? That Geralt?
• Molly: I'm Molly, m'lord. Wished to see me?
Geralt: Call me Geralt.
Molly: Geralt? That Geralt? The one Dandelion's rescued time and time again?
Yeah... If not for him...
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Geralt: Mhm. Wouldn't be here if not for Dandelion.
Molly: Told me all about your adventures. How he'd ready you for battle with
his songs, how he tamed the kayran by playin' his lute...
Geralt: I meant that literally. Dandelion's why I'm here -- came to ask you
about him. Know where he might be?
Actually, I'm always rescuing him.
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Geralt: That's right...except it's the other way around. I'm always saving
him.
Molly: Mean to say it weren't Dandelion saved you in Flotsam by severin' your
noose with an arrow from a hundred paces?
Geralt: What? Dandelion couldn't... Er, never mind. Any idea where our master
archer might be at the moment?
Molly: No...sadly, I haven't got a clue. We've not seen each other in ages.
• The baroness don't approve of our acquaintance. Says Dandelion's a
good-for-nothin' layabout -- can you imagine?!
• Ever since I became Lady la Attard, it's been nothin' but balls,
banquets and other such...what's it...congregations. Awful tiring,
all this...
But...maybe his sister could help you? Such a nice girl...
You aware Dandelion doesn't have a sister?²
Dandelion doesn't have a sister. You aware of that?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You do realize Dandelion doesn't have a sister.¹
Molly: Sure he does! Saw her meself! Funny, she don't look like him at all...
blonde, for starters. Maybe they've different fathers?
Geralt: Mhm. Different mothers, too.
Molly: Maybe... But you could see he cared for her, looks after her, the way
he carried her packages and...
• Geralt: Know where I can find her -- Dandelion's sister?
Molly: Oh no. Whenever I asked Dandelion when we'd visit her, he'd grow all
quiet, then change the subject.
• Geralt: These packages... Any chance they were trunks, travel cases? And
this girl -- possibly a trobairitz?
Molly: Yes, yes! Now I remember: she's a traveling performer, sailed in
from Kovir... Talented family, innit?
Geralt: Exceptionally. And very loving as well, I'm sure.
Molly: If you only knew! Dandelion even wrote a poem to her..."To My
Dearest Callonetta," or somesuch. Oh, to have a brother like that!
Remember your last conversation with Dandelion?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Any chance you remember your last conversation with Dandelion?
Molly: Course! He came to borrow some coin for a barge...
Geralt: What? Why'd he need a barge?
Molly: To take me on a romantic cruise, of the canals, by the light of the
moon! Said there'd be strawberries and that wine with the bubbles,
and he'd sing me arias... But...I've not seen him since.
Dandelion thinks you're a maid-servant.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm under the impression Dandelion still thinks you serve the la
Valettes...
Molly: Oh, that's 'cause I never told him I stopped. Didn't want him to treat
me any different...
Geralt: And your husband has nothing against it...your old friendship?
Molly: Course not! Sweetiekins couldn't be happier that Dandelion's raisin'
me sophistication.
Thanks, farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks, Molly.
Molly: Wait...before you go...I've got a request. Dandelion told me once he'd
show me his etchings, but he never did. And I'd so like to see 'em...
Geralt: Won't be too hard to convince him. He loves showing off those
etchings -- to anyone he can.
Molly: Oh, that's wonderful! Thanks, and good luck to you on your search!
[After speaking to Molly:]
Morvran: Ah, Geralt, there you are. Shall we return together?
Yeah, I'd like to go back.
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Geralt: Gladly. It's a long way to Novigrad. Road oughta seem shorter with
some company.
Morvran: I'd say the same. Well then, let's go.
Thanks, I'll head back on my own.
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Geralt: No. Actually came to say goodbye. I'll get back on my own somehow.
Morvran: As you will. In any case, I thank you for a pleasant afternoon.
Geralt: No, thank you. Till next time.
[If Geralt goes back with his acquaintances:]
Morvran: And here we are. Thank you for your company.
Geralt: Likewise. See you.
[Geralt seeks out Marabella in a slum schoolhouse.]
Geralt: Excuse me. I'm looking for Marabella.
Marabella: I am she. Wait outside, class is in session.
Can't wait.
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Geralt: Sorry, can't wait. Here about Dandelion. I'm Geralt, and I'm--
Marabella: Geralt? I know you. Fine, if you're eager to join the lesson,
you're welcome to.
Fine, I'll wait.
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Geralt: I'll wait.
Marabella: It won't take long.
Kid: Yeah!
Kid: When's he gonna be here?
Marabella: It turns out he'll not come after all.
Kid: Why not?
Marabella: A rat bit him, and he's caught a fever.
Kid: Where'd he get bit?
Kid: It hurt 'im much?
Kid: Will he die?
Kid: You don't die from rats, stupid.
Kid: Yes you do. The other day I heard a witch hunter tell a man, "You rat!"
And then he killed 'im!
Kid: Liar!
Marabella: That's enough! We're done for the day. Gather your things and go
home.
Geralt: Now can we talk?
Marabella: Yes. What do you want?
[If Geralt insisted on interrupting:]
Marabella: Children, sadly the ratcatcher has a fever today, but in his stead
we're honored to welcome a witcher, who will now tell us about his
trade.
Geralt: Uhh... But...
Kid: Yeah!
Kid: This is grand!
Marabella: You shan't disappoint them, will you? So, who would like to ask the
first question?
Kid: Me! What's it mean that witchers are lech'rous?
Just a rumor.
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Geralt: You shouldn't listen to everything people say about--
Kid: Means they go to sleep early.
Kid: Oh, so that's why mum went to tuck that witcher in!
We've got a huge libido.
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Geralt: It means that due to our mutations, we have an over developed libido.
Kid: Libby dough?
Kid: When a girl likes a witcher, the witcher says "What'll you give me for
killin' a monster?" And she says: "Anythin' you want," so the witcher
says "Heheh -- then you'll gimme somethin' you weren't expectin' at
all."
Kid: And that's where little witchers come from.
Tell you in a few years.
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Geralt: Hmm...how old are you again?
Kid: Nine!
Geralt: Uuhh...
Kid: Eight!
Geralt: In that case, wait a few years and I'll tell you.
Marabella: Children! What's the meaning of this?! Next question.
Kid: Is it true witchers kill kings?
When they deserve it...
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Geralt: A man cursed, who's turned into a monster, a witcher might have to
kill. Even if he's a king.
Kid: So King Foltest was a monster?
Kid: What's it like to cut off someone's head?
Kid: Can you show us how to cut off a head?!
Kid: Can we try your potions?
Don't believe the rumors.
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Geralt: Don't believe everything they say about witchers...
Kid: What 'bout animals? They don't like you. My mum says animals don't like
bad folk.
Kid: Tomcat ever hiss at you?
Kid: You stoled many kids?
It's utterly false.
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Geralt: No. It's not true.
Kid: He's a liar.
Kid: He ain't a liar, witchers don't lie.
Kid: They can lie because they're not knights. When you gotta kill a dragon,
you summon a knight. But if there's a zeugling in the trashheap, the
knight won't wanna go, so you gotta call a witcher...
Marabella: Enough! That is all for today. Gather your things and I shall see
you in the morning.
Kid: Yeah!
Marabella: Bid farewell to Master Geralt.
Kid: It's great you came.
Kid: Hmph. I'da rather had the ratcatcher...
Marabella: So please do tell me -- why are you here?
I'm looking for Dandelion
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(skip to "I know you saw Dandelion recently.")
Way to put me on the spot.
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Geralt: Thanks. That was an ordeal. Think I'd rather face a swarm of nekkers
than a class of 10-year-olds.
Marabella: The ratcatcher had no objections.
Geralt: Oh, yeah -- how's he feeling?
Marabella: He's dead. Bubonic plague, it seems -- I didn't want to upset the
children... But you wished to speak of Dandelion.
[On either path:]
Geralt: I know you saw Dandelion recently.
Marabella: Oh yes. Longest afternoon of my life.
Geralt: He read you his poems?
Marabella: No. We perused the Illustrated Guide to Fungi.
Geralt: Hmm... Maybe... Nope. Won't even try to guess why he wanted to do that.
Marabella: Mold -- that was his interest. When his hand abandoned him my knee
to point at a figure of penicillium, I knew the fire between us had
died, permanently.
See him later?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: See Dandelion after the...fungus incident?
Marabella: No. I even considered granting him another chance... His heart of
hearts is pure gold, he simply needs a bit more discipine in his
life. But he never came back to see me, so I thought if it's done,
it's done.
He wrote a poem about you.
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Geralt: Found a poem Dandelion wrote about you. Portrayed you as an unusually
talented individual.
Marabella: Really...? Did he mention my poetry? Horses have always fascinated
me. I've always longed to extoll their noble beauty... Did you see
any of my work at Dandelion's? Mere exercises, true, but I'd be
curious to know what you thought of them.
Geralt: Uhh... No, no, didn't see any.
Marabella: "Gee-up! Her snakely whip rose skyward. Gee-haw! Crack! She reined
the beast in! The stallion danced betwixt her thighs! Lather
bathed its chinny-chin-chin."
Geralt: Sorry, don't know much about poetry...
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks for you help. Farewell.
[Finally, Geralt goes to the var Attre household. He can hear the guard detail
conversing out front.]
Guard: Then, I chased the pansy all the way to the garden!
Guard: Did you catch 'im?
Guard: No luck! Writhin' and slippery the bugger was, quick as a tomcat.
Scrambled out the hole in the back wall.
Guard: Sounds like he might've been an acrobat...
Guard: Maybe so. Both misses are fond of freaks...
Captain: What do you want?
I'm the new swordplay instructor.
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Geralt: Rosa var Attre's expecting me. Supposed to give her lessons in
swordplay.
Captain: Come with me. Miss Rosa awaits.
Looking for Rosa var Attre.
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Geralt: Wanna see Rosa var Attre.
Captain: Oh, mate, if you only knew what I want... Miss Rosa don't see just
anybody.
Geralt: I'm Geralt of Rivia, a witcher.
Captain: Soon as Miss Rosa turns into a striga, I'm sure her papa'll send for
you. But she's not showin' any symptoms yet, so I venture you're not
needed. On your way, now.
I'm the new cook.
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Geralt: I'm the new cook.
Captain: And them pointy things stickin' out behind you, they your cleavers?
Guard: Away with you, vagrant.
Wrong house, on my way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nothing. Wrong house.
[If Geralt breaks in, he sees a woman and guard in the backyard]
Man: ...you fancy men like me -- whole town's goin' on about it. So no point
playin' hard to get, sugarpuss.
????: Its Lady var Attre to you. And I'd advise you to sod off, sugarpuss,
before I report this to papa.
[She notices Geralt.]
????: Who are you? Why are you here? Answer this instant or I'll summon the
guards!
Geralt: Uh, sorry to sneak in, miss. I'm Geralt, a friend of the bard
Dandelion...
????: Geralt of Rivia? The famed witcher of the ballads?
Guard: What're you doin' here, vagrant?! Who let you in?! I let no one in the
front, milady, I swear it on the Great Sun!
????: Not a word. I'll handle this. Hold your tongue, sir! This... This is
Frederic Francis de Bergerac. My new swordplay instructor, correct? Show
him to the training room. I shall join him shortly.
[If Geralt dupes the captain, he'll be let inside:]
Captain: Hope you realize what you've gotten yourself into.
Geralt: Hope so too...
Captain: Miss Rosa's got a downright beastly temper. Shows no mercy once she
grips a sword. Grab a wooden one. And take care not to hurt the little
miss, or you'll earn the ambassador's ire. Follow me.
[They go into the dojo downstairs.]
Rosa: You're my new instructor? Well, well, papa clearly went out of his way
this time. Wood to start with. I must know your worth.
[After the battle:]
• Rosa: I win! Is there not one competent instructor in this entire city?
• Rosa: Well fought. You're much better than the last one.
Geralt: I'm not actually your swordplay instructor.
Rosa: Really? Then who are you? And how on earth did you get in?!
Didn't we just talk?²
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Geralt: Am I imagining things? Didn't we just have this conversation? In the
garden?
Rosa: The garden...? Yes, yes! In the garden. So, what was it you said? Why
are you here?
You're not bad with a sword.²
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Geralt: Before I ask... Gotta admit -- you do pretty well with a sword. One
pointer -- don't expose your left flank when you dodge.
Rosa: Oh, I know, terrible habit. Can't seem to get rid of it. I'd hoped to
find someone in Novigrad who could help me to do so. Buuuut -- don't
you dare try to dazzle me with advice. Already admitted you're not
here to give me lessons.
I'm a witcher, here on business.²
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Geralt: I'm a witcher. I'm looking f--
Rosa: A witcher! That's splendid! I always wanted to meet a witcher! This is
so exciting!
What's exciting about it?
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Geralt: Uh, what's so exciting about it?
Rosa: Living on the edge, tracking, then facing down beasts, sleeping under
the stars! Oh, it must be wonderful!
Geralt: Mhm, try fighting a zeugl while up to your neck in sewage... Nothing
quite like it.
Rosa: Not one of the high points, I suppose... Wait, weren't you about to
ask me something?
Very. I'm looking for Dandelion.
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Geralt: Incredibly. But we oughta discuss that another time.
(skip to "Need to ask you about Dandelion.")
Need to ask you about Dandelion
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Came to ask about your rhetoric tutor, Dandelion.
Rosa: Rhetoric tutor? Good one. That is why papa hired him, but not at all
what the bard had in mind. He mostly played his lute and sang for us.
I believe he thought he was wooing...
Geralt: Mean he wasn't? But you had some sort of...relationship?
Rosa: If you call him chasing after me a relationship... Even so, there was
nothing between us. Seems my sister's had a bit of fun at our expense.
Guards let me in.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Guards aren't up to muster. Let me right in -- just had to tell them
I was here to teach you swordplay.
Rosa: I told father they're a band of imbeciles! But if you're not the
instructor, then who exactly are you? Have you come to rob? Kill?
Speak!
Geralt: Neither, so whaddaya say we stay calm.
Rosa: But enough chatter! Stand and fight! I demand a rematch!
[If Rosa wins:]
Rosa: Ha! I win! My, you really are a lousy swordsman. In fact, I believe I
could teach you a thing or two...
Maybe another time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nice of you to offer, miss. Very. Afraid I have to say no.
Gladly take you up on that.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not sure I can possibly pass up lessons from such a skilled young
lady...
[If Rosa loses:]
Rosa: Well, if you're not an instructor, you should certainly be one. Fancy
giving me a few private lessons?
Gladly.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can't rightly refuse a request from a lady.
Sorry, too busy.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sorry, gotta say no. Schedule's packed just now.
Rosa: As you wish.
[A woman comes downstairs.]
Edna: What are you two lovebirds whispering about?
Rosa: You asked about my relationship with Dandelion? Well, here's the mix-up's
mastermind: Edna var Attre, the greatest mischief-maker north or south of
the Yaruga!
• Geralt: Hang on. So it was you in the garden.
Edna: Hahah, of course it was me. Why, did Rosa try to play you for a fool?
Rosa: Don't be mad. We've done this since we were children. People have
always mistaken us for one another.
Not sure I understand.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sorry, you lost me...
Rosa: You're not the first to be confused... I'll explain.
Care to explain what this is about?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can someone please explain what this is all about? Which of you met
with Dandelion?
Rosa: No need to get angry, instructor. I'll explain.
Dandelion have trouble keeping you straight?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take it Dandelion did too...?
Edna: On occasion, yes. But then Rosa would quickly set him straight.
Rosa: If you'd shut your catty mouth for a moment, dear little sister, I
could explain.
Dandelion mixed you two up?²
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Geralt: Wait a minute: mean to say Dandelion mixed you two up?
Edna: On occasion, yes. But then Rosa would quickly set him straight.
Rosa: If you'd shut your catty mouth for a moment, dear little sister, I
could explain.
Rosa: Edna sent Dandelion some love letters. She signed my name. Conceited as
he is, naturally he fell for it. I was left to repel the aging bard's
advances.
Edna: Rosa, I had the best intentions, you know that! I felt you needed help
taking the first step... You blushed every time he sang a ballad.
Rosa: He'll next sing at your funeral if you don't stop it right now!
Easy, ladies.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Calm down, ladies. No poet's worth worth two sisters nipping at each
other's throats.
Rosa: Especially not this one...
Quiet!
¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Quiet!
Edna: Ooh, now that's a mentor! Strong and decisive... Perhaps it's time I
took up swordplay?
Geralt: Listen. I just wanna know one thing -- either of you seen Dandelion
lately?
Rosa: Edna might have. I certainly have not.
Edna: My dear sister, I would never spend time alone with the man for whom you
burn with a secret passion.
Rosa: Burn with passion? For one who incessantly praises another woman's
talents? Afraid I've more sense than that!
Dandelion -- whose talent did he praise?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who'd Dandelion sing about? Know anything about her?
Rosa: I believe she's a poetress or trobairitz... Very skilled and
exceptionally talented, of course.
• Rosa: But who knows! The "bard" might've invented her just to make us
jealous. Pitiful chorister.
Edna: I'd say it worked. You've gone all red in the face just talking about
it.
Rosa: Your face'll be red when I scratch your eyes out!
• Geralt: This woman -- not a local, right?
Rosa: Hmm... I seem to remember him praising her "melodious Koviri
accent"...
Edna: Makes sense -- he referred to her as "Callonetta" a few times.
Bizarre names are common in Kovir.
Geralt: Gotta ask Zoltan about this Callonetta.
Dandelion act strangely lately?
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Geralt: Dandelion act any differently lately? Notice anything strange?
Rosa: Strange? Not really...
Edna: It's no use, Geralt. She's so enamored she'd hardly notice if he turned
into a werewolf.
Rosa: Edna!
Edna: What? You needn't pretend he followed convention! Remember when he took
us to the cemetery?
Geralt: Rhetoric lessons in a cemetery? Unusual even for Dandelion.
Edna: We set out to visit the graves of celebrated Oxenfurt professors. He
ended up quizzing us about Margrave Henckel.
Geralt: Who?
Edna: Eccentric old coot. Died recently.
Rosa: He'd apparently been an important and generous patron of the arts as a
young man.
Interested in politics?
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Geralt: Bet sophisticated young ladies like you know a bunch about politics.
Rosa: We've picked up a few things. What would you like to know?
I want to ask about something else.
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Geralt: Changing subjects...
Wonder how the war's going.
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Geralt: Wonder how the war's going. Any outcome looming?
Edna: Papa says much depends on Radovid, and on who captures Novigrad first.
Geralt: What's Novigrad got to do with it? Free city -- never taken sides,
always stayed out of conflicts...
Rosa: Oh, even children know Novigrad's home to the world's largest fleet.
Edna: And they say the city's treasury's bursting with enough to equip two
armies.
Emperor and his cohorts -- must be ecstatic...
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Geralt: Emperor continuing to push north. Courtiers must be ecstatic...
Edna: His confidants must be. But papa says that's not likely to last much
longer.
Geralt: Why not?
Rosa: Papa says the war's disrupting trade. And people are tired of
financing the emperor's adventures.
I should go.
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Geralt: Been a pleasure, but I've got stuff to take care of.
Edna: Exceedingly nice to meet you. Please come again.
[If Geralt didn't lose his second fight:]
Rosa: Well? Can I expect any more lessons in the future?
Sorry, no can do. / Sorry, changed my mind.²
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Geralt: Sorry, Rosa, afraid I can't at the moment.
Rosa: Farewell, then. Oh, payment for your time.
You convinced me. / Where and when?²
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Geralt: Awfully convincing, miss. Wonder where you learned it. Name the time
and place.
Rosa: How's here, tomorrow? Same time as today?
Geralt: See you then.
Rosa: See you, master witcher.
[With all women met, Geralt returns to the Rosemary, finding it cleaned up.
Zoltan's talking with a masked pet owl.]
Zoltan: How're you keepin', Poppy? Miss your Zoltan, you old bird? What's
this? Haven't even drunk our water? Naughty bird! Now repeat: Savorrrry
crrrrrackerrrrs.
[Geralt walks over.]
Zoltan: Ah, you're back! You met Poppy? She ought to start talkin' any day now.
Where'd you get her?
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Geralt: That Field Marshal Duda's replacement? The marshal was a parrot --
you do remember, right? Where'd you get her?
Zoltan: At auction. Some mage's estate went under the hammer. Witch hunters
and the Eternal Fire joined forces, staked out his place and rounded
the sorry sap up. Put his things up for sale. Happened to be passin'
by and saw this owl... Came with her own cage...
Geralt: How could you resist?
Zoltan: Couldn't. 'Tweren't possible. Ach, but Dandelion's what matters now.
She's an owl, not a parrot.
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Geralt: Zoltan, venture to say a mage would have trouble turning that owl
into a parrot...
Zoltan: Sure you know me that well? Mark my words, she'll be playin' gwent
with us in no time. But we were to talk about Dandelion.
To the point.
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Geralt: Nice bird. But to the matter at hand.
Zoltan: So. How'd you do? Learn much?
Think I got something.
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Geralt: Women on my list hadn't seen Dandelion in a while. All claimed he'd
been acting strange. Also mentioned he'd been seeing someone else.
Thing is, mystery woman wasn't on my list.
Zoltan: What's she supposedly like, this lass?
Geralt: Blonde, from Kovir. A trobairitz, apparently. Named Callonetta or
something like that.
You first.
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Geralt: Tell me what you've got first.
Zoltan: A few bruises and a torn doublet... Otherwise, no' much of note. He
wasn't stayin' with any of 'em, they'd seen neither hide or hair of
'im in ages... All I learned was a few of Dandelion's pick-up lines
-- of dubious worth.
Think I might have something interesting.
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Geralt: Hmm... Think I might have something better.
Zoltan: What're you waitin' for? Let's have at it!
(skip to "Women on my list...")
Let's hear them.
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Geralt: Let's hear 'em. I'm all ears.
Zoltan: Ah, know how he wooed a lass studyin' natural history? Asked her
about the habits of trolls. Hmph. And know where he went with the
cook from the Passiflora? The Oxenfurt-Novigrad road, which is just
now bein' repaired. Made her stare for hours as laborers crushed
boulders into cobblestones, and tried to pass it off as a romantic
outing! Don't know about human women, but that would bore a dwarven
lass to tears. He's growin' old, that poet of ours...
Geralt: Maybe...or maybe he did all that for a reason.
Zoltan: Sounds like you've found somethin' out...
Zoltan: Ach, that makes it clear as crystal! It's Priscilla, aye -- must be
her.
Who's Priscilla?
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Geralt: Who's this Priscilla?
Zoltan: A trobairitz, like you said. Quite popular of late. Picture Dandelion
with a pair o' tits and you've got the general idea.
Geralt: Interesting image. So how'd Dandelion handle meeting his female
double?
Zoltan: I think he fell in love.
Why wasn't she on the list?
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Geralt: Why wasn't she on the list?
Zoltan: Hmm, this Priscilla was'ne like the others... Think Dandelion more'n
fancied her, think it was fervor...
Geralt: He lusts after every other woman he meets.
Zoltan: How can I explain...? Who does Dandelion love most?
Geralt: Himself.
Zoltan: Exactly. And she's his mirror image.
That's big news...
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Geralt: What can I say -- could be he finally met his match.
Zoltan: She's his match, all right -- maybe more.
Doubt it.
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Geralt: Hm. Dandelion in love? Actually, truly in love?
Zoltan: Ooh, yes.
Zoltan: The laddie's head's on fire! Lassy's got him whirlin'.
Geralt: All right. Guess we gotta talk to her.
Zoltan: Priscilla works with a mummers' troupe -- "Renarde and the Foxen."
Whenever they're in town, she performs nightly at the Kingfisher.
Geralt: Meaning we've been sentenced to an evening of poetry?
Zoltan: Must ye always? This'll be true poetry, Geralt. You'll see.
[They meet at the Kingfisher later that night.]
Zoltan: Ah, here already! Come on, let's find some arse-rests. Should start
soon.
[The audience watches as a pretty girl comes and starts singing:]
Priscilla: These scars have long yearned for your tender caress.
To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.
Rend my heart open, then your love profess.
A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone
You flee my dream come the morning.
Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy.
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
The wolf I will follow into the storm.
To find your heart, its passion displaced
By ire ever growing, hardening into stone.
Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace
You flee my dream come morning.
Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
I know not if fate would have us live as one.
Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound
The wish I whispered, when it all began.
Did it forge a love you might never have found?
You flee my dream come the morning.
Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
[The woman from White Orchard's inn recognizes the witcher.]
Elsa: I know him! Twas¹ him murdered some Temerian boys back in White Orchard!
Man: Silence, woman. We've come to hear music.
Woman: A murderer?
Woman: There's a war on. Some die.
Man: Oh, please argue this out elsewhere.
Man: Squabbles and rows again! And I was told this was a decent establishment!
Zoltan: If I know Geralt, he risked his noggin to save someone else's arse!
Elsa: Save, you say?! He murdered folk!
Geralt: Don't let 'em provoke you.
Man: There's the door! Settle this outside!
Priscilla: Come.
Woman: I wish to listen to music! Music!
Man: Cultural capital of the world -- the fuck it is.
[Priscilla pulls Geralt and Zoltan aside.]
Zoltan: Permit me...to introduce...err... This here's Priscilla, known also as
Callonetta. As lovely as she is talented. And this...
Priscilla: ...is Geralt of Rivia, I know. Dandelion's told me a great deal
about you, and I've listened with bated breath. Don't be surprised.
After all, doubt I could think of a more fitting subject for a
ballad than a witcher's love for a sorceress... Or should I say --
sorceresses?
Bards -- not people I confide in.
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Geralt: There's a good reason I don't pour my heart out to bards -- they
always babble, as you just demonstrated. But listen, besides giving
you the details of my affairs, did Dandelion mention his own plans,
where he might be going?
Seems Dandelion left nothing out.
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Geralt: Seems Dandelion was meticulous in telling my story, down to personal
and insignificant details. Did he offer anything about himself --
like where he was going?
Priscilla: Hahahahah! Splendid! Very funny, truly! So, see you later!
[She whispers to Geralt.]
Priscilla: Not here. Come with me.
[They go upstairs to her room.]
Geralt: There a reason for all this sneaking around?
Priscilla: An excellent one... When last I saw Dandelion, he told me he was
planning a heist -- Sigi Reuven's vault...
Zoltan: ...sheep dip...
Priscilla: ...And I've not seen him since.
Take it the heist was a bust?
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Geralt: Lemme guess -- attempted heist was a failure?
Priscilla: Well he's not driven up in a gilded carriage laden with jewels,
so I should think so. I've asked after him everywhere, but it
seems an army of tongue-stealing cats has overrun the city. I
learned only that he'd raised a ruckus at Whoreson Junior's lair.
Then Whoreson's men chased him all over town.
Reuven? Who's that?
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Geralt: Reuven... What's he like?
Zoltan: Tall... Fat... Dangerous as hell.
Priscilla: Limp in his gait -- left leg.
Geralt: Sounds like a lame rock troll.
Priscilla: If trolls were devilishly intelligent and had a flair for crime,
yeah, I'd agree.
Breaking into a vault...what was Dandelion thinking?
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Geralt: Dandelion breaking into a vault...I'd sooner expect him to choose a
life of celibacy.
Zoltan: True... Forgot to pay for his wine at the Passiflora once. He laid
awake the next three nights worryin' about it.
Geralt: Any idea what got into him? He have debts he needed to pay off?
Priscilla: He claimed he was helping someone. An urgent matter that couldn't
wait, he said.
Geralt: This "someone" -- Dandelion mention their name?
Priscilla: No... But if I know Dandelion, it's "her" name he failed to
mention. As he failed to mention "her" slender waist and ample
bosom.
Geralt: Whoreson Junior... Doesn't ring a bell.
Zoltan: Biggest prick in Novigrad. Not literally, but...
Geralt: Got it. You're no fan. But what'd he do to you?
Priscilla: Try the whole town. He's one of four bosses who control the city's
underworld -- the others being Sigi Reuven, Carlo "The Cleaver"
Varese and the King of Beggars.
Zoltan: The rascal... At least he didnae cross the Church as well, bring that
venerable institution into it. We'd be in deep, then.
Looks like I gotta rescue Dandelion...again.
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Geralt: Here I go again, rushing to Dandelion's rescue... He oughta pay me
a salary.
Priscilla: Wherever he is, I sincerely doubt he's in the mood for jokes. Nor
am I, in fact.
Hope Dandelion gets out of this alive...
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Geralt: Dammit... Hope Dandelion gets out of this alive...
Priscilla: And in one piece. Know what they do to bards? Break their fingers,
or tear out their tongues... Or both.
Geralt: Relax, I'll get him out of this. Gotta talk to this Whoreson first --
and Sigi Reuven. Know where I might find them?
Zoltan: I don't know about Whoreson but Reuven runs a bathhouse. Careful,
though...he's a dangerous character.
Geralt: So am I.
Priscilla: I don't doubt it...but Dandelion's not. I beg you to hurry. Let me
know as soon as you learn anything.
Zoltan: Well, I've got bugger all to do here. Headin' back to the Rosemary. Got
Poppy to feed, and then I suppose I'll wait -- see if our warbler don't
come home on his own. Take care, now.
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________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7d) GET JUNIOR [WK7D]
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[With Sigi Reuven as a lead, Geralt approaches his bathhouse, conveniently
located down the street. The door's locked, however.]
Geralt: Anybody there?! Open up!
Voice: What's the fuss? The bathhouse is closed.
Geralt: Need to talk to the owner. I know he's here.
Voice: I'm not sure that matters, as he's terribly busy.
Don't care.
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Geralt: Tell him Geralt of Rivia wants to talk to him.
Voice: I cannot promise Mr. Reuven will have time to see you.
Geralt: Wanna bet?
Busy with what?
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Geralt: Busy? With what?
Voice: Entertaining important guests.
Geralt: In that case, tell him there's another one at the door. Geralt of
Rivia. And I'm not leaving till I see him.
Voice: Teeheehee. Very well, I shall try. Please wait.
[Soon, the door opens.]
Happen: Sigi Reuven cordially invites you to join him. I'm Happen. The meeting
is in the baths. We will pass through the dressing room, so you can
leave your clothes.
Geralt: Let's go.
Happen: You may disrobe here. Your equipment will be safe.
[Geralt comes out in a towel.]
Happen: Splendid. Sigi Reuven awaits in the next room.
[Geralt can hear voices in the VIP bath. Inside is Sigi Reuven and Carlo "The
Cleaver" Varese, plus the King of Beggars.]
Varese: Whoreson got an invite, chose not to come. I'll show you what he thinks
of us.
Reuven: Easy, Cleaver...
Varese: Whoreson Junior's a dead man. I'll have my scribe send you a notice.
Bedlam: You don't have a scribe. And we'll eliminate Junior when, and only
when, all of us say "aye."
[Geralt enters.]
Bedlam: Reuven -- your guest.
Varese: Why the fuck you let him in here?
Reuven: Because I want to talk to him. This is Geralt of Rivia.
Bedlam: Good to see you again.
Varese: As always I'm out of the swivin' loop. Who the fuck are you?
Reuven can introduce me.
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Geralt: Think I'll let your host introduce me.
Reuven: He's a witcher. The very one who first foiled my attempt on Foltest's
life and then killed that monarch.
Geralt: Allegedly. But I didn't kill Foltest. And hello to you, too,
Dijkstra... Reuven -- whatever they call you these days.
Reuven: Last we met, Geralt thrashed me silly and crushed my ankle. I really
wonder what he's got in store this time.
I'm a witcher.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher.
Varese: Problems with your plumbing?
Reuven: Nah. It's under control. Geralt's a friend from the old days.
Although...
Need to talk to Sigi.
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Geralt: Got something to discuss with Dijkstra...I mean, Sigi Reuven.
Bedlam: I think it can wait.
Geralt: Yeah, probably can.
None of your business.
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Geralt: None of your business.
Varese: Your friend got a death wish?
Reuven: Heheheh, nah, just short on manners. Witchers aren't exactly the
sophisticated urban types.
[Geralt's witcher senses prick up.]
Geralt: Got intruders. Someone just snuck inside the bathhouse. Several men...
Varese: What the fuck's he on about? Ploughin' fortuneteller.
Voice: Assassins! Please, no! Aaaaaa-!
Varese: Bloody hell, I fucking knew it!
Bedlam: Any weapons tucked away?
Reuven: Just a few.
[They all arm themselves.]
Varese: First ever barney with my prick hangin' out. Harrr!
Assassin: Whoreson Junior sends his regards!
Reuven: We need one alive!
Bedlam: No one escapes, got it!
Reuven: All right, come on.
[They finally eliminate the assassins.]
Varese: Good work, gents.
Reuven: Terribly sorry for that incident. My security failed. I'll get to the
bottom of who, why and how.
Varese: They were Whoreson's scum. That's the bottom of who and how right
there.
Bedlam: Don't start that again. Especially not in front of our guest.
Varese: Who pranced in right before they attacked. Coincidence? Why do I doubt
it?
Reuven: Let's give him a chance to explain.
Gotta see Whoreson. Talk to him.
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Geralt: I'm looking for Whoreson Junior.
Bedlam: Interesting.
Varese: What do you want with him?
Personal matter.
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Geralt: It's personal.
Reuven: Hahaha, Geralt takes his privacy very seriously. Spyin' on him,
havin' him followed, was a bloody nightmare.
Bedlam: Still, uh, he was lots more trusting when he was looking for
Merigold.
He's gonna help me find someone.
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Geralt: Junior's gonna help me find someone.
Bedlam: Whoreson's not helped a soul in all his miserable life.
Geralt: I'll ask him nicely.
Reuven: See, Cleaver? Perhaps if you'd not called Junior an uncle-fucker and
"asked him nicely," he'd 'ave showed up today.
Don't believe I know your friends.
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Geralt: Not gonna introduce me to your friends?
Reuven: Good thing Happen's not here. He'd tan the hide on my arse for being
so rude. Francis Bedlam you know, but then, who's not heard of this
patron of the fine arts and supporter of entrepreneurs of limited
financial means. And the dwarf's Carlo Varese, known also as Cleaver.
Carlo's in entertainment, mostly.
Varese: Gentlemen, you out of your fuckin' minds? A chat session? Whoreson's
out to get us, and he'll succeed, eventually. We've got to kill him
first. So by all means, you sit here, soak, fart and watch the bubbles
rise, while I send my boys to Whoreson's hidey-holes. They'll make some
noise, flush the bugger out. And you, Geriatric, or whatever your
ploughin' name is -- wanna find Whoreson? Find me first.
[Carlo leaves.]
So where will I find Junior?
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Geralt: Any clue on Junior's whereabouts? Be grateful for any lead.
Bedlam: Sigi?
Reuven: It's worth a try. Geralt's got a knack for finding people. And he's
discreet -- a value in itself.
Bedlam: Leave you to it, then.
Reuven: I'll, uh, look in on you tomorrow, Francis. Finish our talk.
Hope I find Junior before Cleaver does.
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Geralt: I need to find Whoreson. Now looks like I gotta get to him before
Cleaver does.
Reuven: Cleaver won't find him easy. Junior's good at hiding. He's got...
peasant smarts.
Bedlam: Look at the time. Good luck in your search, witcher.
Reuven: I'll call on you tomorrow, Francis. We'll finish our chat.
[The King leaves.]
Geralt: So, how about we get dressed?
Reuven: Sure, sure -- and then we'll talk. In private.
[Later, the two meet in Reuven's study.]
Reuven: Right mess that was... Never thought I'd be glad to see the man
responsible for my taking frequent baths.
Geralt: If you're any cleaner for it, gotta say it was worth breaking your
ankle.
Reuven: It healed poorly -- can you believe it? I must soak it in hot water
at least six times a day now... Failing that, it bloody pounds like
the bells of Beauclair at dawn.
Sorry to hear that.
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Geralt: Sorry to hear that.
Reuven: You're sorry? Well, consider it resolved, then. Now, mind showing me
some added compassion? Could mean a miraculous recovery for me.
I had my reasons.
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Geralt: I had my reasons. Your leg'd be fine if you hadn't gotten in my way.
Reuven: I see. Well, I promise you that if I could go back in time, I'd do
things quite differently on Thanedd. For example, I'd have my men
kill you instead of just tying you up.
Geralt: Listen, Reuven... No, Dijkstra -- just not in the mood for your code
names, passwords and other bullshit. I'm here on specific business. If
you wanna listen, listen, if not -- I'd rather you spared me your wit
and threw me out now.
Reuven: Ah, what's the harm? Talk.
Geralt: Think Cleaver'll find Whoreson?
Reuven: He might, he might not. But he'll burn down half the city trying. What
waste. Leave him to it, I say, work alone.
Geralt: Any ideas?
Reuven: Junior's got areas of the city where he's strong. Penetrate them, look
around. But be discrete¹ -- none of this speed and fury and swinging
your steel cock about.
Whoreson -- what's he own, where's he strong?
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Geralt: Hmm, makes sense to ask around, I guess... Junior might be in hiding,
but he's gotta be collecting income, couldn't afford to cut himself
off.
Reuven: Gambling -- that's his biggest earner. Junior controls the largest
casino in town. I'll never forget -- Heirarch Himmelfart raised all
kinds of hallowed hell there once. Bugger bet and lost his ruby ring.
Then there's the arena in the city's bowels. Betting scheme generates
near as much as the casino. They're always looking for hired muscle
there. Suppose you could always search Whoreson's house, though I
doubt you'll find there. Maybe some clue, though.
Casino -- where is it?
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Geralt: Where's Junior's casino?
Reuven: Near the Temple Watch towers... Whoreson's got nowt to do with the
casino officially, so careful what you say, try not to arouse any
suspicions.
How do I find the arena?
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Geralt: Arena sounds promising. Where's that?
Reuven: Sewers beneath Gildorf, but you'll have to enter through the Bits,
endure the stench of poverty on the way. Now, Junior loves a good
fight. Wager he'd give a lot to see a real witcher in action.
Where's he got this house?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mentioned Whoreson's got a house. Where is it?
Reuven: Solid townhouse on Temple Isle, just the other side of the bridge.
Wouldn't wager me knickers on finding him there, though. Junior's
not that stupid.
Time I went to look for Whoreson.
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Geralt: See if I can't find Whoreson at the casino or the arena. Might talk
to Cleaver as well, though.
Reuven: Do what you will, just be cautious. Whoreson's expecting payback,
I've no doubt.
Geralt: Thanks for your help, Dijkstra.
Reuven: Just go, witcher. And if you can't find the slimy bastard, come and
see me. I know him well, might figure something out.
Intent on avoiding a war with Whoreson? Why?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Pretty clear you and Bedlam don't want a war with Junior. Why?
Reuven: Let me tell you what I told King Vizimir time and time again: war
doesn't solve problems. It breeds trouble, trouble you then have to
solve by other means. Make no mistake -- someone's behind Whoreson's
actions. I'll not end him until I know who.
Your colleagues aware of your past?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your partners aware of your past? They know you're Sigismund
Dijkstra, former head of Redanian intelligence?
Reuven: Heheh. Cleaver, Bedlam and Junior, well, I'd call them my partners
if we'd built a mill to grind flour for the folk in nearby hamlets.
But we just need to stay out of each others' ways, agree from time
to time. That doesn't make us partners. Do they know who I am, was?
Bedlam -- sure. The others most likely suspect. But we just don't
talk about it. No need to.
[Geralt goes to visit Junior's house, already ransaked by Cleaver's cronies.]
Dwarf: We gots to make sure the pricklicker's not here.
Dwarf: Ach, I'd expect teeth to grow out me arse before I'd expect to find
Whoreson hidin' in his house!
Dwarf: Cleaver said to be thorough, so we look everywhere.
Dwarf: Ought to burn the corpses, though. Else rats'll congregate to feast.
[Geralt can look around.]
• Nothing interesting here.
• Place's been scrubbed clean.
• Dwarves were thorough as debt collectors. Didn't leave a scrap.
[Next, Geralt goes to the casino.]
Guard: Why you even here?</pre><pre id="faqspan-10">
Geralt: Same reason anyone comes here. Play a bit, have a good time.
Guard: Invite only, mate. Shit out of luck.
Make a deal?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think we can make a deal?
Guard: Hear that? Another one.
Guard: No, we don't make deals.
Geralt: How much?
Guard: Oy. Remember what I told you? We're to be polite-like.
Guard: Just my patience -- runnin' a bit thin. We don't want your coin, we
don't want anything else.
Guard: On your way, afore we get ploughin' angry, stop bein' all nice.
Going in, over your dead bodies, if necessary.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gonna get in there. Better for you to let me in.
Guard: And if we don't, then what?
Geralt: I'll kill you.
Guard: D'you get that?
Guard: Got it, all right. He threatened us and reached for his weapon.
Guard: Die, you ploughin' bastard!
(200 gold) Here's my invite.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Here's my invite. All yours if you want it.
Guard: Yeah, gladly take it.
Guard: Incidentally, bloody useless, those crowns. In Temeria, you could say,
"You met my friend Foltest?" Down in Nilfgaard, it'd be "Emperor'd
like to vouch for me." With this shite? Nothin'.
Guard: That's true. What we got here -- some fuckin' ship? Ship couldn't
vouch for you. What're you gonna say -- "Meet my friend, this ship?"
Bloody barmy.
Guard: Downright stupid.
Guard: All right, you can go in.
[Axii Sign] Think you'll let me in anyway.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I think you're about to let me in.
Guard: By all means, please.
Geralt: And you...wish me luck.
Guard: Luck be with you at the tables.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tough luck. Fair enough.
[If Geralt gets in without violence, he can talk to the NPCs normally.]
Geralt: May I?
Dealer: Why not?
Looking for a high-stakes game. Any going on here?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hankering to play. But I'm only interested in high stakes.
Dealer: I don't know you. Perhaps you have coin, perhaps not. Perhaps you can
behave, perhaps you cannot. Stay out of trouble and you'll eventually
play for high stakes. For now -- plenty of tables for commoners
upstairs. Don't lose it all too quickly.
Looking for the owner.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Owner in? Something I gotta talk to him about.
Dealer: I'm all ears.
Wanna talk to Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wanna talk to Whoreson Junior, not you.
Dealer: Bernie! Dusty! This one's looking for the boss! You have your
orders!
I'll look for a free table.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It's all right. I'll look for a free table.
Dealer: Splendid idea. The gaming tables are upstairs.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll come back later.
Dealer: As you wish.
[If Geralt decides to blend in by playing cards: the first player...]
Geralt: Cards lining up today?
Player: A mutant? What the hell's a witcher doing here? See any drowned dead,
or other shitzards around here?
We playing or not?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nope. No monsters. Great opportunity to play cards.
Player: Clever man, eh? All right, we'll play, provided you've coin.
Geralt: I do.
Player: Fisstech? They've got the best powder in the city right here.
Geralt: Just wanna play.
Let's play.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: If you insist...
Player: I believe I will plough your arse like a cheap whore's...
[Afterwards]
Player: Hee hee hee! Took a beating, lad. But come back with coin, and
you'll get a chance to win it all back.
No thanks.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sober up. Then we'll play.
Player: Hahah -- that never happens.
The owner -- where is he?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not hunting shitzards tonight. Looking for the owner of this
establishment.
Player: Awww... Someone asked after him yesterday.
Geralt: Who?
Player: You know, I don't know. They crushed his head before I could get a
good look. Man's swimming with the fishes now. Whoreson's always been
touchy. But this, this is going too far.
Gotta talk to Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Really gotta talk to the owner. Know where I can find him?
Player: I don't know squat. But wait a moment... Gentlemen! This here rogue
wishes to speak to the owner! Any of you know where Junior is?
Let's play.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks for the warning.
Player: Someone's nice to me, I try to be nice to them. At any rate, let's
play, shall we?
No thanks.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sober up. Then we'll play.
Player: Hahah -- that never happens.
[Geralt finds a second card player.]
Geralt: May I join you?
Player: I've never seen you here before.
Wanna talk to the owner.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Heard Junior comes in here sometimes.
Player: Did you, now...? What else have you heard?
Geralt: Whoreson around or not?
Player: Junior was right! Someone's after him! Disarm this man!
So what?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Is that important?
Player: All who come here do so by either invitation or recommendation. Who
recommended this establishment to you?
They let me in. Isn't that enough?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Men at the door let me in. Not good enough?
Player: No. Preferable if someone vouched for you...soon. Until then -- I'll
have my eye on you.
Just wanna play.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We done talking? I'd like to play.
Player: All right, take a seat.
[Afterwards]
Player: The luck! Hah! Jolly good hands!
Geralt: I noticed.
Player: I've a mind to let you win some back if you bring more coin.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Changed my mind. Rather not sit down to a game right now.
Player: No one's compelling you. Return once you get the urge.
Here to see Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The owner -- tell me where he is. Gotta talk to him.
Player: Oh my, you see... Junior's a dear friend. I spoke to him today.
Know what he said? "You find anyone sniffing around for me, they're
to stop sniffing, for good." Take him! Alive!
Haven't seen you here, either.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Never seen you here, either.
Player: You've clearly no notion who I am. Don't be clever with me. We don't
like clever men around here. How did you even learn of this place?
They let me in. Isn't that enough?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as above)
Here to see Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as above)
First time here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Course you haven't. It's my first time here.
Player: This seat is taken. And anyway, high-stakes at this table.
I got coin.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got the coin for it.
Player: I couldn't care less if you've coin or not. What concerns me is how
you got in.
They let me in. Isn't that enough?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as above)
Here to see Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as above)
Here to talk to Whoreson.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as "Here to see Whoreson.")
[If Geralt goes to the third player...]
Geralt: Cards being kind today?
Player: Matters little. I don't play plebs.
I was knighted once.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Actually, I was knighted.
Player: Ahem. Indeed? Not to pry, good sir, but who bestowed the accolade?
Geralt: Meve, Queen of Lyria and Rivia. During the Second War. Skirmish broke
out on a bridge. Happened to be there with friends. We drove the
Nilfgaardians back, then Queen Meve told me to kneel, recite an oath.
Player: The Battle for the Bridge? Oh, yes, heard of that. Ahem. Consider my
objections withdrawn, sir.
Looking for the owner.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nice place, isn't it?
Player: Indeed. More the pity so much rabble comes here. Ahem. Sign of the
times, perhaps -- coin makes the world go 'round.
Geralt: Owner must've invested a lot.
Player: He's no miser, although...he might've banned fisstech. It attracts
the lowest sort. Ahem. I asked him once if it was absolutely
necessary, he just laughed.
Geralt: Maybe I could have a word with him?
Player: A word of advice, friend. Never, ever ask after Junior. Even let you
in on a little secret: I've been asked to inform whomever it concerns
the moment anyone started asking after the owner. Be too insistent,
and that's exactly what I'll do.
Thanks for the warning.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Forget I said anything.
Player: Ah, a reasonable man. And reason is man's most important virtue.
Where would we¹ be today were it not for reason?
Geralt: Nowhere.
Player: Ahem, verily! Nice chat, dear chap. Now what about a game?
Let's play.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wanna play?
Player: Naturally. Good luck to you!
[afterwards]
Player: Beautiful game, ahem.
Geralt: Congratulations.
Player: I thank you. Naturally, you're entitled to a rematch.
Changed my mind.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not in the mood for cards. Maybe later.
Player: I shan't force you, but should you change your mind, I'll be
waiting. Ahem.
Gotta find the owner.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't have a choice. I gotta meet Whoreson Junior.
Player: Ah well. Gentlemen! This man is asking after the owner. Adamantly
so.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as "Changed my mind.")
[Geralt goes upstairs, finding a bound, roughed-up halfling.]
Geralt: Beat you half to death... Hey, can you hear me? You alive?
Rico: Don't...finish me...
Geralt: Don't intend to.
Rico: Who the hell are you? Heard screaming downstairs...
Geralt: It's all right now.
Rico: Will you help me?
Let's chat first.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're not hurt all that bad. Let's talk first. Why are you here?
Who are you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's your name?
Rico: Rico. Rico Meiersdorf.
Geralt: Why're you here?
Rico: Eh, what's it look like? Came here to sit and think. All right, clever
and tough's not working for me. They took me for one of Bedlam's moles.
Geralt: Are you?
Rico: Well...kinda. Yeah.
Geralt: So, what have you...kinda...learned?
Rico: Whoreson's working hand in glove with the Redanians. I don't know the
details, but he's on their side. And that's all I know.
Run.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take care of yourself.
Rico: Thanks. I'll lay low until things settle down. Bedlam'll learn you
helped me. See him -- he's sure to reward you.
Stay a while.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't trust you an inch.
Rico: Told you all I know, I swear!
Geralt: You'll have to stay a bit longer.
Rico: No, please... Think about it. It's not too late, hear me?!
Geralt: Wonder if Dijkstra knows Junior's made a deal with the Redanians?
[Geralt next visits the arena's entrance.]
Guard: You hear? They raided Cleaver's house.
Guard: Don't be daft. Cleaver weren't born yesterday. War's on. Bugger kips
down somewhere
Guard: Hmph. Whoreson's in for it now. Cleaver's spiteful -- won't let it
slide.
Guard: Whoreson's gets ploughed up the arse, we'll be next, you know.
Guard: We had peace, peace was good. Who found it a fuckin' bother?
Geralt: Greetings.
Guard: Don't know you. Not lettin' you in. And don't you fucking stand there.
My name's Zdenek and I have a contract.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Recognize this piece of paper?
Guard: A fight contract.
Geralt: Good, you can read. So who's this contract made out to?
Guard: Says, uh, Zdenek. Made out to Zdenek.
Geralt: Mhm. I'm Zdenek. Any more questions?
Guard: In you go.
Guard: Don't you go wanderin'. Straight to Igor now.
Geralt: Fair enough.
(100 coins) I'll pay.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sure we can't work this out?
Guard: How's that?
Geralt: I pay you, you let me in.
Guard: Give it here. Get in. And remember, we've an eye on you.
Geralt: Who runs the fights?
Guard: Igor.
Guard: Down the corridor, then left.
[Axii Sign] Hear me out. You'll want to let me in.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I want my chance in the arena.
Guard: Come in.
Geralt: Who's in charge?
Guard: Igor. They call him Hook.
Guard: What the bloody hell was that?
Geralt: A bout of sudden sincerity.
Let me in or die.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Love to chat it up with doormen. In fact, often come to an agreement
with them. Thing is, I'm short on patience today. So either let me
in, or I'll let myself in, over your dead bodies.
Guard: Oooh, hear the cockerel? Kickin' and standin' his comb on edge...
Guard: Cock a doodle do, what am I to do? Shit myself?
Geralt: All right...
All right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fair enough.
Guard: Oi! Beat it!
[If Geralt goes to meet Igor, the pit boss:]
Geralt: I need work.
Igor: What can you do?
Geralt: Good with a sword. Wouldn't scoff at working as protection.
Igor: And who here would you protect?
How about Whoreson Junior?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Whoreson Junior's made a load of enemies, I know that much. Maybe I
can be of use.
Igor: Junior can take care of himself, you needn't fret about him. But I
can't help but wonder how you know this place belongs to him.
Geralt: Heard it does, that's all.
Igor: Forget you heard of Junior, keep healthy. That's my advice.
Don't need your advice.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not your hireling. Won't take your orders, don't need your advice.
Igor: You're not my hireling, that's true. But soooo uppity, afraid you need
to die. Kill him!
Forget I said anything.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine. All in all, don't really care who I'm gonna protect. Just
looking for work.
Someone's gotta keep folk in check.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Geralt: Crowds can spin out of control. Somebody's gotta keep the peace.
Igor: Hm... Claim any kind of experience?
Monsters, I kill them.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm a witcher. I kill monsters for coin. Been doing it all my life.
Humans won't be a problem.
Igor: A guard must fight sometimes. But that's not most important. The
essential question is, can you control yourself? And can you control a
crowd?
Geralt: Been taught how to slow down or speed up my heart rate, how to dilate
my pupils and alter my metabolism. My medallion vibrates when
danger's near, and I know a few simple spells.
Done my share of fighting.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Done my share of fighting. Wouldn't carry a sword if I didn't know
to use it.
Igor: Have you killed humans?
Geralt: Sometimes.
Igor: Why not come out and say you're a witcher? It's plain to see.
Geralt: Not looking for any monster contracts. Need a regular job. For a
while.
Igor: Hmm... I'll have to test you. I want to see how you manage in a fight, if
you can fight at all. You shall fight in the arena. Survive three bouts,
and I'll put you to work.
All right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Set me up.
Igor: Already have. Shall we start right away, or do you need time to
prepare?
I'm ready.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Always prepared.
Igor: Excellent! Let's see what you're worth. Remember, you fight to the
death. The crowd doesn't take kindly to those who spare their foes.
Geralt: Let's do this.
Not yet.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Need a moment to get ready.
Igor: Don't keep me waiting.
No thanks.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not about to slaughter people I don't even know.
Igor: No work in protection until I've made sure you are who you say you are.
You know where to find me should you change your mind.
[If Geralt agrees to fight in the underground arena, he's lead into the ring.]
Igor: Ready your purses! Betting is open! From the far east, where a man's
life is worth less than a cup of water, a witcher! A murderous mutant!
His opponent - Gustav Roene! A man who cut his way out of his mother's
womb -- with a knife! As ever -- a fight...to the death!
Gustav: Don't kill me... Got kids... Three...
[If Geralt spares Gustav:]
Geralt: I will not kill him!
Mob: Weakling! Let him die!
[If Geralt kills Gustav:]
Gustav: Thre--three children...
[Geralt kills the wave of wild dogs.]
Igor: The witcher wins! Next fight! Born brawlers in battle -- a fracas, a
rumpus, a fray!!! The witcher versus...the Hairy Brothers straight from
the wild isles of Skellige! Sired by a mountain bair, they live to kill!
Geralt: Yield, or end like your brother.
Hairy Bro: Never!
Igor: • The witcher wins again!
• The witcher and Gustav Roene defeat their opponents!
Next fight! The witcher doing what he does best! Face to face with
beasts!
[Geralt slays the wyvern.]
Mob: Boo-oooo! More blood! More blood!
Igor: Want more? Release the beasts!
[Geralt slays the endregas.]
Mob: We want Bor-is! We want Bor-is!
Igor: Shall I release Boris?
Mob: Bor-is! Bor-is! Bor-is!
Igor: Especially for you, for the first time in a long time...release Boris!
[Geralt slays the gigantic bear.]
Igor: Yet another win for the witcher!
[The man Geralt's been looking for looks down from the upper ring.]
Junior: Bravo! Ploughin' scragged 'em up thorough. They told me a true
bruiser'd come to the arena. Would you believe it? They were right!
Who are you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks. I'd like to know who's congratulating me.
Junior: Heheh, slow, ain't ya? Came here to end me, and you've no notion
what I look like?
Thanks.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thanks.
Junior: Cyprian Wily, known to most as Whoreson Junior, appreciates good
handiwork.
Junior: Well, we've nattered enough. Now--
Igor: Cleaver's dwarves are in the sewers! They've slaughtered the guards!
Junior: Don't stand there like a soddin' prick at a wedding! Muster the men
and get at those midgets! And would someone please kill the blasted
witcher?
Igor: You heard the man. Kill him!
[Geralt slays the guards, one way or another.]
Geralt: Should search this hole.
[Geralt eventually finds a suspicious wall.]
Geralt: Floor's worn by a moving door -- something behind this wall.
[Geralt collects evidence of Wily's location and returns to his bathhouse bud.]
Geralt: Wily, Whoreson Junior -- he's working with Radovid.
Reuven: Huh. If this is reliable information, Whoreson's neck-deep in shit.
Got it from a reliable source.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Source seems reliable.
Reuven: Hm. It would certainly explain how he had the nerve to break with
the Big Four.
What're you talking about? Spent years serving Redania.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You fallen out with Redania?
Reuven: My sympathies have nowt to do with it. Whoreson wiped his arse with
our agreement. That's betrayal regardless of his current allegiance.
Geralt: Need someone who can get me in to see Junior. You must still have some
contacts among the Redanians.
Reuven: I don't... But you do.
Geralt: Enlighten me.
Reuven: Temarian... Former commander of the Blue Stripes... Ring a bell?
Geralt: Vernon Roche.
Reuven: He's holed up with his men in a camp near Oxenfurt. Pay him a visit.
You're sure to cheer him up, at least.
[Geralt ventures into the Oxenfurt wilderness, eventually finding the ex-Blue
Stripes' craggy hideout.]
Geralt: Lookin' for Roche.
Sentry: No one here by that name. Anythin' else?
What do you do here?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I see. And behind you -- that's a berry pickers' camp?
Sentry: We're, uh...birdwatchers.
Geralt: Lemme guess: that sword's in case you run into a hornbill?
Sentry: No. Hornbills aren't endemic to this area. Don't migrate here,
either.
Out of my way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Move.
Sentry: No, sorry. We talked, it was amusin', now about face and forward
march.
[Axii Sign] You'll let me in. Now.²
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Geralt: Gonna walk in the camp now.
Sentry: Aye, naturally.
Geralt: And you're gonna go look for hornbills.
Sentry: Aye, I'm goin', indeed.
Gotta admit, I am amused.²
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Geralt: I get it. You're the local funny man.
Sentry: What was that? Funny? How you mean that?
[Geralt beats Hortensio in a fist fight.]
Sentry: Gray old vagrant, but you got a fist of stone.
[Roche may interject after the "...face forward and march" line.]
Vernon: You blind, Hortensio? That's Geralt, old friend of mine. Come in,
Geralt.
[Once let into the camp, Geralt finds his old acquaintance by a campfire.]
Vernon: Geralt of Rivia. Safe and sound.
Geralt: Vernon Roche. Temeria's last hope.
Vernon: Laugh all you want. Temeria will rise again.
[A woman walks over.]
Ves: Roche, I cannot abandon them. I--
Vernon: You can and must. Because those are your orders.
Ves: They'll die. Please.
Vernon: We're done. Dismissed.
I'm looking for Wily, known also as Whoreson Junior.
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Geralt: Looking for Whoreson Junior.
Vernon: I've heard of him. Though I'm not sure why you think he might be in
my camp.
Geralt: Heard some birds chirping. You've got some of the same friends. Both
seem to count Radovid among your allies.
Vernon: These birds, they're terribly talkative. I'll need to see them,
you'll have to point them out--
Geralt: Mhm. Meantime, Vernon, willing to help, or do I need to keep looking?
Vernon: Hmm. As always, you've more luck than you deserve. I'm on my way to
meet my Redanian contact. We're meeting near Oxenfurt, at a chess
club.
Geralt: Thanks. Knew I could count on you.
What do you do these days?
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Geralt: What do you do here? Hunt Scoia'tael?
Vernon: You jest, right? Who cares about the Scoia'tael anymore.¹ Temeria --
that's what matters.
How'd you wind up here?
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Geralt: How'd you wind up here?
Vernon: Came with the army, of course. Its remnants. When Nilfgaard crossed
the Yaruga, I dropped everything, threw it all away to hell and rode
for the front to fight the invader. Joined the 2nd Temerian Army
under John Natalis. We were to stop the Black Ones' advance along
the Dol Blathanna-Mount Carbon line. And we did. For three days. Then
they smashed us into splinters. Soon after, I heard Radovid was
assembling his forces near Novigrad. That he'd promised to fight for
a free North. Broke through with the remnants of Natalis' army,
but...
Geralt: But?
Vernon: But Radovid proved no better than Emhyr. So I decided I would mount
my own fight.
Take care.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So long.
[Geralt and Roche ride to Oxenfurt.]
Vernon: My contact should be here.
Geralt: Ready?
Vernon: My contact awaits at the chess club. Let's get this over with.
Let's go.
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Geralt: Come on.
Who's this contact?
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Geralt: Your contact -- who is it?
Vernon: Slippery little bugger. I'd have nothing to do with him were the
circumstances any different.
Geralt: Mean you don't trust him?
Vernon: I trust no one. Including you.
[They reach the club. Redanian military is standing around, watching them.]
Vernon: Something's not right.
Geralt: Let's see what.
[They go inside, finding none other than King Radovid himself, sitting at a
chess table in an empty room. He kills enemy pieces and advances his own,
not bothering with the rules.]
Radovid: Checkmate.
[He sees the two have entered.]
Radovid: They say it's the game of kings. That chess teaches one to think
strategically. What a load of rubbish! Both sides have identical
pieces, the rules stay invariably the same. How does this mirror real
life? Witcher, do you know why I play chess?
For practice?
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Geralt: For...practice? To hone your thinking?
Radovid: No.
Time killer?
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Geralt: To kill time?
Radovid: I have no time to squander, let alone kill.
For company?
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Geralt: To spend time in good company?
Radovid: A king cherishes no one's company.
No idea.
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Geralt: I have no idea.
Radovid: I play chess to reveal the game's secret. Blood thumps inside these
chessmen. You need only listen -- and you will hear. Lub-dub, lub-dub,
lub-dub... A heart pumping with life. I take a pawn -- and I¹ hear
flesh being rent. I win a piece -- and hear screams from the depths
of its bowels. I want to break the chessman open, squeeze the truth
from them. Do you see what I mean?
Yes, I do.
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Geralt: Yes, Sire, I believe I do.
Radovid: You know shit. You're merely humoring me. I was not speaking
literally. First hidden truth: a monarch is always surrounded by
fools.
No, I don't.
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Geralt: No, I don't.
Radovid: You do not because you are not a king. Pawns see only their comrades
at their sides and their foes across the field. A king has a
different view of the chessboard. His greatest foes surround him.
His own chessmen might trap him. And that is check -- and death. You
see, witcher, chess is the art of sacrificing your own pieces.
Radovid: • Understand?
• Now do you see?
Yes, I do.
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Geralt: I think I do now.
No, I don't.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No, still don't get it.
Radovid: Unimportant... Let us speak. Why have you brought the witcher here?
Vernon: I think he'd best explain.
Looking for Whoreson Junior.
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Geralt: I'm looking for Cyprian Wily, Whoreson Junior. I know Redania
supports him.
Radovid: Why do you seek him?
Geralt: It's personal.
Radovid: Fair enough. I'll not pry.
Had no idea I was going to meet a king.
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Geralt: Expected a Redanian spy. Had no idea we'd be meeting a king.
Radovid: When you've an opportunity to omit intermediaries, I'd suggest you
avail yourself of it.
Radovid: I've placed Junior in a mansion in Oxenfurt. Very few know this.
They'll not let you in unannounced. Thus, you must tell them you've
come about the new whores. Junior constantly requires fresh women. I
hear he doesn't treat them well.
Why would you just give me Whoreson?
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Geralt: You'd just give me a man? After investing coin and time in him? Can't
help but wonder why.
Radovid: Consider it a gesture of goodwill...almost. I'll expect you to
return the favor.
Appreciate the gesture.
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Geralt: I appreciate the gesture, Your Majesty.
Radovid: A king should be severe towards his foes, generous to his friends.
Apart from which I'll expect you to return the favor.
Radovid: And also, Junior has lost his purpose. The Big Four is no more. I
shall contact you to collect in due course. Now go. And you, Roche
-- we must speak another time.
[The two leave Radovid to his own devices.]
Vernon: Radovid's sinking ever deeper into madness, as I see it.
Geralt: I know where to find Junior. Don't really care beyond that.
Vernon: Geralt. Come to think of it, I too wanted to ask a favor. I've a
terrible problem with Ves. Need someone to talk some sense into her.
Come see me at the camp -- I'll tell you more.
Geralt: Let me think about it. See you, Roche.
[Geralt approaches the Oxenfurt mansion's gate.]
Guard: Whores only ever go in. Not one's comes out!
Guard: Boss's got a voracious appetite. I hear 'em squealing like sows bein'
slaughtered.
Guard: Ah, I could do with a little fleshy diversion myself.
Guard: Mhm, yeah...
Guard: What do you want?
Geralt: Where's Whoreson Junior?
Guard: Ooh, this one's got bollocks, don't he?
Guard: I know you, you motherfucker. Saw you kill Olgard and Vick.
Misunderstanding.
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Geralt: Uh, must be a misunderstanding.
Guard: Flank the bastard!
Mhm. And now I've come for you.
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Geralt: Believe I did have the pleasure to meet those two gentlemen. What
were the names again? Olgard and Vick? Give them my regards.
[Geralt eliminates the guards and goes to the mansion's second floor. He sees
dead whores and blood smears all over the place.]
Geralt: Fucking degenerate. He so much as touched Ciri, he'll pay.
[He goes into the next room, finding Wily cleaning up after decorating his
bedroom with more slain whores.]
Junior: What the sandwich fuck is this?
[Geralt clocks him, sending him to the floor, then beats on him a bit more.]
Junior: Oh fuck me... Help me, for fuck's sake!
Geralt: No one's coming.
Junior: Oomph! Stop... What... What do you want?
I'm here to kill you.
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Geralt: Hello, Junior. Been looking for you a while now. I've come to kill
you.
Junior: I'll give you all I got...
I've come to talk.
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Geralt: Hello, Junior. I've come to talk.
Junior: I'll do whatever you want...
Geralt: Got a few questions to start with.
Junior: I'll tell you everything...
Geralt: I'm looking for a young woman and a minstrel. I know you've met them.
Junior: A bird? What fucking b--?
[Geralt backhands him.]
Geralt: Ashen-haired with a sword on her back. Just like me.
Junior: Yes, yes... Her, that was... I remember...
Tell me about her.
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Geralt: I'd like to know how the ashen-haired woman ended up meeting you, and
what happened to her.
Junior: What happened to her? She attacked me!
Geralt: Lie one more time, and I'll cut your balls off.
Junior: Heheheh... We'd made a deal. I was to repair their magic
phyla-whatsit. The...girl and the songster were to bring me Sigi
Reuven's treasure. They didn't, so I might've flown off the handle a
bit, I admit...
Geralt: What did you do?
Junior: I nabbed their flunky, Dodo, and waited for them to come for him.
Look...this. Here's what they wanted fixed.
Lemme tell you why you shouldn't lie.
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Geralt: Pay attention now. You'll tell the truth. Wanna know why?
Junior: I won't lie, honest!
Geralt: Took me a long time to find you. Wasn't an easy road to travel. I'm
angry and tired. Had to kill a lot of people along the way. Some of
them tried to cheat me, some tried to lie. I didn't like it one bit.
I feel like one more lie'd be the last bitter drop in a chalice full
of sorrow. And then...then I'd do something I would later regret. Now
you know why you can't lie to me?
Junior: Yes...
Geralt: Good.
[Geralt picks up the ornate box from the dresser.]
Geralt: A phylactery? You can fix something like this?
Junior: Not me. I know a guy...
Geralt: Wasting my time, Junior. I need details.
Junior: I'll tell you, tell you all! Just the way it happened...
["Ciri's Story: Visiting Junior" begins at this point -- see the section for
the full write-up. The mission picks back up after hearing the flashback.]
Junior: That's what happened. Told you true.
What happened to the ashen-haired woman?
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Geralt: What happened to the woman?
Junior: Fuck if I know... One of the boys -- got her in the back... But she's
alive, I swear it!
Is that all?
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Geralt: Got anything else to say?
Junior: I've told you all I know! Everything...
Dudu -- what happened to him?
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Geralt: Dudu -- what happened to him?
Junior: I don't fucking know... Prick vanished! There one moment, gone the
next...
Geralt: You hurt the woman I'm looking for... You tortured her friend.
Junior: She attacked me! I've a right to defend myself! I beg you... Got what
I deserved... Have mercy... Please...
You gotta die.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lemme tell you where things stand. I'm looking for this woman, 'cause
she's like a daughter to me. And that's why I just can't let this go.
Junior: Noooo!
Refuse to sully myself with your blood.
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Geralt: I'm no executioner.
Junior: Thank you... I'll make it up to you, I will... This is my city, and--
Geralt: Shut up. Know what? Gotta wonder what your friends from the Big
Four'll say when they find out you're working with Radovid...
Junior: Hey! Wait! What're you saying? Waaait!
[As Geralt leaves the mansion, Radovid's soldiers stop him.]
Sentry: Seems you've resolved your matters. It's time you returned the favor.
Geralt: Radovid doesn't like to wait much, does he?
Sentry: No, he does not. You'll come with us.
[They take Geralt to the warship docked in the harbor.]
Sentry: The HMS Oxenfurt-Tretogor, once the crown jewel of the Redanian fleet.
Decommissioned now, though.
Geralt: Nice boat.
Sentry: You'll need to leave your weapons if I'm to let you aboard. Follow me.
[They head onto the topdeck.]
Sentry: Ship was funded with donations. From noblewomen. Ladies from the most
prominent families gave up their jewelry.
Geralt: A spur-of-the-moment, patriotic impulse?
Sentry: You're a homeless wanderer. Can't understand what it is to truly love
one's country.
[He's brought before Radovid.]
Radovid: There you are.
Geralt: Need something from me, Your Majesty?
Radovid: You've never been one to mince words. Very well. Find Philippa Eilhart
-- that's my wish. I ordered her eyes gouged out once. But apparently,
blindness troubles her not. My hunters have detected Lady Eilhart
hiding east of Oxenfurt. They have further established that she has
magically sealed the entrance to her shelter. Entering it will be
difficult. I believe you might succeed in doing so. Bring her to me
-- alive.
Lemme think about it.
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Geralt: Need to think about it.
Radovid: Don't take too long. We wouldn't want Philippa to escape...again.
You may go.
Mages are more likely to succeed.
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Geralt: Philippa's using magic? You'd be better off sending mages after her.
Radovid: I agreed to the Conclave's revival -- but what has this brought me?
The mages at my side are mediocrities, cowards. They can't hold a
candle to the likes of Eilhart, Laux-Antille or Merigold.
Geralt: There's always your witch hunters.
Radovid: You are the best witch hunter. You've proven it clearly. Síle de
Tansarville and Philippa Eilhart's plan -- you were the one to foil
it. I want you to finish what you started. Now go to the mountains
and bring me Philippa Eilhart.
Why's Philippa here?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Philippa Eilhart. What's she looking for here?
Radovid: I suspect she wants to find her old friends, reconvene the Lodge.
Perhaps she seeks revenge, on me. Lady Eilhart is known for her
persistence. At times I recall the lessons she gave me when I was a
child -- her teachings as memorable as the punishments she meted
out. She was subtle and patient in her cruelty. I took her sight,
but she remains dangerous. I'd advise you to be cautious.
Sentry: Your arms.
Geralt: Thanks.
Sentry: Never seen better steel in my life. Blade must strike true, no?
Geralt: It's a matter of the hand, not the steel it's holding.
[With Junior taken squeezed of info, Geralt returns to Priscilla's quarters.]
Geralt: Listen, I tracked down Whoreson Junior.
Priscilla: Yes? And? Did you learn somethin'?
Geralt: Yeah. Ciri and Dandelion set out to steal Sigi Reuven's treasure for
Whoreson. He promised to find someone who'd fix Ciri's phylactery in
exchange.
Priscilla: I can't believe she parleyed with that bastard! Why, it's widely
known how anybody who pacts with Wily ends.
Geralt: Ciri was desperate. But you're right, it wasn't the best idea. Whoreson
ended up wounding Ciri, just after he'd tortured Dudu--
Priscilla: Dudu? Well... Ho--how is Dudu related to this in any way?
Geralt: Seems Dandelion got him involved, to help Ciri. Luckily, Dudu managed
to escape. Probably hiding somewhere now.
Priscilla: Ooh... What of Wily?
• Geralt: He's dead.
• Geralt: I'd expect him to lay low, not do any business for some time.
Priscilla: Certainly hope you're right. Though his type never forgives and
rarely relents.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7e) CIRI'S STORY: VISITING JUNIOR [WK7E]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[This segment takes place a few weeks earlier, in Novigrad. Dandelion and Ciri
are on the streets at night, similar to the dream Geralt had earlier.]
Dandelion: Got a bad feeling about this.
Ciri: Calm down, Dandelion. We can't leave Dudu in Whoreson Junior's hands,
you know that.
Dandelion: I know, I know. But my gut can't be reasoned with, and no amount of
sympathy I feel can silence it, blot it out.
I'll go in alone, you know.
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Ciri: I'll go in alone, you know. You'll stay outside.
Dandelion: I can't let you go in alone. Anything happens to you, Geralt'll
rip my head off!
Ciri: Someone must secure our retreat. There's bound to be a struggle, things
could get intense. We'll need to flee fast, disappear in the crowd.
We'll manage this. I'm sure.
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Ciri: Cheer up. We'll manage this, I'm certain.
Dandelion: Famous last words, right there.
Pull yourself together.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Ciri: Get a grip, Dandelion. We must focus on the task at hand.
Dandelion: I'm just saying...
Ciri: Well then be silent.
Ciri: Have you learned where Whoreson is keeping Dudu?
Dandelion: Room on the top floor. One with the balcony.
Ciri: I'll need to cross onto the roof. Wait for me in front of Junior's house.
And I know it's difficult, but do try to look inconspicuous.
Dandelion: If they... If they hurt you... Whoreson will pay.
[Dandelion goes to his spot.]
Ciri: Must climb onto the roof.
[Ciri climbs the scaffolding to get higher.]
Ciri: Room on the top floor. One with a balcony. There's the balcony. Let's
see what's inside.
[She opens the window, getting a bird's-eye view on Junior's torture session
with her friend.]
Junior: And now, my dear Dodo... I believe I'll try a different tool. Afraid
I'm bored with this one.
Dudu: You're fucking barmy, Junior... Anyone tell you that?
Junior: No, most say I'm nice...once they get to know me.
Dudu: So you enjoy good company, like to make new acquaintances?
Junior: Hehehehee. Plan to introduce me to someone interesting?
[He whirls around to see Ciri standing there.]
Junior: There you are. Good of you to come. I've been waiting for you.
[They start fighting.]
Junior: • Fuckin' kill you, cunt!
• Where's Reuven's treasure?
• I'll gut you, you little whore!
[Ciri soundly defeats him. He lunges one more time, giving her a chance to
wound his face, which sends him plummeting to the floor.]
Junior: Aaarrgghhh!!
Ciri: An eye for an eye.
[The doorknob shakes.]
Dudu: Th-they're coming..
Ciri: Dudu, listen. This is what we'll do...
[As enemies come up the stairs, Wily runs out of the room, covering his face.]
Junior: Arrrrgh... Get that fuckin' whore!
[As the henchmen stream into the room, "Junior" nods at Ciri and uncovers his
face, revealing Dudu simply transformed into him for the ploy. Ciri slays
foes all throughout the hideout, revealing it wasn't Cleaver's men who did
it when Geralt visited earlier. The flashback ends when Ciri exits.]
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
7f) COUNT REUVEN'S TREASURE [WK7F]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[This quest can begin after meeting Dijkstra in "Get Junior."]
Know what happened to Dandelion?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Listen -- Dandelion's missing. Any idea what might've happened to him?
Reuven: Same thing that happens to anyone who steps on Junior's toes...
Geralt: Meaning?
Reuven: He's surrounded by splendid virgins who ply him with sparkling wine
and pastries stuffed with nightingales' tongues. Come, Geralt, what
do you think happened to him? I reckon he's at the bottom of the
Pontar, trussed up with the strings of his own mandolin.
Geralt: Lute.
Reuven: Far as I'm concerned he might as well be rotting down there with a
goddamn trombone.
Why so irritable?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Seem a bit prickly... Something bothering you?
Reuven: Sorry, I know I've been unbearable lately. But at my age, the
menopause, what with hot flashes and violent mood swings...
Geralt: Dijkstra, men don't get menopause. You know that, don't you?
Reuven: Yes, you moron. I also know you don't actually give a shite about my
problems. What do you want?
Geralt: You got me... Need work, thought you might throw some my way. Monster
trouble, that sort of thing.
Reuven: Yeah... Might be able to help me, in fact.
What about you? Any beef with Dandelion?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You wouldn't happen to have a bone to pick with Dandelion, would you?
Reuven: Course I do.
Geralt: You serious?
Reuven: Dead serious... Dandelion published a sonnet recently. Second stanza
-- the shit uses paired couplets instead of an inserted rhyme! Surely
you understand how deeply offended the poetry lover in me was. The
bastard shan't get away with it!
Geralt: I was being serious.
Reuven: As am I when I say I have no time to worry about your gigolo
boyfriend. Got my own problems... Problems you might be able to help
me with.
And if you did, why then I might be inclined to ask after Dandelion,
establish what happened to him.
Maybe I can help... Whaddaya need?
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Geralt: Maybe I can help... What do you need?
Reuven: I'd rather show than tell. Picture's worth a thousand words and all
that tripe. Ah, and you do realize if you say anything about what
you see here to anyone, it'll mean a razor between your ribs?
Geralt: Figured as much.
Reuven: Excellent. One last request... Oh, let's call it what it is -- a
command. Don't draw your sword unless I ask you to.
You'll pay me on top of that, right?
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Geralt: I'll get paid on top of that, right?
Reuven: Nothing for free, eh? Did you bargain this hard when Emhyr wanted
to hire you?
Don't know what you're talking about.
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Geralt: No idea what you're talking about.
Reuven: You are the worst liar I've ever known... Glad I don't need you to
win a poker game for me. But we've chatted enough. Yeah, I'll pay
you -- count on it. So, can I count on you?
Who told you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Who told you?
Reuven: What do you mean "who"? Emhyr did.
Geralt: Hahah.
Reuven: I could never reveal my sources, to you or anyone else. It would be
fucking unprofessional. But we've chatted enough. Yeah, I'll pay
you -- count on it. So, can I count on you?
Don't have the time just now.
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Geralt: Don't have time right now.
Reuven: Then come back when you do.
You in contact with Radovid?
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Geralt: You in contact with Radovid?
Reuven: Hahahaha. See you're witty as ever. No, I'm not in contact with him
and I prefer it remained that way.
Geralt: Never quite forgave you for conspiring with Philippa Eilhart?
Reuven: Radovid doesn't forgive. Not anything. Not anyone. And especially not
the sorceress of the Lodge.
Any news of Philippa?
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Geralt: Philippa Eilhart -- had any news?
Reuven: Just good.
Geralt: Meaning?
Reuven: After Radovid popped her eyes out, she disappeared without a trace.
If I've any luck, she's finally eating dirt.
Geralt: Thought you two were close...
Reuven: We were. Until Philippa sent assassins after me.
Master spy to master criminal... Interesting progression.
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Geralt: From mastery spy to master criminal... Interesting progression.
Reuven: Why? Truth be told they're awfully similar. Both about maintaining a
net of informers, being tough in negotiations, bribing officials...
the occasional assassination. Same old shit.
Geralt: Yeah... Except you used to do that in the name of some ideal. And now?
Reuven: Now I've decided I've slaved enough for ideals. It's time I worked for
myself. And thus far, it's been going rather well.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Time I was on my way.
Reuven: Got things to do myself. So long!
[Reuven leads Geralt into the deserted bathhouse. Using a special key and a
rotating pillar segment, he drains a bath, revealing a hidden passage into
his vault.]
Reuven: Be so kind as to follow me.
[They walk into the vault area and hear heavy thudding against the walls.]
Reuven: Oh, Bart! Not again!
Geralt: ...Bart?
[Near the back, a rock troll is banging his head on the wall.]
Reuven: Bart! Stop that! Now!
Bart: Bart bad... Bart make Sigi lose chorfun.
Reuven: Beating your head against the wall won't change that.
Bart: Bart hurt, Bart less thinky. Bart less thinky, Bart sadless.
Why'd you bring me here?
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Geralt: Don't seem to have trouble communicating with the troll.. Why'd you
bring me down here?
Reuven: Take note of that hole. We'll come back to it later.
Where'd you get a troll?
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Geralt: Where'd you get the troll?
Reuven: From Zerrikania. Won him. Card game with a camel merchant.
Geralt: Your jokes are getting better by the minute.
Reuven: See me smiling? I'm dead serious.
Bart: Bart eye bumpy horses. Hot there. Sigi Bart take. Good Sigi.
Reuven: And see that door? Vault behind it -- until recently filled with
Novigrad crowns and countless other valuables.
Bart: Bart guard! Then boom! Chorfun go.
Reuven: Translating into Common, someone fuckin' made off with nearly twenty
tons of my gold, and all the lighter stuff. And you...will help me get
it back.
Fine. I'll help you.
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Geralt: Fine. I'll help you.
Reuven: You're not exactly bursting with enthusiasm.
Geralt: Witcher mutations. They strip us of emotion. I'd be jumping for joy
otherwise.
Can't take care of this yourself?
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Geralt: Why don't you handle this? Gotta have connections in the underworld.
Whaddaya need a witcher for?
Reuven: Agh. The gold wasn't mine alone. See, I run a members-only savings
club, a bank for the initiated. For reasons that should be obvious,
I'd prefer it if my temporary liquidity problems remained private...
So I need an outsider.
Geralt: How do you know you can trust me?
Reuven: I don't... Counting on your survival instinct. Slip up, and I'll kill
you, feed you to Bart.
Bart: Bart sorry. Bart job that got.
Need to think it over.
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Geralt: It's a tall order, Dijkstra. Need to think it over.
Reuven: Fine. Just remember...what you saw here -- mum's the word. That's
very important. I might even say it's a matter of life and death.
Understood?
Geralt: Understood.
Reuven: Excellent.
Geralt: All right. Oughta look around. But first -- some questions.
Reuven: I'm all ears.
Thieves got in through the hole?
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Geralt: Take it the thieves got in through the hole behind you?
Reuven: You're a regular fucking master sleuth. Any other brilliant
deductions you want confirmed? The year, maybe? Bloody name of
Redania's king?
Geralt: No. But I am wondering, for instance, how that hole got there...
Any witnesses?
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Geralt: Anyone see what happened?
Reuven: Other than Bart? No. And the vault's location is known only to the</pre><pre id="faqspan-11">
treasure's co-owners. Well, and the thieves.
Geralt: What about upstairs? Anything unusual happen in the bathhouse the day
of the break-in?
Reuven: No. Happen swears it was calm as ever. The usual customers, no
incidents. Bloody bucolic.
What're we saying was the value?
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Geralt: How much was it all worth? Got an approximate idea?
Reuven: Why the fuck do you care? Figuring your finder's fee? Don't get your
hopes up.
Geralt: Know you too well for that... Just prefer to know what I'm looking
for.
Reuven: Three crates of Nilfgaardian florens, a chest of emeralds, rubies,
and topazes, silver candlesticks and platters... I could go on...
Bart: Shiny chorfun... All gone.
Bart: Hole no. Boom! Hole. Bart want look go... Bart look no, only sleep. Bad
'shrooms -- head foozz.
Boom? Care to elaborate?
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Geralt: Boom? Can you elaborate?
Bart: Boom... Big... Er...this like.
Reuven: I'll elaborate. Explosion -- big enough to blow that fucking hole in
the wall separating the vault from the sewers.
Geralt: Gotten pretty good at communicating with this troll...
Reuven: Lots of prior experience -- worked with idiots my whole life.
Bad mushrooms? Whaddaya mean?
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Geralt: Bad mushrooms -- what's that about?
Reuven: Pops mold. The spores are highly toxic -- one whiff and you're dead.
Unless you're a troll, that is.
Bart: Yes... Bart. Bart troll...
Reuven: Not talking to you, dimwit. Where was I? Ah, mold spores. They cover
the walls of the sewers other side of the vault. Actually thought it
was a good thing, you know, a bit of extra protection. Thieves found
a way through it.
Geralt: Bart, you see them?
Bart: Bart through hole, want see boom got what. Breath 'shroom. Sleep go.
Chorfun gone. Bad troll...
Reuven: Now, now. Stiff upper lip...
Try to track down the thieves?
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Geralt: Try to track down the thief yourself?
Reuven: Of course. Hired this lummox, Fonce -- thick enough not to ask
questions. We knocked back some pops antidote and entered the sewers.
Soon after, I returned alone.
Geralt: What happened?
Reuven: Lad started belchin' something horrendous -- I mean, burps with so
much mass the walls shook. Told him -- Fonce, stop, you're in the
presence of a count...well, former count, but still. And then he
puked up. Up came most of the antidote, lost his protection. Tried
to pull him out, then I heard a bubbling... Something crawled out of
the water. I value the lives of my men, I do... But I value my own
even more. Dropped Fonce and ran like hell.
Gotta look around the sewers.
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Geralt: Should look around the sewers. Got any more of that pops antidote?
Reuven: I've a few vials left. Got the formula, too. Disgusting swill, to be
honest. But it'll save your life. Here.
Geralt: Thanks.
Reuven: You've naught to thank me for -- literally. You're no good to me if
you suffocate.
What kind of "something"?
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Geralt: Mind describing this "something" that crawled out of the water?
Reuven: No. Doesn't mean I can, though. Air in the sewer's thick with
spores, can hardly see a thing down there.
Geralt: Musta noticed something. Was it...?
Reuven: No, didn't notice a fucking thing. Didn't do a taxonomic field
analysis either. I know it's an inconvenience to you, but I felt I
should get the hell out of there as fast as I could.
Reuven: Listen, I'll be upstairs if you need me. Sight of this empty vault's
giving me an ulcer. Good luck to you!
[Dijkstra leaves.]
Geralt: Dandelion... What the hell have you gotten yourself into...
[He drinks the antidote.]
Geralt: Ugh... And I thought witcher's potions were vile...
[There are several spots to inspect in/near the sewers.]
• Edges curled out... Something inside blew it wide open -- wall, too. Hmm...
Bathhouse drain pipes seem to converge here...
• Pipe's grate... Explosion crumpled it like a piece of paper, and there's
mortar on the bars. So, it was in place at the time of the explosion... Blast
tore it from the wall. No traces of magic. This was no spell, it was a
bomb... Now why am I not finding pieces of it...? Could be the current swept
them away.
• Bits of pipe clear over here. Must've been one powerful blast.
• Fine grating... Couldn't push much through that.
• Hm... Definitely came through here.
• Another trinket.
• The thug Dikjstra hired.
• Dikjstra didn't mention anyone else... Must be one of Dandelion's crew.
Vomit everywhere. Guess he had the antidote, too...couldn't keep it down
anymore than the other guy. Need to burn the corpses. Otherwise drowners'll
never stop congregating. There... Maybe now the drowners'll go feed
elsewhere.
• Hm. Bottom of a container. Silver cylinder, most likely. Runes etched in the
bottom. It's warped, probably by the explosion. Bomb part, must be. Smells
like...wyvern oil...and...caramel?
• Gold coin. Trail ends here. Dandelion must've loaded the treasure onto a
boat...
Geralt: That'd be it down here. Time to see Dijkstra.
[Geralt reports back.]
Geralt: Done. Examined every nook of the sewers near your vault.
Reuven: Well? Learn anything?
Found pieces of the bomb.
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Geralt: Seems to me a bomb blew the wall open. Look.
Reuven: Bottom of a silver cylinder, probably. Covered in runes...
Interesting... Any idea what it contained?
Geralt: Recognized some ingredients by their scent -- wyvern oil and sugar.
Reuven: Sugar?! Geralt, I'm in no mood for jests.
Nor am I. That's what I observed.
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Geralt: Nor am I. Just saying what I found -- bomb contained sugar.
Could be wrong.
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Geralt: Guess I could be wrong. Smell was weak, barely detectable.
Found one of the thieves' corpses.
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Geralt: Found a second corpse -- one of the thieves. Threw up the antidote,
just like your man Fonce.
Reuven: A beautiful death. Find anything on the body?
Geralt: Not much. Empty vial.
Reuven: Hmm... Wouldn't have left him behind if he was anybody. Common
porter, must be. Knew nothing, means nothing. Dead end. Literally!
Thieves loaded the treasure onto a boat.
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Geralt: Bits of the treasure dropped out of the crates. Left a clear trail.
You know, the fairy tale...with the crumbs.
Reuven: Mhm, I know the one. Hansel, Gretel, burning witches. Very fitting
for Novigrad.
Geralt: Trail leads to the river where the sewer lets out... Breaks off
there. My bet -- they loaded the treasure onto a boat.
Reuven: Yeah, a cart drawn by sewer rats does seem unlikely. And since boats
don't leave trails...it amounts to fuck all.
Reuven: Let's think... Sugar would react violently with sulfuric acid... But
not so violently to cause an explosion.
Geralt: Didn't know you were versed in alchemy.
Reuven: Dabbled in it a bit while at Oxenfurt Academy... But this is no time to
reminisce. You're to find my treasure, not write my biography. Know
anything else about this bomb? Anything at all?
Bomb was inside the pipe.
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Geralt: Bomb went off inside a drainage pipe embedded in the vault wall.
But the grate at the end of the pipe was in place when the blast
happened, meaning...
Reuven: The bomb must have found its way into the pipe from inside the
bathhouse.
Geralt: Exactly. Mighta gone something like this: perpetrator started
emptying one of the pools, then dropped the bomb down the drain.
Reuven: The bomb flowed down with the run-off, came to rest on the grate
and, to quote Bart -- big boom.
Let's see which drain they dropped the bomb down.
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Geralt: Drain pipe's our only promising lead. We just need to know which
pool it's connected to.
Reuven: Yes... Happen keeps a record of guests, should be able to tell us
who used that pool the day of the break-in... You've not done badly.
Geralt: Feel honored to be acknowledged.
Reuven: Oh, that famous sarcasm... I'd missed it.
Geralt: Really?
Reuven: Mhm. About as much as I'd miss a knife in my knickers.
[They go into the bathing area.]
Reuven: All right. You inspect the pools on the right, I'll take the ones on
the left. Holler if you find anything!
[Geralt inspects the first pool.]
Geralt: Nothing interesting.
[He goes to the next one.]
Geralt: Something floating on the surface... Oil, looks like...
[He inspects the area thoroughly.]
Geralt: Silver lid... Matches the cylinder bottom I found in the sewer...
Dijkstra! Come here!
Reuven: Got something?
Geralt: Yeah. Bomb part.
Reuven: Happen! Drain pool four! And bring me the guest book! Chop-chop!
Let's see what's on the bottom.
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Geralt: Let's see what's on the bottom...
By the way -- Happen's not a suspect?
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Geralt: By the way... What about Happen? Could've overheard you mention the
vault, has access to the bathhouse whenever he wants...
Reuven: Happen has numerous flaws. He's pompous, pretentious, can be a real
prick at times, ironic as that may sound... But his loyalty's beyond
question.
Geralt: How can you be so sure?
Reuven: Witchers know their monsters, spies know their men.
Geralt: You trusted Philippa Eilhart once, too...
Reuven: True. But I didn't pull Philippa Eilhart out of a Kovir prison the
night before her execution.
[Happen returns with the logbook.]
Geralt: Grate's been removed from the drain, meaning they flushed the bomb down
here.
Reuven: Happen! Who used this pool the day of the break-in?
Happen: Let me see... Berthold Heintz -- town councilman, Josef Schveik --
brewer...and Margrave Henckel...
Reuven: Henckel? That's impossible!
Henckel? Who's that?
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Geralt: Margrave Henckel? Who's that?
Reuven: Who was that, you mean!
Impossible? Why?
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Geralt: Impossible? Why?
Reuven: Old coot's been eating dirt since last winter! Couldn't have been here
the day of the break-in!
Happen: He's dead? I'd not heard...
Reuven: Not surprisin'. The honorable margrave croaked in a brothel, decked
out in leather lingerie, so the family held a hush-hush funeral. But I
have my sources.
Happen: Yet... Yet I saw him that fateful day, Mr. Reuven. I'm certain of it.
Reuven: Did you speak to him? Get a good look at him?
Happen: No... He merely passed by on the way in...
Reuven: So you didn't see Henckel -- you saw an impersonator! Think for once!
They scooped out your balls, not your brain! And you, Geralt, start
lookin' into this.
Where do I start?
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---
Hey. Be nice.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta ask me nicely. I'm not one of your delivery boys.
Reuven: Pardon my tone. I've grown accustomed to ordering folk around and
barking as I do it.
Geralt: Fine. Where should I start?
Reuven: Henckel's home -- derelict townhouse south of the main square. You
might happen on some trace of this scoundrel we're looking for there.
Well, off with you!
Geralt: What a dump. Looks more like a beggar's hovel than a margrave's
townhouse. Dandelion made some interesting friends...
[There are several inspection points in the house.]
• Footprints...
• A letter...and a bottle. "The wine from your birth-year -- it's absolutely
excellent. Startling bouquet. You absolutely must try it. But afterwards,
please place the bottle back where you found it." Your birth-year... Could
be Dandelion's...or Ciri's.
[Geralt puts the bottle into the wine rack.]
Geralt: 1245 to 1254... Hm. Satisfying click...in the next room over, I think.
[The footprint trail leads into a hidden room.]
Geralt: Secret room... Probably where Dandelion and his cohorts planned the
heist.
• Stain... Wyvern oil.
• Instructions on how to build a bomb... Signed by one Kalkstein.
• Sugar...and lumps of a substance dipped in wyvern oil. Hmm...potassium? Looks
like they made the bomb here.
[Geralt finds a letter from Dudu.]
Geralt: "Ciri... Menge is following me... He has seized the treasure... He has
Dandelion... You must flee." Footsteps... Not good.
[Exiting the room, Geralt finds...]
Geralt: Dijkstra...and Triss? Didn't expect to see you here... Certainly not
with Triss.
Reuven: I decided we could use someone who knows a bit of magic. The runes on
the bomb -- I'm absolutely dying to know what they mean...
Geralt: You dying to know too, Triss?
Triss: No. Just here for the coin.
Reuven: Ah, Merigold playing the cynical materialist. I like it. In truth, her
ideals brought Triss here. She needs gold to save her colleagues...
When I recover my treasure, I'll be in a position to help her. Simple
as that. Speaking of which, and, pardon my Beauclairoise, have you
found who fucking nicked my gold?
All signs point to Menge.
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Geralt: Bothered Triss for nothing. No point examining the bomb.
Reuven: Because?
Geralt: Cause¹ I already know who nabbed your treasure. Commander of the
Temple Guard. Caleb Menge.
Reuven: Well, well, Merigold... Your coin stands to come with a side of
revenge.
Wait... Why'd you come here?
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Geralt: Hang on. Gotta tell me why you're here first. We agreed -- if I
learned anything, I'd take it to you.
Reuven: So we did... But I was concerned about you. Stopped by to see if
everything was all right.
You don't trust me.
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Geralt: Bullshit. You don't trust me.
Reuven: I trust you as much as you trust me -- not at all. Believe me, it's
a healthy relationship.
Thanks. Really.
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Geralt: Thanks. You can breathe easy now. In the future, though, remember
this -- I can look after myself.
Reuven: Fine. You look after yourself, and I'll look after my interests.
Triss: Gentlemen... Really privileged to witness your battle of wits...but
try to remember -- unlike you, I put my life at risk every time I
venture out into the streets. Did the same just coming here. So I beg
you -- can we get to the point?
Reuven: Geralt, would you be king enough to tell me what you've learned? I'm
terribly curious.
Margrave Henckel told me everything.
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Geralt: Henckel told me. Old man's alive and well -- faked his own death to
escape his creditors.
Reuven: Strange... I had no idea he was in debt.
Geralt: He was. And Menge promised to take care of things in exchange for
help with the heist, so...
Reuven: Geralt, how can I put this delicately... Bollocks. If you thought I'd
fall for that tale you just pulled out of your arse, you don't know
me one bit.
Menge's got the treasure, really.
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Geralt: All right, I lied... But only partly.
Reuven: Heard of beasts that are half-lion, half-eagle, maidens who are
half-fish... But you'll never convince me there's such a thing as a
half-truth.
Geralt: I'll give it a shot anyway. Didn't actually see Henckel -- but Menge
does have your treasure.
Reuven: Take it you learned this by peering into a crystal ball?
Geralt: Maybe. Trade secret.
I know you... You care about results.
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Geralt: Know you well enough to know what matters: results... So I lied.
Still say I can lead you to your treasure.
Reuven: Forgive me, Geralt... But after what you just pulled, I'd sooner
believe a whore who proclaimed her undying love.
Triss: Would you believe a sorceress who stands to gain if you get your coin
back?
Reuven: Perhaps... I'd still prefer the whore, though.
Reuven: You're hidin' somethin'. And that's one thing I can't stand. Even
more than Nilfgaard. But ultimately, this is a business deal, not a
marriage. Besides, there must be some truth in those lies -- you're
too dense to make it all up on your own.
Doesn't matter.
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Geralt: What I've learned doesn't matter.
Reuven: Doesn't matter?! Yet you agreed to help me.
Geralt: I am. Doesn't mean I have to confess everything.
Reuven: I'll let your insolence fly this time -- but only because his honor
the margrave might indeed have something to do with the theft.
Reuven: Hm, Menge has been spending heaps of coin lately, though to my
knowledge he shouldn't have a copper to his name...
Triss: So. What now?
Reuven: From what I've heard, Menge spends his nights at the docks, witch
hunters' quarters... Maybe pay him a visit, ask where he's holding my
gold for me.
I doubt Menge will say anything willingly.
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Geralt: Doubt Menge'll say anything willingly...
Reuven: As do I. Luckily I hired a witcher and a sorceresss who've been
through so much together to get this done...
Triss: What's our past got to do with it?
Reuven: A great deal. Lovers will jump into the abyss for one another...
Suits my needs perfectly. Namely, it greatly increases your chances
of getting out of the hunters' barracks alive -- with my treasure.
Triss and I -- that's all in the past.
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Geralt: Information's out of date. We are not...
Reuven: Yes, I know. You parted a week after the summit at Loc Muinne, in
the woods near where the Lixela flows into the Pontar. But you know
what they say... Old love never dies.
Triss: First. First love. Now how the hell...?
Reuven: Mha, now that's my secret, lovebirds... Really must be going. Good
luck.
You're using us.
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Geralt: In other words, you're using us.
Reuven: Using you? Never! Merely makin' the most of your mutual bond.
Hahaha. Well, lovebirds...I really must be going. Good luck.
While you sit here twiddling your thumbs?
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Geralt: Mhm. So we do your dirty work while you sit around twiddling your
thumbs?
Reuven: Darling, when I'm able to make use of someone, I always do. It's
convenient.
Geralt: And safe... Come on, admit you're scared of Menge.
Reuven: Of course I'm scared... Bloody dangerous whoreson. Triss would
concur, I think.
Triss: Not in those words... But I do agree with the statement overall.
[Reuven leaves with his guards.]
Triss: • Didn't have to disagree so...strongly...
• Thought you'd correct him... Say that we... You know.
Dijkstra doesn't need to know everything.²
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Geralt: Dijkstra doesn't need to know about my love life.
Triss: Wise... I'd never choose his shoulder to cry on either.
What would you have said in my place?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Put yourself in my shoes. What would you have said?
Triss: In your shoes, I wouldn't be worrying about what to say to Dijkstra.
At all.
You didn't say anything either.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Could've corrected him yourself.
Triss: True... But it's not an easy thing to say, is it?
Didn't mean to hurt you.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sorry, didn't mean to hurt your feelings...
Triss: Hope not.
Triss: But we've strayed from our topic... Got a treasure to recover.
Geralt: Triss, gotta tell you something... Dijkstra's gold -- it's the last
thing I could care about.
Triss: Thought as much... This is about Ciri, isn't it?
Geralt: Mhm. Menge's got Dandelion locked up somewhere... And Dandelion saw
Ciri.
Triss: That changes everything. Listen, meet me at midnight by the chapel of
the Eternal Fire east of the harbor. We'll figure out a way to get into
the hunters' barracks together.
Geralt: All right. See you then... And thanks.
[They reconvene at midnight.]
Triss: Glad you're here. Listen... Took a look at the building and it does not
look good.
Geralt: Mean it could use a bit of paint and spackle?
Triss: I mean it's a damned fortress. High walls, guards at the gate, armed men
everywhere. We could never sneak in, and fighting our way in won't work
-- Menge would have plenty of time to escape.
Geralt: What do you suggest?
Triss: Take these shackles... Put them on me.
Mind explaining what this is about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mind explaining what all this is about?
Uh, Triss. Sure about this? Here and now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Uh, Triss... Sure you want to do this? Out here? With everyone
watching?
Triss: This might come as a surprise to you, but shackles do have their uses
outside the bedroom.
Triss: Think... Bring the hunters the vile Triss Merigold, they won't just open
the gate for you, they're likely to let you present her to Menge
personally.
Geralt: No way. Too risky.
Triss: Dandelion's life is on the line...Ciri's too. No such thing as too
risky.
All right... But what then?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine, let's say they take the bait... What then? We go in, I put a
sword to Menge's throat and ask him where Dandelion is?
Triss: Might not work. Menge's scum, but you have to admit... Death doesn't
scare him.
Geralt: Always found that annoying in fanatics.
Really wanna do this?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Triss, think about it... Really want to walk into the lion's den of
your own free will -- and in chains?
Triss: Yes.
Geralt: No. Can't allow it.
Triss: Nice of you to worry... But I've made my decision, and I won't change
it.
Geralt: So we gotta trick him into talking. Any ideas?
Triss: Uh... Maybe tell him you have information about the Lodge -- or about
Philippa, even better, he hates her most of all. You'll think of
something.
Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Still got a bad feeling about this... But tough. Let's go.
Wait, wanted to thank you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wait. I wanna thank you.
Triss: Come on. Anyone would do this...
Geralt: No. Not anyone.
Triss: Stop. It doesn't befit a sorceress to blush.
What about the treasure?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What about the treasure?
Triss: If we learn anything, great. If not...
Geralt: Thought you need coin from Dijkstra to help the other mages.
Triss: True, I do... Lots of ways to get gold, though. It's just not the most
important thing now.
[The two start walking to the barracks.]
Triss: Geralt, remember, I can take care of myself.
Geralt: What're you talking about?
Triss: The hunters... They won't treat me like a lady. But I'll survive. Might
hurt a bit, but... Ciri -- she's what matters. Do what you need to do,
no matter what happens.
Geralt: Can't promise that.
Triss: I'm still asking you to. All right?
Geralt: All right.
[At the harborside entrance, they put the plot in action. Geralt knocks on the
front door.]
Sentry: Whaddaya want?
Geralt: Here for my reward!
Sentry: What the hell for?
Geralt: For a witch! Recognize who I got? It's Triss Merigold!
Sentry: Merigold?! Come in, then!
[They enter. Hunters surround them.]
Hunter: Well, well... Triss Merigold. Given up drowners for sorceresses?
Geralt: Pay's better.
Hunter: It's 'cause they do more harm. What's a drowner do? Pull the odd
fisherman from his boat? But the witches, they murder kings. Scheme.
Start wars.
Triss: Don't forget turning your cows' milk sour straight out of the udder.
[A hunter backhands her.]
Triss: Aaaah!
Hunter: You're done jesting, Merigold. For good. Put her in a cell.
Wanna talk to Menge.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not so fast. I hand her over to Menge himself -- or not at all.
Hunter: You reckon we don't what to do with this witch?
Triss: Let go, you bastard.
Hunter: Vulgar tongue's got no place bein' in such a pretty mouth. I guess
we'll have to rip it out.
Got something to offer Menge.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Try to loosen it, if I were you. Might learn something interesting.
Hunter: For instance?
Geralt: For instance, where Philippa Eilhart's hiding.
Triss: I'll get you for this, you...
(skip to "Shut your gob...")
Might know your witches, but you're shit at catching them.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah -- you might know how to handle witches, when they're brought
to you in chains.
Hunter: What's that supposed to mean?
Geralt: That you're crap witch hunters if a witcher's gotta do your hunting
for you.
Hunter: Listen here, mutant... Since we entered this town, we've made ashes
of over a hundred mages, alchemists, dopplers and other vermin. So
don't you be tellin' us how to do our jobs, got it?
I can lead you to Philippa.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Actually, think I could tell you a thing or two... It's not just
Merigold. I've also tracked down Philippa Eilhart.
Triss: I'll get you for this, you...
Hunter: Shut your gob, ginger whore! And you spit it out -- where's
Eilhart?!
I'll tell your boss. No one else.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thought I made myself clear -- I'll only talk to Menge.
Hunter: Menge don't talk to the likes of you.
Geralt: Well then you be sure and tell him I came by. With my friend
Merigold.
Hunter: Fine... Grab her and come with me. But be sure to stay right
close.
Don't talk to her that way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't talk to her that way.
Hunter: Why not? She's a whore, ain't she?
Maybe, but for now, she's my whore.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Maybe, but for now she's my whore and I say you can't insult her.
Hunter: Funny you feel that way, but so be it... Now. Philippa. Talk.
Was I unclear? Don't call her that.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Last time I say this. Don't call her that.
Hunter: Why not? Would you be bothered if I cut off her pinky?
Geralt: Yes.
It's about quality, not quantity.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's it they say? Quality over quantity? 'Cause if it were about
numbers, you might as well burn herbalists, village healers, hell,
entire villages, black cats included...
Hunter: You must think you're funny.
Hunter: Maybe he is, fuck if we know. Thing is, we've no sense of humor.
You're not gonna do any ripping.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're not gonna rip her tongue out.
Hunter: Cause¹ why?
Geralt: Cause¹ this.
Hands off.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hands off.
Hunter: What'd you say?
Hunter: Agh, sensed it. Knew we couldn't trust him... Witcher, witch... One
and the same.
Hunter: So they can burn at one and the same stake.
====================== IF GERALT GOES WITH TRISS' PLAN ========================
[If Geralt succeeds in talking the guards into letting him meet Menge:]
Geralt: Here's where we split up. Go meet Menge. Merigold'll be next door.
Hunter: You can't have her until I get--
Geralt: You don't set the terms here! Dirk! You know what to do.
Triss: You won't get a word out of me. Not you, not him.
Hunter: Playin' tough, eh? Just you wait... We'll take a fingernail or three.
That oughta get you singin'.
Fine, take her. / Take her.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Do what you want.
Hunter: Come on, witch... Show you the wonders a pair of pliers can work.
You'll be surprised.
Fine. But no torturing.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fine. Take her. I'd rather she didn't interrupt my conversation. But
hands off, don't touch her.
Hunter: Why? Feel sorry for the bitch?
Geralt: No. Couldn't give a shit about her... But if I don't get what I want
from Menge, I'll want to sell her to someone else. Don't want you
damaging the goods.
Hunter: Keen nose for enterprise. You'd make a great madame. Don't you worry,
Menge'll give you your coin... And Merigold will get what she
deserves.
[Axii Sign] Don't start torturing her without me.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No torture till I get there. Got it?
Hunter: Got it... No torture...
Hunter: Wha...? Whoreson's castin' spells! Get him!
I've had enough of this shit. / Enough.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, had enough of this charade.
Hunter: What're you on about?
Geralt: Watch and learn.
[If Geralt manages to fool the hunters enough to get a meeting with Menge:]
Menge: I believe I told you not to let anyone in.
Hunter: Unless they had information concernin' Philippa Eilhart... This witcher
says he's got just that.
Menge: Anyone can claim that.
[Geralt can hear the torturer next door.]
Torturer: We'll start with your pinky nail. Nah, let's go for your ring finger.
This little piggy went to market...
Triss: Aaaach!
Hunter: But it's not that easy to bring us Triss Merigold.
Menge: Is that who I hear...? Very well. I'll go see her shortly. But first --
let us talk. Sit, sit. Have a drink, witcher.
Why not.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(Geralt drinks from the goblet)
Not in the mood.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not in the mood.
Menge: You've two choices, witcher... Drink, or die.
Fine.
¯¯¯¯¯
(Geralt drinks from the goblet)
There's a third option -- I could kill you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: There's a third option.
Menge: Oh yeah? What might that be?
Geralt: I'm going to kill you.
Menge: Guaaaaards! In here!
Why?
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why the drink?
Menge: Triss Merigold has been captured... An occasion worthy of a toast,
don't you think?
You can't torture Triss. I won't allow it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tell your boys to leave Triss alone first.
Menge: Not a chance. The bitch must howl.
Geralt: I've tried to be polite. You just won't let me.
Menge: Guaaaaards! In here!
Geralt: Cidarian.
Menge: A 1261 vintage. Year of the massacre of Cintra.
Torturer: Ah -- stop squirming. Heh. This little piggy went home!
Triss: Aaah! Stop!
Menge: Kurt, please see why Miss Merigold squeals so convincingly. Perhaps she
needs something? Hot irons, for instance?
Geralt: Speaking of metal...this goblet's silver. Making sure I'm not a
doppler?
Menge: Ah, it's immediately apparent -- a professional. I find that refreshing.
But to answer your question -- one can never be too careful. You'd be
surprised how many who come here turn to rancid jelly as soon as they
grip the goblet.
Your hunters are torturing Triss, but I haven't been paid.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Still haven't paid me for the witch... Yet your hunters are already
torturing her.
Menge: What of it?
Geralt: You're damaging goods you haven't paid for yet.
Tell them to release Triss.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Enough. Let Triss go. Now.
Menge: What? Who are you to give me orders?
Geralt: A man with a sharp sword who doesn't like to repeat himself.
Menge: Guaaaards! In here!
Got a silver sword on my back. Not enough?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got a silver sword on my back. That not enough?
Menge: It proves nothing. Dopplers can change their bodies at will, into
materials that look and feel like silver as well... Materials that
have none of silver's useful properties, naturally.
Geralt: See you're an expert on dopplers.
Menge: I'd expect a witcher of all...things...to understand the value of
knowing one's enemy.
No other way?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No way around this?
Menge: Of course there is. Dopplers also assume their true form when
subjected to horrific pain... So I could have you flogged. Effective,
true -- but the goblet method is much quicker. Now let us get down to
business.
Geralt: See you're an expert on dopplers.
Menge: I'd expect a witcher of all...things...to understand the value of
knowing one's enemy.
Torturer: This little piggy had roast beef...
Triss: Aaayye...! You bastard... No...
Torturer: This little piggy had none...
Triss: Aaa... Aaaaa...
Menge: • Now, let us talk shop.
• Don't worry. You shan't leave empty handed¹.
I shall pay you twice the usual reward for Merigold.
Geralt: Awfully generous. Why?
Menge: Well...you've turned in your lover. The emotional trauma it must
entail...you deserve compensation.
Witchers do anything for gold.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah, I've ploughed Triss. But what does it matter if you're paying
gold for her head?
Menge: Oh yeah...haha. Nearly forgot -- the mutations strip witchers of
feelings.
Don't know what you're talking about.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No idea what you're talking about...
Menge: You underestimate me. You see, I know everything about Merigold --
her special talents, what she fears, who she's quarreled with, who
she's shagged and who's ploughed her. Sensed from that start that this
might be a provocation. Your inept lie just confirmed my suspicions.
Guaaaards! In here!
Triss betrayed me first.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You seem well informed... So you have to know Triss betrayed me
first -- used me as a pawn in the Lodge's game. As I see it, she's
getting what she deserved.
Changed my mind. Let her go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think I just changed my mind. Let her go.
Menge: Didn't take much to get you to break. Guaaaaards! In here!
Triss: No... No more... I can't...
Torturer: Be brave, dear -- just one more fingernail and we'll move to the
other hand. This little piggy went wee, wee, wee... Ow! Bitch bit me!
Haha! The bitch bites! Let's put a collar on her. Dimeritium ought to
calm her down.
Menge: You surprise me... Geralt. Perhaps we can do deal after all. So. You
know something about Philippa... But I wager you won't share this
information for free. What do you want in return?
Free my friend Dandelion.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It's simple... Free Dandelion.
Menge: A degenerate bard for information about Philippa... Tempting offer, I
must admit. But I must say no. You see, I've a magnificent execution
planned for Dandelion. In Oxenfurt. A breaking wheel, flaying alive
and so forth... It should work wonders on the mores of the academic
youth and townsfolk.
Geralt: When's this morally instructive spectacle due to take place?
Menge: When I issue the order. In person. Dandelion will remain in the
dungeons beneath Temple Isle until then. So sorry I can't be of
help... Perhaps we can agree different terms?
[Picking this after talking about the treasure is different:]
Geralt: All right. So free Dandelion.
Menge: First you ask me about a criminal's treasure... Now you want me to
let loose a blaspheming degenerate. And here I had you for a man --
that is, a being...of some moral principle.
Geralt: No doubt we're cut from the same cloth. But we don't have to agree
on everything to make a deal.
Menge: We need not agree any terms, either. I could simply force you to tell
me what you know of Philippa.
Geralt: Doubt that. I really doubt that.
Menge: Whereas I'm a man of great faith. Guaaaards! In here!
I'm looking for this treasure...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm looking for a treasure. Was Sigi Reuven's until recently...
Menge: Well, well... Furthering the cause of the Eternal Fire on one hand,
working for criminals on the other...
Geralt: I work for whoever pays me.
Menge: Like a whore?
Geralt: More or less. Just offer a different range of services. Where's the
treasure?
Menge: Secure in a Koviri bank. Far and safe from you, far and safe from
Reuven.
Geralt: Got information about Philippa. Thought you might want to buy it...
Menge: I do. But not at any price.
Fuck it. Had enough of this masquerade.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Know what? Fuck you. Had enough of this masquerade.
Menge: Guaaaards! In here!
Menge: But first let's see how Miss Merigold fares. Its... It's grown
suspiciously quiet in there. Come.
[They go into the torture chamber to find the attending guards slain. Triss
approaches from the corner and catches Menge in her spell, before he can even
cry out. She starts boiling him from the inside.]
Triss: He say where Dandelion is?
Geralt: Yes... But...
[She stabs him in the neck with a blade. She keeps him caught in her spell as
he looks on in horror. Geralt eventually has to snap her out of it; Menge's
lifeless body collapses to the floor.]
Geralt: Triss...
Rushed a bit...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How do I say this... That was just a bit premature.
Triss: What do you mean?
Geralt: Menge said Dandelion's locked up on Temple Isle. Dungeon right under
the temple. He was planning to execute him in Oxenfurt... Also said
they'd only let Dandelion out of his cell once Menge gave the order
...in person.
Triss: Shit... I'm sorry, Geralt... I...should've thought this through,
but... When I saw him, I...
We can't undo it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's done is done.
No need to explain.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: After what they subjected you to... No need to explain.
Gotta see to your wounds.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I should tend to your wounds...
Triss: No need. I'm fine. Well...mostly fine. Should heal in time for my
wedding.
Geralt: Sorry. Shoulda gotten you out sooner...
Triss: Don't apologize. I knew what I was signing up for.
Triss: He... He'd never have agreed to help us... Even if I...
Geralt: I know. Let's not dwell on this. We should think about what to do
next...
Triss: Dandelion's safe for now... Though out of reach. We don't stand a chance
of breaking him out -- Temple Isle's impregnable... And Menge's not
likely to order his transfer, or anyone's for that matter...
Let's search Menge's body.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's search his corpse.
Triss: Right... Could find something that'll help us... Just his office key
in his pockets. Here...nothing under the belt... Wait! Something's
sewn in the lining...
Geralt: What is it?
Triss: The key to a vault. Here. Give it to Dijkstra with my regards.
Necromancy seems like our only hope.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Could you...revive him?
Triss: Maybe... If I actually practiced black magic. Haven't sunken that low
just yet.
Menge burned a sheet of paper.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Saw Menge burn a sheet of paper -- right before we came in here.
Triss: Could've been something on it that would've helped us. Argh, too late
now.
Geralt: So, there's no way you can recover the note...?
Triss: Sadly, no. I'm a sorceress, not a miracle worker.
Triss: Nothing but dead ends... We'll need to make do...
Don't have much to work with.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Menge's the only one who could've ordered Dandelion's release.
Triss: Yes... Or someone who looks exactly like him...
Geralt: A doppler?
Triss: Mhm. Your old friend, Dudu Biberveldt -- impersonated the halfling
merchant? Dandelion claimed he'd seemed more real than the original.
So much so Vivaldi gave him a loan of several thousand crowns without
batting an eye.
Geralt: Yeah. Except Dudu's in hiding now. Priscilla might know something,
though.
Triss: Fingers crossed.
Maybe breaking Dandelion out's our only option...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Breaking Dandelion out's starting to look like our last option...
Triss: Geralt, you know me... I'm all for finding solutions. I don't give up
easily... But in this case, there's no hope, not a shred. No one
escapes the dungeons beneath the temple.. And no one's ever been
broken out.
Geralt: Anyone actually tried?
Triss: They've tried, Geralt -- I've tried, to be exact. Shortly before you
arrived. It almost cost me my life.
Triss: Listen, there is one other thing I wanted to talk about. But not here,
not now. Come by when you have a moment? I'd appreciate it. All right...
we need to get out of here.
[If Geralt approaches the guard-infested front area.]
Geralt: I either go out another way...or ready my sword.
Triss: Geralt, over here...
Guard: What the... Over here!
======================= IF GERALT IGNORES TRISS' PLAN =========================
[If the cover's blown, Triss and Geralt simply fight all the guards, then kill
Menge in his upstairs office. There's no notable dialogue.]
Triss: Think that's all of them... That was close.
• I must say, trickery and deceit -- not your strong suits.
Geralt: True. I prefer straightforward solutions.
Triss: Yeah. Fight first, ask questions later.
• What happened? I thought Menge took the bait...
Geralt: No, he didn't. Sensed right off it was all a front.
• What happened? I thought Menge took the bait...
Geralt: He did... Until I asked about the treasure.
Triss: Geralt... We talked this over, you agreed... Ugh, fine. Never mind.
Triss: We should search the office. Maybe we can find some documents mentioning
Dandelion... I'll search his body. You search the room. I'd start with
the desk.
[Geralt plucks a letter from the commander's desk, which tells about a dead
drop involving a holy tome. It's signed "Yamurlak".]
Geralt: Find anything?
Triss: Just his office key in his pockets. Here...nothing under the belt...
Wait! Something's sewn in the lining...
Geralt: What is it?
Triss: The key to a vault. Here. Give it to Dijkstra with my regards.
I found a letter... From a spy.²
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Geralt: I found a letter to Menge, from someone important. A spy, I think.
Triss: A spy?
Geralt: Take a look.
Triss: Drop boxes, secret signals... Yeah... Strong stench of spy craft
here... This agent could know more about Dandelion.
Geralt: Be he does. Letter explains how to signal for a meeting -- no mention
of where it would take place.
Triss: Maybe Dijkstra can help. He knows everything.
Geralt: Everything? Slight exaggeration there.
Triss: I'm not so sure.
Kinda doubt the key'll be enough.²
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Geralt: Key to a vault? No address? Why do I doubt this'll make Dijkstra
smile?
Triss: Well, might keep him from setting his thugs on us, breaking our legs
for failing to fulfill our part of the bargain.
Geralt: Meaning, glass is half full?
Triss: Of something strong, I hope...
Let's get going.²
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Geralt: All right. Nothing left for us here. Let's go.
Triss: Be glad to. Just not by way of the main gate.
========================== PATH SPLITS REJOIN HERE ============================
[They sneak out the back way.]
Triss: This is where we split up. But first...let's burn this shack down.
Geralt: Agreed. We've left too much evidence.
Triss: Yeah. But I also need to blow off some steam.
• Listen, there's one other thing I wanted to talk about. But not here and
definitely not now. Come by later, when you have a moment? I'd appreciate
it. All right. We need to get out of here.
[Triss wastes no time launching fireballs at commodity stacks and the doors.]
Triss: That should do it. I'm going. You should too.
Geralt: Mhm. Not about to use the teleport, though. See you, Triss.
[Geralt escapes the burning fortress. He's soon hailed by Dijkstra's man.]
Lackey: You there! Mr. Reuven wants a word.
Geralt: Impatient old bastard...
Lackey: Wha?
Geralt: Nothing. Be there soon.
[The guard takes Geralt to the docks where Dijkstra's waiting.]
Reuven: Who do I spy? Why, it's Geralt of Rivia!
Geralt: Ugh... Will you stop following me already?
Reuven: I will. Soon as you tell me where my treasure is.
Geralt: Me and Menge...didn't see eye to eye.
Reuven: How badly?
Geralt: Badly.
Reuven: I suppose that explains the smoke... My treasure's not in there, is it?
Burning with the witch hunters...?
• Geralt: No. Your gold's in a Koviri bank. Here's the key to the vault that
holds it.
Reuven: Well, well... Would've earned yourself a medal if I was in the
position to bestow them.
• Geralt: Didn't see it anywhere... And twenty tons of gold is hard to miss.
Reuven: You mean to say you've come to me empty-handed?
Geralt: First of all, you came to me. Second, I do have something in my
hand... The key to a vault. Found it on Menge.
Reuven: A vault? That I need to find on my own? You've not made things much
easier for me. Gimme that.
That's it? No witticism in parting?
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Geralt: That's all you're gonna say? No wry remark? No scintillating joke?
Reuven: Hahaha... You want a knee-slapper? Fine, I'll tell you one. Ready?
What about my reward?
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Geralt: Spare me... I want my reward.
Reuven: Geralt... Do all you witchers have such nerve?
Geralt: Whaddaya mean?
Reuven: You lied to me.
• Again.
Geralt: What?
Reuven: You knew from the start who robbed me. But you didn't deign to share
that information with me.
Stop crying. You'll get your treasure back, won't you?
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Geralt: No, I didn't. But I did deign to help you find your treasure, so stop
moaning.
Reuven: I jest you not, Geralt. You abused my trust.
Geralt: I can live with that.
Reuven: This time, yes, you'll live.
How'd you find out?
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Geralt: How'd you find out?
Reuven: I ask the questions here.
Geralt: Not true. That was a statement. Come on, Dijkstra. This tough-guy act
-- doesn't work on me. We're both adults. Act like one.
Reuven: Hahahah! Ah, Geralt... I should have you strangled, but I like you,
you bastard.
I like you too.
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Geralt: I like you too...you count without a county.
Can't say it's mutual.
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Geralt: That makes one of us.
Reuven: I know, I know... Oh, the sleep I lose because of that...
Geralt: Now that we've professed our mutual feelings for each other... How'd
you figure it out?
Reuven: Sensed from the start you were up to something. You didn't haggle
about your pay. And then I heard from my sources that Margrave
Henckel and Dandelion had rubbed elbows. Wasn't hard to connect the
dots.
Reuven: And now... Time to settle things.
Geralt: That a threat?
Reuven: Quite the contrary. You helped me, witcher, so in spite of everything
you've earned your reward.
• Geralt: Don't bother. I know what happened to Dandelion.
Reuven: Then take my coin. I always pay my debts... Even to liars.
• Reuven: I take it you've still no idea what happened to Dandelion?
Geralt: None. Found someone who might know, though. A spy, I guess -- signs
his name "Yamurlak." Found a letter of his. Just one problem -- it
only details how to arrange a meeting with him. Makes no mention of
where--
Reuven: A ruined house in Farcorners. Give the signal, and he'll show up
there the same day, just before midnight.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Reuven: No need to thank me. Just paying off a debt. I always do, you know.
Even to liars.
How the hell do you know this?
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Geralt: Probably shouldn't ask, but...Dijkstra, how the hell do you know
all of this?
Reuven: I draw it all from the flight patterns of birds.
Geralt: Your sarcasm -- it gets tiring, you know?
Reuven: I've far worse qualities than that. Believe me.
Reuven: And a final humble plea. Don't try to fool me again...ever.
[The quest ends here if Geralt already knows of Dandelion. If one took a tome
from Menge's desk, there's an extra step: meeting the spy in Farcorners. This
requires approaching an Eternal Fire area and locating a drop box behind the
torch shrine.]
Geralt: Must be the drop box. Gave the signal. Spy should show up in Farcorners</pre><pre id="faqspan-12">
before midnight.
[Geralt visits the meeting point early.]
Geralt: Now just to hide...and wait...
• A blind man would even spot me here...
• Behind the door... Best place to hide... Classic.
[At midnight, he sees Triss enter.]
Geralt: Triss? How'd you know to-- Ah, Dijkstra, huh?
Triss: None other. I couldn't resist... Really want to see this through to the
end.
Geralt: Perfect place for a tryst...with Triss...
Triss: Mhm... Ceiling's collapsed, mold on the walls, mouse droppings in the
corner... Lips almost pucker on their own...
Geralt: Shh. He's coming. Hide.
[Soon, a man walks in.]
Spy: Menge?
Geralt: Indisposed. Very indisposed.
Spy: I don't know who you are... But you're in deep. Shit right up to your
nostrils.
Triss: You're in deeper, I assure you... But answer our questions, and we'll
help you get out.
Spy: My answer to each question will be the same: sod off.
That's no way to talk to a lady.
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Geralt: That's no way to talk to a lady.
Spy: To a lady, I'd never...but to a witch?
Triss: You can. Wouldn't recommend it, though.
Don't play the tough guy. Not worth it.
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Geralt: You'll talk. Just a matter of time. So save us some, yourself some,
too, and stop acting tough.
Spy: Or what?
Geralt: Or I'll have to hurt you. Permanently.
Spy: I see you know your way around an interrogation... So do I. You're the
bad one, all threats and torture, and the red one's the good one, full
of sympathy and sweet promises...
Triss: That's where you're wrong.
[Using her magic, she traps him in an agonizing paralysis spell, just like she
may have done to Menge.]
Spy: Aaaaaargh!
Triss: Had enough?
Spy: Ffffff... Fffffuck off... I can take this...
Triss: Of course you can. But I'm just getting started.
Spy: Aaargh!
[Don't react.]
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Triss: You must be thinking: this can't possibly hurt any worse... Oh, it
can.
Spy: Aaarrgh! Enough...ugh! Enough!
Triss... That's enough.
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Geralt: Triss, stop.
Triss: First, let him--
Geralt: Please.
Geralt: So? Gonna talk?
• Spy: Depends...on the question.
• Spy: Yes, yes! Just tell me what the fuck about!
We're looking for Dandelion.
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Geralt: We're looking for Dandelion. We know Menge captured him.
Spy: Th-that? That's what this is all about? A fucking minstrel? You might've
said so from the start. Before you bloody started mucking my mind with
magic?
Who do you work for?
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Geralt: Pure curiosity... Who do you work for?
Spy: Won't say. No way.
Triss: Sure about that?
• Spy: Yes. No matter what you do, witch... That I will never reveal.
• Spy: Hgh ugh hghgh... Radovid. I work or Radovid.
What did Radovid hope to achieve?
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Geralt: Radovid -- what'd he hope to gain by helping Menge?
Spy: He seeks to clear the field. Before he arrives.
Geralt: Makes sense. Easier to take a city whose mages are gone.
Triss: Bastard...he'll pay for this.
Spy: I can't believe it... For a miserable sap like that...
Get to the point.
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Geralt: Get to the point.
Expect an apology?
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Geralt: You expect an apology?
Spy: No... But I've a right to be surprised, don't I?
Spy: Dandelion is on Temple Isle. In the dungeon beneath the shrine. Menge's
planning to execute him in Oxenfurt... Positively spectacular.
Geralt: Afraid you'll have to call off the show.
Triss: How can we free Dandelion?
Spy: Those who leave Temple Isle do so only on Menge's orders... Issued in
person.
Geralt: Dammit...
Triss: We'll find a way. I have an idea. Tell you later.
Enough.
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Geralt: Enough... We've learned everything we wanted to.
Spy: Glad to hear it. Can I assume we can put this unfortunate incident
behind us and...
Triss: Not so fast. Geralt...
Geralt: I know. He's seen too much.
Spy: But why... I told you... I'll never...
Triss: Either he dies... Or I wipe his mind.
Kill him.
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Geralt: As good as lit the pyres with Menge in the square. He deserves to
die.
Spy: But... But I helped you... I help--
Triss: Faeren, angau.
Take his memory.
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Geralt: Strip him of his memory.
Spy: But... But I helped you... I help--
Geralt: It's not so bad. I promise.
Triss: Caesle, angaef.
[The spy topples over, dead or unconscious.]
Triss...how are you?
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Geralt: How do you feel?
Triss: Base. Cruel. Vile. I could go on...but I need to get out of here --
now. Go home, bathe...then drink myself to oblivion.
Showed your claws today.
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Geralt: Really showed your claws today...
Triss: Is that how you see it? I'd put it differently. I showed how little I
differ from these bastards. I... Let's finish up and leave. I want to
go home, bathe...and get drunk.
Mentioned you have an idea about how to free Dandelion.
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Geralt: Said you had an idea -- about freeing Dandelion...
Triss: Yes... We know he's on the island. And he'll stay there until Menge
orders him transferred to Oxenfurt, right?
Geralt: Mhm. Problem is Menge's dead, so...
Triss: No one else knows that. He could've escaped in the fire... He could
reappear... Him, or someone very, very similar.
Geralt: A doppler?
Triss: Mhm. Your old friend, Dudu Biberveldt -- impersonated the halfling
merchant? Dandelion claimed he seemed more real than the original.
So much so Vivaldi gave him a loan of several thousand crowns without
batting an eye.
Geralt: Yeah. Except Dudu's in hiding right¹ now. Priscilla might know
something, though.
Triss: Fingers crossed.
I'll walk you home.
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Geralt: Walk you home...?
Triss: Not today, Geralt. Not today. But... There is this one other thing I
wanted to talk about. So, mind coming by later? Menge's dead, true,
but that hardly marks the end of my troubles.
• Triss: Listen, there's one other thing I wanted to talk about. But not here
and definitely not now. Come by later, when you have a moment? I'd
appreciate it. All right. We need to get out of here.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7g) THE PLAY'S THE THING [WK7G]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[After learning about Dudu in "Count Reuven's Treasure," Geralt returns to see
Priscilla at the Kingfisher.]
Geralt: Think I know how to free Dandelion. Got a plan, but we need Dudu, gotta
find him.
Priscilla: This...plan? What is it?
Geralt: Our doppler friend will assume Menge's form, order Dandelion moved to
Oxenfurt. We can grab him on the way.
Priscilla: Brilliant, but how do you aim to find Dudu?
Geralt: You're his friend -- any idea where he might be hiding?
Priscilla: With a doppler, the question is never "where," but "as whom." In
the past, facing trouble, he'd disappear, then reappear on the
morrow as someone else. But this time...? This time he hasn't
returned.
We gotta convince Dudu to come out of hiding.
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Geralt: We need to convince Dudu to reveal himself. Any friends we could
leave a message with, someone he trusts...?
Priscilla: Dandelion, Irina Renard's¹ troupe -- that's all, really. I'm not
certain he was friendly with anyone else. Spent dawn to dusk with
the troupe, on stage or in the crowd...
How long've you known Dudu?
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Geralt: Known Dudu long?
Priscilla: I know this might sound strange but...I can't be sure. It seems
he'd been circling me for some time in various forms, trying to
attract my attention...
Geralt: Can't blame him for making the effort.
Priscilla: Thank you. I failed to notice him at first. Then he decided to
shoot the moon, assumed Dandelion's form.
Geralt: What tipped you off? How'd you know it wasn't Dandelion? Dudu not
much of a singer?
Priscilla: No, he simply spoke about something other than himself.
Geralt: So he liked going to the mummings...?
Priscilla: Yes. I'm actually surprised he didn't come to us after it all
happened. He certainly could've counted on the foxen's help...
Geralt: Hmm... So if these mummers are ready to help...
Priscilla: We need only mention Dudu. Irina and company are deeply indebted to
him.
Maybe a play's the thing...you know.
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Geralt: Maybe we could use a play. You know, work a message to Dudu into
something. Lure him out of hiding that way.
Dudu and the mummers -- what's the link?
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Geralt: Dudu and the mummers -- how'd they meet?
Priscilla: That was my doing. Some opening night. Maxim lay comatose in his
wardrobe, drunk as an otter. I thought of Dudu. Hard to imagine a
better actor than a doppler.
Geralt: And Dudu revealed himself to them, just like that?
Priscilla: I didn't think it wise to tell anyone, but Dudu and Irina took to
each other completely and right away. He fell so hopelessly in
love with the theater...
Geralt: That he started performing with you?
Priscilla: Yes. Now Irina feels terribly guilty. They let him put himself in
danger. She can't forgive herself.
Priscilla: Not a bad idea, but I doubt a few lines would suffice. Besides, do
you really think Dudu whiles away his days attending mummings he
knows by heart?
Geralt: So what do you suggest?
Priscilla: We must write an entire new play, from scratch. Something grand,
something that will grab Dudu's attention. So most importantly, it
must have a splendid title. It must be the talk of the town. If you
wish, we can start on it right away.
All right. We can work on the play.
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Geralt: All right. Guess we can start writing the play.
Don't know that I can write a play.
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Geralt: Not sure I'm cut out to write a play. Maybe you're better off doing
this on your own.
Priscilla: It's sure to go quicker if you help me. You'll see, we'll have a
grand time together.
Let's write later.
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Geralt: We'll write the thing later.
Priscilla: Good. I'll have more time to prepare. You may wish to speak with
Madame Irina and her troupe first. You'll find them in the
Butchers' Yard off the main market square.
Geralt: Be back soon. See you.
Priscilla: Any ideas for the plot?
Geralt: Actually, I was hopin'--
Priscilla: The key is to convince Dudu that he can rely on you. And that we
wish to free Dandelion. The message must be clear, though naturally
woven into the play's dramaturgical essence, meaning we need an
appropriate dramatic structure. Following along?
More or less.
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Geralt: More or less.
Priscilla: That'll do.
Not entirely.
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Geralt: Not entirely.
Priscilla: Tough, you'll need to pick it up as we go along. There's no time
to explain everything to you.
Yes, all clear.
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Geralt: Yeah, all clear.
Priscilla: Now to find the proper expressive form for our content. A gripping,
contemporary story -- that'd be best. Perhaps about the condotteiri
of Poviss? I know: Lorenzo Molla. A tale of a handsome but ruthless
bandit...and the doppler who manages to fool him. But now the
doppler must hide and can only count on the help of his friend,
who's a witcher...who in turn is prepared to do anything to save his
daugh'... No, better -- his beloved. Hmm... What do you think?
Good idea.
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Geralt: Sounds great.
Priscilla: Really think so? Lorenzo Molla, yeah... Hm... Or perhaps not.
Wait.
Need something different.
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Geralt: Let's keep thinking. That seems a bit...
Priscilla: Too fresh? Right you are. Wait, give me a minute... I've got it!
Priscilla: We shall stage a story of the Urcheon of Erlenwald! Secret lovers,
their betrothal, a curse, a cruel queen, bells sounding midnight...
Geralt: But--
Priscilla: At which point he reveals his face! He's a monster, there to steal
Princess Pavetta! They want him dead, but at that instant a witcher
steps in! And everything ends splendidly. So, it's settled, yes?
You wished to say something?
Need a good title.
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Geralt: We need a good title. Venture to say that's more important than the
story itself.
Priscilla: I've some ideas -- perhaps you can choose.
Geralt: Gonna consider my opinion this time?
Priscilla: Of course. We're partners in this. I'm just in charge.
Do I get a say in any of this?
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Geralt: Will I get a say in any of this? Or have you decided everything
already?
Priscilla: Why are you cross? It's the nature of the creative process -- we
toss around ideas and choose the best ones.
Geralt: Meaning yours.
Priscilla: Well, you must admit I'm better acquainted with the theater.
Naturally, you'll play a part in shaping this play, contribute to
the work as a whole. Dandelion will explain how it works later.
Priscilla: I've too really good ones: "The Doppler's Salvation" and "A
Changeling Rescued, or the Witcher's Triumph." Which do you prefer?
"The Doppler's Salvation."
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Geralt: Let's go with "The Doppler's Salvation." It's shorter, catchier.
"A Changeling Rescued, or the Witcher's Triumph."
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Geralt: "A Changeling Rescued, or the Witcher's Triumph" -- really emphasizes
the message we're trying to get across.
Geralt: Just one problem -- no dopplers in that story. Just a princess and a
cursed urcheon.
Priscilla: Nothing simpler. We need merely swap the doppler for the urcheon.
The message -- that's what's important. a witcher arrives and saves
the doppler. Got it?
Geralt: All right. So it's a comedy?
Priscilla: I was thinking more along dramatic lines, but if you'd prefer
something lighter... Listen, merely decide and I'll get to work.
Drama.
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Geralt: Hm, you're right. A drama'd be better.
Comedy.
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Geralt: Think comedy's the safer option.
Priscilla: Very well. I must get to work. While you...must pick a corner, sit
down, read silently...or just think? All right?
Geralt: Fine. Since you don't need help with the writing...
Priscilla: Geralt, wait. A rhyme for "witcher"?
Geralt: Err..."did itch her"?
Priscilla: Ugh. Just keep quiet.
[Hours later, Priscilla wakes up Geralt from where he'd fallen asleep.]
Priscilla: Ahh, done. I could make a small masterpiece of this had I a bit more
time, but...
Geralt: We're fresh out of that. The hidden message to Dudu -- what'd you weave
it in?
Priscilla: Hidden message?
Geralt: You were gonna work something in, like "Come to the Kingfisher at dawn"
or...
Priscilla: That wouldn't be in keeping with the tone of the play! Not at all!
Geralt: You wrote it to contact Dudu! That was the purpose... Fine, so how do
you see this working?
Priscilla: I don't know. I was counting on recognizing him by his scar...or
just improvising. Shall we worry about that later? First, you must
take the script to Madame Irina. Sure you know where to find her?
The troupe performs in the Butchers' Yard, off the main square.
Geralt: Join us later. See ya.
[Geralt approaches the locked Butchers' Yard theater. A ticket taker's nearby.]
Geralt: This where Madame Irina's troupe performs?
Seller: Yeah. But you can only enter with a ticket. There's no performance now,
mummers're just rehearsin'... Process is interestin' to observe,
though. So. Want a ticket?
Geralt: No performance, said so yourself.
Seller: You can still get a ticket. What'll it be? Need a ticket?
(50 coins) Yeah, I'll take one.
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Geralt: Yeah, one.
Seller: Here. Just stay outta sight, eh? Awful bashful, these mummers in
rehearsal.
No. Don't want a ticket.
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Geralt: No. No need.
Seller: So be it. But you'll not get in. Whores through a window -- them you
can watch gratis. These here're artistes.
[Geralt goes in to find rehearsal underway. Irina Renarde's nearby.]
Irina: Almost. That was almost it, but-but--
Actor: Well? What was wrong that time?
Irina: I don't know anymore... It simply needs more fire!
Geralt: Madame Irina? Can we talk?
Irina: Geralt of Rivia! Dandelion's told us so much about you! Is he with you?
Geralt: No, but I hope to bring him back soon. Here to talk about Dudu.
Irina: Hm. Let's speak in my quarters, at the back of the theater. We'll be
undisturbed there.
[The two visit that location.]
Irina: How can I help? We've not seen Dandelion or Dudu recently...
I'd like to put on a play.
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Geralt: I wanna stage a play. Something that'll really draw the crowds.
Irina: I see... And you hope it will get Dudu's attention as well, draw him
here. So it must be an entirely new play? And...who will write it?
Geralt: Priscilla, actually. She's done writing it. Tells the story of a
witcher who saves a doppler from certain death.
Dandelion's in trouble.
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Geralt: Dandelion's in trouble.
Irina: That much I guessed -- though I am curious how serious it is. Did he
seduce a powerful man's wife and go into hiding? Or did he write an
offensive couplet about the priests of the Eternal Fire?
Geralt: Worse. Lots. I'm gonna try to help him. Gotta contact Dudu first.
Irina: But he's disappeared as well.
Geralt: Have a plan to lure him out of hiding, but I need your help. Can I
count on you?
Irina: Naturally, but can we possibly do...?
Irina: Hm, sounds interesting. I'll gladly have a glance, but first we must
think about getting the word out and organizing some protection --
ushers. Would you mind tending to these matters?
Why the ushers?
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Geralt: Think we need ushers? A play about dopplers could be controversial...
but are ushers absolutely necessary?
Irina: Can't be sure if you've attended many performances, but Novigrad
crowds can be particularly...difficult.
Geralt: Rotten apples, tomatoes, eggs -- that sort of thing?
Irina: Axes, butchers' knives and bricks, usually.
Geralt: All right... Know anyone appropriate?
Irina: Try the docks, perhaps. You're bound to find some men willing to do
any work for a few crowns.
How do I help you publicize the staging?
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Geralt: How can I help you spread the word about the premiere?
Irina: Well, we'd like all the city to hear about it, so we must clearly talk
to the Puffins.
Geralt: Who're the Puffins?
Irina: Street artists. Get them to announce the premiere and even the mussels
on the harbor piling will hear about it.
Geralt: Where'll I find them?
Irina: They did occupy some room in the Bits, in a townhouse, but I can't be
sure they're still there. I've not seen them in the streets lately.
They may very well have hung up their body hose...
Geralt: See if I can find them, and if they'll work for us.
Thanks. See you.
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Geralt: Thanks for helping. I'll come back once I've found some ushers.
Irina: See you then.
[Geralt goes to a dockside fighting arena in his search for ushers. Solus the
Bull is the bookie/fighter there.]
Geralt: Good fight. Some nice footwork there.
Solus: Challenging me or is it Hal you wanna face? A witcher versus the Beast
of Metinna! Killer instinct versus primal rage!
Got a job for you. As ushers.
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Geralt: Like to hire you to help out. We're staging a play.
Solus: Need us to kick some arse on stage?
Geralt: Actually want you to usher, keep the peace, make sure no one's ass
gets kicked -- on stage or off.
You from Nilfgaard?
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Geralt: You guys really from Nilfgaard?
Solus: We's from ploughin' Metinna, dammit. Not Nilfgaard. Raised by wolves
on the windswept plains of Mag Deira! Brothers forged in bloodshed,
veterans of Metinna's infamous, filthy arenas! Who dares face the wild
men of the South?! Who will look the beasts in the eye?
Solus: Got the wrong men. Arse-kicking's what we do.
(70 coins) I'll pay you. / (70 coins) Rather pay you.
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Geralt: I'll pay you well. Stand to make more than you do here.
Solus: Expecting trouble? Will we need to bust some heads?
Geralt: Can't rule it out. Bricks could start flying -- heard that from a
reliable source.
Solus: Hal! Wanna smash some bricklayers? Oh, he does, he does! Or I don't
know me own brother. Gimme that coin. And don't fret, we'll be there
before any of the, uh, dancin' starts.
What if I fight you and win?
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Geralt: How about a wager? If I beat Hal, you'll come work for me -- gratis.
Solus: Hmmm, see, Hal's no fan of mummings. Failed romance, spare you the
details. You'll need somethin' special to convince him. Here's an
idea: take us both on, same time. Fight of the century -- a witcher
'gainst the two-headed dragon of Metinna!
Geralt: What if I lose?
Solus: Oh, you'll lose. But we'll still do your little job. You'll just pay
us double.
(70 coins) Rather pay you.
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Geralt: Not in the mood for a fight. Can't I just pay you?
Solus: How it always is with you ploughin' Nordlings. Hal! Finish up, will
you? We're gonna take in some high culture! I'd never agree to this
shite, normally. But I must say I'm curious why a mutant's hirin'
two boys from Metinna to keep peace at a performance in Novigrad.
Give us the coin. Hal! For fuck's sake, finish the bugger already!
We're going! We'll be there before any of the dancin' starts.
Agreed. Fight you both.
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Geralt: Fine. Fight you both.
Solus: Cough up the coin first. Lose, and it stays with us.
(140 coins) Here -- double your usual take.
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Geralt: Double your wages. As promised. But if I win, I get it back.
Solus: Hal! Finish 'im! Got somethin' special lined up!
Need to think about it. / Lemme think about it.² / Changed my mind.²
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Geralt: Gotta think about it.
Solus: Go and think. Much as you want.
[If Geralt beats Solus and Hal in the fight:]
Solus: Well, well... Ain't often you get such a lovely thrashin', eh, Hal?
Man's speechless, but I can see it on his mug. Bugger likes you. Time
we got some rest -- we'll guard whatever you want. For free, eh, Hal?
Your coin -- have it back. And don't fret, we'll be there before any of
the, uh, dancin' starts.
[If Geralt loses the fistfight:]
Solus: Fought well, white one. Hal liked you. Can see it in his smile. We've
time for a rest, then we'll guard whatever it is you want. Don't fret,
we'll get there before any of the, uh, dancin' starts. And we'll keep
that coin, right Hal?
[After locating ushers, Geralt seeks out the Puffins at their townhouse. He
enters to find a group of sadsacks lazing about the ground floor.]
Geralt: Nice tune... Damn sad, though.
Woman: Then it successfully conveys my mood... What do you seek here?
Looking for the Puffins. This the place?
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Geralt: Looking for the Puffins... Have I found them?
Woman: We've no coin. Leave us be!
Geralt: Think there's been a mistake...
Woman: Sorry... Thought our landlord had hired another thug to collect from
us...
Got a job for you.
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Geralt: Don't want any coin from you. In fact, I'm willing to pay you,
provided you agree to get the word out about Madame Irina's new
play.
Man: Oof, afraid that's impossible... Ever since we premiered our fateful
ballad about "Holy Hemmelfart, who his faith ignores, gorges himself,
diddles old whores," Fatso's gang has been harassing us incessantly...
Another thug? Thanks.
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Geralt: Another thug? Flattered. Thanks.
Woman: Forgive us... You look threatening, and we've had our fair share of
trouble lately.
Man: Nissa's on edge these days. We all are.
Never mind.
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Geralt: Never mind... So long.
Geralt: Fatso's gang?
Man: Common thugs in the Church's pay. City's full of gangs like that now.
Woman: They threatened Nissa -- said they'd round off her pointy ears with a
carving knife.
Nissa: They don't let us perform, chase away spectators, destroy our
instruments. Lately, they've taken to lurking outside our home. We're
at wit's end, no clue what to do...
Will you publicize the play if I help with Fatso?
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Geralt: All right... Say I get Fatso and his boys to leave you alone. Will
you publicize Irina's play then?
Nissa: Of course, but... You shan't find it easy. There's no talking to that
lot...
Geralt: I'm not a great talker anyway.
They harm any of you?
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Geralt: They harm any of you?
Man: No, not yet. But it's merely a question of time.
Woman: Nissa overheard talking about setting fire to something.
[Geralt tracks Fatso's bandits hanging around the block.]
Geralt: So you're the ones...
Bandit: Oi, Fatso, look what we got here. Is it just me, or you got cat eyes?
Bandit: Right he does! Stray cat must've fucked his mum! Heheheh!
Bandit: Now what you doin' in the city of the Eternal Fire, catshit?
Leave the Puffins alone.
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Geralt: Leave the Puffins alone.
Bandit: Worms that insulted Heirarch Hemmelfart? Called him a whoremonger?
I'd sooner snuff out the Holy Flame itself!
Bandit: Tell them fuckin' poets to come down here. Shove their flutes up
their blasphemin' arseholes!
Bandit: Yeah, they'll play a different tune then -- every time they fart!
Hahah!
Go away. Now.
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Geralt: Get out of here. Now.
Bandit: Wha?!
Bandit: Fuck yeah!
(50 coins) I'll pay you to go away.
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Geralt: Give you coin to leave.
Bandit: Fine. Give 'er here.
Bandit: Cept¹ we're not goin' nowhere. Well, Yohan might run and get some
wine, now we've got the means.
Geralt: I really dislike being cheated.
Bandit: Come on then. Gonna rip me?
Guessed it.
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Geralt: You guessed it.
Not worth it.
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Geralt: Trash like you -- not even worth bruising my fists.
Bandit: Look at that! Tough guy's turned coward! Harharharharhar!
[Axii Sign] Leave them alone.
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Geralt: Leave the Puffins alone.
Bandit: Aye... We will... Alone...
Bandit: What the hell?
Bandit: Black magic! He's a fuckin' witch, get 'im!
See you.
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Geralt: Never mind. I'm going.
Bandit: Fuck off then! No one's keepin' you!
[After Geralt forces the bandits to vamoose, the Puffins approach.]
Man: Ah, what a sight! You really showed them! One, two... Over the back! Then,
pow! Right in the noggin...
Nissa: I'll finally be able to leave my home without hiding beneath a hood.
Thank you...very much!
Geralt: C'mon... It was nothing...
Woman: Oh, it was something all right! And don't dare think we've forgotten our
promise. We'll strip our voices ragged praising Irina's new play!
Geralt: How much'll I owe you?
Nissa: Not a copper! Helped us out. See no reason why we shouldn't help you.
Get half the town to come to the play, wait and see!
Man: Some quick preparations and we'll be out in the streets! Till the next!
[If Geralt visits the gangbangers before finding the Puffins:]
Bandit: I dare you to say it again!
Man: I...I didn't say nothin'...
Bandit: Not enough he's a heretic, he's also a liar! What'll we do with 'im?
Bandit: We'll bruise his kidneys... Unless he's got somethin' in that pouch...
Geralt: What the hell's this?
Bandit: What's it to you, you prancin' freak?
Bandit: Look, he's scared off our new friend. Can't have a civil conversation
in public these days without some dreg buttin' in.
Bandit: This is the city of the Eternal Fire. No room for his kind here.
Bandit: Ah, oh! All right -- enough! Dammit, enough! Boys, leg it!
[If Geralt eliminates the gangbangers before being asked by the Puffins, when
he visits those jugglers...]
Man: Who... Who are you?
Geralt: Geralt. A witcher. Looking for the Puffins -- that you?
Woman: Yeah, that's us...but...you thrashed Fatso's boys. We saw everything
from the window.
Geralt: They your friends?
Man: No! The opposite! They'd been hounding us, we dared not leave our home
because of them.
I want to hire you.
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Geralt: Got a job for you. Madame Irina's preparing a premiere. Need you to
spread the word.
Man: Why, we'd be delighted!
Geralt: How much I need to pay you? We want the whole town talking about it.
Woman: Argh, nonsense. We shall do it for free. You rid us of those bullies
-- consider it payment.
Geralt: All right... You'll want to see Madame Irina to get the details.
Man: We'll see her right away. You know it's heartening -- a witcher not just
partaking of cultured diversions, but aiding them.
Geralt: Shit happens. See you at the premiere.
What did they want from you?
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Geralt: What'd they want from you?
Man: We premiered a ballad recently -- "Holy Hemmelfart, who his faith
ignores, gorges himself, diddles old whores..." they'd¹ been hounding us
since.
Nissa: They broke our instruments, dispersed our crowds... Lately, they took
to lurking outside our home.
Geralt: Didn't look terribly pious to me. Church of the Eternal Fire hire
thugs like that now?
Man: Yes, the city's full of such gangs.
Bye.
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Geralt: Glad I could help. Farewell.
[Geralt revisits Irina after contacting the ushers and Puffins.]
Irina: Ah, there you are!
Geralt: Managed to hire some ushers.
Irina: Wonderful. That's one matter resolved.
The text -- need to discuss that.
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Geralt: Wanted to talk about the text itself.
Irina: Hm, it's not at all badly written. In fact, I quite like it! I was
willing to relax my standards to help Dudu, but we may have something
very interesting here.
Thanks. See you.
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Geralt: See you later.
Irina: I've very clear ideas on who to cast as the Servant, the Witcher and
the Queen. But I'm not certain who should play the Prince and the
Princess...
Who's gonna play the Witcher?
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Geralt: Who's playing the Witcher?
Irina: An amateur -- it'll be my first time working with him. But I'm
confident he'll pull it off.
Geralt: Newcomer to the troupe?
Irina: In a sense... Oh, stop pretending you don't know. I'm talking about
you.
Good idea.
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Geralt: It's a good idea. Doubt I'll get a standing ovation, but Dudu'll
see me. That's the key.
Irina: But...you will make an effort, won't you? Learn your lines, at least?
Geralt: I'll give it a shot, of course.
Not an actor. No talent.
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Geralt: I'm no actor. Might not have noticed, but I'm a little low on
emotional expression.
Irina: But that's perfect. After all, you're to play the Witcher, not the
Princess. Besides, you must appear on stage. Dudu must see you. It's
the crux of this entire endeavor.
Geralt: You're right. Just never thought I'd have to do something like
this...
Irina: You'll be fine, dear. You need only strut on stage, great sword in
hand, furl your brow, make some threatening faces, then deliver a few
lines in a gravelly voice. Think you can manage?
Let's talk about the Princess.
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Geralt: So, about the Princess -- small part, but an important one. Any idea
who could play her?
Irina: Priscilla would be the obvious choice -- she's young and beautiful.
Yet I do have more stage experience...
Have Priscilla do it.
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Geralt: Let's have Priscilla do it. No offense, but most people...
Irina: ...greater importance to appearance than to talent. I understand. I
shall let her know... I'm certain she'll be wonderful.
You should play the Princess.
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Geralt: Role's yours. Talent and experience trump looks in my book.
Irina: I'm honored. I shall give it my all.
Let's talk about the Prince.
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Geralt: So who do you see playing the Doppler-Prince?
Irina: I'm finding it hard to decide between two candidates. Abelard Rizza
would be the safer bet. He's been part of our troupe for ages, has
flawless technique...but he doesn't exactly captivate the crowds.
Geralt: Who's your other option?
Irina: Maxim Boliere. Outstanding actor and audiences love him, but sadly I
can never be sure he'll show up sober. Or that he'll show up at all.
Let's go with Abelard.
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Geralt: Let's go with Abelard. I'll take a reliable artisan over an
unpredictable artist anyday.
Irina: Rightly so... The project is risky enough without our casting Maxim.
I prefer Maxim.
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Geralt: Let's risk it and give the role to Maxim.
Irina: He's had a good spell of late, so maybe he won't let us down.
Getting rich off this?
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Geralt: These performances bring in much coin?
Irina: Well, it varies. On good days the square is barely capable of
accommodating everyone, other times we're lucky to earn a handful of
coppers. Of course, we shall pay you a fee as well. You're a member of
the ensemble now.
Geralt: Hm, thanks.
See you.²
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Geralt: See you later.
Irina: Remember to study your lines. We've no prompter, so you must know them
backwards and forwards.
Geralt: Right.
Got the cast figured out.²
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Geralt: All right, got the cast figured out.
Irina: It seems so. Prepared to plunge headlong into your career as a mummer?
We can start now.
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Geralt: We can start now. Looked over the script, out of curiosity... We can
start any time, even now.
Irina: Well, we've no time to lose. Come to the stage.
Still need to learn my lines.
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Geralt: Working on it. Still need to learn my lines. It's a lot to
memorize...
Irina: One who knows an entire bestiary and can blend dozens of alchemical
brews can surely memorize a few lines of rhymed verse. Good luck!
[Zoltan walks in.]
Geralt: Zoltan? What are you doing here?
Zoltan: Prissy told me you lot're puttin' on a play, with you playin' the
lead...
Geralt: I'm not the lead...
Zoltan: So I thought to meself, I'd sooner shave me beard than miss that! Tell
me, witcher -- you gonna wear hose and a codpiece?
Irina: Come, Geralt. You must focus your mind before you go on stage.
Zoltan: Good luck!
[Finally, the play starts. An actor walks to the fore.]
Actor: Ladies and gentleman! Most honorable citizens of Hallowed City of
Novigrad! Welcome!
• We have for you a tale moving and heartbreaking...
• We have for you an exquisite comedy...
• Its title: "The Doppler's Salvation"...
• Its title: "A Changeling Rescued, or the Witcher's Triumph."
The players: Witcher Geralt as Himself, Catarina as the Queen, Leo Ribe
as the 'Umble Servant! Appearing as the Prince...
• ...a veteran of the Novigrad stage, Abelard Rizza!
• ...the delight of audiences far and wide, Maxim Boliere!
And as the Princess...
• ...renowned artiste, beloved queen of the stage, Irina Renarde!
• ...the lovely trobairitz with the voice of a nightingale, Priscilla!
[The first scene begins in the throne room.]
Servant: Majesty! The monster slayer awaits!
Your summons he's answered and stands at the gates!
Queen: Show him in, I must speak to the man.
• Lest that dread beast take my daughter's hand.
• But first -- some wine -- to steady my hand.
Witcher! Your task is a matter most tender.
A monster shall show at midnight's feastly splendor.
Stand guard, beware, kill the beast if he shows...
• And a grateful queen shall reward your woes.
• Your reward you'll receive on my finest pillows.
I kill monsters for pleasure...
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Geralt: I kill monsters for pleasure... And...
And... No man is my measure...
To slay beasts most foul...
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Geralt: To slay beasts most foul -- 'twas for this I was made,
I kill as my calling, not just to get paid.
Servant: He's swallowed the bait, this fool of a witcher!
I'll ensure the foul beau reveals his true figure.
The monster revealed, the witcher shall strike,
the beast will he slay, thrust his head on a pike!
Queen: Ah... My child will pity her love, this beast.
• But a fiend and a maid? No, this must cease.
• Though at least, ere he goes, he'll enjoy a last feast!
[Geralt and the Servant appear in the second scene.]
Servant: Gathered are we, a host fair and noble,
to celebrate this day the princess's betrothal!
Geralt: Alas, no monster do I see or hear...
Perhaps 'midst the guests...
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Geralt: Perhaps 'midst the guests he hides, in fear?
Maybe he's hid...
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Geralt: Maybe he hid...in the cellar... Or a barrel of beer.
[The third scene has all the characters at a feast. If Maxim's the prince, he
bungles the lines in his drunkenness:]
Prince: My dear! Long have we -hic- hid our love's tender fires.
In stealth we'd kiss...uh...deceitful, like liars.
Tonight shall it end -- be my wife, that's my plea!
Our hearts' torment over, we shall love for centuries!
[If Abelard was chosen, he'll say the lines right:]
Prince: My dear! Long have we hid our love's tender fires.
• In stealth we'd meet, in deceit, like liars.
• Months we've restrainted our loins' hot desires!
Tonight shall it end -- be my wife, that's my plea!
• Our hearts' torment over, we shall love for centuries!
• That having said -- I'll get down on my knee.
Princess: Oh, darling, I will, I will, I will!
Servant: Wait! With wine must we toast this moment joyful.
If not, a foul curse shall rend your lives woeful.
Prince: Treason! 'Tis not wine, but a brew spiked with silver!
• Soon all shall see my true monstrous figure!
• My bowels contract, a foul beast to deliver!
Geralt: Hark! Hark! 'Tis no prince, but a doppler impostor!
If the maid loves him...
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Geralt: If the maid loves him... It seems we've lost her...
Seems men's hearts...
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Geralt: Seems men's hearts can love for changelings foster!
Queen: Behold, witcher, the beast of which I spoke!
Unleash your sword! Let fly the killing stroke!
Princess: Stop! Stop! Beast or man, 'tis my love, my betrothed!
Geralt: Sheathe your blades! Fear a doppler? 'Tis a thing most foolish.
Changing one' shape does not make one ghoulish.
Remember! 'Tis not flesh a monster makes...
But a lack of morals...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: But a lack of morals... And a surfeit of cakes...
But a base heart...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: But a heart that is base, such as in this knave aches!
Queen: Witcher, 'tis true! This wretch's foul suspicions...
...tainted my mind with this plan so malicious.
The doppler must live, my daughter he'll wed.
Beast or man, she loves him truly, without dread.
Geralt: Tis¹ our tale's end, good folk, and it's moral is this...
No monster is he...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No monster is he whose shape can shift.
Show love for the dopplers...
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Geralt: Show love for the dopplers... As well as for fish.
Queen: The witcher is just -- a true doppler's friend.
But you, foul page, in chains you shall end.
Princess: Guard! Call the guard! Remove the traitor at once!
[Geralt points to the onlooker with the suspicious scar Dudu was supposed to
have, and who he noticed earlier in the play.]
Geralt: Hey! Hear the princess' command? Come up here!
NPC: Come on then, guv'nor! Up you go! On stage!
NPC: Toss the traitor scum in the dungeon!
Geralt: Don't be afraid. In the end, everyone'll live happily ever after.
[The disguised Dudu gets on stage.]
Geralt: Doppler and princess wed the same night.
The servant's heart melted, he wept at the sight.
[Guard Dudu takes the traitor off stage. If the play's a drama, the crowd soon
becomes outraged, culminating in a bloodbath:]
NPC: Dopplers to the stake! Burn 'em all!
NPC: He's right! Oy, mummers! Don't know the Eternal Fire's commandments?
NPC: Blasphemers! Oughta teach them respect for the faith!
NPC: What you on about! Shut the fuck up and clap, afore I tear you new
arseholes.
• NPC: Take more than threats to keep us quiet!
NPC: S'all right. I'll try me knuckledusters. Come here!
• NPC: Tear me a new one? We'll see about that! On your feet, boys! Give 'em a
taste o' hell -- in the name of the Church!
Solus: Give us a hand, witcher! Can't take 'em on our own!
Solus: All right, lads. Fun's over, back to your places. Come on, Hal!
[If the play's a comedy, the spark of outrage quells early:]
NPC: Dopplers to the stake! Burn 'em all!
NPC: Give it a rest, mate. Can't you see it's all in fun? It's a comedy -- a
ghoul could play the prince. Lighten up, for gods' sake.
[After the play, Geralt meets with Dudu and Irina in her quarters. Priscilla
will be there, too.]
Dudu: Geralt! You recognized me! How'd you do it?
Geralt: Greetings, Dudu. Heard about that souvenir Whoreson left on your face.
Dudu: So...you know...everything? Have you seen Ciri?
Geralt: No. Still looking for her.
Zoltan: Geralt! Masterful! You did great! Haven't laughed that hard in ages!
Lads won't believe it when I tell 'em!
Geralt: Explain one thing to me: how'd you and Dandelion manage to displease
Reuven, Whoreson, and the Temple Guard all at the same time?
Dudu: It's not as if we planned it...
Zoltan: Heheheh.
How'd you escape after the fight at Whoreson's?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I know Ciri went back to Whoreson's to get you. How'd you manage to
escape?
Dudu: I ran after her, wanting to keep up, but...I'd 'ave been a hindrance.
She called out to me, entreated me to shape shift and disappear...
You didn't contact Priscilla. Why?
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Geralt: Why didn't you find Priscilla or the mummers, contact them?
Dudu: I came to a few performances, different shape each time, but I dared
not show myself... Feared I'd put them at risk. Then I got word of the
new mumming, saw it as my chance to learn something, anythin' about
Ciri and Dandelion.
Dudu: I tried to find them -- Ciri and Dandelion. It was as if they'd turned
to vapor. Fearing for my life, I shifted each day, becoming someone
else. Even considered turning into Ciri, to trick her pursuers, but--
Zoltan: Slow down, marmalade. Hmmm. Geralt, when'd you last see Cirilla, hm?
Been a while, hasn't it?
Geralt: A while, yeah.
Zoltan: For me, likewise. Must be a full grown lass by now. Dudu, do us a wee
favor -- show us Ciri, for a moment.
Dudu: Geralt?
No need.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No, no need. I'll recognize Ciri when I see her. Sure of it.
Zoltan: I, uh...just thought you might want to see...
Show us.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Transform...change into her.
[Dudu transforms into Ciri, only he retains his scarred right eye.]
Dudu: I feel strange, both of you staring at me bug-eyed. Is that enough?
Geralt: Yeah, plenty. Bad idea.
Zoltan: Not angry with me, are ye, Geralt?
Geralt: No.
Zoltan: I feel relieved.
Dudu: And Dandelion? Were you able to find him?
Geralt: Witch hunters nabbed him. But there's good news, too.
We can free Dandelion -- with your help.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We think we can free Dandelion. Just need your help.
Dudu: What could I do?
Geralt: Take on Menge's appearance. Then go and give the order for Dandelion
to be moved to Oxenfurt.
Zoltan: We'll lay an ambush in the ravine en route. Spring Dandelion from
the convoy when it rolls by.
Menge's dead.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Menge's dead.
Dudu: Ugh, a fiend. Good thing someone finally killed it. Though another just
as bad or worse will likely take its place.
Zoltan: Wouldn't be so quick to assume. Got a feelin' it could be a decent
fellow.
Dudu: What's he talkin' about?
Dudu: Wait... Not so fast. How am I to be Menge? And I've no notion where
Dandelion's being held...
You'll be fine.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Listen, you'll manage. Everybody believes Menge's missing. You can
make up any story you want.
Zoltan: My lads and me'll lie in the ravine. Geralt'll then join us and we'll
await word from ye.
Dudu: But how am I to contact you as Menge? Send word that the convoy's left?
Geralt: You'll need to figure that out. Come on, guile's your middle name.
Dandelion's on Temple Isle.
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Geralt: Dandelion's on Temple Isle. Imprisoned there. You'll need to find
out exactly where.
Dudu: But what if they grow suspicious? Start asking questions?
Zoltan: I'll bet my best axe no one'll pester the commander of the Temple
Guard. Besides, you're a doppler and an actor -- and an actor and a
doppler. Got double the spark to improvise your way outta any
situation. Things get spicy you'll just nip round the corner and
transform into a buxom wench, a jackdaw or whatever else strikes your
fancy.
Dudu: Of course. It's that simple. Thanks.
No one else knows Menge's dead.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No one knows Menge's dead. Don't need to worry about being exposed.
Dudu: No one...save you? Would this have anything to do with the fire at the
witch hunters' barracks?
Geralt: We were in the area.
Zoltan: Heheh... I sorely regret not seein' that!
Zoltan: So? We all clear? Dudu, get your arse to Temple Isle. I'm off to
assemble my crew, and we'll be waitin' for ye, Geralt.
Yeah. Meet you in the ravine.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah. See you in the ravine.
We could use some help. Lemme talk to Dijkstra.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We could use a bit of support. Lemme talk to Dijkstra. Catch him in
a good mood, and he just might lend us a few bodies.
Zoltan: We'd manage, we would, with just my lads, but if you miss Sigi that
much...
Geralt: He's the one's got a soft spot for me. Said so himself recently.
Dudu: Whoa! Wait! Hold on! What happens after? I-I hope you don't expect me
to continue as Menge, live like Chappelle, burning the occasional heretic
to keep up appearances...?
Geralt: No, once it's over, we expect to see you at the Rosemary and Thyme,
where we'll all meet...
Zoltan: ...to get pissed like wild badgers. So? Settled? Let's get to work!
[After the meeting, Irina talks about his play performance.]
• Irina: You were marvelous! Not a single mistake!
• Irina: Not bad, not bad at all...for your first time out. Just a few minor
trip-ups.
• Irina: Oh, Geralt, Geralt... I fear I'd be more successful hunting a beast
than you were on stage.
Geralt: Could be. You'd still be wiser not to try.
Geralt: The performance in general -- what'd you think?
Irina: I doubt the audience understood it all, but that's to be expected.
</pre><pre id="faqspan-13">
• I'm just pleased the Puffins got the word out. That was quite the crowd.
• You were right to cast Abelard as the Prince. It's likely Maxim would have
shown up drunk as a fish, or forgotten about the premiere altogether.
• Such a shame Maxim went on stage inebriated and all... Some of the crowd
demanded refunds.
Irina: Here you are -- your fee. I must admit, your style of mumming, well,
it's quite...minimalist. Did you study anywhere?
Geralt: At Kaer Morhen. Minimum expression means maximum effect. Thanks for
the coin. Take care now.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
7h) A POET UNDER PRESSURE [WK7H]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[With Dudu found and informed, Geralt need only visit Zoltan at the proposed
ambush site. It's possible to ask Dijkstra for help, however, if his loot
was found to be in Kovir...]
Geralt: Recently mentioned you, uh, have something of a soft spot for me.
Gotta ask you a favor...
Reuven: Oh-hoo! That's quite the start, Geralt. What is it you want?
Geralt: Need to carry out an ambush. Could use a few of your men.
Reuven: An ambush? What's this about?
Geralt: Gimme men who'll survive the fight -- they can tell you afterwards.
Reuven: Heheh...I really do like you, Geralt. That's why I'll give you not one,
not two, but three of my best men.
Three's good.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Three's enough.
Reuven: Then it's settled.
Was hoping for a number ending in "teen."
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Geralt: I was hoping for a number ending in "teen."
Reuven: Teen? How many "best men" you think I have?
Geralt: Hm -- more than three, maybe?
Reuven: I'll give you your "teen" once you tell me what you're planning.
Can't say.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No can do.
Reuven: So, where should this elite trio of my best meet you?
Geralt: Dijkstra...
Reuven: Shush! Remember: I'm Sigi.
Geralt: Here of all places, I'd think we can talk freely. Or are you afraid
your own men spy on you?
Reuven: Of course they spy on me. I'd be disappointed if they didn't --
after all, I do choose the very best.
Geralt: So how many of your best can you give me, Sigi?
Reuven: Ah, all right, you've convinced me. Four.
Geralt: Fine.
I want to attack a temple guard transport.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Need to attack a Temple Guard convoy.
Reuven: Hm, wouldn't have any other favors to ask, would you? Search your
heart, let me know, hm?
Geralt: You can only give me three men, really?
Reuven: Since you aim to stick your prick in the Eternal Fire itself, I
can't even give you that number.
Geralt: Mean you refuse to help?
Reuven: I mean at the appointed time and place, you will find six men
waiting, who have absolutely nothing to do with me. Is that clear?
Geralt: As a bright summer day. Thanks.
[Geralt eventually finds the ambush site, along the Novigrad-Oxenfurt road.
Zoltan and some henchdwarfs are by the small campsite.]
Geralt: Seems everything's ready.
Zoltan: Aye. Soon as we catch site of 'em, we'll block the road, 'gainst the
whole unit, if need be. And...you know I think it's a great plan all
around, and I'm always glad to help... And it's not like I'm not eager
to crack some holier-than-thou buggers' skulls, but... Seein' as we've
got a doppler, wouldn't it've been easier to have him release Dandelion
and -- and be done with it?
Woulda raised suspicion.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Too suspicious. Think about it -- Menge disappears, then shows up
with a scar on his face to release Dandelion?
This ambush is simpler.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: This ambush is simpler -- 'cause Menge was already planning to move
Dandelion to Oxenfurt. Dudu just confirms an order Menge was planning
to give. If he released Dandelion, he'd need to explain why, probably
raise suspicions in the process.
Zoltan: Ehh, I suppose you're right.
[Priscilla approaches.]
Geralt: Priscilla? What're you doing here?
Priscilla: Some child brought a note from Dudu -- the convoy will leave at
dawn. May I stay with you? I can't stand it, sitting at home,
worrying about Dandelion.
Zoltan: Never fear, my dear, you'll get your warbler back, just hope he's got
his p-- Dammit! Gotta watch the rhymes in the presence of a lady.
Geralt: Go back to town.
Priscilla: Please...I shan't be any trouble.
Zoltan: Aw, c'mon, Geralt, leave it go, let her stay. Look at her, all
weepy-eyed... Like my Muttsie when his guts knotted up.
This is no place for her.
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Geralt: This is no place for her. Something happens, I don't wanna have to
explain to Dandelion why she was here to begin with.
Priscilla: Need I remind you you're here to rescue Dandelion, not me? Seems I
can take care of myself.
Geralt: Fine. But remember...
Fine, she can stay.
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Geralt: Fine, she can stay. On one condition...
Priscilla: I know. As soon as the fighting starts, I'm to stand at a distance.
Zoltan: Not much happening just yet. And it might be some time 'fore it does...
Priscilla: Well, how about a game of gwent?
Let's play.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sure, let's play.
[Later...]
• Priscilla: Have I won again? My goodness. So, another hand? If you've no
more coin, we could play for...
• Priscilla: This was a stupid idea.
Geralt: You're the one who wanted to play.
Don't feel like it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't really feel like it. You two play.
[Later...]
Zoltan: Hm, all right, you know the basics, that's clear. Now we can play
for real.
Priscilla: Hahahah!
Dwarf: They're comin'! They're comin' now!
Geralt: Priscilla, stay here.
[A carriage and armed escorts trots down the road at dawn, as planned.]
Hunter: Heeey-rup!
[The dwarves' falling log trap blocks the road, spooking horses and clobbering
at least one witch hunter. One horseman puts the prisoner over the saddle and
rides off.]
Dandelion: Heeeeeeelp!
Geralt: Dandelion! Dammit...
Zoltan: Geralt! Go after him! Leave these here to us!
Dwarf: Watch out! Three more shits out the hole!
[Geralt does his witcher senses while riding, tracking the horse.]
• Rode through here.
• Shit, lost him. Gotta look for tracks.
• Prints're deep. Horse was carrying a heavy load...
• Hoofprints.
[Optionally, Geralt has an opportunity to question an NPC at a roadside camp.]
Geralt: Anyone ride through here? Two men, one slung over the saddle like a
sack?
NPC: Oh, aye, somethin' o' the kind dashed by. Turned left, there. But 'twere
a wench he were carryin', swear it on me 'ead. Squealin' and wailin'
so...
[If Geralt goes down the wrong path:]
• Dammit, followed the wrong trail. Gotta look for a single set of hoof marks,
heavily laden horse.
[Geralt gets back on the trail.]
• Hm, looks like it might've started limping.
[Near an out-of-the-way cabin, Geralt finds a dead horse. Two halflings and a
dwarf are nearby, arguing.]
NPC: What did you expect me to do? Chop his legs off at the knees? Didn't
even know what he was after...
NPC: Think someone let somethin' slip?
NPC: If Big Willy got pissed and again and went to jabberin' about the
workshop...
NPC: And just who'd he get pissed with? Witch hunters? Even Big Willy's not
that daft.
NPC: By the by...how'd he get that nickname? I mean, he's even short for a
dwarf...
NPC: Think they'll confiscate the paintings?
NPC: They'll never find them all.
NPC: Argh, who the fuck's this now? Hey, you! What the hell's afoot here?
[Geralt walks over.]
Geralt: What is it?
Dwarf: You tell me! One o' them hunters barged into our hut, turned us out
'fore we could so much as fart in protest!
Geralt: There another man with him? Tall, dark-haired?
Dwarf: Aye. Jabberin' the whole time.
Geralt: Mhm, Dandelion. So, hunter's barricaded himself inside? There another
way in?
Dwarf: Truth be told, there is...
Wanna get rid of this hunter or not?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wanna get rid of this hunter or not?
Dwarf: Honest? We'd see you all gone, but he'll do for a start. Here. The
key. Cellar door 'round the back.
Geralt: Thanks.
This other way, where is it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where's this other way in?
Dwarf: Aren't you curious? It's an ordinary tunnel, back way out in case o'
trouble...
Dwarf: We don't let strangers in there, show it to 'em, even! And there's--!
Dwarf: Hrmph. Shut it!
[Geralt can hear Dandelion and his captor arguing inside.]
Hunter: Sit there. There, I said. And shut it!
Dandelion: All right, all right. But what then? How long do you think you can
keep me in this hut?
Hunter: Quiet!
Dandelion: Don't worry about me, I'll be quiet. But those halflings? You can't
trust them, you know... Once I saw one of them... Ouch!
[While infiltrating the dwarven cellar, Geralt can hear the two discussing.]
Hunter: And how can I be sure you won't try anything?
Dandelion: I'll go with you. Not like I have a really have a choice now, do I?
Hunter: And there'll be no trickery along the way? I could wring your neck like
a fat hen's, you realize...
Dandelion: Yes, but I also realize you won't. My corpse is worth nothing to
you, whereas alive...! Like I said -- a hundred gold ingots. One
hundred gold ingots -- no more, no less, or I'm not Julian Alfred
Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove!
Hunter: Viscount? Come on, everybody calls you Dandelion...
Dandelion: That, my friend, is what we call an assumed identity. Can't expect
me to reveal my full title to every goitered idiot I run across.
Now, if you could just unbind... You've made a wise choice. Very
wise. Might not be more than a sergeant today, but tomorrow...
Hunter: Quiet! I thought I heard something...
Dandelion: What? No, no, no! You see, me and gags, we don't-- Mff mmmmff!
[Geralt goes upstairs and slays the captor.]
Dandelion: Geralt! Must you ruin everything? I had him right where I wanted
him... Ahh, hahaha -- it's good to see you, friend! Been a while
since you were last in Novigrad. What's--
Geralt: Come on. We'll talk outside.
[They go outside, seeing Zoltan and Prissy approaching.]
Dandelion: Priscilla? What are you doing here?
Priscilla: Are you all right? You had me worried sick!
Zoltan: Dandelion, you rascal! Got this lass to thank for us racin' after
youse. She chivvied and chivvied...!
Dandelion: Shame you arrived too late to see us hoodwink that hunter! I had a
plan all set, but then Geralt...
Geralt: Dandelion, I need to ask you something. It's important, so focus.
Where's Ciri?
Dandelion: Ciri? I thought, seeing how you're here... You haven't seen her?
I...well I don't know where she is.
When'd you last see her?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: When'd you last see her?
I know you tried to help her.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I know you tried to help her. Gotta say I'm having trouble
understanding why you went to Whoreson Junior of all people...
Dandelion: No one else came to mind. Maybe, given more time, I'd have done
things differently, but Ciri said the Wild Hunt was on her trail.
Whoreson seemed pretty harmless by comparison.
Geralt: Something went wrong...
Dandelion: So you've heard everything? I hope you're not mad, you can't be...
My plan was perfect...until we put it in motion. How was I
supposed to know Menge was after Dudu?
Geralt: Heard enough about your plan. Need to know what happened to Ciri now.
Dandelion: We were on Temple Isle, running from Whoreson's men...
[Dandelion tells of the flashback in "Ciri's Story: Breakneck Speed."]
Dandelion: Ah, what an adventure! One minute we were pulling off the heist of
the century, the next we were the prey, a pack of hunters on our
tail...
Priscilla: Yes, a splendid story, but I think I've had my fill of this
boasting. Come, Zoltan, we must convince the halflings they saw
nothing at all.
Dandelion: Gave me enough material for a volume of ballads! And this one'll
sell like hotcakes!
Nobody's gonna read that.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nobody's gonna read that drivel.
Dandelion: Sheesh, what crawled into your britches and bit you?
Geralt: I'm just...worried.
Dandelion: About who? Ciri? Have a little faith, Geralt.
That's your interest in this? What about Ciri?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That all you care about -- the ballads this'll inspire? Ego swell a
bit lately? Getting more and more selfish with age.
Dandelion: What is that about?
Geralt: It's about Ciri!
Dandelion: Why would I ever worry about her?
Yup, you'll make a fortune...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Right... Best bit's when the guard draped you over the saddle like a
sack of corn. Stands to make you a fortune.
Dandelion: Time will tell. You're getting to be grumpy in your old age.
Geralt: I'm just...worried.
Dandelion: About who? Ciri? Have a little faith, Geralt.
Dandelion: You have any idea how she fights?! The girl can take care of
herself, believe me. Anyway, she's gotta come back for that little
box. The trinket that started it all.
Geralt: Mean this?
[He shows the phylactery.]
Dandelion: You get it from Whoreson?! Whoa, Ciri'll be overjoyed. Whoreson on
the other hand's gotta be pre-tty furious!
Any idea what the phylactery's for?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri ever tell you what it is? And Whoreson -- why'd she go to him
with it?
Dandelion: She went to Whoreson because I took her there.
Geralt: Coulda guessed that was your idea.
Dandelion: What? Her magic bauble was broken -- Whoreson had access to the
mages who could fix it.
Whoreson's dead.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Whoreson's dead.
Dandelion: Oo, guess you're no stranger to fury, either. Weeell, can't say I
regret the man's abrupt passing. Deserved it as much as he
deserved that...awkward nickname.
True, Whoreson wasn't thrilled.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Well, he wasn't exactly thrilled.
Dandelion: Hey, while you were at it, you didn't think to put in a good word
for me, did you? Something like, I never intended to cheat him and
if he harms a hair on my head he'll have you to deal with?
Didn't have time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ran outta time.
Dandelion: You don't care a lick about your friends.
Gotta problem? Solve it yourself.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You've made your bed -- lie in it.
Dandelion: You don't care a lick about your friends.
No, but I'll be sure to next time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No, but I'll make sure to mention it next time.
Dandelion: Thanks! Adventures are great, but they can be¹ hard to write up
if you're fingerless. Which is not to say Whoreson would stop at
that.
Dandelion: What about Sigi Reuven...how's he doing?
Geralt: Fine, last I heard.
Dandelion: That's too bad. 'Cause I have a sneaking suspicion he might be a
teeny bit mad at me...
Dandelion: Besides, she needed help deciphering a curse...its incantation.
Know any more about the curse?
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Geralt: Know any more about the curse? Something specific, a detail?
Anything?
Why was Ciri interested in a curse?
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Geralt: What was Ciri's interest in this curse? Did she want to cast it or
lift it? She tell you?
Dandelion: She wasn't all that willing to talk about it. I didn't want to
pry.
Geralt: The one time when it might've been useful.
Dandelion: But I'm almost positive she meant to lift it.
Geralt: Off who, what? Or was it about her directly?
Dandelion: No... I don't think so... I mean, she didn't look cursed. But boy
was she in a hurry.
Dandelion: Hmm... Well, I know the words.
Geralt: You're kidding.
Dandelion: No. They were elven. Ciri was constantly repeating them to herself,
probably not to forget. Went like this: "Va fail, elaine, ceàdmil
folie! Gleaddyv dorne aep t'enaid, bunn'droh ithne i'yachus."
• Geralt: Doesn't mean a thing to me.
Dandelion: Even less to me.
• Geralt: Hm, the curse invokes ugliness... My entire life, I don't think I've
seen anyone uglier than--
Dandelion: Stunning Gemma?
Geralt: No, a certain deformed midget who appeared out of the blue on the
shores of Hindarsfjall... And now wanders around the baron's
castle...
Dandelion: Argh, you and Ciri -- like two water droplets. Never know what
either of you are talking about.
I need to find Ciri.
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Geralt: She slipped away, again... I was so close.
Dandelion: Hmm... She came here from Velen. Somebody there helped her,
apparently. Maybe she went back?
• Geralt: Doubt it. Talked to the baron there -- he's the one helped Ciri.
Said she rode off to Novigrad to look for Yen and me. And Yen's in
Skellige, looking into traces she thinks Ciri left behind there.
Dandelion: So? Skellige?
Geralt: Skellige.
• Geralt: Maybe... Besides, the curse might've had something to do with Uma.
I should collect him from the baron.
Dandelion: Uma -- the, uh, deformed midget? What will you do with him?
Geralt: First, lift the curse. Maybe I can get some help at Kaer Morhen.
After that -- who knows.
Ciri say anything else?
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Geralt: Dammit, that's just not enough. Ciri say anything else?
Ciri ever mention him?²
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Geralt: Ciri ever mention him?
Dandelion: Some deformed midget? No.
Dandelion: Didn't say much at all, to be honest. Geralt, she's no longer that
little girl who ran around Kaer Morhen. Sure, she's still
impulsive, alive, but she's also stubborn and sulky... Apple
didn't fall far from the tree, lemme tell you.
Geralt: Right...
[Priscilla and Zoltan return.]
Priscilla: You two have chattered enough. Now it's my turn to talk to
Dandelion.
Zoltan: And I'll gladly have a go at him when you're done. Let's get back to
the Rosemary and Thyme.
Dandelion: Weeell, I've certainly had my share of excitement for one day. A
juicy roast and a soft bed with fluffy pillows -- I think that's
the least I'm owed... We haven't seen each other, talked, in ages.
Consider dropping by if you're in the area.
Geralt: I'm sure to be by sometime soon.
Dandelion: I'll hold you to that, Geralt. See you soon. And thanks again for
today.
[Priscilla and Dandelion ride off.]
NPC: But why ever would he want that?
NPC: Man'll be thrilled. Come on! Go!
NPC: Oy, Master Witcher! We've a gift for you! Uhh, hmhm... We're, uh,
grateful -- we wanted to demonstrate that. So...we got this wee gift for
ye.
Geralt: Portrait of the heirarch. Nice.
NPC: Oh, it's nothing, really -- got oodles of 'em. Just...if you wouldn't
mind not mentioning where you got it... All right?
Geralt: All right. Farewell.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (NOVIGRAD) |_
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7i) CIRI'S STORY: BREAKNECK SPEED [WK7I]
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[This Ciri flashback is recounted toward the end of "A Poet Under Pressure."
Ciri has just slaughtered everyone in Whoreson's hideout, and now has to flee
from the remaining lot.]
Henchman: Grab the bitch!
Dandelion: They've barred all the gates! We have to run! Grab a horse! To the
temple!
[They ride further into Temple Isle, toward the Eternal Fire's hilltop castle.]
Dandelion: Leave the horse! We have to! We're almost there!
Henchman: Got 'er right where we want 'er! Ready! Wait for it... Wait... Now!
[They slay more of Junior's ambushers, then enter the temple's grounds.]
Guard: They're headed for the square! After them!
Priest: Guards! Guards!
Ciri: Dandelion!
[Ciri slays more lackeys and gets roughed up a bit.]
Dandelion: Ciri!
[Just before she would be hit by a crossbow bolt, Ciri disappears from the
temple with her powers, leaving Dandelion in the enemy's clutches.]
Dandelion: Ciri...
[...and completely surrounded.]
Dandelion: Dammit!
Priest: Arrest that man!
[The quest ends with the armed men approaching the bard.]
____________________________________________ ______
_________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) | WK08 |_
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8a) DESTINATION: SKELLIGE [WK8A]
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[To reach the island chain where Yennefer went, Geralt needs to find passage.
He heads to Novigrad, the largest port in the area, to do just that. If one
checks the southernmost target:]
Geralt: You captain of this tub?
Liglad: What's it to you?
Need to get to Skellige.
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Geralt: I'm Skellige bound. Need to get there.
Liglad: Start swimmin'. Islanders, the Black Ones -- all attack us in those
waters. No one sails the route these days.
Geralt: Come on. Clans are ready to deal, leave you alone if you do.
Someone's done it, gotta have.
Liglad: Not likely. 'Cept maybe that daft bastard Wolverstone from the
"Atropos." A liar, a thief and a bugger, that one. He mighta parleyed
with the sea-swine.
Geralt: Hm. Where can I find him?
Liglad: In a pigsty, most times. Others -- the Golden Sturgeon. Ask for Flask
-- everyone knows 'im.
Wanna hire this ship.
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Geralt: How much would it cost me to hire this ship?
Liglad: The "Harmony of Nations" ain't for hire. Ship's owners got plans for
it.
Geralt: There anyone in Novigrad who'll take me to Skellige?
Liglad: Tsk, you mean anyone here off their gourd? Aye, Wolverstone. Goes by
the name of Flask. Ask at the Golden Sturgeon. Man's a sheep bugger,
like the Skelligers. Sure they get along great.
[If Geralt tries the northeastern ship target:]
Sentry: Where you scurryin' to, you wretch? Lemme see your pass.
Geralt: Pass? What pass?
Sentry: Kind of pass that confirms you ain't no mage. Can't enter or leave
Novigrad without it.
Don't have a pass.
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Geralt: Sorry. Don't have a pass.
Sentry: You'll scurry no further, then. Next!
Geralt: Hang on... How do I get one?
Sentry: Start by makin' an offerin' to the Church. Then you'll need three
pure souls to confirm...
Sentry 2: Let him through. Here's his papers.
Sentry: Wha? But where'd...
Sentry 2: Not your concern. Back to your post.
[He whispers to Geralt as he walks by.]
Sentry 2: Regards from Sigi Reuven.
Why the lockdown?
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Geralt: Why've you shut the city gates?
Sentry: So's we can clean it of mages, witches and other scum that's crawled
here since the war began. Aim to catch every last one of 'em, toss
'em on a flamin' pyre, like poxy livestock.
[Geralt finds a woman near the boat.]
Geralt: Who's captain of this ship?
Woman: Lookin' at 'er. Aye, her. That's right: I, a woman, am captain --
shockin' as shit, I know.
Take me to Skellige?
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Geralt: Need to get to Skellige.
Woman: Not on this boat, you won't.
Geralt: Pay you well.
Woman: The islanders live off plunderin' the seas. Not willin' to risk that.
Ever been there?
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Geralt: Ever sailed there?
Woman: Listen -- the islanders attack all ships. When they hate someone --
Nilfgaard, for instance -- they attack 'em more, but truth be told
not much more. Boarded me once. Expected they wanted to see if I had
captain's bollocks. That spot o' fun gave me enough Skellige for a
lifetime.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Farewell.
[After being tipped off to Wolverstone, Geralt finds him at the fishermen's
local tavern. He's already sauced.]
Geralt: You Wolverstone, captain of the Atropos?
Flask: So you want to know...if I'm Atropos, cap'n of the Wolverstone...? No
fuckin' clue, mate...
Geralt: I need to get to Skellige.
Flask: My Atropos and me, we're due to sail for Ard Skellig. Carryin' grain.
But that's hush-hush. Got any coin?
(1000 coins) I'll pay you.
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Geralt: Here. That enough?
Flask: Hefty sack, like a bull's. When do we sail?
Geralt: Not sure you're ready. You can barely stand.
Flask: Know this, stranger. Captain Wolverstone never sails sober. The sea
goes one way, Wolverstone goes the other. Makes the rockin' bearable.
So, ready to sail?
Let's go.
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Geralt: Let's go.
Flask: Ah-ah-ah. First we must drink to the wind, to good fortune, and to
the strength of my Atropos. Ah. Anchors aweigh!
Give me a bit.
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Geralt: Gimme some time to prepare.
Flask: Prepare all you want. She's not done loadin' as it is.
Gotta get some.
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Geralt: Gotta get more coin.
Flask: You sure do. For I won't even wet me arse in a bath without payment
in advance.
[The Atropos pulls out of the harbor en route to the islands. Geralt can be
seen trying to get some shuteye belowdecks. He later wakes up to the clanging
of swords and men's yelling, and rushes out to find a pirate attack underway.
After fleeing the battle, Wolverstone's Atropos runs into a rock. Geralt's
just enough time to see the mast before it tumbles on him, knocking him out
cold. Several hours later, he washes up ashore on Ard Skellig, the largest of
the islands. An islander flips his body over intending to loot the corpse,
only to be startled when the witcher wakes up and grabs his hand.]
Geralt: Back off, or I'll kill you.
NPC: I'm not afeard of dyin'.
Rob corpses much?
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Geralt: Rob every corpse that washes up on shore?
NPC: Takin' from corpses ain't theft. I'm a man o' the Isles. I don't reap,
I don't sow -- the waves bring me my harvest.
You of clan an Craite?
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Geralt: See I've landed on Ard Skellig...
NPC: How you figure that?
Geralt: You're wearing Clan an Craite colors. Ard Skellig's their island.
NPC: On the Atropos, were you?
Geralt: Yeah. Thought the captain had a deal with you.
NPC: With us? Meanin' who, exactly? Might've arranged somethin' with Lugos, but
Crach? Nay. Clearly should've, though. Outlander ships aren't welcome in
these waters. What about you? What do you seek in Skellige, eh?
Geralt: Agreed to meet a sorceress here -- Yennefer of Vengerberg. She's
supposed to be on Ard Skellig.
NPC: There's a witch at Kaer Trolde -- Crach's guest. Could be the one you're
meetin'.
What's Crach's guest look like?
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Geralt: Seen her? Know what the sorceress looks like?
NPC: Aye. Wears black and white. If not for her tits you'd think she was a
beached orca. Fact is, even those who see her for a wench'd gladly push
her out to sea, tits and all.
Sorceresses can be like that.
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Geralt: Yennefer's not all bad. Once you get to know her.
NPC: Heheh, take your word for it.
I'm gonna slap you.
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Geralt: What's your name?
NPC: Steingrim.
Geralt: Well, Steingrim, I don't like you. In fact, I feel like slapping
you.
NPC: Go ahead, drifter. You try.
Don't like her?
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Geralt: That scorn I hear in your voice?
NPC: You've good ears. Folk say this witch's got Crach wrapped around her
finger. Orders everyone about. Word is she's vicious at it, but a hag's
a hag.
[If Geralt wallops Steingrim:]
Geralt: Had enough?
NPC: Best finish me now, 'cause you'll be fucked once I catch my breath.
Geralt: It was a good fight. That's enough for now.
[Either way:]
NPC: Know the way to Kaer Trolde?
Geralt: Expect I'll find it.
NPC: Head north, then turn west towards the bay before you come to the bridge.
You'll find the jarl portside today. Your sorceress oughta be there, too.
Geralt: Thanks. So long.
[Geralt walks to Kaer Trolde, Clan an Craite's seat of power. Many people are
at the harbor to say goodbye to Bran, Skellige's king who recently died. One
of Geralt's acquaintances, the druid Ermion, is presiding over the funeral.]
Ermion: Our time amongst the living is but the wink of an eye. What's left when
we are gone? How shall we be remembered? Will they speak of us with
respect? Or disdain? Bran was a great man. We shall remember him as a
hero.
[Pallbearers take the king's corpse and lay it onto a longboat. Bran's wife,
up with the local dignitaries, leaves their viewing spot.]
Ermion: You need not do this, child.
Cerys: I know. But I want to.
[She goes onto the boat with her dead husband. The pallbearers push the boat
free, with her on board.]
Woman: Tis¹ madness, such a young lass...
Man: Birna shold be the one goin', they shared a bed longer.
Ermion: Silence. 'Tis her decision.
[Crach fires a flaming bowshot onto the drifting boat, catching it aflame.
Geralt catches sight of Yennefer nearby.]
Geralt: You look beautiful.
Yennefer: Thank you. Nice to see you again. The eulogy.
[Ermion addresses the crowd.]
Ermion: King Bran of Clan Tuirseach has embarked on his final voyage. At its
end, our glorious ancestors await him. Together they will hunt and
raid. They will sit 'round the fire and praise the deeds of ages past.
For now, he lives in our hearts. One day, we too shall stand at his
side and face the sea together. That will be a good day.
You knew Bran?
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Geralt: You knew Bran?
Yennefer: Yes. He was well respected. Unlike his wife.
You smell wonderful.
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Geralt: You smell wonderful.
Yennefer: Geralt -- we're at a funeral.
Geralt: You smell wonderful at this funeral.
[Crach addresses the crowd next.]
Crach: Skellige is its clans. In times of war, tradition holds the clans unite
under the leadership of their king. We've bid Bran farewell. Time to
pick his successor, who will lead us against the Black Ones. The gates
of Kaer Trolde stand open to all who held Bran of Clan Tuirseach dear.
Meat and mead will be plentiful. During the wake, those who believe
themselves worthy of the crown will step forth.
Go to the wake with me?
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Geralt: Come to the wake with me?
Yennefer: Gladly. Feasts in Skellige -- so predictable. Slobbering drunks,
brazen boasting, and the inevitable rows that result...
Geralt: Yeah, nothing like the banquets mages attend. Remember the one on
Thanned?
Yennefer: You were there -- how could I forget? I also remember
excruciatingly well what happened after the banquet.
Not in the mood for a wake.
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Geralt: Hope we don't have to go to his wake.
Yennefer: Well... We don't have to go... Feasts in Skellige -- so
predictable. Slobbering drunks, brazen boasting, and the inevitable
rows that result...
Geralt: Yeah, nothing like the banquets mages attend. Remember the one on
Thanned?
Yennefer: You were there -- how could I forget? I also remember
excruciatingly well what happened after the banquet.
Wanna run away with you, spend some time alone.
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Geralt: Haven't seen each other in two years. I want a solitary cottage by
the sea. I wanna lock myself in with you, stay there for a week.
Yennefer: What would we do there for a week?
Geralt: Got so many ideas...
Yennefer: The one with the rope you use for trophies, that one seems
interesting.
[Either way:]
Reading my mind?
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Geralt: Reading my mind again?
Yennefer: Mhm. What's more, I like what I see.
Really hate it when you read my mind.
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Geralt: Stop reading my mind.
Yennefer: Something to hide?
Geralt: Don't like secrets?
Yennefer: No.
[The funeral ends and the people start dispersing.]
Yennefer: Did you learn anything in Velen?
What've you learned?
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Geralt: How about you? What've you learned?
Yennefer: Something strange happened on Ard Skellig a time ago. A disaster
brought about by a burst of magic. Extraordinary, really, a natural
anomaly. Never seen anything like it. My intuition tells me Ciri
was its cause.
Geralt: As much as I respect your intuition, Yen, we need something specific,
evidence.
Yennefer: I'd know for certain if I was able to inspect the disaster zone.
Unfortunately, Ermion and his druids aren't letting anyone near.
Why won't they let you examine the zone?
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Geralt: So why won't Ermion let you inspect the area of the anomaly?
Yennefer: Call it a difference of opinion. A large, loud difference.
Ermion is the chief druid here?
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Geralt: Ermion's head of the Skellige circle? Haven't seen him since...
hmm...
Yennefer: Since Ciri was a little girl. I doubt he'll do you any favors.
Not even for old times' sake.
As far as Velen's concerned...
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• Geralt: I'm not done searching Velen yet.
Yennefer: Thought you'd tend to that immediately.
Geralt: Change of plans.
• Geralt: Didn't learn much in Velen. Ciri wound up at the home of a local
baron. She also quarreled with some witches. That's about all I've
learned.
Yennefer: Good. You'll need to tell me more when we have some time.
• Geralt: Velen -- awful place. Somehow Ciri wound up at the castle of the
local ruler -- a baron, self-proclaimed. This was after she was
injured.
Yennefer: Injured? Was it serious?
Geralt: Don't think so. Must've recovered, because this baron sent her to
Novigrad. Think she was looking for you at the time. These witches
Ciri came across -- she was lucky to escape them.
Yennefer: Witches?
Geralt: Creatures, more like. Can't say exactly what they are. But they're
dangerous. Very. Also ran into an old friend of ours in Velen --
Keira.
Yennefer: What on earth is Keira Metz doing in that wasteland?
Geralt: Hiding from witch hunters. Listen, she told me an elven mage had
been there, looking for Ciri.
Yennefer: Good. You'll need to tell me more when we have some time.
As for Novigrad...
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• Geralt: Ciri found Dandelion in Novigrad. They met up.
• That's everything.
• Ciri found Dandelion in Novigrad. They met up. Dandelion got them in
trouble. Ciri made an enemy of Whoreson Junior, one of the city's crime
bosses.
Yennefer: So Dandelion knows what happened to Ciri?
Geralt: Yeah. Gotta find him.
• Geralt: Been to Novigrad. Ciri was there, looking for a way to lift some
curse. She's not there anymore.
Yennefer: You're certain?
Geralt: Heard it from Dandelion -- with no embellishments.
Yennefer: Do you know any more about this curse?
Geralt: Not much. Ciri ran into some trouble, never finished what she went
there to do. I recovered a phylactery -- she was looking for a way
to enchant it.
Yennefer: I'll look at it later.
Yennefer: Look, it's Crach.
Crach: White Wolf!
Geralt: Greetings, Crach.
Crach: I shall see you at the wake. And I'll not accept any excuses -- I've an
important matter to discuss with you.
[The clan leader leaves.]
• Yennefer: Guess our solitary hut will have to wait. Crach an Craite's someone
we want on our side.
Yennefer: I shall wear black and white for the feast. I count on you to don
something complimentary. Something that doesn't reek of a thousand
hunts.
Geralt: Yen, you know I can't stand new doublets. Just too tight till you break
them in...
Yennefer: And just like Crach, I'll not accept any excuses. We're not here to
enjoy ourselves -- we've matters to resolve and should dress
appropriately. I've rented a room at the inn. Took the liberty of
laying some clothes for you there. You ought to go, choose something.
In the meantime, I've something to attend to. We'll meet at the
entrance to the feast hall.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8b) THE KING IS DEAD -- LONG LIVE THE KING [WK8B]
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[Before the wake, Geralt goes to Yen's rented room.]
Geralt: This's gotta be Yen's room. She always did like space. And luxury...
[If Geralt dresses up:]
Geralt: Riiight... Just not something I'd ever wear. Buuut, what don't we do
for our-- Hm... Who exactly is she to me?
[Geralt goes to the mountain keep where Yennefer awaits at the gate. She's
talking with the former king's wife.]
Brina: Lady Yennefer. So pleased you've come to pay your respects to my dead
husband.
Yennefer: I knew Konung Bran well. His passing is the Isles' great loss.
Brina: It is... We must do all we can to minimize its tragic consequences.
Yennefer: Bran was a great ruler.
Brina: He needs a worthy successor.
Yennefer: You speak as though you have someone in mind.
Brina: Skellige's troubles very much derive from it not being a hereditary
monarchy. Any upstart can be king and destroy his predecessor's legacy.
Yennefer: The King of the Isles is a more symbolic position.
Brina: And that should change as well. A strong leader who wields true power --
that is what the times require.
Introduce me, Yen?
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Geralt: Introduce me?
Yennefer: This is my friend Geralt, and this is Birna -- widow of the dear
departed Bran.
Birna: The Queen Mother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Geralt. You must
forgive me, but on a day like today, I'm afraid I cannot indulge in
my penchant for long conversations.
I'm Geralt.
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Geralt: I'm Geralt. A witcher.
Birna: Birna. Queen of Skellige. I'm glad we've met, but you must forgive me.
Duty calls.
[The queen leaves.]
• Yennefer: I can see you chose your own outfit. You know, of course, that
together we look about as good as lace frills on a battle axe.
Geralt: Everyone's got their style.
• Yennefer: Lovely outfit. You look...dashing.
Geralt: Thank you. You're...dazzling.
Yennefer: You know I really missed your candidness. I'm glad we're here,
together.
Let's find Crach.
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Geralt: We should mingle before they all get drunk. There'll be no talking
to anyone then.
Yennefer: Good thinking. I don't know what Crach wants, but when we meet with
him we should have clear minds.
Geralt: I'm not gonna drink. Why dull my senses when I'm in such pleasant
company?
Yennefer: Do you plan to compliment me all evening?
Geralt: I plan to tell you what I think.
Really hate occasions like this.
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Geralt: Ugh, don't like funerals, don't like feasts.
Yennefer: I know. You also like underdone meat and being teleported. But
sometimes we must overcome our disgusts and prevail.
[They head toward the keep's feast hall.]
Yennefer: Geralt, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.
Geralt: Hm?
Yennefer: Your beard. Why'd you decide to grow it out?
Geralt: Don't really know.
Yennefer: Hm. Must say it suits you.
[They reach the gathering.]
Arnvald: Lady Yennefer. Sir.
Yennefer: Greetings, Arnvald. My companion is Geralt of Rivia.
Arnvald: I am honored.
Where can we find Crach?
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---
Nice to meet you.
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Geralt: Nice to meet you, too. Quite a few guests.
Arnvald: They come to bid their king farewell. They come to see the claimants
to the crown.
Geralt: We wanted to talk to Crach an Craite.
Arnvald: The jarl will join us shortly. He's assigned you a place of honor at
the table, just beside his daughter, Cerys. Follow me, please.
[He leads them to the table of mostly twenty-somethings.]
Yennefer: They've seated us here?
Cerys: I asked them to. Wanted to meet the notorious witcher, Geralt.
Geralt: We've met. Don't remember?
Cerys: That was ages ago. Hjalmar and I were children when you last visited our
da. But you should meet your feast-mates. Allow me the dubious honor.
That's Halbjorn, son of Holger Blackhand. Blueboy Lugos, Madman Lugos'
firstborn. And chokin' down the stockfish over there's Otrygg an Hindar.
And what's your name? Sorry, forgot.
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Geralt: Forgive me, I remember our meeting those years ago, but I don't
recall your name.
Blueboy: Cerys an Craite. Crach, her da, and her big brother Hjalmar call her
Sparrowhawk. A jarl's daughter she is. Fat lot of good it does her.
You're jarls' sons, all.
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Geralt: Seems they sat us with the sons of the jarls, exclusively.
Yennefer: Cerys an Craite is the daughter of the jarl, Geralt. Jarls'
daughters are in no way inferior to their sons.
Cerys: Do you know every last one of 'em dreams of bein' Bran's successor?
Look at 'em -- likely lot.
Halbjorn: Cerys is jealous, for the one among us who perform the greatest feat
will be crowned king.
Cerys: We all know the feats are a sideshow. Our fathers will choose who will
wear the crown. What d'you think they spoke to Crach about?
Halbjorn: You talk like that 'cause you're short on strength and skill.
Remember when Hjalmar challenged us all to a race up the mount? You
didn't stand with us then. As he buried his axe in that stump at the
top to mark his victory, you were warmin' your chicken bones by the
fire.
Cerys: Had my reasons for not participatin'. But I woulda won then, as I'd win
now.
Geralt: Hm, now that you mention him...just noticed Hjalmar's not here.
Cerys: My brother walks his own paths. But about the race...why don't we repeat
it? I'm willin' to challenge any of you, witcher included. If I beat him
to the top, venture to say that'd be a feat, eh? So, you in?
Blueboy: If the witcher's in.
Yennefer: Geralt?
Sure. I'll race.
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Geralt: Gladly. What're the rules?
Cerys: Whoever pulls Hjalmar's axe from the stump at the top of the hill,
wins. Stray off the path, and you lose.
Blueboy: And here I was ready to puke from all the boredom! Let's go!
Another time.
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Geralt: Honored to be asked, but maybe some other time.
Halbjorn: Shame.
[If Geralt decides to race, him, Yennefer and the youngsters travel the race's
starting point, part of the peak behind the castle.]
Blueboy: We're here. From this spot you must reach the top of that mount. At
the summit you'll see the stump of an oak, Hjalmar's axe buried in it.
Whoever pulls the axe from the stump first, wins.
Cerys: I'm ready.
Blueboy: You'll start when I sound the horn.
[If Geralt clambers up the mountain to win:]
Geralt: I won, but only by a hair.
Cerys: No such thing. There's winnin', and there's losin'. And I lost. We'd
best go back to the wake.
Geralt: Let's.
[If Cerys reaches the summit first:]
Cerys: I'm first! Behold -- Hjalmar's axe. I beat the famous White Wolf.
Geralt: Congratulations.
Cerys: Let's go back.
Geralt: Be glad to tell everyone about your victory.
[The party returns to the wake:]
Geralt: See the wake's in full swing.
Blueboy: Lost sight o' youse. Who won?
• Geralt: Cerys, proving she's her brother Hjalmar's equal in every way. She
retrieved the axe from the cliff.
Halbjorn: Cannot be!
Blueboy: Now I know why Hjalmar named you Sparrowhawk!
• Cerys: I lost.
Otrygg: Lost to a witcher, Sparrowhawk. That'd likely happen to any of us.
[Regardless of whether the race occured:]
Otrygg: Enough of the natterin'. Let's drink!
Let's drink.
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Geralt: To Cerys!
Blueboy: Pass the mead and a tankard for the man!
Otrygg: To Bran! May he want for nothing in the world beyond!
Geralt: To my beautiful companion!
Not me.
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Geralt: Can't today, for good reason, believe me.
Halbjorn: If not today, then when?!
Yennefer: You've been great company. Sadly, it's time we moved on.
Geralt: Really...?
Yennefer: Indeed. We must talk. But not here. You shall learn all beyond that
door.
[They approach the door leading to Crach's den. Two older men are arguing.]
Donar: Tell me, Lugos, why're you sendin' your vermin to my isle?
Madman: That squealin' swine sounds uncannily like Donar. Too bad I don't talk
to swine.
Donar: Not talkin' to you, shitbrains. I'm warnin' you.
Yennefer: Allow me to introduce Geralt of Rivia, a witcher. Jarl Donar an
Hindar and Jarl Madman Lugos.
Donar: Callin' Lugos a madman's an insult to madmen. He's a common goatfucker.
Madman: Call me a goatfucker one more time, and I'll chop off your head, stick
it on a pike, and piss down your neckhole.
Donar: Enough. Time to settle this -- here and now.
Madman: Oh, hahahah! Givin' me a true fright right now! Shat me best trousers!
Put that away before you cut yourself, you cunt.
Calm down.
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Geralt: Thought Skelligers called a truce for feasts.
Donar: I know the hallowed customs. But Lugos oughta know that I'll not let
him raid my Hindarsfjall bare.
Madman: You don't scare anyone, Donar. I'll be by soon to plough your
priestesses, drink from your tankard and shit on your table. Be sure
to leave a candle lit for me.
Take this outside.
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Geralt: Settle this outside.
Madman: Who the fuck are you to advise me, eh?
Yennefer: Someone with better manners. You insult Bran's memory and Crach's
hospitality with this.
Yennefer: Emperor would be very pleased to hear you quarrel.
Madman: His Imperial Majesty is more than welcome to visit.
Donar: Let 'im sail over here. We ain't afeard o' the Black Ones.
Yennefer: Raiding coastal villages is one thing. Total war with the empire is
another.
Madman: Awfully mouthy, this one. Go stir your cauldron and pierce some boils,
witch. Don't talk when you haven't got a fuckin' clue.
Gone too far, Lugos.
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Geralt: Know what, Lugos? Just realized I don't give a damn about your
hallowed rules of hospitality.
Madman: Finally! Some diversion! And here I was ready to puke from all the
boredom. Come on, freak. Show us what you're made of!
Donar: Move the benches! There's to be some gob slappin'!
Let's calm down.
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Geralt: Calm down, Lugos.
Madman: No wench'll teach me how to fight.
Yennefer: That was not my intention.
[If the discussion ends peaceably:]
Yennefer: Come, Geralt. I believe this discussion's run its course.
[If Geralt challenges and loses to Madman, he gets an after-battle lecture
while recovering:]
Madman: What do ya say to that, eh? Fat lot o' help they did you, them...
mutations or what's it you call 'em. We Skelligers got our own ways.
We live, eat, breathe, drink and fuck in the bracin' air of these
isles. Strength follows naturally. And wenches like strong lads, am I
right?
Yennefer: What wenches don't like are boors. High time you learned that.
Madman: Your loss.
[If Geralt challenges and defeats Madman in fisticuffs:]
Geralt: Had enough?
Madman: Argh, aah, ye got me good. That were quite a wallop. Still seein'
spots... Room rockin' like a leaky tub in a hurricane.</pre><pre id="faqspan-14">
Geralt: We'll call it even, then, soon as you apologize to the lady.
Madman: Don't hold it against me, m'lady. It's my deep conviction
sorceresses're needed, deeply so.
Yennefer: No offense taken. Forget about it.
Madman: That I like. And the knockin' -- it's what men do. Gimme your paw,
witcher, lemme squeeze. It's a worthy one.
[Either way, after the fight:]
Madman: Witcher, have a drink with me. Proof there's no hard feelings. And
visit me atimes, I insist. Jorund's been jabberin' about bringin' in a
witcher for that haunted lighthouse. Do me a favor, meet 'im for an
ale at the tavern near Arinbjorn. Then you've but a short jaunt to find
me so's we can knock back somethin' stronger. Here's to our next!
Gladly.
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Geralt: Sure, I'll knock one back with you, Lugos. Nothing wrong with having
a drink in good company.
• Yennefer: Geralt, I'd have nothing against drinking yourself stupid if
we had nothing important planned...
• Geralt: Nothing wrong with having a drink in good company.
Yennefer: I remind you we've important matters to discuss later. Matters
that require a clear mind.
Geralt: I remember.
Madman: Drink like you fight, and we're in for a good time. To Bran!
Geralt: To Jarl Madman Lugos and his madness! Forgive us. We should mingle,
talk to some of the other guests.
Can't.
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Geralt: No hard feelings, but we'll have to drink another time.
Yennefer: Yes. We've important discussions ahead.
Madman: You land rats're all the same -- afeard o' your wenches.
[Yennefer leads Geralt into the empty corridor outside Crach's chamber.]
Geralt: What now?
Yennefer: Now we pay a visit to Ermion's laboratory.
Geralt: Didn't know we'd been invited.
Yennefer: Because we've not been.
Let's go.
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Geralt: Take it Ermion won't be there?
Yennefer: That's right.
Geralt: And what's the purpose of this visit?
Yennefer: We're looking for an object -- the Mask of Uroboros. We'll need it.
We shouldn't.
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Geralt: We shouldn't be breaking into Ermion's workshop.
Yennefer: If I didn't know you better I'd say you needed to grow a pair. But
I know that you simply enjoy complaining -- it's the only reason
you said that.
Geralt: Why would we go there?
Yennefer: To retrive an item -- the Mask of Uroboros. We need it and,
therefore, must steal it.
Geralt: Right, 'course.
Yennefer: Come, Geralt.
Geralt: Now you'll tell me why you need this mask.
Yennefer: Oh, I shall. In due course.
Geralt: Take it¹ you'll decide when.
Yennefer: Correct.
[They head down the stairs toward the laboratory, but--]
Yennefer: Footsteps. Shh... Guards. Hide behind the tapestry.
Guard: Sparrows chip, while starlings chirp.
Guard: What do jackdaws do?
Guard: Jackdaws caw. Goldfinches warble and cranes whoop, whereas peacocks
screech. Hawks scream, larks trill, and doves, they coo. That's all of
'em.
Guard: Hmm... What about nightingales?
Guard: Ahh, right. Nightingales croon.
[The bird-loving guards pass by without noticing the hiding duo.]
Geralt: That was close.
Yennefer: Mhm.
[They come to a large door. Birds sit on an antler mount above it.]
Geralt: This'll be tough to open.
Yennefer: Surprises never end. See the ravens?
Geralt: Hard not to.
Yennefer: Ermion's spies. An indication that we're near his laboratory. I also
sense a clear magic aura. Come. There's a ledge outside the window.
We must pass along it.
[The balcony has a vista showcasing the harbor below.]
Geralt: Seen uglier sights in my life.
Yennefer: Geralt of Rivia, being romantic.
[They enter a large chamber filled with stuffed bears and deer.]
Yennefer: Amazing how a hobby can render a man mysterious, fascinating.
Geralt: Especially a druid. Must be a real nature lover.
[Geralt can animals in the the mystery room:]
• Looks alive.
• A hunter'd loose an arrow if he saw that in the woods.
• Had one at Kaer Morhen.
Yennefer: Please.
• A basin of water?
Yennefer: For teleprojection. A reflection of Ermion appears on the surface,
supplicants speak to it.
[Geralt tries the handle on the exit.]
Geralt: Aaa...
Yennefer: Are you all right?
Geralt: Cut myself. The door's locked.
[His vision starts to blur.]
Geralt: The animals -- they're alive! Yen, watch out! Monsters... Can feel
'em... Coming closer... They're everywhere...
Yennefer: That's one less!
Geralt: Strange. Smells of...mushrooms in here.
Yennefer: No... To my mind it's the smell of sweet grass drying in the sun.
[Geralt's daze ends; he wakes up on the floor.]
Geralt: What's happening?
Yennefer: You were hallucinating. You ran at Ermion's animals, sword flailing.
I had to calm you.
Must've looked funny.
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Geralt: Uh, must've looked strange.
Yennefer: Your years of vigorous training at Kaer Morhen finally paid off.
Bested nearly all the stuffed beasts in here.
Geralt: Please...
Yennefer: Fine. We've passed the Trial of Taxidermy. The door stands open.
We never mention this again.
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Geralt: Mind if we, uh, never mention this again?
Yennefer: Naturally. Door's open. We'll proceed as soon as you've collected
trophies of your kills.
Yennefer: Let's go inside, Geralt. I'll lock the entrance. We don't want to
raise suspicions. Ah, our dear druid's laboratory. We must search it
thoroughly. The Mask of Uroboros must be here.
[They look around the massive room.]
Yennefer: "Wondrous World of Insectoids," "Ritual Plants"... Ah, what do you
know... "Raymond Maarloeve -- A Biography Enhanced."
[Many objects are inspectable:]
• Dwarven triple mead.
• Pine cone. Didn't expect this. A large female.
• Yennefer: Ermion's wand. He's one of the few druids to use one.
• Laboratory worthy of an imperial alchemist.
• A child's skull?
• Seems Ermion has real tobacco brought in.
• Goes in for light reading too. "The Corpse of Novigrad" by Sasha Hahdy.
• Look at this -- a detailed map of the Northern Kingdoms. Even shows spheres
of influence over the ages...
Yennefer: Out of date.
• Letter bearing Ermion's seal... To the druids. Warns them about you. "...that
brazen manipulator?"
Yennefer: Hrmph. That shameless schemer.
• A goat carved out of linden wood. Signed "To Uncle Ermion."
Yennefer: Little Ciri's handiwork. That's what she called him when he was her
tutor.
• A sword in a stone... Thing's begging me to pull it out.
Yennefer: It's not in the stone, don't you see? It's held there by a vise.
• Skelligers' tales about the Wild Hunt...
Yennefer: The islanders believe the wraiths sail on a longship built of the
claws of dead men.
[Geralt comes to a huge statue of a thinking person.]
Geralt: Looks like Ermion places something in the statue's hand.
I'll try a pine cone.²
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Geralt: Whaddaya say we give it a pine cone...? Nothing.
I'll try the skull.²
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Geralt: So, statue, how about a skull...? Hm... Guess you're no indecisive
prince.
Maybe a mug of mead.²
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Geralt: How about a mug of mead? Statue or not, everybody needs a drink
sometimes. Hm, seems like it worked. Who woulda thunk?
Need to look around some more.
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Geralt: Need something else. Gotta look around.
Yennefer: Ermion enjoys jests achieved at the expense of others. I've a
sneaking suspicion the mask will be in here.
[They enter the secret chamber.]
Yennefer: Geralt, come here! I've found the mask! This is it!
[Yen takes the floating mask.]
Yennefer: We've got it. We must return to the feast quickly, before...
Geralt: Careful, now!
[An earth elemental springs to life and a portcullis shuts the duo inside.]
Yennefer: It's a trap! We're imprisoned!
[They slay the golem, but a wind-like sound occurs.]
Yennefer: Geralt. Hear that?
Geralt: Smelled it. Gas. Grate's still closed. Gotta think of something quick.
Yennefer: The damned druid will poison us! This vapor's deadly, we've but a few
minutes!
Geralt: Teleport us outta here.
Yennefer: Think of something! Quickly! First thing to come to your mind!
We're gonna choke and die.
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---
Damn, I wanna kiss you, Yen.
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---
Yennefer: Hold on tight!
[The teleportation spell drops them in Yen's room at Kaer Trolde's inn, if
Geralt chose the "wanna kiss you" option.]
Yennefer: Hm. Damn. I tore a hole in my dress. Wait a minute, I must mend it.
Geralt: Know how to sew?
Yennefer: Please. I'll enchant a needle.
Wouldn't mind watching...
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[Geralt disrobes and sneaks up behind her, lifting her onto the vanity.]
Yennefer: Wait.
Geralt: For what?
Yennefer: We must talk to Crach.
Geralt: Why? Think he misses us? Because I missed you.
[Yen looks at the unicorn.]
Geralt: Oh no.
Yennefer: I missed you too.
[They get on the 'corn.]
Geralt: When are you gonna finally burn this piece of junk?
Yennefer: My heart couldn't take it. So many memories. Dammit, Geralt. Do
you have any idea how much they cost?
Geralt: Come here. We gotta hurry. Crach's waiting.
Yennefer: Is that so?
Geralt: Yen, let go of the mane.
Yennefer: I know you. I let go -- you throw us off.
Geralt: Mhm.
Yennefer: Don't even try it.
[Afterwards, they lounge in bed.]
Yennefer: My oh my.
Geralt: Missed you.
Yennefer: I missed you too.
Geralt: We oughta get back to the wake.
Yennefer: I must dress. Turn around.
We should get back to the wake.
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Geralt: Really wonder if Crach'll be willing to help...
Yennefer: He knew Ciri well. She and Hjalmar played together as children.
Yennefer: There. Good as new.
Geralt: Let's get back to the wake.
[They return to the feast hall.]
Arnvald: Crach an Craite asked about you.
Yennefer: We went out...for a breath of fresh air.
Arnvald: Ahem, the claimants to the throne will step forth in a moment.
[They hear the tail end of a priestess' pre-ceremony address. If Geralt chose
"choke and die" when teleporting, the two teleport into the feast hall here
instead of the inn.]
Woman: ...now heed my words. There is no greater act of valor than to fight a
beast cursed by men and gods. No greater deed than that done to serve
the goddess.
Crach: Words of uncommon beauty. We thank you all and will take them to
heart... But now -- let's begin! We have seen Bran off into the beyond
and must now choose his successor. A king must be wise. A king must
command respect. A king must have bollocks. We've no lack of men like
that. Let those who feel worthy of the throne of Skellige step forth.
[Several men step forth, throwing their axes onto the table as a symbolic
gesture to enter.]
Crach: My son could not be here this day. Behold his axe. Behold his will.
[Cerys throws her dagger onto the table, earning sidelong glances from many.]
Crach: May the best man...or woman...win.
[He finishes addressing as the crowd disperses.]
Crach: What's got into her?
Yennefer: She's your daughter, is she not?
Crach: Now I know why she said she'll sail to Spikeroog. Ah, children! The
older they grow, the more trouble they are. Come with me. All the more
essential we talk now.
[They go out onto a balcony for peace and quiet.]
Crach: How was it, Geralt, when Ciri was nearing womanhood? I remember well her
nan, her mother...what they were like. They say the apple doesn't fall
far from the tree...
Geralt: Ciri was impossible to control. No telling her what to do. Had to have
things her own way, almost always. Why do you ask?
Crach: No specific reason. She and Cerys -- they're of a similar age. But we'll
speak of my children later. First, let's speak of yours. Yennefer claims
Ciri's in trouble, and you seek her.
Geralt: That's right.
Crach: If your require aid -- gold, ships, anything -- merely say the word.
I'll give you all I can. And I know the lass lives. I'm sure of it. When
the blood of Rhiannon's daughters is shed, the sea grows white with
fury. I'd mark such a storm.
Need your help with Ermion.
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Geralt: Need your help. Ciri probably came here to Skellige...
Yennefer: And very likely caused the cataclysm along the coast. The site
upon which the druids focus so intensely now.
Geralt: A site Ermion refuses to let us explore.
Yennefer: Specifically, he won't let me explore it. We fought, we're not
friendly now.
We know where Ciri might've been.
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Geralt: Magic anomaly on Ard Skellig's somehow related to Ciri, or so
Yennefer believes.
Yennefer: It's my strong suspicion. But I can only know for certain by
examining the site.
Crach: I saw the twisted forms -- right unnatural. The druids were barely
able to contain it. Explain to me, Yennefer, how Ciri might've caused
this great catastrophe.
Yennefer: I'm intent on learning that very thing. Which I will do as soon as
Ermion stops hindering my investigation.
Crach: Don't concern yourself with him. Druids have little trust for mages, but
Ermion's heart is in the right place. Am I right to assume he does not
know you seek Ciri?
Yennefer: It's of no concern to him.
Crach: As I thought. At any rate, Ard Skellig's my isle. You've my permission
to investigate as you see fit.
Thank you.
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---
Do I need to talk to him?
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Geralt: Wondering if I should talk to Ermion...
Crach: Leave that to me. Go, seek and find your Cirilla. If any ill befell
her here, on Ard Skellig, on my watch, I'd never forgive myself.
Geralt: Thank you.
Crach: No need. I swore an oath once. I aim to keep it. Arnvald! Tell the druid
I must speak to him. At the usual spot.
[Arnvald goes to relay the mission. Crach's next lines change depending on if
Hjalmar's quest was already completed or not.]
• Crach: I've one more matter to broach -- my child, my lass. You remember
Cerys? Well, recently she declared she must set off on an adventure.
To bolster her chances of winning Skellige's crown. Got it in her
head that Udalryk is not mad, but cursed...
• Crach: I've one more matter to broach -- my children. You remember Hjalmar?
Well, he swore an oath to kill the giant of Undvik, set off and has
yet to return. Whereas Cerys announced that she's to set off on an
adventure of her own. Got it in her head that Udalryk is not mad, but
cursed...
Thought all giants died ages ago.²
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Geralt: Giants...they've been extinct for ages. Anyone actually seen the one
on Undvik?
Crach: Aye. Dozens of refugees have. The giant drove everyone off the isle.
I've welcomed what remains of Clan Tordarroch here on Ard Skellig.
Yennefer: I heard a rumor -- that an unnatural frost gripped Undvik before
the giant appeared.
Crach: Tis¹ true. At any rate, Hjalmar decided to kill the giant and give
the isle back to its people. A deed worthy of a king, he believes.
My son gathered a hearty crew at the New Port. They were to sail to
Undvik, then travel on foot to Urskar, a village. But that many lads
should've killed the giant long ago. Thus I though¹ to ask you...
Yennefer: You should start at the New Port. Ask around. Hjalmar might've
told someone there his plans.
Cerys intend to lift Udalryk's curse?
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Geralt: Take it Cerys wants to lift the curse.
Crach: There's no curse to speak of. Cerys has decided she must match Hjalmar
and has sought out a deed worthy of a queen.
Geralt: Think she might need my help? You did plan to ask me for it. Why?
Crach: The thing is, I don't trust Udalryk further than I can spit. Cerys
won't listen to me or her brother. Yet confronted by a professional
who will explain why she's mistaken, she just might come to her
senses. So, yes, I ask that you explain things to her and bring her
back.
No desire to be king yourself?
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Geralt: Can't help wondering -- got no plans to vie for the crown yourself?
Think a good number of the jarls would support you.
Crach: A good number? Those opposed would be fierce, rabid. Madman Lugos
would sooner see a Nilfgaardian on the throne. Besides, a man should
know when to step aside, hand the tiller to the youth among us.
I'll help your children.²
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Geralt: If either Hjalmar or Cerys need help, I'll help them.
I'll help Cerys.²
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Geralt: I'll talk to Cerys. Count on it.
Crach: I thank you.
Crach: I thank you.
Yennefer: Now that we're done thanking one another, let's get to work. We must
determine of Ciri is still on Ard Skellig. I'll change into travel
attire and find you. Head south. The anomaly we should investigate
destroyed a stretch of forest along the shore of the bay. A
successful feast on all counts, Crach. I will see you later.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8c) ECHOES OF THE PAST [WK8C]
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[Geralt journeys to the forested eastern region of Ard Skellig. As he reaches
a druid encampment, he sees Ermion and Yen already at each other's throats.]
Ermion: You're mad, woman! Mad, I say!
Yennefer: Maybe. But I've got good reason.
Ermion: I hold Ciri dear too. You know this! Damned well! But the Mask of
Uroboros is no trifle! Have you any idea what could happen if it is
used? Any idea of the consequences?
Yennefer: No, but neither do you. So stop panicking.
Geralt: Can hear you two clear on the other side of the island.
Ermion: Good! May all Skellige know Yennefer of Vengerberg is a common thief!
Yennefer: Control yourself, druid. I haven't stolen anything. I've merely
borrowed it and fully intend to return it.
Ermion: Hah! The generosity! Just one small problem -- once used, the mask is
rendered completely worthless! Not to mention the risk you'll bury us
alive! And all the Isles with us!
What're you talking about?
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Geralt: Bury? What're you talking about?
Ermion: She's not told you? Might've expected as much!
Sure you're not overreacting?
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Geralt: Don't exaggerate. It's just--
Ermion: No, Geralt. This is¹ no "just"!
Ermion: The myth is Uroboros created the Mask when the envious Sea swallowed
his beloved. Unable to bear the prospect that he would never again see
his betrothed, Uroboros made the Mask, which would allow him to peer
into the past. He knew, however, that he could only use it once. So he
waited. Waited until his longing grew so strong that it became
unbearable. When the Sea learned of the Mask, it was quick to respond.
It made known its threat that whosoever used the Mask would bring the
Sea's wrath down on them. For in vengeance the Sea would rise and flood
all the lands and drown the living.
Anyone ever used it?
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Geralt: So... No one's ever used the Mask?
Ermion: No... But...
Geralt: So you don't actually know if it works, how it works?
Ermion: Of course I do. The myths tell me.
How'd you get this mask?
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Geralt: Where'd you get this mask?
Ermion: Sailors from clan Dimun pulled it from the sea. Near the Njord
Trench.
Geralt: Yeah, but how can you be sure this is Uroboros' mask?
Ermion: Its appearance is exactly as described in the myths.
Geralt: You believe the myths?
Ermion: Only ignorant fools belittle their significance. Besides, it's not the
myths on trial here! It's the thief!
Try to understand Yen.
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Geralt: I'm not about to justify when Yennefer did...
Ermion: Then don't!
Geralt: ...but try to understand her. She's not doing this to anger you,
she's doing it for Ciri.
Ermion: I know there are maternal feelings at play, but this is no excuse,
no justification. The Mask of Uroboros belongs to Skellige and should
be used for the good of the Isles! If Yennefer uses it now, it shall
lose its power, not to mention--
She did it for Ciri.
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Geralt: On the one hand a theft. On the other, Ciri's life...
Ermion: I also care deeply for the girl. I proposed a series of other
methods. Yennefer refused to listen! She claimed they would take too
long, whereas she wants, she needs immediate results! She has always
been hot-headed.
Geralt: True. Least this time she's got a valid reason for it.
Ermion: Never mind that she might bring--
We've got Crach's permission.
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Geralt: Theft or no theft, Crach gave us free rein.
Ermion: First off, this might indeed be his isle, but we the druids watch
that no alien magic takes hold here. Secondly, after the cataclysm
occured, Crach turned to us for help, entrusted this site to our
care. Third--
[They turn around to see lightning striking in the cataclysm zone, with a storm
erupting out of nowhere. Yennefer's already gone ahead.]
Ermion: Wha...what was that? No! Yennefer's used the Mask! Quickly! Follow me!
We must neutralize the Mask, mute its power!
[Ermion leads the way down the rain-slick mountainside with the druid acolytes
in tow. They start chanting to mitigate Yennefer's actions.]
Ermion: Eine glav'echen virti adem!
[Geralt searches for Yen, and soon finds her fighting off foglets.]
Yennefer: Geralt, watch out!
Geralt: Great.
[They slay the mistborn creatures.]
Geralt: What was that?
Yennefer: Unicorns.
Geralt: Dammit, Yen, I saw the foglets. I mean how'd they get here?
Yennefer: The power of the Mask summoned them.
What do we do now?
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Geralt: What now?
Yennefer: The Mask reveals the past, but only in certain places. Places where
past events left a strong magical imprint. Take it.
Ermion's furious with you.
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Geralt: Ermion says the Mask might cause a natural disaster.
Yennefer: Fortunate he's here then. He can jump right in, try to tame it.
Geralt: Realize he won't let this pass?
Yennefer: Oh, I'll survive, somehow.
[She gives him the legendary mask.]
Geralt: Want me to wear it?
Yennefer: Yes. I'll cast a spell that will let me see through your eyes.
Gonna read my mind?
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Geralt: Gonna read my mind again?
Yennefer: You object?
Nope.
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Geralt: You do it whenever you want anyway.
Yennefer: No harm in it then, is there? Let's go.
Yes.
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Geralt: You know I don't like it.
Yennefer: Let it go. I just want to see what happened. Besides, you know
there are things I'd rather not know about you... Let's go.
Let's go.
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Geralt: Well, let's go.
Yennefer: This way.
Yennefer: Already found the first spot.
[They walk further into the forest. The site of the cataclysm has warped the
treeline, stripping the greenery from the trees and upturned the earth.]
Yennefer: This is the spot. Put on the Mask.
Geralt: Any instructions?
Yennefer: Keep it on until we've seen everything. And don't stray far.
Telepathy is limited in range.
[Looking through the artifact, Geralt sees the site's imprint: an open portal
and two figures walking out of it.]
Geralt: What's that? A portal?
Yennefer: Two people emerged from it.
Geralt: The woman was Ciri.
Yennefer: How can you know?
Geralt: The way she moved. Like a witcher. Seems they went that way.
Yennefer: Come, let's find the next spot.
[They nix another foglet at the second site.]
Yennefer: Well? Ready? Use the Mask.
[Using the artifact, the two peer into the past again -- this time, seeing the
two portal-users being surrounded by many fighters. The man uses an ability
to blow the attackers away with enough power to crater the area. After, the
portal-users escape.]
Yennefer: Watch out!
Geralt: What was that?
Yennefer: Hmm... A magic explosion of some sort. So powerful even that echo was
dangerous. I wager it destroyed the forest.
Geralt: But Ciri and her companion weren't harmed... I saw them escape.
Yennefer: Let's see where to.
[They continue trekking to the third site.]
Geralt: Place is creepy. Don't like it.
Yennefer: Nor do I.
Geralt: Anyone here when this happened had a slim chance of surviving.
Yennefer: I know what you're thinking... But don't worry. Ciri can take care
of herself.
[They reach the next point of interest.]
Yennefer: Don the Mask.
[This time, the Mask reveals the woman, likely Ciri, fighting mano e mano with
an attacker. After a moment, she escapes into another portal.]
Geralt: Someone chased Ciri. See that? Might've wounded her.
Yennefer: She escaped. Through another portal.
Geralt: Know where it led?
Yennefer: Magic residue trail leads to...Velen.
Geralt: Any chance you can figure out where Ciri's companion fled to? His
portal's gotta be nearby.
Yennefer: I'll try to find it. Come.
[They find the fourth site.]
Yennefer: Well? Ready? Use the Mask.
[The imprint reveals another one-on-one fight, ending abruptly when Ciri's
companion powerfully throws the attacker back.]
Geralt: Nice fight.
Yennefer: One repelled with powerful magic, then fled through a portal.
Geralt: A mage?
Yennefer: Most likely. It's Ciri's companion and the one who wounded her.
Geralt: How do you know?
Yennefer: I don't. Making an educated guess. They both appeared in the previous
visions.
Geralt: Ciri's got a powerful ally.
Let's see where the attacker landed.
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Geralt: May be something left of the one who got hit by the spell.
Yennefer: It's clearing up.
Geralt: Ermion must be getting a handle on the weather.
Yennefer: Which means he'll be free to attack us again.
Where did the mage flee to?
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Geralt: The mage who was with Ciri fled, too. Know where?
Yennefer: Hmm... His trace path leads to Velen as well... But the target
coordinates of his portal differ from those of Ciri's... The
explosion must have disrupted his teleportation...
Geralt: Hm, ran into Keira Metz in Velen. Coincidence maybe, but... She
claimed a mage came to her looking for Ciri. Be surprised it it
wasn't the same one.
Yennefer: Hmm... Whoever he is, he grows more interesting by the minute...
[At that moment, they see the master druid stomping towards them.
Ermion: Are you pleased with yourselves?! Look at what you've brought down on
us! If someone's death were to help you find Ciri, would you start
making human sacrifices as well?!
We're ready to do anything for Ciri.
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Geralt: Just so happens I'm willing to do anything for some people.
Ermion: Everyone else, everything else be damned, is that it?!
Calm down, nothing happened.
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Geralt: Relax. Storm's died down, you've clearly got things under control.
Ermion: For now! But who knows what will be a week or two on!
Yennefer: Stop panicking! Here's your Mask.
Ermion: It is worthless. It's an unwieldy ashtray at best. I hope you've
learned something useful at least.
Yennefer: Very.
Ermion: I'm talking to Geralt. You... You I'll deal with later. So?
We need to examine one more trail.
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Geralt: Got a feeling we've found something interesting. Just need to examine
one more thing.
Yennefer: In the vision he went flying in that direction.
We learned something about Ciri.
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Geralt: We think a powerful curse was cast here.
Ermion: Hmm... Plausible, considering what happened to the wood. Do you know
upon whom?
Geralt: Not yet. But we know Ciri was here. She stepped out of a portal. A
mage was with her. Someone chased them, they fought. Ciri was wounded
but managed to escape.
Ermion: Where to?
Geralt: Velen, probably -- the mage opened a portal for her. Then he fought
her attacker.
Ermion: Yes? Is that it?
[They walk a short ways to where the attacker was flung, seeing the earth's
grooved where the person slid.]
Geralt: Something's pinned under that tree. Can you...?
Yennefer: I can.
[She levitates the overturned tree and moves it aside. Underneath, an empty
suit of plate mail is seen.]
Geralt: Armor's clean -- no blood, no sword nicks. Ciri's friend must've...
What do you call it?
Yennefer: Vaporized him.
Ermion: Exquisite, the armor... Though the workmanship's unfamiliar. Can't
even tell where it's from.
Geralt: Probably because it belonged to a rider of the Wild Hunt.
Ermion: What?! So it's true...the Wild Hunt...I feared as much. First here,
then on Hindarsfjall. What did they want?
Yennefer: They're looking for Ciri.
Ermion: But...why?
Tell you later.
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Geralt: It's a long story that involves the Elder Blood, Ciri's abilities...
Ermion: Did she, perchance, inherit her mother's skills?
Yennefer: Ciri can do much more than her mother could. But right now we're
much more interested in what the Wild Hunt as doing on
Hindarsfjall.
Wild Hunt wants her because of the Elder Blood in her veins.
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Geralt: Elder Blood flows in Ciri's veins.
Ermion: Hmm... 'Tis true she can trace her lineage clear back to Lara Dorren
-- which is why the women in her family have always had extraordinary
abilities... But could that truly be so important?
Yennefer: Ciri's exceptional. She travels between places -- here and other
worlds. Space is no obstacle for her.
Ermion: Huh?
Geralt: Which is why the Wild Hunt wants to capture her.
You said the Wild Hunt was on Hindarsfjall.
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Geralt: Speaking of the Wild Hunt -- mentioned it appeared on Hindarsfjall.
Ermion: Well, it happened at least a fortnight after the cataclysm struck here
on Ard Skellig. The wraiths raided Lofoten, at dusk, in a blizzard.
Itself a strange occurance for that time of year. The islanders said
the wraiths, they barged into their huts. Killed anyone who resisted,
then galloped inland, laughing fiendishly.
Yennefer: Anyone survive?
Ermion: A dozen or so women and an old man.
Geralt: Next stop -- Hindarsfjall.
Yennefer: I'll meet you on the beach near Lofoten.
Let's go together, right now.
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Geralt: Wait. Can't we go together? Right now?
Yennefer: But you detest being teleported.
Geralt: Don't exactly like potions either, but I drink 'em when I have to.
Yennefer: Mhm...you also drink them when there's no need at all. Very well,
let's go. Stay close to me.
See you there.
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Geralt: Mhm. See you there.
Ermion: Good luck to you. Inform me once you've learned anything new.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8d) MISSING PERSONS [WK8D]
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[Hindarsfjall is the large island just east of the main one. Geralt either
teleports with Yen or boats there himself. Going the latter route offers a
bit more exposition:]
Geralt: Greetings, Yen.
Yennefer: Good thing you're here... The frostbite was starting to set in.
You should've worn warmer clothing.
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Geralt: You should've dressed warmer.
Yennefer: Mhm. Next you'll be pinning mittens to my coat. Can we go?
Geralt: Yeah.
Had something that needed taking care of.
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Geralt: Had a matter to tend to.
Yennefer: A matter that brooked no delay, I presume... What was it? A nekker
contract?
Geralt: Something like that. Can we go?
Yennefer: Mhm.
[Either way:]
Yennefer: Quite a few years since I was last on Hindarsfjall. But if I remember
correctly, Lofoten should be this way.
[They quickly find the ruined town and its dejected remnants.]
Yennefer: Razed huts and fresh graves. Hm, this must be it.
Geralt: Gathering of some kind... We've come at a bad time.
Yennefer: There's no good time to talk about the Wild Hunt.
[They see some women holding a ceremony for their lost loved ones.]
Geralt: Ritual of some kind... We'll have to wait.
Yennefer: We'll do no such thing. Dear sisters... Pardon the interruption, but
we've an important matter to discuss.
Woman: Can you not see we're commemorating the dead? So...
Yennefer: And we're looking for someone who's still alive. Please... This is
urgent.
Woman: Ugh. Then speak.
We're looking for an ashen-haired young woman.
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Geralt: We're looking for a young woman, name of Ciri. Ashen hair, green
eyes...
Woman: I'm sorry. She is not here.
Woman: Unless she lies in a grave... That is, I do not recall one by that
name, but I've buried so many... I may have forgotten.
They say the Wild Hunt destroyed your village...
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Geralt: They say the Wild Hunt destroyed this village...
Woman: That is true... Though few believe us. You don't either, I'm sure.
Yennefer: Did you see riders on skeletal horses? Wearing frost-covered armor?
Woman: Aye... That's how it was... They landed on our shores in a ship made
of the claws of dead men... Like in the ballads. Leif yelled to grab
the children... Then they came... Cut him 'cross the face. He tried to
whisper... Only blood came out...
Woman: You were to ask about someone, not prod their wounds. That's enough.
Yennefer: What happened then?
Go on.
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Geralt: Go on.
Woman: I ran out... To get help, to get Leif... But... So many bodies. Jole,
Ingvar... Little Nekki...
Yennefer: Which way did the riders go?
Woman: Towards the sea... Through the ravine...on horses made of bones...
bones and ice...and...
Woman: Enough. Get to the point. Now.
Yennefer... Enough.
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Geralt: Yen... Leave her alone.
Yennefer: You don't understand. If we can learn where--
Geralt: I understand. And I'm still asking you to stop.
Yennefer: You're right.
Woman: Get to the point. Now.
Woman: This... This Ciri... Has she a scar? Here, on her cheek?
Yennefer: Yes, yes. What happened to her?
Woman: Don't know. Saw her for a moment, right before...before it all. She was
in the stables with...Craven.
Woman: A thousand curses upon him.
Craven? Who're we talking about?
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Geralt: This Craven you mention... Does he have a name?
Woman: He did... Until the elders struck him from the Saga of Ancestors.
Woman: It's as if he has ceased to exist. The law forbids anyone from
touching him, speaking to him... Even uttering his name.
Yennefer: What did he do to deserve that?
Woman: He fled from the Wild Hunt... He alone!
Geralt: We need to talk to him... Even if it's not in keeping with your
customs.
What was Ciri doing here?
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Geralt: Remember anything else? Anything at all?
Woman: Only that she seeme tired. Very tired. And...and her hair was wet.
Yennefer: Great. So we know she bathed. Progress.
Woman: I'm sorry. Skja--
Woman: Craven.
Woman: My apologies. Craven. Craven could've told you more.
Woman: You've come too late. He went to the garden, to fight Morkvarg.
Morkvarg? What's that?
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Geralt: Morkvarg? What's that?
Woman: Who, you mean--
Woman: The vilest man ever to inhabit Skellige. Nothing was ever sacred to
him. He attacked his own clan's lands, took gold from Nilfgaard,
killed children, pregnant women...
Geralt: Mhm. Know the type.
Woman: They said he feared only one thing -- the wrath of the gods. Morkvarg
sought to prove how wrong they were. So he sailed to Hindarsfjall to
ransack the goddess' garden. This was over a decade ago.
Woman: Arch priestess Ulve stood in his way. He thrust a blade between her
ribs and cast her down in the mud. As her lifeblood left her, she
cursed him... And Morkvarg transformed into a beast.
Yennefer: A curse, a monster... You've got some work to do...
I can rid you of Morkvarg.
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Geralt: I can get rid of Morkvarg. Don't know what he's turned into, but a
silver sword should do the trick.
Woman: It's not that simple. There have been those that bested Morkvarg...
Yet he always returns.
Geralt: So, it's a complex curse... Meaning I need more information.
Woman: I understand... But I've told you all I know.
Woman: Speak with Toradar's son, Einar. He was in the garden when Morkvarg
and his men attacked. He saw what happened. Of all the pilgrims there
at the time, he alone escaped with his life. He settled in Larvik.
You'll find him there at the landing, provided he's not out to sea
when you arrive.
I'm not here to work.
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Geralt: I'm not here to work.
Yennefer: I doubt Morkvarg cares. Monsters prowl when they will and where
they will.
Geralt: Fine. He comes within reach of my sword, I'll deal with him... But
only then.
Where is the holy garden?
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Geralt: Where is this holy garden?
Woman: Not far from here... North. We cultivated healing herbs there once...
Yennefer: And now?
Woman: Now we walk only as far as the tree the goddess planted. We place our
offerings and make our pleas before it.
Woman: Those who venture below...remain in the garden, forever.
Cowards don't usually fight monsters...
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Geralt: A coward who willingly seeks battle... Am I the only one who sees the
contradiction?
Woman: That's why he did it. Craven knew he could prove the elders wrong only
if he killed Morkvarg.
Geralt: And thus regain his honor -- and his name.
Yennefer: Trial by ordeal. Very Skelligan.
Woman: I do not mock your laws -- please also respect ours.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Woman: I understand you intend to enter the garden? I dislike it when
foreigners enter the sacred grounds... But so be it.
Woman: Custom demands pilgrims make an offering of their own blood before the
tree. Craven surely did so... Unless he lacked not only courage but
respect for Freya as well.
Yennefer: You needn't worry about us. Geralt and I always give the gods the
respect they are due.
[With info about the garden in hand, Yen and Geralt set out for it.]
Geralt: Worried this trail might've gone cold...
Yennefer: Even if Craven's dead... We'll manage.
Geralt: How, exactly?
Yennefer: You'll see when the time comes.
Geralt: You could stand to be nicer sometimes.
Yennefer: I suppose...but then I wouldn't be the woman you fell in love with,
would I?
[They reach the destination.]
Yennefer: My, my... That must be Morkvarg... Quite the appetite.
Geralt: Mhm. Might even call it wolven...
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________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8e) NAMELESS [WK8E]
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[Yen and Geralt approach Freya's Garden's entrance. Through the portcullis,
they spy a werewolf scrounging on the ground, talking to himself.]
Morkvarg: Hrrr a bite... Just one morrrsel...hrrr... Hrrr one piece...hrrr a
crrrrrumb...hrrr food, food...hrrr... Hrr akh akh akh...! Shite!
N-not again! Not again! Blhrrraugh bleugh hrrleugh...
[The creature scampers off.]
Yennefer: He doesn't seem happy to see us.
Geralt: Wait till he gets a closer look at me.
Yennefer: So, where shall we start?
Geralt: Let's go to that tree the sisters mentioned.
Yennefer: Plan to bleed yourself for the goddess?
Geralt: Not necessarily. But Craven did... We might just pick up his scent.
[The couple uses the high ground and bridges to reach the famed tree in the
garden's center.]
Geralt: Craven was here. Look...the impression -- kneeled down on one knee...
And cut himself to make an offering. Bloodstains...see them?
Yennefer: No... I may be inhumanly beautiful, but I don't have supernatural
senses. Not like you.
Geralt: Which is why you should stay up here. No offense, but in that
undergrowth and mud, you'd be like a...
Yennefer: Ball and chain?
Geralt: Planned to say it gentler, but yeah, that's basically what I had in
mind.
Yennefer: Fine... We'll do as you say. If the need arises, I can cast spells
from up here.
See you later.
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Geralt: Fine... See you later then.
Yennefer: Don't get hurt. Remember, I need you if I'm to find Ciri. Oh, come
on, I was just teasing. Fool. I need you -- period. Better?
Geralt: Mhm. Better.
Expected you to object...
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Geralt: Thought you might object...
Yennefer: Me? Please. I can be extraordinarily conciliatory.
Geralt: Yen, look me in the eye... What're you plotting?
Yennefer: Many things... How to seize the Temerian crown, how to sell Kaer
Morhen out from under you. Go, already.
[Some things can be inspected near the tree.]
• Something down there. Can't see a thing.
• Craven's blood. Flowing profusely... Trail's clear. Should lead me to him.
• Light prints... Craven trod carefully.
[Geralt follows the blood trail down into the lower garden.]
• No bite marks... Morkvarg doesn't eat his victims. Strange.
Yennefer: Is it Craven?!
Geralt: No, this one's been here a while!
Yennefer: What?! I can't hear you! If you want to chat, come closer!
Geralt: Her senses are really dulled...
• Monster tracks... Running, chasing something.
• Looks like Morkvarg got tired of sneaking around... And attacked.
• Craven's blood...
• Craven was injured. Started running.
• Door won't budge... Craven must've blocked it...or it's just locked. Gotta
go around.
[Geralt can check in with Yen if he wants:]
Yennefer: Well? What is it?
What do you know about this garden?
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Geralt: Whaddaya know about this garden?
Yennefer: Let me think... That it's dreadfully overgrown.
Geralt: Had its history in mind.
Yennefer: They say Freya herself planted it. When the world was young the
goddess strode across Skellige, sowing seeds among the rocks. But
Uroboros, the snake, bit a hole in her basket. All her seeds poured
from it and landed here. Thus, this garden is bounteous, while the
rest of Skellige is barren.
Geralt: You believe that?
Yennefer: Is that a serious question? Of course not. Favorable microclimate
for plant life, end of story.
Transformed into a werewolf...it's a dog's life.
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Geralt: To transform into a werewolf... It's a dog's life, eh?
Yennefer: Well, there's not a youth out there who doesn't have a wolf in his
belly.
Geralt: Then the curse confined him to this garden? Couldn't really cut his
wolf loose.
Yennefer: No question he was top dog here...
Geralt: Just wolfin' things down...or not.
Yennefer: Geralt... That's enough, hm?
Geralt: Fine. Still had a few good ones on the tip of my tongue.
Yennefer: I'm sure you did. We'll say you won.
I found a body... But it wasn't Craven's.
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Geralt: I found a corpse...not Craven's, though.
Yennefer: Aha. And you thought I'd find this interesting because...?
Geralt: Because...no bite marks on it... Doesn't seem strange to you?
Yennefer: Zerrikanian cuisine, Dandelion's fame and shoes with curly toes
seem strange to me, yet I don't discuss them with you.
Geralt: Reading between the lines here -- think I'm wasting your time?
Yennefer: I mean merely that we should focus on what's most important at the
moment.
See you.
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Geralt: All right. Going back down.
Yennefer: Be careful.
[Since the door was locked, Geralt works in the opposite direction, following
Morkvarg's other tracks.]
• Lots of prints...old and new. His lair must be nearby.
[Climbing an old ladder, Geralt finds some canal controls.]
Geralt: Can't cross that... Gotta go down, provided I can open the sluice.
Mechanism looks pretty standard. One lever to choose the sluice gate,
the other to work it.
[If Geralt explores a canal cave:]
• Bones fell through the crevice... Years ago.
• Air's moving here... Must be another cave above, or a way out.
[Eventually, the witcher figures out a way to get on the other side of the
locked door.]
• These prints should lead me to Craven...or his body.
• Prints lead to the well. Guess Craven didn't want to be eaten, preferred to
drown.
• Roots... So I'm right under Yen. Hey! Can you hear me?
Yennefer: Geralt! You scared me!
Geralt: Sorry, didn't mean to.
Yennefer: I hope not! Let me know once you find Craven!
• One of Freya's priestesses. No signs of violence. Must've died of hunger...a
while ago. Must've hid here when Morkvarg raided the garden. A key -- could
come in handy.
[Geralt finds Craven's corpse.]
Geralt: Damn... Dead...has been for a while. Yen! Found him!
Yennefer: And?
Geralt: And I've seen rotfiends in better condition than this.
Yennefer: Shit... Fine, scrape together what you can and haul the bits up here!
What's the point?
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Geralt: Yen...there's no point...
Yennefer: There's no point in discussing this through a grate!
I'm guessing you have a plan...
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Geralt: Take it you've got a plan?
Yennefer: No, I just like to stare at rotting flesh!
Yennefer: We'll talk when you get here, all right?
Geralt: That's Yen... Charming as ever. C'mon. Someone wants to meet you.
[Awhile later, Geralt's managed to lug the corpse up to the central tree.]
Yennefer: Putrefaction's set in...but the vocal cords are intact. We might
still get something out of him...
Geralt: Doesn't look like the talkative type.
Yennefer: Anyone can be made to talk, even a corpse... One must simply know
how.
Geralt: Thought necromancy was strictly forbidden.
Yennefer: So is premarital sex. But I'm not about to be bothered by such
foolishness.
Need any ingredients for the spell?
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Geralt: Need any ingredients for the spell?
Yennefer: Mhm. The blood of a newborn, a virgin's tongue and the eye of a
newt.
Geralt: Mind trying again, without the sarcasm?
Yennefer: I don't need a thing. I'm a sorceress, not a village herbalist. All
I need is energy...a great deal of energy. We're very lucky this
place is saturated with magic.
Geralt: It's also considered sacred. Priestesses'll be furious if you use
the garden's Power to revive a corpse.
Yennefer: Geralt, you're getting on my nerves. I offer you solutions, you
try to poke holes in them.
Fine. Let's get to work.
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Geralt: Let's get to work.
Just thinking about the consequences.
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Geralt: I'm not poking holes, just thinking about the consequences. How
about you? Given them any thought?
Yennefer: No. Geralt, I'll say it again... We're short on time. Ciri is
short on time.
Geralt: Mhm.
Yennefer: Fine. You busy yourself pouting. I'll handle the rest.
Black magic's no joke.
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Geralt: Black magic's no joke. Casting those spells never ends well. Never.
Yennefer: I don't like it any more than you do, believe me. But the thought
that Ciri's in danger? I like that even less.
Geralt: I understand. Still doesn't give us the right to--</pre><pre id="faqspan-15">
Yennefer: Geralt, please. This is not the time to debate ethics.
[She stands over the man's corpse.]
Yennefer: Celain, celain, deffraen! Celain, celain, davedar!
[The bright weather almost immediately turns gloomy and misty. A smoke-like
substance seeps out of the corpse, and it sits upright in agony.]
Craven: Aaaaaaach!
Yennefer: Are you Craven of Lofoten?!
Skjall: Nnn... Nnoooo... Iiiii... Haaaavvvve...a naaaammmme...Ssssskjall!
Skjalllll! Iiiii aaaammmm Skjaaaallll!
We're looking for Ciri.
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Geralt: We're looking for Ciri. Ashen hair, green eyes... Have you seen her?
You died in battle. You've recently recovered your honor.
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Geralt: You died in battle. You've recovered--
Yennefer: Geralt, this is not the time to cheer up a corpse. A young woman,
ashen hair, green eyes. What happened to her?
Skjall: Ssssshhhheeee...sssshhhheee's wwwwhyyyy thhhheeeyy currrssssed meeee...
Yennefer: I don't care about that! What happened to her? What was she doing
here? Speak!
Skjall: Nnnnoooo...
Yennefer: Speak!
Skjall: Aaaaacch!
Yennefer: Speak!
Skjall: Thhhe...sssseeeeeaaa... Sssshhheeee fffeeeell... Alllmooost
drrrrooowned...
[The flashback chapter "The Calm Before the Storm" plays in its entirety at
this point -- see that section for details..]
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8f) THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM [WK8F]
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[This is a Ciri flashback chapter. It begins with Skjall, very much alive, in
the shallows near Lofoten, as he looks for white crabs to catch. While his
back's turned, Ciri's portal opens and he hears a splash. He looks over a rock
to find her being carried by the "mysterious elf" companion.]
Elf: Don't stare, help me. Help us both.
[Skjall agrees. The next scene is in Lofoten; a dazed Ciri is laying on the
bed, recuperating.]
Elf: Ciri... Zireael... Can you hear me?
Ciri: I can...
Elf: I must leave you now. We will meet beneath Drowned Dead Rock. Can you
remember?
Ciri: Mhm...
Elf: Repeat it.
Ciri: Drowned... Dead... Rock...
[Some time later, the elf's nowhere to be seen. Skjall watches over Ciri as
she comes to.]
Skjall: You're awake... And I thought you'd...
Ciri: Where am I? And who are you?
Skjall: It's alright. You're on Hindarsfjall, village of Lofoten. They call me
Skjall.
Ciri: But how'd I... What?
Skjall: We fished you out of the sea... Me and that friend of yours.
Help me up.
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Ciri: Help...help me stand.
Skjall: I don't...I don't think you should--
Ciri: Less talk, more giving me a hand.
Was I out long?
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Ciri: How long did I lie there?
Skjall: All day, nearabouts -- 'twas morn when we brought you in, night's
near come now.
Ciri: Damn... Too long...
Skjall: You needed the rest, desperately. Been through a lot, eh? Got some
nasty fresh-lookin' scars...
What? You undressed me?!
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Ciri: What's this?! Did you undress me?!
Skjall: I -- I'd no choice! Soaked through, you were, and I had to see if
you'd any wounds that needed tendin'.
Ciri: Mhm. And if my breasts needed smearing with fox tallow...
Skjall: Nay, nay--! T-that was mum and sis! I -- I'd never dare. I swear.
On my honor.
Ciri: Easy. I believe you.
Yeah, a whole lot.
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Ciri: Yes... I've been through a lot.
Skjall: I never thought women on the Continent did any fightin'.
Ciri: Sometimes they have no choice.
Where is my companion?
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Ciri: And where is he? My...friend?
Skjall: Stepped out a while ago. Said he needed to find a boat. Why's he wear
that mask? Somethin' not right with his mug?
Ciri: No. He simply doesn't like others to see it.
[A woman walks into the house.]
Astrid: Ah, that's me brother for you. Outta sight for a second, and he's
already putting his paws on a girl.
Skjall: Dah. Astrid, you're as dim as dishwater! You know perfectly well I'm
helpin' her up.
Astrid: It's a shame, I know, but I've got to interrupt your courtship. Come,
we're off to the sauna.
Ciri: Where?
Astrid: Why's your mouth agape like you're noodlin' for an eel? The sauna!
Girl... You was blue as a whale when we brought you here! Your blood
needs thawin'!
I must get to Drowned Dead Rock.
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Ciri: I'm sorry, but I must get to Drowned Dead Rock...as fast as possible.
Skjall: Shan't force you to stay... But the Rock's a way off, and you can
barely walk. You best take a horse.
Astrid: True! Skjall can prepare a horse for you. You'll have to wait a
spell, but even so you'll get there faster than on foot.
Ciri: Fine... That will do. Thank you both very much.
Astrid: Pish-posh, there's no need... Now come, we gotta sweat the sick
outta you!
Ciri: Where are my clothes?
Astrid: I've taken 'em already. Come on!
I feel fine now.
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Ciri: Really, there's no need... I feel fine now.
[She pushes her backwards onto the bed with ease.]
Ciri: Hey!
Astrid: Fine? You can't stand on your own two feet... And it's no surprise
with your muscles frozen stiff. But don't you worry... Mum and I will
take care of you.
[Ciri goes off with Astrid toward the sauna.]
Astrid: That man in the mask...he's from afar, isn't he?
Ciri: Oh, yes... From very far away.
Astrid: Where exactly?
Ciri: Aren't you nosy!
Astrid: Surprised? Been sittin' in this fish puddle me whole life... I'd love
to travel like you..
Ciri: Like me? No, you wouldn't like that... Trust me.
[They reach the hot springs bathhouse.]
Astrid: All right... In you go and get out of those rags!
Ciri: All of them?
Astrid: I should think so!
[Undress.]
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---
[Wrap yourself in a towel.]
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---
[Remove towel.]
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[Go to sauna.]
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---
[Dress and leave.]
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---
[Leave the changing room.]
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Astrid: What's takin' you? Ye need help?
Ciri: No, I'm almost ready.
• Let's go... I'm gettin' goose pimples...
• You wrap yourself in a towel? Well, whatever makes you comfortable...
[They go join Astrid's ma in the sauna.]
Mother: Finally! I was so worried she'd--
Astrid: Ach, Mum, you always worry. Everything's fine. Ain't it?
Ciri: Mhm. Yes. It's fine.
Mother: Good, that's good...
• Mother: But why've you got the towel, child? It'll just get wet...
Astrid: Mum...she's from the Continent...she's shy.
I'm not shy, not at all.
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Ciri: I'm not at all shy. I just wanted something to sit on...
Astrid: Mhm. Expect me to believe that?
Mother: Astrid! Behave yourself or I'll send you out to gut fish with your
pa!
I'm still cold.
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Ciri: I was worried about drafts... A lung infection's the last thing I
need right now...
Mother: See, Astrid. Girls your age can be sensible after all.
Astrid: Sensible girls aren't tossed on shore by the waves.
• Mother: What's on your thigh, child? That a bruise?
Ciri: This? No... It's a tattoo.
Astrid: So it is... A red rose... It mean anythin'?
I got it for someone special who's dead now.
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Ciri: It's a souvenir...of someone special who's dead now.
Astrid: I picture it already... You were promised to a handsome lad... He
gave you a red rose before sailin' off, but the cruel sea swallowed
him...
Ciri: Close.
Mother: Eeh, child... Those bards've stuffed your head with their foolish
romances...
No. I was young and drunk.
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Ciri: No, it means I was young and drunk... And it happened. At least it's
not terribly visible.
Astrid: I like it. Wouldn't mind one myself...here, right above me rear...
Mother: Ach, you need a man, girl. Get more foolish every spring...
Mother: Here we are, gabbin' away... Steam's gone...gotta douse the coals.
Astrid: Say...back home...have you got saunas, too?
I have no home.
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Ciri: You know...I don't really have a home. I'm a traveler.
Mother: Ah, that's right... Where was your ship headed?
Ciri: Ship?
Mother: We fished you out of the sea. We thought you were in a shipwreck.
Yes...of course.
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Ciri: Yes, my ship... We set sail from Novigrad.
Mother: And what brings you to Skellige?
Astrid: Not your betrothed, I hope...
Ciri: Why?
Astrid: It'd break Skjall's heart...
No, I wasn't in a shipwreck.
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Ciri: No, that's not right...I wasn't in a shipwreck.
Mother: Hmm. So what brings you to our shores?
Ciri: I'm here looking for someone.
Astrid: Not your betrothed, I hope...
Ciri: Why?
Astrid: It'd break Skjall's heart...
I'd rather not talk about myself.
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Ciri: I'd rather...not talk about myself.
Astrid: Why's that?
Ciri: Someone might come looking for me. I wouldn't want to cause you any
trouble.
Astrid: It's too late for Skjall...
Ciri: What?
Astrid: He's head over heels for you, girl. Sat at your bedside all the day,
starin' like you was painted by a master!
Mother: Astrid! I asked you not to tell her!
Astrid: Oops... Well, now the milk's spilt...do you fancy Skjall?
He's not half bad.
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Ciri: I must say, he's rather handsome...
Astrid: Half the village sighs when he passes, but he likes you. A mysterious
beauty, arose outta the sea foam...
Mother: Give it a rest. You're intolerable today!
Seems nice.
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Ciri: Well...he seems nice.
Astrid: Oh, my... He's that bad?
Mother: Leave it, Astrid. Who she likes is her affair, and it's naught to
you.
To tell the truth, I prefer women.
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Ciri: To be honest...I prefer women.
Mother: Aye, now I see. The skald sings true. Love bears many guises.
Ciri: Listen...it's lovely sitting here with you, but...I really must go now.
Astrid: I understand. Who'd want to stay in this hole? We're all related three
times over and the air stinks of fish.
Mother: I can't see how you're related to anyone here. No one in Lofoten groans
and bitches quite like you do! Sit down and be quiet. Child... Skjall's
certain to have readied the horses by now, but before you go, you ought
to take a quick jump in the water. It'll do you good.
I really should go.
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Ciri: I'm sorry...but I really must go.
Well...why not.
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Ciri: I suppose...why not?
Mother: Head through the door and you'll see the pier. Be careful, it's
slippery.
Ciri: Thank you once more.
Mother: And, once more, there's no need. Gods bless your journey!
[If Ciri jumps in the water:]
Ciri: Brr... Cold...
[Ciri dresses, gets her equipment and heads for the stable.]
Skjall: Oh... You're here... The horses are ready.
Ciri: As am I. Shall we ride?
Skjall: Listen, I...I hope... My sister, she didn't talk any nonsense to you,
did she?
No, just said you like me.
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Ciri: No... Except to mention that you fancy me.
Skjall: Wha? But I asked her... Besides, it's not... O' course, y'are very...
But... But -- Y'know what? Let's ride. You're in a hurry, and it'll
be dark soon.
I'm not in that much of a hurry.
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Ciri: I'm not in that much of a hurry...
[She smooches him.]
Ciri: Your first kiss, wasn't it?
Skjall: O' course it weren't. Argh... Aye. Me first.
Ciri: We don't have much time... But it's enough for you to learn a few
things...
You're right. Let's go.
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Ciri: You're right. I hope to come back here one day... We can finish our
conversation then.
Skjall: Sounds dangerous...
Ciri: I didn't intend to...
I'm sorry... But I really don't have time right now.
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Ciri: I'm sorry, but I can't bring myself to chat right now.
Skjall: Right. Besides...it's not important.
Skjall: I'll take Njord, you can ride Grayback. She's old, but she'll make
the--
Voice: Run for your lives!
[Ciri looks outside to see a familiar frost gripping the village. Wild Hunt
soldiers start attacking townsfolk.]
Skjall: You stay here! I'll go and--!
Ciri: I can look after myself.
[Ciri slays several warriors and hounds, but more keep coming.]
Skjall: Ride, Ciri! Don't look back!
[The two back to the stables.]
Skjall: What... What was that?!
Ciri: The Wild Hunt.
Skjall: Ragh nar Roog... The world's end...
Ciri: No... Not yet... But I must go. They're here for me.
Skjall: Get on the horse. I'll show you the way to the Rock.
Thanks, Skjall.
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Ciri: I don't know how to thank you...
Skjall: You can thank me once we get there safe... Let's ride!
What about your family?
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Ciri: You should stay, see to Astrid, your mum...
Skjall: Afterwards... Once I'm sure you'll make it. Let's go!
[The two saddle up and head out onto the trail.]
Skjall: Watch out! They're right behind you! Ride, Ciri! Don't look back!
Faster! Faster, they're catchin' up!
[Eventually, the two get far away from Lofoten and reach the destination.]
Skjall: Pull up!
Ciri: What?!
[They stop. The elven mage is standing on the shore by a boat. Ciri gets off,
and Skjall rides on, the Hunt trailing behind him. From the clifftop path, he
can see the mage stun Ciri with a spell in order to calm her enough to enter
the boat. Skjall dismounts and tries to follow, but a Hunt rider slashes him
in the back. Meanwhile, the rowboat disappears out to sea. Later, Skjall
wakes up, just in time to see a certain hideous, deformed creature notice him
and scamper off.]
[The flashback ends, and the scene shifts back to Freya's Garden again.]
Yennefer: What became of that creature?! Where is he?!
Skjall: Ssss-tooo-pp... Hhh-urrr-tssss...
Yennefer: What?!
Skjall: Sss-aawwww hhhh-iii-mmmm...aaaa-tt...Dddd-ooo-nn-arrr-sss... Bbb-utt...
hhh-eee...sss-ooo-llldddd...hhh-iii-mmm...
Yennefer: To whom?!
Skjall: Ddd-ooo-nnn't... Knnn-owwww...
Yennefer: Begone.
Skjall: Ttt-elll...thhhh-emmmm... Ccc-llleeearrr...mmm-yy...nnn-aaa...
Yennefer: Begone I say!
Skjall: Aaaaaach!
[Skjall's screaming voice trails off and he topples over, dead once more. With
the spell over, the two can now notice their surroundings -- Freya's wondrous
garden is now withering at breakneck speed.]
Let's get outta here. Now.
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Geralt: Yen...let's get out of here. Now.
Yennefer: You needn't ask me twice.
What happened to the garden?
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Geralt: What...what happened to the garden?
Yennefer: It died. Like I said... The spell, it requires a great deal of
energy.
Geralt: You knew it would end like this, didn't you? Didn't consider it
worth mentioning?
Yennefer: No -- I knew you'd protest. Your sense of dency is charming, but
it does get in the way sometimes.
How are you feeling?
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Geralt: Yen...are you all right?
• Yennefer: I'm fine now. The spell... Imagine putting wriggling cockroaches
in your mouth... Or swimming in manure. That's more or less how
it felt.
• Yennefer: I'm splendid. I'll feel even better if I hadn't had to remind you
to ask that question.
You could've shown a little sympathy.
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Geralt: Could've shown some sympathy for the boy. He--
Yennefer: That was no boy, Geralt. It was a hunk of rotting, rancid flesh
that spoke through my magic.
Geralt: Didn't just speak. It howled in pain.
Yennefer: I know it seemed real... But it was no longer human. Do you
understand?
• Yennefer: Nice of you to be so concerned for the corpse. Much more than
you were for me.
[Lofoten women they talked to earlier approach.]
Woman: The garden... Our garden! How could you...? We helped...and you --
Inconceivable.
Yennefer: Now, now...
Woman: Don't you dare try to calm me. We've every right to be furious. And
you... You will pay for this.
We had no choice.
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Geralt: We had no choice. We'd never have learned what happened to our--
Woman: Do you really think you're justified?! That your hunt for a foreign
woman gives you the right to destroy our garden?
Yennefer: I'm sure it doesn't in your eyes.
I'm sorry.
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Geralt: I'm sorry.
Woman: Is that all? Will you say nothing else?
Geralt: Nothing that would help.
Woman: I shall make sure all of Skellige hears what you did here.
Yennefer: Wait...I did this. I alone. Geralt tried to stop me...I refused to
listen.
Woman: I might have known. They warned me about you...
Woman: Sorceresses...
Woman: None shall open their door to you, none shall feed your hunger, and none
shall tend to your wounds.
[The women leave a dejected Yen to her thoughts.]
Geralt: Yen...you didn't have to do that.
Yennefer: But I wanted to. I'd rather not talk about it. We must focus on what
Skjall told us.
We know Ciri's not in Skellige.
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Geralt: Didn't learn much. Though...though we can be sure Ciri's not in
Skellige anymore.
• Not in Velen or Novigrad, either... She's disappeared. Again.
Yennefer: Perhaps we should reexamine what we've learned. We might've
missed a clue that would push us forward...
Geralt: Certainly hope that's the case.
• She disappeared from Novigrad, too. Checked that... Maybe she's in Velen,
hiding somewhere.
Yennefer: Better to have some idea where to look than none.
Geralt: Ugh. Makes me wonder what she's gotten herself into.
Yennefer: Can't even begin to imagine. But we will pull her out of it, safe
and sound. That I promise you.
The ugly creature -- it's linked to Ciri somehow.
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Geralt: Key to finding Ciri is that ugly...thing Skjall saw on the beach.
That's what I think.
• (skip to "Tell me... Do you think..." if Uma hasn't been met during the
Bloody Baron's sidequest.)
• Geralt: You know...I saw something...or someone who looked just like that.
Yennefer: Where?
Geralt: In Velen... Local ruler, a baron, keeps him at his castle. Told me
he won him in a card game in Novigrad.
Yennefer: You must go and get the creature. I don't know -- buy him,
kidnap him...
Geralt: Won't be necessary. Baron owes me a favor. A big one. The thing's
clearly cursed -- its mind is a jumble... Can't have anything
resembling a normal conversation with it.
Yennefer: Grumbling won't get us anywhere. All will be well. A curse?
Please. Nothing a sorceress and a witcher couldn't handle. Now,
tell me -- do you...? No, never mind.
What did you want to say?
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Geralt: You were gonna ask me something. What was it?
Yennefer: Tell me... Do you think... Is there a chance that thing might be
Ciri? That...well...she's transformed by some curse?
Geralt: Don't even wanna think about it.
Yennefer: Geralt... We must.
Geralt: Might be... From what I know she was looking to cure a powerful
curse while in Novigrad.
• Yennefer: We must see Donar, ask him to whom exactly he sold the...thing.
Geralt: Not coming with me?
Yennefer: You know...I'm better off not showing myself to him right now.
• Geralt: But I'll lose it if I try to deal with that possibility now. We
have to do what we can... See what happens.
What now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri's trail in Skellige -- we've followed it, exhausted the
possibilities... Might be time to go back to the Continent.
Yennefer: Before you do, there's one thing... It's important.
Geralt: What's that?
Yennefer: Let's meet in Larvik, at the warriors' hall. We'll speak there.
Fine. See you in Larvik.
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Geralt: Fine. Larvik. See you there soon.
Yennefer: Thank you. For that...and for your help in the garden. I'd not
have managed without you.
Geralt: It was nothing.
Yennefer: Geralt, you know me. I'm rare to praise, but when I do, it is
sincere.
Need a bit of time. Gotta tend to something first.
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Geralt: Can we do this later...? Sorry, need to take care of something.
Yennefer: Well, if you must, you must. I shall wait for you in Larvik for a
time. If you don't make it, we'll meet in Vizima. After all, we
do owe the emperor a report.
Geralt: Ciri's our concern. Ours alone.
Yennefer: Perhaps. But that is not what we agreed with Emhyr. We must see
him.
So be it.
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Geralt: If we gotta, we gotta. So be it.
Yennfer: We'd never have known Ciri had returned if not for Emhyr and his
agents. We owe him this.
I refuse to report to him.
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Geralt: I refuse. Don't have the slightest intention of reporting to him.
Yennefer: Fine... I can't force you.
Awfully loyal of you...
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Geralt: Being awfully loyal to your patron.
Yennefer: He's your patron as well, dear. Don't forget that lest he remind
you of it himself.
Geralt: See you, Yen. Take care of yourself.
Yennefer: Wait. This matter in Larvik -- it really is important to me. I'd
appreciate it if you didn't tarry.
[If Geralt follows after Yen on horseback. She'll respond differently if one
tries following on foot.]
Yennefer: Decided to keep me company?
Geralt: Never know what might come at you deep in a dark forest.
• Yennefer: Ugh, witchers. I see you're inclined to respond to the call of the
wild... Ah, fine. In that case, meet me at Larvik.
• Yennefer: You think someone may wish to hurt me?
Geralt: Think I should warn off anyone who'd be dumb enough to try.
____________________________________________
________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: IN CIRI'S FOOTSTEPS (SKELLIGE) |_
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8g) A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER [WK8G]
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[This quest will only occur if Geralt learns of Ciri's Hindarsfjall adventures
without having met Uma at the conclusion of Velen's "Family Matters" quest.
Geralt will go to Larvik to question Donar, the isle's jarl, about the weird
creature.]
Geralt: Apparently, there was an ugly creature here. Showed up the day after
Lofoten was destroyed.
Donar: Ah! True! Crawled up from the beach. Gob looked like eels had been
nibbling it. And he walked as if he had a barrel between his legs. A
good deal of fun, that one.
Geralt: You sold him? Did I hear right?
Donar: Aye, I sold 'im. This merchant comes here from time to time. Buys
narwhal horns off us. Uses them to make earrings and other such baubles
for the wenches.
Geralt: We were talking about the creature.
Donar: Ah, yes. This merchant -- his eyes lit up as soon as he saw the beast.
Said a freak like that'd be the pride of any court. Proud of that -- can
you imagine? Foreigners! I didn't wanna sell 'im. But he offered a slew
of coin.
Where can I find this merchant?
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Geralt: Where will I find this merchant? And the creature?
Donar: Why d'you ask? Wanna buy him for yourself?
Geralt: Mhm. Looking to train a new witcher.
Donar: Hah! Good one. The merchant... He asked about the route to Novigrad,
if there was pirates. So I reckon that's where he sailed.
Geralt: Just as likely to be staying there as it is he moved on. Either way,
my chances of finding him are slim. Well, thanks anyway. Take care.
You trade in slaves in Skellige?
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Geralt: Didn't know there was a slave trade in Skellige...
Donar: This weren't no human, Geralt. If you'd seen him -- if you'd seen the
mad things he does...
Geralt: Tell me. What's he do?
Donar: Deh, raa... Long bloody story. Suffice to say my hound's wiser than he
was... And my hound eats his own shite sometimes.
[The quest ends with the trail going cold. Optionally, though, Geralt can ask
Donar about restoring Skjall's honor posthumously.]
Geralt: Listen, need to broach a difficult topic... A young man from your clan
-- Skjall.
Donar: Craven, you meant to say.
Geralt: That's just it. It was unjust of you strip him of his name. He didn't
run away, flee out of fear, he--
Donar: Only blood can clear one of shame. Words change nothin'. Not his, not
yours.
_______________________________________________________________________________
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UGLY BABY [WK09]
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[Geralt goes to Crow's Perch to fetch Uma. If the baron's not there due to
"Return to Crookback Bog" being active but unfinished:]
Geralt: Need to talk to you.
Sergeant: About.
Uma -- I'm here to take him away.
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Geralt: Uma -- gonna take him with me.
Sergeant: Gotta ask the baron's permission. Thing is, he ain't 'ere.
Geralt: Not about to ask for anything. I'm telling you. You can try to stop
me. But that'd be an error. A mortal one.
Sergeant: Think you got me shakin' in my boots?
Geralt: You sure as hell should be.
Sergeant: Fine. Cripple's not worth no blood. See the groom. He oughta be
glad to give 'im up, bugger's been eatin' from the feedbags. And a
pleasant journey to you both.
Geralt: Thank you kindly.
I'll come back later.
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Geralt: Never mind. We'll talk later.
[The witcher finds the stablemaster.]
Geralt: I'm taking Uma.
Man: There ain't a--
• Geralt: Got the baron's permission.
• Geralt: Sergeant Ardal said I could.
Man: Bring 'im back, though, won't you? Be awful dull without 'im.
Out of my way.
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Geralt: No. Not about to bring him back.
Find some other diversion.
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Geralt: Find something else to laugh at. I dunno, catch some frogs and shove
straws up their asses...?
Man: Huh. That one of your witcher games?
Geralt: Witcher version's different. Don't make me show you.
Geralt: Open the door. Now.
[Geralt goes inside to find the pitiful creature.]
Geralt: Hey, little guy. This here's Roach. She'll take us to Kaer Morhen.
Well, come on.
[The pint-sized person walks towards, then under, the horse, ignoring Geralt.
He picks him up from the other side.]
Geralt: What the...? Quit playing around. Let's go.
[They set on the trail to Kaer Morhen, Uma draped over the saddle like a sack
of grain. Geralt's hears riders approaching.]
Geralt: Uhhh. Looks like we got company. Nilfgaardian battle mounts. What do
you want?
Rider: The emperor's displeased with you.
Geralt: Then he oughta ask somebody else for help.
Rider: The emperor does not ask -- anyone for anything. You will ride with us
to Vizima.
Geralt: Sure about that?
Rider: Don't even try.
Geralt: Fine. Lead the way.
[Once at the palace, Geralt has another audience with Emhyr. The emperor and
Morvran Voorhis are already discussing battle strategy on a map.]
Emhyr: ...and the Third Army will sweep in from the west and take Ban Gleán.
Morvran: If I may, Your Imperial Majesty... Our spies report that the garrison
at Ban Gleán consists almost wholly of mercenaries.
Emhyr: Bribery, then?
Morvran: We stand to lose exactly no men in battle.
Emhyr: And we stand to lose less time. Very well, give the orders. Then set
sail.
Morvran: As you wish. At once.
[Yennefer arrives at that time.]
Geralt: Your Imperial Majesty... Yennefer...
Emhyr: I did not have you brought here for an exchange of courtesies. Report.
Have it your way, Your Majesty.
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Geralt: As you wish, Your Majesty.
I don't take orders from you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No courtesies needed? Perfect. But remember, I'm not your soldier,
or page, or dog. So don't give me any orders.
Emhyr: Would you prefer I order my guards? Look around. I need only beckon.
Yennefer: Geralt!
Emhyr: Now report.
Geralt: Ciri... Well, this...man is the key to finding her.
Uma: Ummamamama...
Emhyr: I give you three solid leads, trails as fresh as morning dew, the aid
of my spies and my court sorceress. Yet in my daughter's stead, you
bring me this...monstrosity? I hope you have more to say -- for your
sake.
Geralt: Listen, I'm looking for a needle in a haystack. A needle that at any
moment can--
Emhyr: It's a difficult task, I know this. What of it? Listen to me. I rule
the largest empire the world has ever known. I wage a war against the
North, command men in the tens of thousands, while at home, the trade
corporations and nobles seek to depose me. You cannot expect me to pity
you the difficulty of your task.
This monstrosity might be your daughter.
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Geralt: This "monstrosity" may well be your daughter. Its body is the product
of a curse. Someone hides inside it.
Emhyr: Can you lift this curse?
I know where Ciri was, what she did.
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Geralt: I pursued those leads you gave me. Ciri first reappeared in Skellige.
With a mage, an elf. Yen knows more.
Yennefer: The Wild Hunt tracked them down, found them there. They were forced
to flee to Velen.
Geralt: Where they were separated. Ciri spent some time with a local warlord,
a self-styled baron who--
Emhyr: Yes, yes. I know my vassals.
Geralt: ...who helped her get to Novigrad, where Ciri crossed some of the
city's underworld bosses. She had to flee, went back to Skellige.
Ran into her elf companion there.
Yennefer: And into the Wild Hunt, again. Ciri and the elf fled, out to sea
this time. Their boat returned to shore the next day with only him
on board.
Emhyr: Hm... The information appears of little use. Though, at least, it
seems you kept busy.
Yennefer: I've done a great deal of research, made inquiries...but to lift it,
I would need to know the words to cast it, and that--
Geralt: "Va fail, elaine -- ceàd'mil folie! Gleaddyv dorne aep t'enaid,
bunn'droh ithne i'yachus." Dandelion told me. Ciri talked to him about
it.
Emhyr: At last, you provide a pleasant surprise. Lady Yennefer, my question
stands.
Yennefer: Yes, I believe I can. But I must--
Emhyr: The details do not concern me. Geralt, you've achieved precious little
-- yet admittedly more than the bumblers in my spy corps have. I give
you half the promised reward. You will receive the other when you bring
me Ciri.
I don't intend to bring her here.
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Geralt: Wouldn't count on that happening.
Emhyr: That was no request. It was an order, Geralt. And I advise you well...
Do not disobey me.
So be it.
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Geralt: Fine.
Emhyr: This audience is over. Till the next.
[They leave the chamber.]
This curse. How do we lift it?
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Geralt: So, how do we lift Uma's curse?
Yennefer: We must take him to Kaer Morhen. I'll explain once we get there.
Oh, and Geralt... Forgive me, but I'm unable to teleport you, Uma
and Roach, so...
Geralt: Don't worry. We'll ride there. Never did like teleporting.
Yennefer: Take care of yourself.
Your biting wit -- where'd it go?
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Geralt: Could've used some of that famous biting wit of yours. Where'd it
disappear to? I mean, you were meek as a novice at Aretuza called
in to the dean's office.
Yennefer: I merely know when to indulge my pride, and when I must swallow it.
Unlike some others I know.
Geralt: Ah, I see. So you show your claws to me because I'm a lowly witcher,
but--
Yennefer: Do you really wish to do this now, Geralt? We can fight another
time, in another place. Where the walls have no ears.
Yen, sorry I refused to help you in Skellige.²
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Geralt: Yen, what happened back there -- in Skellige...
Yennefer: Please, Geralt. There's nothing left to say.
Geralt: Yen...
Yennefer: No more. Please.
Geralt: Wait. Here. Probably better if you keep it.
[He gives the phylactery.]
Yennefer: Of course. I'm off.
[A week later, Geralt finally enters familiar territory: the mountainous Kaer
Morhen reaches. A forktail flies overhead, startling the horse.]
Geralt: Whoa there, Roach. It's all right. Forktails this close to the
fortress? Someone's been slacking off...
[Geralt rides to the fortress. Vesemir opens the portcullis for him.]
Vesemir: Well, look who the wind blew in! Been away quite a while.
Geralt: Too long.
Vesemir: And your journey -- how was it?
Geralt: Calm, if you don't count the forktail that flew over our heads a few
miles back. Passenger got a little restless.
Uma: Uuuuummmma...
Vesemir: Hm, what do we have here? Multiple deformities. Eyes, ears, nostrils.
A harelip. And is this...?
Uma: Uuuuumamamama!
Vesemir: Now, now. Calm down... Yennefer was right on one count... Thing sure
isn't pretty.
Yen's already here?
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Geralt: Yen's here already?
Vesemir: And how.
Geralt: Huh... You two argue?
Vesemir: Geralt... I understand she's a -- well, how do I put this?
Emancipated, strong-willed woman... But do manners count for
nothing? She teleports in, not even a "nice to see you." Jumps right
into, uh -- "We've a curse to lift. There's this to do, and that --
so Eskel and Lambert, get going." Then she went to the guest room,
to rearrange things...threw the bed off the balcony.
Where is everyone?
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Geralt: So where is everyone?
Vesemir: Eskel's hunting forktails. Gotta nip that infestation in the bud,
and since Yennefer needs to distill some ingredients from their
organs... Well, like they say, two birds, one stone. Lambert's
still in the keep, preparing to venture into the mountains to
enrich the phylactery with elemental power.
Geralt: Mhm. And Yen?
Vesemir: Assembling her megascope. Wanted my help -- running around with
some chirping contraption, searching for something. But I'm too old
for that...nonsense.
What's Yen planning?
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Geralt: So what's Yen planning?
Vesemir: Wish I knew.
Geralt: Mean she didn't tell you?
Vesemir: She told us what she needed to lift the curse, not what she plans
to do with it. Despite our asking.
Sounds suspicious...
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Geralt: She's up to something...
Vesemir: Glad you noticed.
Must have her reasons.
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Geralt: She's gotta have a good reason...
Vesemir: Huh, more than one, most likely... In any case, she's set her mind
on something. Needs us to stay out of her way, mostly.
That was a good bed.
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Geralt: Shame, that was a good bed.
Vesemir: Said the same myself. Solid oak frame, down mattress. Triss always
said she-- Aaah... Now I see.
Geralt: It's either that, or Yen really hates oak furniture.
Why so dirty?
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Geralt: Don't look all that nice yourself. How'd you get so dirty?
Vesemir: Huh? Ah, this... I was mixing some lime for the mortar. Need to
patch up the walls before they crumble.
Geralt: Lotta work for one person. Lambert and Eskel not willing to help?
Don't see the sense in it?
Vesemir: No. Yennefer's found more important things for them to do.
Geralt: I should let her know I'm here.
Vesemir: If you say so. But... Don't go thinking she'll her arms around your
neck.
_______________________
_____________________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: UGLY BABY |_
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9a) DISTURBANCE [WK9A]
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[Geralt goes upstairs to meet Yen. He can hear a magic explosion and her curse
as he approaches.]
Yennefer: Gods dammit! You piece of shit!
Geralt: Uh-oh...
[He finds her laboring over a smoking megascope. If he's on good terms, the
"Something wrong?" option automatically occurs and the rest of the "on bad
terms" dialogue options disappear.]
Yennefer: Akh akh akh... Damned crystal! Akh akh...
Geralt: You decide to blow us up?
• Yennefer: Geralt...I'm sorry, but I'm in no mood for jests.
• Yennefer: Geralt, I'm in no mood for jests. Especially dull ones.
Something wrong?
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Geralt: What's eating you?
Yennefer: Let me think -- that was the...third crystal to explode. It's been
a week and Lambert's still not done what I've asked. Vesemir
spitefully insists on repairing the wall just beneath my window
and starts hammering at the crack of dawn, while Eskel seems to
have gone mushroom picking, not forktail hunting.
Geralt: The guys...well, they're not exactly happy with you.
Yennefer: Mhm. Why is that?
Geralt: Because...you aren't willing to say what you're planning. You're
treating them like pages, not including them -- us, actually, 'cause
I feel that way, too.
Yennefer: I shall explain everything -- when the time is right. First, we
must finish our preparations.
Calm down.²
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Geralt: Need to blow off steam? Go ahead, just not on me. Find some other
target. I don't know...throw another bed off the balcony.
Yennefer: Ha, ha, ha. So it's to be dull jokes after all?
Geralt: Rather have a serious conversation? We can do that, if you prefer.
So upset about Triss you gotta take it out on the furniture?
Yennefer: Would you prefer I take it out some other way? Know what...? We
should end this discussion -- before I say something I'll regret.
Come on. What's on your mind?
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Geralt: But I'd love to hear what you have to say.
Yennefer: Is that so? Very well then. Listen. You shagged my friend. For
upwards of a year. I cannot know what your witchers' code says
on the matter, but ordinary folk would consider it obscene, base,
vile. I try not to think about it... That stupid bed was making
it difficult. That's that.
I won't grovel.
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Geralt: Not about to grovel, if that's what you're after.
Yennefer: I tire of this conversation. It ends. Now.
[She pushes him into a portal; he drops into the lake by the keep.]
Geralt: Aaaaaaaargh!!!! Whoa... She's really not in the mood.
Made a mistake. I'm sorry.
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Geralt: That...was a mistake.
Yennefer: I'm glad you realize it. A mistake engaged in regularly for more
than a year, an apology well after the fact, but...I'm glad.
Very well... On to more pressing matters. We've a great deal of
work to do.
Told you...I lost my memory.
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Geralt: Yen... Told you already. I lost my memory.
Yennefer: And I've lost my patience.
[She pushes him into a portal; he drops into the lake by the keep.]
Geralt: Aaaaaaaargh!!!! Whoa... She's really not in the mood.
Fine. Let's change the subject.
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Geralt: If that's what you want.
Yennefer: Knew I could count on your better judgment. Very well... On to
more pressing matters. We've a great deal of work to do.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt pisses Yen off enough to be teleported to Kaer Morhen's lake, he'll
have to wander all the way back to the keep's guest room.]
Yennefer: Ah, Geralt... Anything you'd like to say?
Sorry.
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Geralt: Sorry... Pretty dumb excuse.
Yennefer: Extremely stupid. I'm glad a mere whiff of fresh air helped you
realize that.
That was some view.
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Geralt: Mhm. The view from there -- spectacular.
Yennefer: Perhaps I should've teleported you two miles higher. Breathtaking,
that view! To die for, really.
["What do I do" starts automatically here.]
===============================================================================
What do I do?
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Geralt: Fine... What do I do?
Yennefer: Firstly, help Eskel and Lambert. One was supposed to get me
forktail spinal fluid, the other was to fortify the phylactery with
elemental power. I've yet to see anything from either of them.
Geralt: All right, I'll talk to them. Anything else?
Yennefer: Yes. There's one other trifling matter. As you saw, my megascope is
acting up...in rather spectacular fashion. I'm certain there's an
energy source nearby, generating disturbances, making the crystals
malfunction. We must find and neutralize it...quickly -- I must
contact someone, it's urgent.
How do I do this?
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Geralt: All right, how do I find the source?
Yennefer: Use this potestaquisitor.
Geralt: Potesta... Potestaquisitor? Sounds fancy, complicated.
Yennefer: Yet it's ever so simple. Grasp it firmly, move it around, and the
louder it squeals, the closer you are.
Geralt: Mhm...
Yennefer: Spare me your juvenile wit, please. Well? What're you waiting for?
Who do you plan to contact?
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Geralt: Who you plan to contact? Or is that a secret, too?
• Yennefer: No secret at all.
• Yennefer: First off, stop pouting. Second -- no, it's not a secret.
Yennefer: Ida Emean. Remember her?
Geralt: How could I forget. Member of the Lodge... Elven Sage.
Yennefer: Exactly. A Sage. As the name suggests, she should know a great
deal. I'd like to ask her for advice about Uma. Satisfied?
Geralt: Hmph... Your sorceress friends -- the sage and not so sage --
they've let me down before. But if we gotta, we gotta.
Yennefer: If only you'd been this cautious with all of them... But no
matter. Thank you for your permission.
Don't trust us?
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Geralt: Hm. You got trust issues with us?
Yennefer: Ugh. No... Actually, I fear you don't trust me. So I'd rather keep
certain things secret -- for the time being.
Geralt: Pretty tortured logic...
Yennefer: It may seem that way now... But you'll understand in time.
Heard what you did with the bed...
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Geralt: Heard about the bed... Really prefer to sleep on the floor? Wouldn't
recommend it. That stone can get awfully chilly.
Yennefer: Frankly, I prefer a chill to bedding littered with red hair.
• Geralt: So upset about Triss you gotta take it out on the furniture?
Yennefer: Would you prefer I take it out some other way? Know what...? We
should end this discussion -- before I say something I'll regret.
(starts "Come on. What's on your mind?" and "Fine. Let's change...")
• Geralt: Ah. So it is about Triss.
Yennefer: Yes. It's about our dear darling Triss. Geralt... I don't want to
seem like a vindictive shrew, but that very bed is where you just
happened to fuck a dear friend of mine. Yes, I know. You'd lost
your memory. Whatever... Let us agree that I will refrain from
scolding you, while you will stop mentioning that stupid bed.
Agreed?
Geralt: Agreed.
Yennefer: Splendid. On to more pressing matters.
[If Geralt did "The Last Wish" and got together with Yen, there'll be one last
line:]
Yennefer: Ah! One more thing...
Geralt: Mhm?
Yennefer: Thank you, Geralt.
[Geralt takes Yen's potestaquisitor -- a handheld magical doohickey that looks
like a weird tuning fork -- and starts looking for the source. He wanders
aimlessly, then goes to the main hall.]
Geralt: Oh, got a signal... Signals growing stronger...
Vesemir: So, Yennefer found a volunteer to walk around with that chirping stick
after all.
Geralt: Shhh.
[The gadget beeps like crazy near a crate stack.]
Geralt: Ahh. There you are. Disturbance is coming from there. What's in these
crates?
Vesemir: Dimeritium bombs. Lambert made 'em.
Geralt: No wonder the megascope doesn't work. All right, gotta get 'em outta
here.
Vesemir: I can do that. Rather you not make a mess of my shelves. Just keep an
eye on Uma.
Geralt: Yes, Uncle Vesemir.
[Geralt babysits Uma in the meantime.]
Geralt: How goes it? Vesemir's not working you too hard, I hope?
Uma: Uma.
Geralt: Thought so.
[A short while later...]
Vesemir: All done. You can go. Now...let's check your conditioned reflexes...
[Geralt goes to report the good news.]
Yennefer: Thank you. Seems to be working now. What was it?
Geralt: Dimeritium bombs. Lambert left them by the beds.
Yennefer: Mhm. I suppose he had no idea they could interfere with my megascope?
Pulling your ponytail, I suppose.
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Geralt: No, he probably knew... But that's the sort of prank you only pull on
someone you like.
Yennefer: You don't suppose he--? Lambert? Really? I'm flattered.
Lambert doesn't know shit about megascopes.
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Geralt: You know...Lambert's not exactly an expert on megascopes, so--
Yennefer: Please. Lambert is mean, not stupid.
• Yennefer: Enough. Ready for this conversation?
Geralt: Sure you want me here?
• Yennefer: But no matter... More importantly, I shall finally be able to
contact Ida.
Geralt: The Ida? Elven Sage? What do you want from her?
Yennefer: Stay and you'll learn for yourself.
Geralt: Members of the Lodge don't let just anyone in on their secrets...or so
I've heard.
Yennefer: Consider it a token of our trust. Now, let's begin. And, Geralt,
behave -- please?
Geralt: Didn't you just say you trust me?
Yennefer: Stop twisting my words.
[Ida Emean's monochromatic picture is shown on the megascope.]
Ida: Cáed'mil, Yennefer aep Vengerberg. Gwynbleidd.
Cáed'mil, Aen Saevherne.
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Geralt: Cáedmil, Aen Saevherne.
Hey, Ida.
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Geralt: Hey there, Ida.
Yennefer: Geralt...
Ida: It matters not, Yennefer. I've grown accustomed to human...decorum.
Ida: Why have you summoned me?
Yennefer: We've come up against a curse, one we must lift. It was uttered in a
dialect of Elder Speech unfamiliar to me.
Ida: I see... The words of the curse?
Yennefer: "Va fail, elaine -- ceád'mil folie! Gleaddyv dorne aep t'enaid,
bunn'droh ithne i'yachus."
Heard the words before, haven't you.
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Geralt: Take it you've heard the words before.
Ida: Yes... In legends. Of the kind that do not end happily.
Yennefer: Can you help us...with the curse?
Ida: To a degree. Agnes de Glanville's incantation combined with Eldar's
Triangle -- inverted, of course -- they are your only possible recourse.
But I cannot guarantee that even they will suffice.
Know the dialect?
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Geralt: Recognize the dialect?
Ida: Laith aen Undod.
Geralt: Meaning?
Ida: The so-called One Speech... A forgotten language dating from before the
Migration.
Geralt: The Migration?
Yennefer: Later, Geralt.
Yennefer: Thank you, Aen Saevherne. Va fail.
Ida: That does not conclude our conversation.
Guessing you want something in return.</pre><pre id="faqspan-16">
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Geralt: Lemme guess...you want something in return.
Ida: If I may, Gwynbleidd, I'd like to request -- stop guessing. Just listen.
What's the problem?
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Geralt: What is it?
Ida: The Time of the White Frost and White Light is nigh...
Geralt: ...and the world will perish amidst ice. I know Ithlinne's prophecy.
Ida: I don't doubt you know it. But do you understand it? The Elder Blood can
initiate the Final Age, the Time of the End...or stop it. Remember this,
Gwynbleidd. For you will be the one to determine if the seed bursts into
flames.
[She bows and cuts the connection.]
What now?
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Geralt: All in all, interesting conversation. What now?
• Yennefer: You can start by apologizing for acting like a boor. Despite my
asking you not to.
Sorry.²
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Geralt: I'm sorry. It's just, when Ida started in with that patronizing
tone--
Yennefer: You decided to prove she was completely justified to adopt that
attitude? Well done, Geralt. Bravo. Ugh. Oh enough.
Not gonna happen.²
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Geralt: Don't really see why I should apologize. I know sorceresses expect
me to bow down before them...
Yennefer: So you refuse to bow and thumb your nose at them instead. Very
mature. Ugh. Oh enough.
You understand that?
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Geralt: Any idea what she was talking about?
Yennefer: Ciri, of course.
Geralt: Wish everyone'd just leave her the hell alone.
Yennefer: Wouldn't count on it.
The Migration -- what was that about?
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Geralt: What was that about...the Migration?
Yennefer: Good gods! Did they teach you no history here?
Geralt: No. Vesemir figured sword work'd be more useful on the Path. Gonna
answer me?
Yennefer: Naturally. One's never too old to learn. The Aen Seidhe and the
Aen Elle elves were once one folk, the Aen Undod. Then came a
cataclysm, no one knows its nature. The Aen Undod were forced to
leave their world. They split along the way.
Geralt: So if Uma's curse was uttered in this Laith aen Undod...
Yennefer: Then it's old. Very, very old.
• Yennefer: All is ready. We should gather the others and begin.
• Yennefer: Finish whatever it was you and the boys were planning to do... Then
we'll begin.
_______________________
_____________________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: UGLY BABY |_
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9b) THE FINAL TRIAL [WK9B]
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[Geralt finds Lambert in the main hall, fiddling with a contraption.]
Geralt: What's this? Brewing potions?
Lambert: No. Booze. From potato peels.
Geralt: Mm. For my welcome back feast?
Lambert: Actually, more like my farewell feast... Haven't heard? Madame
sorceress has requested I fortify the phylactery with Power from the
Circle of Elements. Says it's essential to lifting the curse from that
monstrosity of yours.
Don't sound thrilled about this.
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Geralt: Don't sound too thrilled about all this.
Lambert: I'm not. You know the trek to the Circle's no walk in the park. In
more ways than one.
Geralt: Lemme go with you.
Lambert: Well... Might have more spring in my step with the famous White Wolf
at my side. So...you ready?
Let's go now.
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Geralt: No reason to wait. Let's go.
Got one thing to do, then we can go.
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Geralt: Gotta take care of something. Wait for me.
Lambert: Sure.
Monstrosity might be Ciri...
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Geralt: Realize that monstrosity, as you put it, might be Ciri?
Lambert: Yeah. I heard.
Geralt: Mind showing a bit of sympathy?
Lambert: I call 'em like I see 'em. That's how I am.
Irritating?
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Geralt: Irritating, you mean?
Lambert: Thought you like people with bitchy streaks.
Geralt: So long as they're women.
Lambert: Then you found the best of 'em. Enough about that. The Circle of
Elements awaits.
Fine... Don't wanna fight.
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Geralt: Know what? Never mind. Not gonna argue with you.
Lambert: Right, no time to lose. The monstrosity awaits.
Geralt: Lambert!
Lambert: Oh, sorry. The potential Cirilla.
[The witchers set off.]
Lambert: Oh, mean to tell you... Can't get to the Circle through the mountains.
Rockslide blocked the pass last spring.
Geralt: So we approach from the pond side... Like when we did the Trial of the
Medallion?
Lambert: Exactly. Remember the way?
Geralt: Not easily forgotten, that.
Lambert: "He who returns with his medallion will prove himself worthy and may
set off on the Path."
Geralt: Vesemir ever hear you impersonate him?
Lambert: Yeah. Old man can't stand it.
[They walk through a crumbled part of the fortress wall.]
Geralt: Savolla's breach. Still haven't patched it up?
Lambert: Vesemir'd like to. Doesn't bother me, though. Not expecting anyone to
lay siege and...this way I got a shortcut to the pond.
Geralt: Shame those Salamandra assassins didn't punch a few more holes in our
walls.
Lambert: Or finish the job and reduce these ruins to rubble.
Geralt: Been thinking... We gotta swim across the pond?
Lambert: No, I got a boat there. You know, for fishing.
Geralt: Wow... Never took you for the fishing type.
Lambert: I use bombs. Drop 'em in, then scoop up whatever floats to the
surface.
Geralt: Hm. That makes sense.
[They slay a whole herd of harpies with little effort.]
Lambert: Well, well. Color me impressed. Where'd you learn them tricks?
Geralt: It's an art. Learned it from this old master down in Zerrikania.
Lambert: Pfff. Yadda yadda. Save that tale for your next sorceress.
Geralt: Tell me about Vesemir -- things any better between you?
Lambert: Seems so... Old man's dropped the moralizing, and I try not to piss
him off too often.
Geralt: Mhm. Working out well?
Lambert: Moderately. Castle's pretty big. Easy to stay out of each other's way.
[The shortcut path leads them down the mountain to a lakeside hut.]
Lambert: Dammit... Moored it right here, I swear.
Geralt: Line must've come loose.
Lambert: Really? Here I thought the boat untied itself, to go for a jaunt on
its own. Dammit, in this fog we'll never--
Geralt: There a storm before I arrived?
Lambert: Lemme think... Yeah. Five days past.
Geralt: Mhm... Wind must've grabbed the sail, tugged the boat off its mooring,
boat drifted into the bushes...
[They find the boat near a drowner nest. A water hag appears soon after.]
Geralt: Water hag...
Lambert: Great. Last thing we needed.
[They slay the final creature.]
Lambert: All right. Cave entrance is just opposite. See it? Gotta sail across
the pond, go through the cave, climb Troll's Head...and we're there.
Geralt: Doesn't seem like such an ordeal now, does it?
Lambert: No... Still gives me shivers, though. You know only two boys returned
from my group?
Geralt: You were the ones who ran into Old Speartip in the caverns, right?
Lambert: Mhm.
Jump in the boat.
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Geralt: Let's go. Jump in the boat.
Lambert: All right. I'm taking the tiller, though.
Geralt: Because...?
Lambert: Cause¹ it's my boat. Not up for discussion.
That still bother you?
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Geralt: That still gnawing at you?
Lambert: Gnawing? No. Straight old pisses me off. What the fuck was that
Trial for? Most who returned from the Circle of Elements died within
a year in some swamp, hunting drowners for a crown thirty a head.
So exactly what was the point?
Geralt: Oughta ask Vesemir.
Lambert: Oh, I have, many times. Believe you me.
[The boat sets sail.]
Geralt: Make this boat yourself?
Lambert: Yeah. Something you don't like about it?
Geralt: Besides the water up to our ankles? Nothing.
Lambert: Quit whining... It'll make it across the lake.
Geralt: Provided we don't smash into something first. Barely see the tip of my
nose. Fog's thick as curdled milk...
Lambert: Never took you for a poet.
Geralt: Oh, but I am one. Wanna hear a limerick?
Lambert: Sure.
Geralt: Lambert, Lambert -- what a prick.
Lambert: Not bad.
Geralt: Fall off a bit, sail's fluttering.
Lambert: Don't teach your grandma to suck eggs. Right... Almost there.
[They disembark in front of the cavern entrance.]
Lambert: Ready for the caverns?
Geralt: Almost. Before we go inside--
Lambert: Ugh, drink a dose of Cat, I know. Any more words of wisdom? Like "Step
softly or you'll wake Old Speartip?"
You're pricklier than Yen.
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Geralt: Sheesh. You're pricklier than Yen...
Lambert: Ugh. Don't fall in love with me. Let's go.
Old Speartip's still around?
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Geralt: Old Speartip's still down there?
Lambert: Yeah, he is -- unless he's done us a favor and keeled over on his
own. Could come at us at any moment.
Geralt: How'd the rhyme go? Old Speartip's a deep sleeper...
Lambert: Wake him up and you'll sleep deeper. C'mon.
Voice: Aaaah! Help!
Geralt: Hear that? Sounds like a kid...
Lambert: You know this valley's uninhabited except for us. Gotta be an
illusion.
Geralt: What if it's not?
Voice: Aaa... Aaaaaah!
Lambert: Whatever you want to do...
We should investigate. Just in case.
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Geralt: We'll investigate. Just in case.
Lambert: You know, Vesemir's right. You do poke the damn hive, almost always.
Fine. Let's go.
You're probably right... Let's go to the cave.
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Geralt: You're probably right... Let's go -- straight to the cave.
Lambert: Finally, something reasonable.
[If Geralt and Lambert investigate, they find a young boy on the shoreline.]
Geralt: Hey, little guy...
Boy: Aaaaah!
Geralt: It's all right. You're safe now.
Boy: No... No... Help!!!!
[The illusion of the boy disappears.]
Geralt: Fine, consider yourself vindicated. You were right...
Lambert: Well, well... Whaddaya know!
Geralt: We can talk about that later. Got the foglets to take care of now.
[They slay the misty intruders.]
Lambert: An illusion... Who woulda thunk?
Geralt: You're not gonna let this drop any time soon, are you?
Lambert: No, I will not. In fact, whole world should hear about the time the
famed Geralt of Rivia was duped like a child. Think we oughta get
Dandelion to write a ballad about it. How's that sound?
Should sing about you instead.
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Geralt: Dandelion should sing about you instead. "Lambert, the Smart-Ass
Witcher."
Lambert: Better that than naive. Smart asses live longer.
Better safe than sorry.
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Geralt: When someone's life may be threatened, I'd rather be safe than sorry.
Enough said.
Lambert: Course. The noble White Wolf never abandons a man in need. He's more
saint than witcher!
Geralt: Changing subjects... Did I see right? Was that boy--?
Lambert: Yeah. One of ours. Must've drowned during his Trial... Foglets
remembered his voice and appearance.
Geralt: Charming... Let's get out of here.
Lambert: Needn't ask me twice. In fact, I didn't even wanna come here.
Geralt: Lambert, enough.
[Either way, the two eventually enter the cave, approaching a high ledge.]
Geralt: Bones... Pulverized.
Lambert: Mhm. Old Speartip's never been kind to guests.
Geralt: Shit... Too damn high.
Lambert: Not if I give you a boost. Remember? Part of the Trial. "A witcher is
a lone hunter--"
Geralt: "...but even a lone hunter can use a helping hand sometimes." Vesemir.
Lambert: Ready? Ooooff... You fat fuck.
Geralt: One... Two... Three... You're no feather, either. C'mon, let's go.
[Geralt pulls Lambert up and they continue on.]
Lambert: Hmm... Wall looks a little shaky... Aard, maybe?
Geralt: Mhm. And wake Old Speartip?
Lambert: What? You afraid?
Geralt: No. I just think before I act. Mind not stomping like that?
Lambert: Relax... I slipped. Ugh!
Geralt: What?
Lambert: Something fell in my eye. A splinter, I think.
Geralt: Hope it wasn't from a broken mirror... That'd make you even nastier.
Lambert: Ha, ha. Oof, place reeks of mould...
Geralt: What'd you expect? Scent of violets?
Lambert: Would've been nice...
[If Geralt makes noise the Aard sign further in:]
Geralt: We need to be quiet... I could do without a warm welcome from Old
Speartip.
[Climbing a ledge, the two spot the cyclops -- Old Speartip -- fast asleep.]
Lambert: Ah, so soft and sweet, just sleepin' there... Makes you wanna make
this moment last forever...
[If they provoke Old Speartip:]
Geralt: Lost the element of surprise.
Lambert: Couldn't care less. I'm up for the challenge. You miss me, you
whoreson?
[If they kill Old Speartip:]
Geralt: You gonna live?
Lambert: Mhm. Probably.
Geralt: Let's get out of here.
Lambert: Wait. That's for Voltehre, you whoreson. Ptoo!
Done?
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Geralt: You finished?
Lambert: Let's move.
Voltehre...who's that?
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Geralt: Voltehre... Who's that?
Lambert: Ya don't remember? Little guy, scar on his chin, right here.
Geralt: Oh, yeah. I remember.
Lambert: All we can do now. Never made it outta here. Let's go.
[They finally reach the upper cave exit.]
Lambert: Oof... Good to be back above ground.
Geralt: Mhm... Still trouble ahead.
Lambert: Mean the trolls? They're in for trouble, not us.
Trying to impress me?
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Geralt: Dunno who you're trying to impress. Tough-guy stuff's just not
working on me.
Lambert: Heh, look who's talking. Vesemir told me about that job you did for
those Nilfgaardians in Velen. What...what are you doing?! "Killing
monsters." Haha, good one.
Geralt: Just came out that way... C'mon.
I'd rather be careful.
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Geralt: We oughta be careful. This is their turf.
Lambert: Couple of trolls got you soiling your knickers?
Geralt: Was bold and brash once, like you. Then I took a pitchfork in the
gut. Peasant kid, not a troll -- I almost died. Hard way to learn,
but I did. C'mon.
[A ways on the path, a troll spots 'em and scampers off.]
Lambert: Hah! See 'im shit and run as soon as he saw us?
Geralt: Mhm. Never known a troll to do that.
[Soon, a couple trolls on a ridgeline yell at them.]
Troll: Oooo. Witcherses two, walk no more...stops! This mountain trolly
mountain.
Troll: Troll mountain.
Troll: Huh? Ah... Aye. This troll mountain!
Lambert: Ugh... You talk to these idiots.
Just want to get to the Circle.
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Geralt: Stay calm... We just wanna get to the Circle.
Troll: Witcherses thing one say, thing two do.
Troll: Thing three do. Sometime.
Let us pass, or regret it.
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Geralt: Take my advice. You don't want to mess with us.
Troll: Trolly advice take!
Troll: No... Trolls' advice! And witcherses takes must it!
Lambert: Argh, enough. Outta my way, dimwits, or I'll grind you to gravel!
Understand?!
[The troll tosses a torso-sized rock at Lambert, who dodges.]
Geralt: Mhm. They understood all right. Congrats.
Lambert: Run for the cave...before they stone us to death!
[The two enter the cave, climbing up to the same level as the trolls.]
Troll: We rocks throws -- yous go no farmore. Witcherses understanded?!
Geralt: We understanded. But we still gotta get to the Circle of Elements.
Troll: Listen, Butwe. Trolls come no to witchersy castle.
Troll: Rocks lots there. Pretty rock.
Lambert: Enjoying this little chat? 'Cause, er, it's not getting us anywhere.
Right... We've talked enough.
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Geralt: Yeah. Gonna have to agree to disagree.
Lambert: Finally. My brain's gonna ooze out my ears if I have to listen to
this bullshit any longer. All right, calcites and dolomites. Who
wants to taste some witchers' silver?
Troll: I itsay. No should trusty witcherses!
Lemme talk, all right?
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Geralt: I'm talking. Fact is you know as much about negotiating as they do
about grammar. We're not here to hurt you. We don't want to touch
your rocks. Just let us pass.
• Troll: Witcher say hurt no. But before at troll hit! So hit hard big ouch!
Spot!
Troll: Before throws too trolls. Trolls throws first, witchrses¹ hit then!
Troll: Witcherses throws on trolls -- ouch... Trolls on witcheres throws
-- ouch. Ouch here, ouch there...
• Troll: Troll rock throw... Witcherses strike no back. Just talkie-talkie.
Witcher...good?
Troll: Dummy you. Witcherses monster kills. Trolls monsters... Yes, true it
is, no face make!
Troll: Hmmm... We do go this. Yous sharp backclubs leave here, yous pass. No
agrees -- we smash.
We'll leave our swords. Come back for them later.
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Geralt: All right. We'll leave our swords here. Pick 'em up on the way back.
Troll: We them want no.
Troll: Ick metal. Mouth stings.
Lambert: You nuts?!
Geralt: Shut up and follow my lead.
Not gonna happen.
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Geralt: No way. Witcher without his sword -- it'd be like losing an arm.
Troll: Better arm lose than head!
[The veteran swordsmen deal with the trolls, one way or another, and head to
the clifftop shrine.]
• Lambert: Think you might've missed your calling.
Geralt: Hm?
Lambert: If I remember Pappy Vesemir's lessons correctly, witchers kill
monsters.
Geralt: Your memory's shit. They only kill harmful monsters.
Lambert: They threw stones at us, Geralt.
Geralt: Whine about it to Eskel later.
Lambert: Just...a few steps more...and we're there.
Geralt: Oo, that's some serious panting. Out of breath, out of shape.
Lambert: Nah... Just a bit...hung over.
Geralt: Been hitting the hooch with Eskel again?
Lambert: No... Been hitting it alone...
[They finally reach the destination, built to overlook the valley.]
Geralt: Well... We made it.
Lambert: No denying that. Damn... Beautiful view.
High praise coming from you.
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Geralt: Must be if you noticed it.
Lambert: Geralt, who do you take me for?
Geralt: Lemme think...a sourpuss?
Lambert: Hah! Fair enough, but save the rest of your compliments for later.
Let's get to work.
Soak it in later.
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Geralt: We can soak it in later.
Lambert: Of course. Duty before pleasure.
Geralt: Remember how this Circle works? Been a while since I activated my
medallion here...
Lambert: It's fine, old man, no need to make excuses. Light the torches and
place the phylactery on the altar. I'll handle the rest. How'd it
go...? Water, then earth...then air?
[Geralt prepares the altar properly.]
Geralt: All right... Phylactery's in place.
Lambert: Then all we gotta do is wait. The container'll absorb the Power of
the elements...while we catch a breather. Oof... So, how'd you deal
with the trolls when you passed the Trial of the Medallion?
Geralt: Lemme think... Oh yeah. Used Axii. But I only had to get past one
troll. Other two were busy.
Lambert: Yeah, useful sign, Axii. Saved my life a short while ago.
Useful...and dangerous.
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Geralt: Yeah, Axii's useful...and dangerous.
Lambert: Hmph. What makes you say that?
Geralt: It tempts you to overuse it. Force a merchant to reduce his price,
make an arrogant noble drink from the gutter, teach someone to show
you respect... Can become hard to resist.
Lambert: I don't. Life's too short.
Axii saved your life? How?
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Geralt: Sense a good story coming...
Lambert: One of the best. A couple of road robbers stopped me -- one pointed
a crossbow at me and the other started rummaging through my satchel.
Made the man with the crossbow shoot his friend...then hang himself.
Didn't have to kill them.
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Geralt: Didn't have to kill them...
Lambert: But I could, so I did. Two whoresons less in the world. Big deal.
Yeah. Great story.
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Geralt: Wow...truly great story.
Lambert: Isn't it? Real side-splitter, I think.
Geralt: Tell me... You always been such a cynical bastard?
Lambert: No. I was adorable before Vesemir brought me to Kaer Morhen.
Hate being a witcher that badly?
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Geralt: Think it's that bad being a witcher?
Lambert: Guess I could've been someone worse... Just a shame I had no choice.
We all went through it...
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Geralt: We all went through it...
Lambert: That's just it -- not everyone made it. Lots of boys died here.
Boys taken against their will.
Geralt: It was our destiny...
Lambert: Destiny? Let me tell you about destiny. My dad was a drunk. He'd knock
a few back, then beat me and Mom bloody. We prayed for his death,
every night. One day our prayers were almost answered. Dad lost his
way coming home from the tavern, walked smack into a nest of
nekkers... But some witcher saved him. Know what he wanted in return?
"Give me the first thing you see when you get home." My life... For
the life of that prick? I say fuck that kinda destiny.
Didn't know... Sorry.
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Geralt: Didn't know... I'm sorry.
Lambert: Next time you wonder why I'm so bitter...well, there's your answer.
All right. We've griped enough. Let's get out of here.
Let's go.
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Geralt: Know what... Let's get outta here.
Lambert: Don't like what you're hearin', huh? Witchers shouldn't talk like
that. Know what else you won't like? After the Trial of the
Medallion, I rode straight home. To thank my daddy for everything.
Wanna hear what I did to him?
Geralt: Lambert... Please.
Lambert: Thought we were opening up, having an honest talk... But fine, let's
continue pretending everything's just peechy¹. The road beckons, my
good man! Our companions await!
[If they negotiated with the trolls, there's an extra scene:]
Geralt: Need to get our swords. Witcher with no sword's like a man without an
arm.
Lambert: Sure thing, brother.
Troll: Witcherses sharp backclubs takes. And home goes.
Lambert: Mhm. Don't worry, I don't need convincing. Come on, Geralt. Let's go.
[Either way:]
Right. Back to the fortress.
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Geralt: Right. Let's get back.
Lambert: After you, sir.
Go. Gonna stay here a bit.
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Geralt: You go ahead. Gonna stay here for a bit.
Lambert: Mhm. Not too long, though. Remember, we¹ got ourselves a cripple to
cure.
_______________________
_____________________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: UGLY BABY |_
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9c) TO BAIT A FORKTAIL... [WK9C]
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[Eskel isn't at Kaer Morhen when Geralt gets there, having been sent out to
kill a forktail. Geralt exits the fortress to begin tracking him.]
• Must be Eskel's prints... No one else has left the keep recently.
• That's his horse... What's it's¹ name? Scorpion? Beautiful animal...
• Eskel made camp here... Looks like he planned to stay outside a while.
• Footprints...and hoofprints. A goat. Interesting...
• Rocks...tracks end here. Great. Could try to follow my nose. Can't smell
Eskel, but there is the goat... Just gotta find a sample of its scent.
• Bits of bark... Looks like Eskel's goat rubbed against the tree. A clump of
goat hair. Oof, the stench...
[Geralt follows the faint scent up into the mountains.]
• Ha, Eskel's tracks... The nose knows.
• Didn't tie itself to this stake...
[If Eskel finds Geralt by the goat first:]
Eskel: Supposed to be forktail bait! Guess it works for witchers as well!
[Either way:]
Geralt: "As for forktails, bait them thusly: pound a stake in the soil, bind a
goat to it, then hide ye in nearto shrubbery posthaste."
Eskel: Brother Adelbert's bestiary, page eighty-two. See your memory's back in
full, and sharp as ever, in spite of your years.
• Geralt: You're as old as I am, wise guy. Don't let the gray hair fool you.
• Geralt: Whereas you're getting hard of hearing in your old age... Squawking
grouse could've snuck up on you.
Eskel: Nah, heard you panting from three miles away. Just didn't want to
give up that vantage point.
Eskel: Good to finally see you again.
Yen keeping you busy?
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Geralt: Yen's keepin' you pretty busy, huh?
Eskel: Mhh. Started shouting out orders with just one foot outta the
teleport. I tried to get a word in edgewise, to which she said--
Geralt: "One should not interrupt a lady."
Eskel: Exactly. Times like these I'm glad this ugly mug of mine keeps the
women away.
You're not that bad looking¹.
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Geralt: Come on. You're a handsome guy in your own way...
Eskel: Geralt, please... Cut the crap.
Looks aren't everything to all women.
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Geralt: Looks aren't everything -- certainly not to all women.
Eskel: You're right... But most like a full purse, too. Don't have much to
brag about in that domain either.
You too.
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Geralt: You too. How are thing?
Eskel: Same ol', same ol'. Another day, another drowner.
Geralt: That it?
Eskel: I'm a simple witcher, Wolf. Don't fight dragons, don't fraternize with
kings and don't sleep with sorceresses... Unlike some.
Consider yourself lucky.
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Geralt: Fame's not all it's made out to be... Consider myself lucky if I
were you.
Eskel: You're right. Takes a lot of champagne to wash down that all that
caviar. That is tough goin'.
Try to limit myself to sleeping with sorceresses.
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Geralt: Try to limit myself to the sorceresses from now on.
Eskel: No doubt the most pleasant part...though I'm not sure it ain't the
most dangerous, too.
[A forktail's shrieking can be heard nearby.]
Eskel: Shh! Hear that? Incoming!
[They battle the forktail. Soon, the wounded creature tries fleeing.]
Eskel: Dammit! It's taking off! Hit the wings! Foul, overgrown reptiles -- hate
it when they do that...Mighta saved us some trouble, let us kill it now.
Geralt: Mhm. Then maybe gut itself, run a spit down its throat and out its ass?
Eskel: Damn straight. Doubt the beast's that well-mannered, though... We gotta
climb.
Geralt: Bit of exercise'll do you good.
Eskel: Huh?
Geralt: Well...you've rounded out a bit... Still got some of last winter's
blubber on you.
Eskel: Speak for yourself, funny bunny...
Geralt: Not scared to leave the horse down below? Forktail could decide to have
at him...
Eskel: Bah... Scorpion's a war horse, a purebred Kaedweni. He'll be fine. Have
I told you how I got him?
Geralt: No...don't think so.
Eskel: Saved this lost knight once... You know, woods, dark, wolves. The
standard. Told him "Give me what you find at home" and all that... No
kid this time, but his mare had just foaled.
Geralt: Eskel and Scorpion... Bound by fate. An enchanting tale.
Eskel: Mock me all you want. You're just jealous.
[Geralt finds a blood trail.]
Geralt: Bleeding heavily...
[They continue on:]
Eskel: De ole hen she cackled, she cackled on de fence... De ole hen she
cackled, an she ain't cackled sence.
Geralt: What's that song?
Eskel: Some old hill-folk tune, perfect for hiking... My mom sang it to me.
Geralt: You remember her?
Eskel: Just that silly song. Nothing else.
[They find some markings near a cave]
Geralt: Landed here.
Eskel: Not very gracefully, look at the tracks. We broke its wing, I think.
Geralt: Fled to its lair, looks like.
Eskel: Good. Means it's done fleeing, gonna make a stand.
[Finally, they trap and kill their prey.]
Eskel: All right. Let's collect the spinal fluid and get outta here. Cut into
its back, just below the skull.
You don't say...
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Geralt: Gonna tell me which side of the knife to cut with next?
Eskel: The sharp one. C'mon, hurry up.
Yen mention why she wants this?
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Geralt: Yen tell you why she wants this?
Eskel: Mean you don't know? And that, uh...doesn't bug you?
Of course it bothers me.
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Geralt: Course it does... Don't see us lifting the curse without her,
though.
Eskel: We could've gone to Triss for help.
Geralt: Put it to you this way... If Yen can't help Uma, we can always go to
Triss -- she won't hold it against us. But if we'd done it the other
way around...
Eskel: Oof... There'd be hell to pay.
Geralt: Exactly. Enough of this talk. Let's go.
No. I trust her.
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Geralt: No, it doesn't. I trust her.
Eskel: And they say people learn from their mistakes...
Geralt: What was that?
Eskel: Nothing, nothing.
Great. Let's go.
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Geralt: Great. Let's go.
Got something against Yen?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Something about Yen bothering you? C'mon, grow a pair, give it to
me straight.
Eskel: You grow a pair and admit she tricked you. More than a few times.
Geralt: That was then. Yen's changed.
Eskel: Right. Fine, never mind... Let's go.
[They leave the cave with the spinal fluid.]
Eskel: Hey. Whaddaya say to a little race? Maybe see who's faster -- Roach or
Scorpion. And who's the better rider.
Gladly.
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Geralt: Not really a challenge, 'cause I could beat you riding a lame sow...
But why not.
Eskel: You're a lame sow yourself. First to Kaer Morhen wins!
We shouldn't.
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Geralt: We shouldn't. Rather not tire out my horse for no reason.
Eskel: Ah... Honestly can't see what all those dames see in you. You're a
stick in the mud.
Geralt: Pretty damn handsome stick, though.
Eskel: Debatable... Let's go.
[The quest ends at Kaer Morhen automatically if no race occured. There's an
extra scene if Geralt wins the race, though:]
Geralt: Finally. Took you a while.
Eskel: Saddle kept sliding...
Geralt: Mhm. Not a crappy show dancer out there who doesn't blame her shoes.
Eskel: You're a fucking show dancer -- but one who's damn good on horseback.
Didn't wager anything, but can't help thinking you deserve a prize.
Don't need anything...
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Geralt: C'mon, not gonna take anything from you. Buy me a round some time and
we'll call it good.
Eskel: Done deal.
If you insist...
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Geralt: Since you insist...
Eskel: Here. Use it wisely.
[If Geralt loses the race:]
Eskel: "I could beat you riding a lame sow"... Good one.
Geralt: Underestimated you... Or should I say Scorpion. One fast mount.
Eskel: And I overestimated you. If I'd known it would be that easy I'd 'ave
bet something on it...
Whaddaya want?
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Geralt: All right. Name your prize. Earned it.
Eskel: Hm... Had this craving for Mahakaman spirit a while now. Nothin' burns
quite like it.
Got some on me. All yours.²
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Geralt: As luck would have it, got a bottle with me... Here.
Eskel: Damn... Must've read my mind long range!
Geralt: Nah. Enjoy a swig from time to time, just like you.
Eskel: Right... Vesemir used to say he couldn't tell us apart. Like
brothers, two drops of water... A long time ago, that. Thanks.
Have some for you next time we meet.²
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Geralt: Have a bottle for you next time we meet. Promise.
Eskel: Hold you to that.
Next time.
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Geralt: Bet you next time. Thing is, I'll win.
Eskel: Yeah. Sure.
_______________________
_____________________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: UGLY BABY |_
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9d) NO PLACE LIKE HOME [WK9D]
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[This quest occurs after finishing Yen, Lambert and Eskel's quests in the area.
Geralt returns to Kaer Morhen to sit with his witcherly comrades and Yen.]
Geralt: Got you everything you need.
Yennefer: Splendid. Lambert, prepare the apparatuses. Eskel, go--
Vesemir: Last I heard, my dear, I give the orders around here. Not you.
Yennefer: I believe we made an agreement. To seek to cure Uma my way.
Vesemir: I said we would help you. That's it. I don't know what you want to do
with him -- you haven't deigned to inform us. But it's not safe, is
it?
[She doesn't answer.]
Vesemir: Just as I thought. Which is why I think we should first try another,
less invasive method.
What's this other method?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's this method?
Vesemir: Derives from folk traditions. I've used it many times, in 1211, to
lift the curse that held the Swan of Poviss, for instance.
Clock's ticking...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't take this the wrong way, Vesemir, but clock's ticking.
Vesemir: I ask only one night's delay. If nothing comes of it, we'll do what
Yennefer wants.
Vesemir: I'll take Uma into the mountains.
Yennefer: What then? Will you howl at the moon together?
Lambert: A bit of respect. You're not talkin' to Geralt.
Vesemir: No, we will not howl at the moon. I'll lay him down on a grave stone.
Come midnight, I'll give him a tea made of hemlock harvested from...
But I don't see that I need to explain this to you.
Yennefer: In my opinion--
Vesemir: I know your opinion. But I'm not asking anyone's permission. I'm
saying what will happen. I'll be back at dawn. With Uma...or whoever
hides inside him.
[Vesemir and Uma leave. Yennefer glowers at Geralt.]
What now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So...got the evening off. What do we do with it?
Eskel: Vesemir mentioned some roof beams in the tower need replacing. Maybe
we could see to that. Or...we could have a drink.
• Geralt gave me a bottle of Mahakaman spirit... That'll hit the spot
for me.
Lambert: Sounds a lot better than the beams.
Geralt: Wouldn't mind a shot myself. Or two.
Eskel: Nothing I can do -- been outvoted. Let's go.
Vesemir's become a grumpy old man.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Vesemir's gotten a bit grumpy in his old age.
Eskel: That was nothing. Shoulda been here last winter when Lambert tried to
convince him we oughta abandon Kaer Morhen for good.
Lambert: What good's this old ruin anyway? Moldy walls, leaky roof, and it's
one big fucking ice cube in the winter.
Eskel: Vesemir didn't say a word. Stood, grabbed his sword, and slammed the
door on his way out. Didn't come back for a month.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt is on good terms with Yennefer, a scene occurs here:]
Yennefer: Do as you will... But in a moment. Geralt and I must talk.
Eskel: Oo, sounds serious. C'mon, Lambert... See you in a bit Geralt.
[Yen drags Geralt around the corner.]
What'd I do now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right. What'd I do this time?
Something wrong?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Something not quite right?
Yennefer: No, nothing. I just wanted to take you aside...without cluing the
others into what we're up to.
Geralt: Mhm... And what are we up to?
Yennefer: Sneaking upstairs to make love.
Geralt: Wow, you don't exactly mince words...
Yennefer: I'm too old to play the blushing bride... Unless you ask nicely.
Shall we go? You can rejoin them afterwards. In an hour...or two.
Sounds great.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Or three...
Yennefer: I'll hold you to that.
Don't get mad, but...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yen... Don't get mad, but--
Yennefer: Stop. Suddenly, I've an immense desire to drink.
[If Geralt/Yen go upstairs, later they come back down:]
• Lambert: So? Head Sorceress box your ears again?
Geralt: You could say that.
• Lambert: Well, well... Lovebirds decided to join us. Enjoy yourselves?
Eskel: You heard the answer to that question, Lambert... Besides, not our
business.
===============================================================================
[Either way:]
Eskel: Uh, Yen, we don't have glasses. You all right drinkin' from a mug?
Yennefer: I'd drink from an old boot tonight.
[She drains her tankard in a single motion.]
Yennefer: Urghgh... Perhaps instead of getting crocked in a deep glum, we could
do some catching up?
Well, I...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Eventful times for me, recently. Kings, dragons, conspiracies and,
then, I found Yen.
Lambert: We're thrilled for you. But why don't you tell us about Uma instead?
Where've you been, Lambert?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What've you been up to, Lambert?
• On your way west last time I saw you.
• Any interesting contracts before you set off in search of Karadin?
Lambert: Uh, yeah. Contract in Lan Exeter. Not to boast, but a pretty
lucrative one.
Eskel: Yeah, Kovir's where the gold's to be made. Know how much they pay
there for a drowner?
Lambert: Shush, I'm talking now. So this giant was giving 'em trouble.
Attacking convoys, dragging folk off into the swamps...
Yennefer: ...and relieving himself on the highway, rendering it dreadfully
slippery. You've built enough suspense, get to the point.
Lambert: Fine. Turns out it wasn't a giant, just a fat forest troll. And a
group of bandits were ambushing the convoys.
Geralt: What did you do?
Lambert: Killed the bandits to keep the roads safe. Then I killed the troll.
Needed its, uh, head to collect the bounty.
Pragmatic, as ever.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Pragmatic as ever...
Yennefer: You could stand to show some of Lambert's expediency, set ideals
like justice for trolls aside, keep yourself out of poverty
instead.
Lambert: Knew the sorceress would see it my way.
Might've spared the troll.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Could've spared the troll...
Lambert: Pff. To eat roots and sleep in roadside ditches? I needed the coin.
And not a soul mourned that troll's passing.
Eskel: Let's raise a mug to his memory -- the least we can do.
Eskel, care to share?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Where'd you go while you were away, Eskel?
Eskel: Aldersberg. Hunted a higher vampire.
Lambert: Oh-ho-ho... Dangerous whoresons, those.
Eskel: Finicky, too. Specimen in question only went for young women from the
upper classes.
Lambert: That's like me.
Yennefer: We've no interest in your fantasies, Lambert. Whereas the vampire
...even I'm curious to know how you managed.
Eskel: My client threw a masquerade ball for the city's notables -- to lure
the vampire out of hiding. I was there, too, disguised. Lemme tell
you, never had so much success with the ladies as I did that night.
Get the vampire?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What about the vampire?
Eskel: I'd made a deal with this young alchemist. She really loaded up --
fisstech, vodka, magic mushrooms. Went out into the garden, vampire
found her and drank his fill. Fight was an afterthought.
Yennefer: Hm... A fairy tale on gluttony for modern times.
Geralt: Alchemist come out of it all right?
Eskel: Fine. Lost a bit of blood, I suppose. Hangover was the worst part.
She drank nothing but pickle juice for the next month.
Mixing business and pleasure? Bad idea.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mixing work and romance? Bad idea. Vampire coulda caught you with
your pants down.
Eskel: Suppose so. But you look the way I do, you gotta grab every chance
you get.
Lambert: Hahaha, maybe you should wear a mask permanently.
Eskel: Huh! And maybe you should wear a gag.
("Get the vampire?" continues from here)
Geralt: Pff. Long story. I was on Ciri's trail -- went to Velen, Skellige,
Novigrad -- where Dandelion needed saving again.
Eskel: He get caught ploughing somebody he shouldn't 'ave been?
Lambert: Right. Speaking of old friends, Novigrad and ploughing... How's Triss?
Fuck off.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Fuck off, Lambert.
Lambert: Whoa! Hit a sore spot, I guess.
I was talking about Uma.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We were talking about Uma, weren't we?
Lambert: The night is young. Got time to talk about everything.
Triss is managing.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Triss is...managing all right.
Lambert: How're those scars she got at Sodden? Still there?
Eskel: Lambert. Not funny.
Lambert: Fine. Conversation turned serious? Let's talk. Yen, what do you plan
to do with Uma?
Yennefer: I said I'll tell you tomorrow.
Eskel: So tell us now. It's after midnight.
Yennefer: I'll subject him to the Trial of Grasses. But only--
Lambert: You'll fucking what?!
Mind your manners.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mind your manners, Lambert.
Lambert: Did you hear what--?
Geralt: Not gonna ask you again.
[Don't react.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Eskel: Uh, sorry...looking to turn him into a witcher?
Yennefer: Of course not. As I was about to say, I'll only apply the first half
of the Trial, because--
Lambert: Because you want to watch him suffer?
Yennefer: Stop interrupting, or I will watch you suffer. To restore Uma's
former appearance, we must first... Hmm... How do I explain it...
Imagine a lump of clay. In order to shape it, you must first moisten
it or it will crumble. The Trial's initial part does just that. It
opens the body to change, so to speak. Only then can mutagens produce
a witcher.
It'll be the first Trial in years.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It'll be the first Trial in years...decades.
Yennefer: I knew you'd be wary.
What're the chances Uma'll survive?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What are the chances Uma will survive?
Yennefer: Not great. But we've no choice.
Lambert: Unless Vesemir can do the trick with his hemlock.
Eskel: Might be surprised. Old man knows his stuff.
Lambert: Wary? That's not the problem. Those secrets have been forgotten. And
that's how they should stay.
Yennefer: I'd be the last to suggest you start producing hordes of witchers.
Eskel: You hardly need to. See, till now we had a great excuse not to take in
apprentices. Seems we'll need to talk it over.
Geralt: Maybe later. Who's up for another round?
Eskel: Oh, I am. But we're all outta stuff to chew on. Geralt, mind raiding the
kitchen?
Geralt: Not at all.
Yennefer: Gentlemen, pleasure drinking with you...Lambert especially. But the
hour is late. Don't stay up long. Tomorrow's an important day.
[Yen retires for the night. Geralt later returns with some munchies.]
Lambert: Heh. Didn't listen, did he?
Eskel: They never do.
Geralt: What're you talking about?
Lambert: Samovila contract Eskel got a while back. Good story.
Eskel: Finish it in a minute. First, some more fuel.
Geralt: Ooooo.... Now that's a kick in the liver... What is it?
Lambert: "The Gauntlet" -- equal parts spirit and White Gull. What's that look
about? Yen's gone to bed, time for some serious drinking.
Eskel: Damn straight! Pour us another. Bottoms up!
So -- this samovila?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So, what's this about a samovila?
Eskel: Snared this peasant in her dance. Instead of bein' happy he escaped
with his life, yokel fell head over heels in love. Wanted me to trap
her. Turned him down, so he tried it on his own, with a fishing net.
Bet you they're still dancing a mazurka in some fallow field.
Lambert: Great story. With a moral, too!
Geralt: Really? What's that?
Lambert: Stay away from dangerous women.
You guys ever gonna lay off Yen?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Will you ever lay off Yen?
Lambert: Yeah. Soon as I trust her.
Eskel: You'd brave a fire for her... Whereas she plays you like a cheap
fiddle. Way it's always been.
Geralt: Listen to you two goddam¹ relationship experts. Neither of you's
been with a sorceress...
Eskel: For good reason...
Lambert: Fine, leave pretty boy alone before he gets grumpy. Already has
that pouty look on his face. Can't stand it. Drink up, Geralt. To
you and Yen -- happily ever after!
Yennefer and I -- we're not a couple.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You can breathe easy. Yen and I -- we're not a couple. And we won't
ever be one...
Lambert: Ah, explains why the Sorceress Superior was so damn sulky.
Eskel: Lambert, drop it... Sorry, Geralt, that was, uh, insensitive. We
didn't know. You wanna...wanna talk about it?
Geralt: No. I wanna drink.
Lambert: Doable. Definitely doable.
Right, let's change the subject.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, change the subject.
Lambert: Cause¹ you refuse to admit I'm right? Whatever. Fine.
Eskel: Stop being a smart ass and pour.
Let's have some fun.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: C'mon... Let's have some fun.
Eskel: We boring you?
Geralt: No, it's just kinda...
Lambert: Slow. Pretty boy's right. Listen...there's this game, student from
Oxenfurt taught me.
Geralt: Hm?
Lambert: Someone starts by saying "I've never..." -- and finishing the
sentence however they want. Whosever done that thing, downs a shot.
Then it's the next guy's turn.
Eskel: Sounds great. You start.
How about a round of cards?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How about a round of cards?
Lambert: Why not. Playin' for coin, though, right?
Agreed.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah... Unless you'd rather play strip gwent.
Lambert: Maybe I'd finally come to understand what women see in you...
Eskel: Compare your trouser snakes later. Pouches on the table!
Lambert: Hahaha!
Eskel: What's with him?
Geralt: Don't worry about it. Let's play.
I'd rather not.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'd prefer to play for pleasure.
Lambert: Pleasure? You should really talk to Yen about that.
Eskel: Got a one-track mind, Lambert. What are you, twelve?
Geralt: His voice has started cracking. Haven't noticed?
Lambert: Very funny.
Eskel: Very funny! Hahaha!
Geralt: All right, that's enough. Let's play.
Lambert: Huh. So, Geralt, seems to me you got your ass whooped.
Geralt: Unlucky at cards, lucky in love. And vice versa.
Time to go to sleep.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, guys... Bed time.
Lambert: Speak for yourself. Night's still young as I see it.
Eskel: Huh, but we're not... And tomorrow's a big day.
Lambert: Fine... Drinkin' with my mirror image is just no fun. Least it
wasn't last time.
Geralt: See? Even you can't stand yourself... Good night.
===============================================================================
[If the lads play the "I've never" game:]
Lambert: I've never...slept with a succubus.
[Drink.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
[Skip a round.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
[At minimum, Eskel drinks.]
Lambert: How 'bout that!
• Lambert: Expected Geralt might've, but you?
Lambert: Eskel, Eskel... Still waters run deep.
Eskel: I'm a sucker for women with horns. Right, my turn. I've never, after a
bender, woken up wearing nothing but my knickers.
[Drink.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Eskel: Geralt? Lambert's a lost cause, but you... What would Papa Vesemir
say?
Geralt: Think Papa Vesemir woulda...drank that round, too.
[Skip a round.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Eskel: Oh, Lambert, Lambert... Kaer Morhen's black sheep...
Lambert: Wanna know the best part? They weren't even my knickers!
Eskel: All right, Geralt, your turn. I've never...?
Never taken fisstech.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: ...Taken fisstech.
[Eskel drinks.]
Geralt: Eskel... Really?
Eskel: Once... With that succubus.
Never jumped out a lover's window.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯</pre><pre id="faqspan-17">
Geralt: ...jumped out a lover's window.
[Lambert drinks.]
Eskel: That so... Must've been one tough character whose wife you were
ploughing...
Lambert: That wasn't it... He was a friend. Didn't want to hurt his feelings.
Eskel: Yeah, you're a true friend.
Geralt: Right, men, let's end on that. Or else I'll never be able to look you
in the eyes again.
===============================================================================
[After the samovila or "I've never game" chat:]
Lambert: Brr... Colder'n up an ice giant's ass in here. Gentlemen, I shall
return. Gotta go drain the dragon.
You get along with Lambert?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You and Lambert get along?
Eskel: In a way... I've learned not to talk to him about certain things.
Geralt: Guessing that's quite a list.
Eskel: It is.
Not cold in here to me...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta say I'm pretty warm...
Eskel: He's always been a wuss about the cold. Remember winter, fifteen
years ago, when the snow stayed all around Belleteyn?
Geralt: Mhm... Lambert sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Cussed
copiously every time it started to snow...
Lambert: Hello, young 'uns! Got your own little carnival going, eh? Alcohol,
my good man, is a witcher's worst enemy!
Geralt: Where'd you dig up that bonnet?
Lambert: Vesemir's trunk! The height of fashion in 1112! Old man probably put
it on when he went courting! Or, in the jargon of the time, "wooing
the damsels." Men, a witcher's life is not all cards and liquor. It is
toil, it is labor. No gurgling babes to wean for us, nay, not for us.
Eskel: All right, one Vesemir's enough. Take that off before you get it
dirty... And pour.
Lambert: Oh, I'll pour, Eskel, I'll pour. To the brim. 'Cause without vodka,
you're as stiff as a bookkeeper in a body cast.
===============================================================================
[After doing all options besides "go to sleep":]
Lambert: Aah... Vodka...vodka's gone. Who's gonna go get some more?
Geralt: Already went...to get food.
Eskel: All right... I'll do it... Kitchen... It's that way, right?
Lambert...I like you, you know that, right?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lambert... Bud... Gotta tell you something...
Lambert: Yeah??
Geralt: Sometimes you're...a real jackass...but...I love you, brother...
Lambert: And sometimes you're a real blowhard. But dammit...I'd go to hell
and back for you. Come here, you oaf!
Have you got some beef with me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lambert... Listen... You... You got a problem with me?
Lambert: Me? Why...why would you say that?
Geralt: Well...just seemed that way. And you know...you're like my little
brother. Dumb and annoying. But a brother.
Lambert: Geralt...dammit! You're gonna make me cry! Come here!
[He goes to get up and give a hug, but knocks his bottle off the table.]
Lambert: Damn... Broke...
Geralt: Good thing it was empty... Eh... Where's Eskel? Shoulda been back by
now. We oughta...look around.
Lambert: This is a job...for Vesemir!
Geralt: Not again... Take that hat off...
Lambert: Where's that whippersnapper wandered off to? He could be...beleaguered
...I wager! Come, men, to the rescue! Eskel, you drunk! Get out here!
Geralt: Eskel! Chop, chop!
[Geralt can drunkenly observe things on Eskel's trail.]
Geralt: Spilled some wine...and crawled through it.
Lambert: Had to kneel down to see that?
Geralt: If I'd a' bent over, I'd 'ave puked...
[The trail leads outside.]
Lambert: Hey... Hic! You hear that?
Geralt: Sounded like...panting...of a wounded wyvern...
Lambert: Dammit... We missed a fight!
[They get back on the trail.]
Geralt: Think he...he hurt himself.
Lambert: What's one scar more or less in his case? Makes no difference, as I
see it.
Geralt: Aha... Eskel's close.
Lambert: Hang in there, brother. We're coming!
[They find Eskel sleeping outside, near the goat used as forktail bait.]
Geralt: Heeeey... Look... Here he is!
Lambert: With his ever faithful Lil' Bleater! Hellooo, Eskel! Wake up!
Eskel: Hm? What? What happened?
Lambert: Got sloshed, stewed and fifty-seven other varities of drunk -- that's
what happened. Get up, time to have a drink.
Eskel: Le' me alone... Gonna puke... The three of us get together, always ends
like this...
Lambert: Let's find a fourth! Better! A woman!
Geralt: None here but Yen... And we don't wanna wake her up. Believe me.
Lambert: What about that sorceress you talked to? Think about it. We turn on
the megascope, cordially invite her...she teleports here...maybe
brings some friends! How's that sound?
You're a genius!
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lambert... You're a genius!
Lambert: Course I am! So? We inviting the Lodge to our bash?
Eskel: Fuck yeah! Summon the bitches!
Think you've had your last drink.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lambert... Believe you've had your last drink.
Lambert: You're just jealous you didn't think of it first... But is that any
reason to spoil it for us?
Geralt: I don't have the strength to argue.
Lambert: Course you don't, cream puff. Bet I could take you with one finger.
Eskel: Hey... Relax, Lambert...
Lambert: Wanna fight? Huh? Wanna? C'mon!
Geralt: Good night.
[If Geralt agrees to the megascope hijinx, they go up to that room.]
Eskel: All right...how's this work?
Geralt: Well... A twist here, a turn there... Then you gotta say something in
Elvish.
Lambert: Easy-peasy. Let's do it.
Eskel: Hey. Hang on. When this...Ida sees us...we'll scare her off. I mean,
we don't look anything like sorceresseswes...
Lambert: I know! Yennefer's clothes! Let's dress up. Bags're over there.
Eskel: What's this thing you got for dressing up?
Lambert: Shut it, wiseass, or I'll lace your corset up so tight you'll shit in
your bloomers.
We're squeezing into those dresses.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Stop whining, Eskel. Times you gotta squeeze into some fr-fr-fr...
Lambert: Frippery.
Eskel: Uuugh... We don't tell a soul, understand? This stays here.
Don't like the idea, either.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't really like the idea, either...
Lambert: Fine... But if this Ida refuses to talk to us, it'll be your fault.
[If they decide to go ahead with the bonehead plan:]
Lambert: Sure brought a lot of crap... You'd think she was moving in...
Eskel: Shh, you'll scare Geralt...
[If they all dress up in Yen's clothes:]
Lambert: Yes! Perfect! Like it was made for you!
Eskel: Sure... Soon as I let it out a bit in the waist...
Lambert: Stop talking, get dressed. Not that one... Won't compliment your
complexion...
[Soon, all three are ready.]
Lambert: Damn, Eskel... You got an hourglass figure...
Eskel: And you're an ass. C'mon, go, thing's tight as hell.
[Either way:]
Geralt: Now... I'll do the talking, you two fiddle with the crystals. Cáed'mil,
bloede dh'oine... Hocus-pocus... Abracadabra... Arse blathanna...
[The megascope contacts some random mage.]
Man: What is this...? Who's that?
Geralt: So sorry... We were never here...
Man: Guaaaaards!!!
Guard: More paper, Excellency?
• Man: No, you oaf! Witchers! Witchers attacking!
• Man: No, you oaf! The Lodge! The Lodge has come for me!
Witchers: Hahahahaha!
[Yennefer wanders in.]
Yennefer: I trust you have an explanation for this. A very good one. Go to bed.
Now.
===============================================================================
[The next morning, Geralt awakens to find everyone already gathered around Sad
Albert, a.k.a. the table used to induce mutations for the Trial.]
Geralt: Damn... What a dream.
[He gets dressed and goes over.]
Geralt: See everyone's up and at 'em.
• Vesemir: Mhm. And reeking of booze. That hat was a memento, Lambert.
Lambert: Relax, old man. It'll come out in the wash.
• Vesemir: Mhm. Take it you had a productive evening?
Eskel: Yes. We talked about Uma. Till late.
Vesemir: So I guess you didn't get a chance to see to the beams in the tower?
Eskel: Uh... No... But we'll, uh, get to that, I promise. Right, Lambert?
Yennefer: You can give the boys a rap on the knuckles later. Let's get to work.
Vesemir, you learn anything?
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Geralt: Vesemir, learn anything?
Method didn't work, Vesemir?
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Geralt: Guess your gravestone and hemlock method didn't work...
Vesemir: Not entirely. But I did learn something interesting¹.
Vesemir: While you were out hunting forktails and playing with the megascope,
I examined Uma. Noticed one thing -- at moments of, what's the term...
relaxed consciousness, he behaves differently. While falling asleep,
he'd pause awake for an instant. Something different about his
movements, his gaze, then. But only for a moment. So I induced a
trance, hypnotized him, essentially. No effect at first, but as he
dropped into deep lethargy, I heard something...a sigh or a moan. And
it wasn't Uma's voice.
Lambert: All right. I just don't get how that helps us.
Yennefer: Then keep silent. Thank you, Vesemir... And... I apologize for what
I said earlier. Have the boys told you what we plan to do?
Vesemir. Yes. Don't like it one bit. But I suppose I have to trust you.
What now?
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Geralt: Right, so what now?
Yennefer: We can begin. We need only brew the potions.
Thought that table was long gone.
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Geralt: Thought we got rid of that table ages ago.
Eskel: Huh. Must be fifty years since I last saw Sad Albert.
Vesemir: Couldn't bear to part with it. Thought we might find a use for it
one day. You know how old people are.
Lambert: Sure. Every grandpa out there's got an attic full of torture
devices.
Lambert: Wait. Why couldn't we--
Yennefer: Do it earlier? Because the preparatory potions for the Trial are
strongly reactive. They must be administered immediately after
they're brewed. Satisfied? Geralt, make the potions. Here are the
formulae. Eskel, take a bottle of spirit...
Eskel: Oh, no. After last night, I--
Yennefer: ...and disinfect the tools. Well? Chop-chop!
Vesemir: You don't know who's trapped in Uma's body. How did you figure the
proportions?
Yennefer: Performed a series of complex calculations... Extrapolated some
data... Ran simulations...
Vesemir: Meaning you guessed?
Yennefer: Mhm.
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_____________________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: UGLY BABY |_
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9e) VA FAIL, ELAINE [WK9E]
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[Geralt brews the Decoctions of the Grasses for Uma's ceremony, then reconvenes
with everyone in the main hall. Only a sulky Lambert stands apart from the
group.]
Geralt: Potions ready.
Eskel: Tools, too.
Yennefer: Good. Vesemir...
Vesemir: Hookweed extract to deaden the pain. I know. Done this before.
Yennefer: Eskel, make the incisions in his veins, insert the tubes. Geralt,
place the potion vials in the feeders.
Uma: Umauma!
Geralt: Ready.
Yennefer: Open the valves. It doesn't matter in which order.
[Administer Mother's Tears.]
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Uma: Aaaach... Aaaaaach! Ummmmamamama... AAaaaaa... AAAaaaach!
[Administer Wildrye Juice.]
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Uma: Aaaa... Aaaaaach! Aaaaaaaa!!! Ummmmmmama... UUUuuu... Umamama...
[Administer Speargrass Sap.]
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Uma: Yyyyyyyyyyaaaaaa!!! Aaaa... Aaaa... Ummmmmmamamamaaaaa...
Stop. This is a bad idea.
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Geralt: Listen... We should stop this.
Yennefer: Then Uma dies. Very painfully.
Vesemir: Yennefer's right.
Yennefer: Open the next valve.
[After the first valve:]
Geralt: The hookweed work?
Vesemir: If it hadn't, the pain would've sent him into shock, killed him.
Lambert: So, everything's going smoothly.
Vesemir: No... But it's within known norms.
Yennefer: Administer the next potion.
[After the second valve:]
Vesemir: I had hoped... I'd hoped I would never have to watch this again.
Lambert: Why'd you keep the table, then?
Yennefer: Geralt. Next potion.
[After the third potion, Yen calms the monstrosity with a spell.]
Yennefer: Oesi, caefyn!
Geralt: What now?
Vesemir: Now we wait for the potions to do their work. Might take a day. Might
take more.
Yennefer: You need only wait, true. But I must maintain the stabilizing spell.
Uma's body is not nearly as resilient as a young candidate witcher's.
Without this he'd--
[Uma suddenly vomits all over Yen.]
Uma: Bueeeeergh...
Yennefer: Eskel, I'm sorry... Would you mind...?
Eskel: Getting some rags? On it.
[Later, Eskel and Geralt are shown scrubbing the floor like scullery maids.]
Eskel: Ugh. I can't believe we're doing this.
Geralt: Wiping vomit off the floor?
Eskel: No. The Trial. If that's Ciri in there...she could come out of this
crippled, wrong in the head, just emotionless. Thought about that?
Yen knows what she's doing.
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Geralt: I trust Yen. She knows what she's doing.
Eskel: Don't doubt that. But do we know what she's doing? She tell you how
likely this is to work?
Don't have a choice.
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Geralt: Course I have. Thing is, we don't have a choice.
Eskel: Not any more, we don't. But...we rushed it. Should've started by--
Yennefer: Gentlemen, the floor's as clean as it'll ever be, and I need to be
wiped down as well.
• Eskel: Geralt... Maybe you oughta...?
Yennefer: Come now, Eskel. I shan't bite you. Just do it.
• Yennefer: No offense, but I'd rather Geralt did it.
Eskel: Understood. I'd prefer that, too.
[Several hours later, Yen is still stabilizing Uma, while the witchers idle
and/or sleep nearby. Uma lays still and groaning.]
Uma: Ummmma...
Geralt: That normal?
Yennefer: Yes. Uma's body is disintegrating from the inside. Once that's
complete, we'll need to reform it...or he'll die. You witchers were
given mutagens. We will use spells.
[Later on...]
Geralt: Hey... Yen... You're dozing off.
Yennefer: No. Just...resting my eyes.
Geralt: Yeah, it's called sleeping.
Yennefer: Then do something to keep me awake.
• Yennefer: I don't know... Tell me a story.
• Geralt: Pinching's apparently effective.
Yennefer: Mh. Later perhaps. For now, talk to me. Tell me a story.
Heard about my time ice skating with Ciri?
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Geralt: Heard about the time Ciri and I went ice skating?
Yennefer: No... Not that I recall.
Geralt: The winter she trained here. Couple months in, she started
complaining I was too harsh a teacher. Brushed it off at first. Then
she asked me to go skating with her. Didn't really want to, I'd never
been before... But she insisted. Soon as we hit the ice, she started
skating circles around me, hollering "No, not like that! Footwork!
One, then the other!" "Crossover! No! Wrong!" "Brake with the heel
of your skate, not the toes!" Needless to say, from then on--
Ever tell you about Dandelion buying me a sword?
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Geralt: Ever tell you about the time Dandelion bought me a sword?
Yennefer: Was that in Kerack? Just after we'd...
Geralt: Decided to take a break. Yeah. My swords had...disappeared, doesn't
matter how. And Dandelion insisted I had to be armed. Decided he'd
buy me a weapon. Came to me, beaming. "The truest Viroleda steel!
Good price, too, so good it felt like I was stealing!" Naturally,
blade shattered first parry I threw.
Uma: Uuuuma...?
Yennefer: He's awake. It's time...time to lift the curse. Prepare the
phylactery.
[Yen's spell starts drawing out the curse.]
Yennefer: Nevid, cyvir! Caniatad... Nevid... Cyvir... Coalle... Ariva...
Aendir...
[Her spell is blown back; Uma appears lifeless.]
Yennefer: No...no, I won't let you go! Geralt! Yellow flask! In my satchel!
Vesemir: Quiet. Listen.
[A voice from inside Uma's lifeless body can be heard.]
Voice: Coalle... Coalle... Caniatad...
Yennefer: Nevid, cyvir! Coalle, coalle caniatad! Nevid! Ariva! Aendir! Geralt!
The phylactery! Open it! Caniatad! Taron Anede! Dis!
[She forces the curse into the phylactery and seals it. Where Uma once lay,
there's a different being -- not Ciri, but a tattooed elven man.]
Geralt: Avallac'h?
Vesemir: You know him?
Geralt: Yes. An elf, Aen Elle. A Sage...
Yennefer: Where is Ciri?
Avallac'h: Hidden...the Isle of Mists... But...it's not...she's not safe...
The Hunt...
The Isle of Mists -- where's that?
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Geralt: Isle of Mists -- where is it?
Avallac'h: Everywhere...and nowhere...
What does the Hunt want from her?
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Geralt: The Hunt -- what's it want from Ciri?
Avallac'h: Her blood... Elder Blood...to open the gate. We cannot...cannot
allow this.
Lambert: Listen, Sage. We didn't lift that curse to play riddles with you.
Avallac'h: Praevein, arwein, cyrraen...
[His spell conjures a small ball of light.]
Avallac'h: In Skellige... Follow it... Into the mists... Hurry... Hurry! I
tried to protect her... But the curse... The Hunt has not found the
Isle... As yet... 'Tis a matter of time. But if she leaves... They
will detect her... At once...
Yennefer: Enough, Geralt. He's not yet free of death's grip.
I'm going after Ciri.
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Geralt: I'm going to get Ciri.
Will he recover?
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Geralt: Is he gonna make it?
Yennefer: I can't...know. You saw. Not all went as planned. I lifted the
curse, but...
Vesemir: The Trial has wrought havoc in his body. Violently twitching
fingers, pupils that don't react to the light... Seen it many times
before. Too many.
Yennefer: Toxins have permanently damaged his nervous system. Even if he
does pull through... Do you understand?
Eskel: Hold up. Don't you think you owe us some answers? How do you know this
Avallac'h? What's Ciri been doing with him?
Geralt: Yennefer can tell you, just keep an eye on him. He's not a friend.
Vesemir: Perhaps not, but Ciri apparently trusted him. We should at least take
his words seriously. You heard what he said -- take Ciri from that
Isle of Mists and the Hunt'll pick up her trail immediately. What
then?
What do you suggest?
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Geralt: What's your suggestion?
Vesemir: Ciri can't flee forever. One day she'll stumble. And she won't get
a second chance.
We'll see.
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Geralt: I dunno. Guess we'll see.
Vesemir: Geralt, you're in a hurry to get her, I understand. But you-- We
can't act blindly.
Lambert: You got something in mind, don't you? Come on, spit it out.
We'll be waiting.
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Geralt: We'll be waiting for them. Swords in hand.
Vesemir: Yes...
Vesemir: Time we the hunted became the hunters. Geralt will find Ciri and bring
her here...and the Hunt will follow. They'll expect to catch us by
surprise -- and they'll be sorely disappointed.
Yennefer: We plan to fight them? We five? In a crumbling castle?
Vesemir: Do we have a choice? Besides delaying the inevitable?
Lambert: Pretty boy could try to round up a few others who know how to swing a
sword...
Yennefer: ...or wield magic.
I'll gather allies.
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Geralt: Fine. I'll get Ciri, and recruit some allies. Bring everyone here.
Got a few favors I can call in.
Lambert: Any good looking¹ women in that batch?
Geralt: Mhm. Exclusively.
What'll you do?
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Geralt: And you? What do you plan to do?
Yennefer: I've Avallac'h to care for. He's certain to die without gentle,
gradual magic treatment. There's hope if I help him. Not much, but
better than naught.
Vesemir: The boys and I'll consider how we should greet our uninvited guests.
Geralt: All right. Time I was on my way.
Vesemir: Good luck, Wolf. And give Cirilla our love.
Yennefer: Come back quickly, Geralt.
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9f) THE ISLE OF MISTS [WK10]
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[Armed with Avallac'h's magic firefly, Geralt makes for Undvik's coast, where
the destination apparently is. As he sails into the fog, he uncorks the tiny
light -- it guides him into a strange land of shipwrecks. After landfall, it
guides Geralt up the twisted landscape to a cabin.]
Geralt: Firefly's stopped at the hut. Oughta look inside.
[He tries the door.]
Geralt: Locked... Anybody in there? Damn...
Voice: Achoo!
Geralt: I'm not gonna hurt you. Open up.
Voice: Ach! Ye blew our fuckin' cover.
Voice: Who are ye and whaddaya want?
I'm looking for a young woman with ashen hair.
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Geralt: I'm Geralt, a witcher.
Voice: Argh. Go away!
Geralt: Looking for a young woman -- ashen hair, scar on her face. Will you
let me in?
Voice: No!
I'm starting to get angry. / Starting to lose my patience.²
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Geralt: Running short on patience.
Voice: Wonderful. Means you're about to go the fuck away.
How many of you are there?
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Geralt: How many of you are in there?
Voice: Why d'ye need to know? Ye takin' a bloody census?
Who are you?
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Geralt: They call me Geralt. Who are you?
Voice: Ach! It's that witcher! I heard a ballad about this 'un and that
sorceress -- what's her name...?
Voice: Shut it!
Sorceress' name is Yennefer.
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Geralt: Sorceress' name is Yennefer of Vengerberg.
Voice: Aye, that's it! "Her eyes flashin' lightnin', her heart an icy
berg..." Errm...how did it go?
Voice: By me mum's beard, get yourselves together, lads. You there! Outside
the door! Geralt -- that right?!
Geralt: Yeah. Geralt.
Voice: Listen, Geralt. Let's cut to the thick of it. We survived a shipwreck --
recently. Beasts from the depths ate some of my lads, and the rest of
us found shelter here. Not too special, that, as dangers litter this
isle. But it does go to explain why we're a wee bit distrustful.
Not gonna hurt you.
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Geralt: Got nothing to fear from me...
Voice: ...Said the fox to the gaggle o' geese. I've lost too many mates
already. I won't risk it, I can't.
What do you want?
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Geralt: This conversation's getting tiring. Listen, let's make a deal.
Voice: If that's a demon, it'll try to dupe us now.
Geralt: I'm not a demon. You don't need to fear me. Gimme a chance, I'll
prove it.
How'd you find your way here?
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Geralt: No way you can get to this isle conventionally.
Voice: Crikey. Ye call a shipwreck conventional?
Voice: Leave it be, mate. Ye know what he means.
Voice: Achoo! Achoo! Let me explain. A short while past we was en route from
Skellige to Novigrad. And Ferenc got talkin' with the captain, who
sold 'im a magic firefly purported to know the way to a hidden
treasure.
Voice: How do ye aim to do that?
I'll look for your lost mates.
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Geralt: Say I find your mates, will you believe I mean you no harm?
Voice: Aye, but I'd not count on either comin' too easy...
Geralt: How many are there?
Voice: Three: Ivo, Gaspard and Ferenc.
Open up before I get angry.
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Geralt: Open the door, or I'll open it myself.
Voice: You try! These hinges, this lock -- they'll withstand anythin'!
'Course, you could always come back with a platoon of engineers, a
batterin' ram and a Mahakaman locksmith. Why the threats? We's all in
one cart! We'd do better to help each other than argue.
Geralt: All right. What do you want?
Voice: I want you to find our mates -- Ivo, Ferenc and Gaspard. They ventured
off, but they're on the isle, missin' and probably lost. Help 'em,
help me. Please. If anyone can find 'em, I know you can.
[Then:]
Where'll I find Ivo?
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Geralt: This Ivo... Where do I look??¹
Voice: Idgit insisted he'd explore the caves to the east. Tried to knock it
out his head -- literally! Bugger wouldn't budge.
Gaspard -- where do I look for him?
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Geralt: Gaspard -- where'll I find him?
Voice: He said it was defeatist to sit and wait to be rescued. We had to take
action, or at least he did. Claimed to have spotted a lantern out at
sea, so he said he'd climb the highest peak to look out for ships.
Where'd Ferenc go?
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Geralt: Where'd Ferenc go?
Voice: West. In search of a ship that's said to be out there.
Voice: Ferenc, he's, uh, handy. Thought he might fix it up, make it
seaworthy.
Fine. I'll try to find your friends.
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Geralt: All right. See if I can't find all three. See ya.
Voice: I'm content ye understand.
[Ivo's the closest, so Geralt seeks him out first. He can hear him shouting
on a cliff while water hags circle below. Geralt dispatches the enemies.]
Ivo: A man! Hah! Am I ever pleased to see you!
Geralt: I talked to your friends! Come down!
Ivo: Right! I'm comin'! You lucky devil, you. You know, I've one regret --
that -- Aaaargh!
[Ivo slips and falls to his demise with a sickening thud.]
Geralt: Dead. Damn.
[Next, the witcher searches for Ferenc. In his last-known location, he finds a
prowling Fiend. The dwarf's corpse is nearby.]
Geralt: Tried to flee the fiend. Tsk. Stubby legs, too slow.
• Hm. Wonder how he wound up here.
• One of the missing dwarves. Shame he's dead.
[Lastly, Geralt searches for Gaspard by the lighthouse. He finds the sleepy
bugger at the very top.]
Geralt: Hey, wake up.
Gaspard: Shoo... Back to bed, Nibbles.
Geralt: Wake up!
Gaspard: Wha-- What's happening? Who-- Who're you?
Geralt: I'm Geralt.
Your friends told me to find you.²
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Geralt: Your friends asked me to find you, Ferenc and Ivo.
Gaspard: I'm afeard they're dead. Some horrors swarmed Ivo, saw it with my
own eyes. And Ferenc...I heard him -- a blood-curdling cry, then
the roar of a beast.
Geralt: Let's get back to the hut. I'll protect you along the way.
Gaspard: Shame about the lads, really, but what can ye do...? Come on.
You and your friends -- who are you, exactly?²
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Geralt: You and your friends -- what's your story?
Gaspard: Rabenick and Company. Real estate appraisal, insurance, mass event
organization. Gaspard Sutter -- my mates call me Sleepy. I even
slept through that storm. It's a shame so many died...
Looking for an ashen-haired woman.
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Geralt: Any chance you've seen an ashen-haired woman around here?
Gaspard: Here? Nay, not a soul. But...a lot passes me by on account of my
sleepin'.
Wanna explore the island a bit. Come back and get you later.
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Geralt: Wanna explore the island a bit. Come back for you after, take you to
your friends. Unless you care to come with me now?
Gaspard: I'd only be a burden. You know, the narcolepsy... This place seems
safe enough. Just be sure and come back. And make it quick, eh? Not
that much to see here.
Gaspard: But, I should warn you, I suffer from narcolepsy, meaning-- Oah...
Geralt: I know what it means. Don't worry, I'll keep you awake.
Gaspard: Off we go, then.
[If Sleepy lives up to his namesake, Geralt has to wake him up. Some of the
reply segments are randomized. Examples:]
Gaspard: Driftin off! I'll soon snnnneeeerrr...
Geralt: Come on, get up.
Gaspard: Oh, Nibbles, youse a naughty kitty, aren't ye? All right! I'm up!
Gaspard: Fle-felyin' a wee bit drowsyyy...
Geralt: Wake up.
Gaspard: Neh! I don't -- don't want to go to school.
Gaspard: Aaaahh... It's stronger than me, so sorrrrrrry... Zzzzzz...
Geralt: Wake up.
Gaspard: Right, right...just a wee bit longer...
[As they walk:]
Gaspard: Know much about this isle?
Geralt: Almost nothing.
Gaspard: Ye know it ain't on my map.
Geralt: A common characteristic of enchanted islands.
Gaspard: Ye think it's enchanted?
Geralt: It's the one thing I'm sure of.
Gaspard: So what is it brought you to this strange place?
Geralt: Looking for someone.
Gaspard: Here?
Geralt: Mhm. Just kind of turned out that way.
Gaspard: Not too keen on talkin' about it, are ye?
Geralt: Not really.
[Geralt knocks on the cabin door when all crewman whereabouts are known.]
Geralt: Brought you your friend.
Voice: That so? Let's hear him, then.
Geralt: Wake up.
Gaspard: I'm awake!
Voice: Hahah! Gaspard! Stand back, I'm openin' the door!
[The dwarven comrades come out.]
Dwarf: Gaspard! Hah! You seem a bit muddled.
Gaspard: Beh, err, muddled? A bit drowsy, that's all.
Dwarf: What of the others?
Geralt: Found one near a monster's den. He was already dead, sadly. Saw another
fall from a cliff. Broke his neck.
Dwarf: Shit. Rabenick told me to have an eye on the snot. 'Twas his nephew.
Thanks for helpin'. And, uh, sorry I didn't trust ye.
Dwarf: Argh. Everything's gone wrong. What'll we do now?
Geralt: Got a boat, you can leave with me. But I need to find someone first.
Dwarf: An ashen-haired lass?
Geralt: Yes.
Dwarf: Oh -- dreadfully sorry.
Step aside.
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Geralt: Step aside.
Dwarf: She's cold, spirit's left her. Nothin' we could do.
Why are you sorry?
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Geralt: What do you mean?
Dwarf: She's cold. Spirit's left her.
Dwarf: Must've passed shortly before we found her.
Dwarf: Let's wait by the boat.
[The solemn dwarves leave Geralt to enter the cabin alone. Inside, he finds
Ciri's lifeless body laying on a bed. He cradles her, thinking she's dead.
At that moment, Avallach's magic firefly enters her body and she returns the
embrace. Later, the two sit by the fire while Ciri cleans her sword.]
Geralt: Guess not all of Vesemir's teachings've receded into oblivion.
Ciri: "A witcher can forget to eat, to drink, to breathe, even, but a witcher
never, ever forgets to care for his blade."
Geralt: Huh. Uh, yeah, used to repeat that incessantly. Never tired of doing
it, either.
Ciri: What creature was it?
Geralt: Huh? Creature?
Ciri: One that gave you the scar over your left eye. It's new, I don't remember
it.
Geralt: Souvenir from the cockatrice of Spalla. Another addition to the
collection, nothing special. Yours has healed beautifully, though.
Ciri: Avallac'h -- he prepared some special ointments for me. But that was
before the curse gripped him... Wonder where he is now.
We lifted the curse. He's at Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: We lifted the curse. He's at Kaer Morhen, waiting for you.
Ciri: Are you serious? You must be. You'd not jest about something like
that... Hah! A nice thing to wake up to.
We need to go. The Wild Hunt can find us.
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Geralt: Waiting at Kaer Morhen with the others.
Ciri: You lifted the curse?
Geralt: Yeah, tell you on the way. Got a boat on the beach. Once we land,
we'll head for Kaer Morhen. On horseback.
Ciri: Right. Conventional means of travel. They're just better. Though a
portal would be quicker...
Geralt: And draw Eredin to us immediately. Rather not risk it. Besides, I
hate portals.
[If Geralt doesn't immediately cut the convo short:]
Geralt: You trust him?
Ciri: Avallac'h? He's not let me down to date. Not once.
Your voyage with Avallac'h -- how'd it start?
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Geralt: How'd you ever start traveling with Avallac'h?
Ciri: As soon as I'd left you and Yen on the Isle of Avalon, I found myself
pursued. Eredin and his Red Riders were on my heels. I fled through
many worlds, many times... They came very close to catching me, once.
It was then that Avallac'h appeared, out of nowhere. He found a portal
and took us to a world where Eredin couldn't find us for...oh, perhaps
half a year.
So why'd you return?
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Geralt: So why'd you return?
Ciri: I thought the Hunt had lost my scent for good. I thought I was safe.
Besides, I...I wanted to find you, you and Yennefer.
What was that world?
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Geralt: The world where Eredin couldn't find you, what was it like?
Ciri: You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
Geralt: Try me.
Ciri: People there had metal in their heads, waged war from a distance,
using things similar to megascopes. And there were no horses, everyone
had their own flying ship instead.
Geralt: Ciri, stop fooling around.
Ciri: Told you you wouldn't believe me. Ah, we should've stayed there...
Why is Avallac'h helping you?
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Geralt: Why exactly is Avallac'h helping you? Sages've never been fond of
humans...
Ciri: He doesn't do it for me, it's about my power. As if it could ever be
about anything else. Avallac'h tried to teach me how to control my
ability. He was also making sure I didn't fall into Eredin's hands.
Any idea what Eredin wants from you?
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Geralt: What's Eredin after? What's he want from you?
Ciri: What everyone wants -- control of my powers. His home world faces
annihilation. Eredin's decided to invade ours. Brilliant, wouldn't
you say? Can't achieve much on his own, so he needs to bring an army.
Except his navigators can't possibly move him and thousands of Aen
Elle between planes. Their abilities won't allow it.
Geralt: Whereas yours will...
Ciri: Exactly. And if I die in the process -- well, that's a necessary
sacrifice.
We gotta go. / We should go.²
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Geralt: We should go. Got a boat on the beach. Once we land, we'll head for
Kaer Morhen. On horseback.
Ciri: Right. Conventional means of travel. They're just better. Though a
portal would be quicker...
Geralt: And draw Eredin to us immediately. Rather not risk it. Besides, I
hate portals.
Geralt: You were looking for us, we were looking for you... Times I thought you
were just a step away. Other times, I felt like I was going around in
circles...
Ciri: I'm not surprised. There were times I fled pell-mell head first and
forward.
Tell me everything -- step by step.
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Geralt: So tell me how it happened. Step by step.
Ciri: Eredin located us mere moments after we landed on Ard Skellig. Soon
after, he and his riders surrounded us. I thought it was over, the end.
Turned out Eredin had other plans. He produced the phylactery, uncorked
it. A fog enveloped us, and Avallac'h began gasping for air.
Geralt: That's how Eredin cursed Avallac'h, triggered his transformation into
Uma?
Ciri: Yes. He didn't wish to kill him. Humiliation, that's what he was after.
But Avallac'h refused to succumb without a fight. He cast a spell that
wrought havoc in the Hunt's ranks.
Geralt: And in a full half of a forest on Ard Skellig.
Ciri: Yet it also gave us time to flee. Avallac'h opened a portal, I leapt
in. He was supposed to follow, right behind me, but something went
awry. Impaired by the curse, he failed to reach the portal in time. We
had agreed that if anything went wrong and we were separated, we would
meet at his hideout in Velen.
I know. I followed your tracks.
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Geralt: But you failed to meet there...
Ciri: Yes, we failed to. Once through the portal, instead of Avallac'h's
hideout, I landed right in the middle of Crookback Bog. I barely
escaped the Crones. And then there was the baron. You know he took me
hunting? I killed a wild boar with my sword.
Geralt: I heard.
Ciri: A coincidence, really. I had no desire to hunt that day, but it felt
wrong to refuse. I'd taken nothing remotely resembling a hunting
weapon. I simply hadn't intended to hunt. I was wandering through the
forest, breathing deep the air, and then I heard a strange sound,
unsettling.
Geralt: Boar attacked you?
Ciri: Mhm. Big as a bison and lumbering straight at me. All I had was my
sword. Had to manage.
Geralt: Did just fine judging by how the baron's men remember it.
Ciri: Simple soldiers, the whole lot, but we got along splendidly. A shame
I had to leave, flee, but I didn't want to bring the Wild Hunt down on
them. Apart from which, I knew by then the curse was progressing, so
instead of looking for Avallac'h, I decided to find you and Yen.
How'd you meet Whoreson Junior?
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Geralt: So how'd you even meet a man like Whoreson Junior?
Ciri: You and Yennefer were nowhere to be found. And I needed someone who
could fix the phylactery. No ordinary craftsman would do. I needed a
mage, one with extraordinary powers. Dandelion took it upon himself
to help me. It was as if his honor depended on it. He arranged a
meeting with a mage, but it proved a trap set by the Temple Guard.
Geralt: Hm, failed to mention that.
Ciri: Eh, probably didn't want to worry you. Later we learned the Guard did
that sort of thing regularly, in the hope of nabbing anyone who
collaborated with mages. We needed to find another way. That was
clear. The Dandelion said he knew a man who owned a piece of
Novigrad, as he put it, could do more than others. He was certain to
know someone who could fix the phylactery.
Geralt: Whoreson Junior.
Ciri? Mhm. I suspected it might not be the best idea, but I was desperate,
had no choice.
Junior cheated you in the end.
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Geralt: You suspected right. Whoreson was not the ideal partner in crime.
Ciri: Damned simpleton got it in his head that we'd cheated him and
kidnapped Dudu.
Geralt: Who you promptly freed only to have to flee to Temple Isle. Great
idea.
Ciri: We hadn't planned it, had no time to consider. We just bolted. I
didn't even realize the guardsmen were driving me into a trap.
Suddenly, there I was -- and I knew I had to disappear. At once.
You did, and landed in Skellige.
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Geralt: And that's when you landed back in Skellige.
Ciri: The shore of Hindarsfjall -- the first pleasant place that came to
mind. Hjalmar and I used to swim there.
Geralt: Wait, so...you actually wound up there by accident? I thought you
and Avallac'h had arranged something.
Ciri: No, he simply sensed me use my power. Just as Eredin can sense
where I am, where I travel. In fact, Eredin arrived soon after I
did, his riders in tow... Once again, things happened quickly:
Lofoten, the Hunt's attack, my flight... And then...dreams, just
dreams...
I know the rest.
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Geralt: Hmm... Think I know the rest. We should get going.
I know your story. Tell me how you would up here.
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Geralt: How'd you wind up here? What happened?
Ciri: Last I remember, I was on the Skellige shore, arguing with Avallac'h.
He wanted to take me somewhere safe. After that, nothing but dreams.
[Either way:]
What did you dream?
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Geralt: What did you dream? I've had nothing but nightmares lately, pretty
horrible.
Ciri: Likewise, for the most part. In one, a monster grown from a stillborn
child chased you. Ugh, that was horrible... Had a few nice dreams. For
example, in one we sat around a fire, drinking good wine, and all
around people danced and laughed.
Geralt: I like that one a lot better.
Ciri: Me too. But these dreams, and the others, ended in some tower. No
matter what I'd dream, in the end I would enter a tower...
Recognize the place?
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Geralt: Recognize it? Know where it might be?
Ciri: Not sure... I don't think so, but there was something familiar about
it...and something terrifying. The tower was stark and dead, but at
the same time I felt I had to enter it.
Geralt: Did you?
Ciri: No, dreams all ended with me searching for the entrance. And the last
time, instead of the tower, I saw your grizzled face. If not for the
scar over your eye, I'd have thought I was still dreaming.
I was afraid you were dead.
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Geralt: I was afraid you were dead. Found some dwarves here. Said they'd
tried to wake you, but you were cold as ice, and you weren't
breathing.
Ciri: And yet you came in.
Geralt: Who listens to dwarves these days? Speaking of which -- they're
probably getting antsy. We should go.
Geralt: Got a boat on the beach. Once we land, we'll head for Kaer Morhen. On
horseback.
Ciri: Right. Conventional means of travel. They're just better. Though a
portal would be quicker...
Geralt: And draw Eredin to us immediately. Rather not risk it. Besides, I hate
portals.
[They go the beach, finding the dwarves have already casted off in it.]
Geralt: Damn... Listen, we gotta think of a way to...
[He suddenly realizes the air is turning chillier. Strange noises are heard in
the distance as Eredin's ship comes into view.]
Geralt: Get us outta here.
Ciri: They'll know where we've gone, they'll know how to find me!
Geralt: They already do. Ciri, take us home.
[She teleports them out.]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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10) THE BATTLE OF KAER MORHEN [WK11]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[Meanwhile, at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer is impatiently pacing on an upper parapet,
watching for Geralt's return. Vesemir is taking care of the horses, one of
which starts spooking...]
Vesemir: Whoa, now. There, there, it's a-- What the--?
[Geralt and Ciri emerge from a portal. Vesemir and Yen start running over.]
Vesemir: Welcome back, child...
Yennefer: Ah! Ciri! Haha... My, you've grown beautiful.
Vesemir: No point standing around. Come on, time to greet the others.
Ciri: You've not changed a bit. Any of you... All just like I remembered.
[Yen stares at Geralt.]
Geralt: What?
[She gives him a big kiss as Triss runs over. NOTE: This always occurs.]
Triss: Little sis!
Vesemir: They're all here, everyone you asked for help. Avallac'h's resting in
the tower -- still in pretty bad shape. No reason to do it out here.
Come inside.
Hunt'll be here soon.
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Geralt: Time's short. Wild Hunt'll be here soon.
Good to see you again.
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Geralt: Damn, it's good to see you again.
[Depending on who Geralt's romancing, the convo will split.]
• Yennefer: Would you like a moment to yourselves?
Geralt: Sorry, we didn't mean to--
Yennefer: I know. It's a simple question. Do you want some time alone?
No, let's go.²
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Geralt: No...let's go. They're waiting.
Only if you really don't mind...²
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Geralt: Long as you really don't mind...
[Yen gives them privacy.]
Geralt: Seemed to take that pretty well.
Triss: Or wants us to think she did.
Geralt: Haven't been here in a while, have you?
Triss: Too long. How's the guest room? Anything changed?
Geralt: Mhm. The bed...it, uh, broke.
Triss: Not a problem. We'll sleep on the floor. Spread out a hide and...
Yennefer: Ahem.
Geralt: Guess we should go.
• Triss: I-- Maybe I'll give you two a moment.
Yennefer: Triss, please...
Triss: No, no. You must've missed each other terribly. A minute's delay won't
hurt anyone.
No. We'd better all go now.²
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Geralt: No, we should get going. They're waiting for us.
Fine. A minute, then we go.²
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Geralt: Fine. So a minute, then we go, all right?
[Triss gives them some privacy.]
Geralt: Hmph. This is just a little awkward...
Yennefer: Forty-five seconds...
Geralt: Huh?
Yennefer: We've forty-five seconds left. Well, thirty by now. And then we
throw the gauntlet at the Wild Hunt. So I beg you, use these
seconds well.
Geralt: Yen, I adore you.
Yennefer: Hm. No points for creativity. But for your candor... Time to go.
[Geralt follows the sorceresses back to the keep.]
Triss: Yen, you know the Wild Hunt better than anyone else. Tell us about the
magic they use.
Yennefer: Their navigators open portals, rifts that we might counter with
dimeritium or our own magic. They also summon the frost that
occupies the voids through which they travel.
Triss: There's just not enough of us. It'll be a hard fight.
[They pass comrades going about their preparations. Conversations depend on
who Geralt invited. Some conversations may not occur or are superseded if
more allies join up.]
• Geralt: Thanks for coming.
• Hjalmar: We've spent our lives preparin' to face the shadows Morhogg.
Vigi: We slew the giant, we'll slay the wraiths as well.
Folan: Aye!
• Hjalmar: Imagine we'd miss a chance like this? Never!
Vigi: Cryin' shame Folan ain't with us.
• Geralt: Hunt'll be here soon.
Vigi: Tedd Deireadh is upon us. The Final Age, the Time of the End.
• Hjalmar: Damn shame Vigi and Folan aren't here.
• Get ready, Folan. Wild Hunt's near.
Folan: So Ragh nar Roog is upon us.
• Zoltan: Hah! You found her. They told me the Hunt was after her, that those
buggers might burst in uninvited. So I've made a Mahakaman mix. When
this ploughin' blows, it'll be bits and pieces, nothin' more.
Geralt: Bring all your tools with you?
Zoltan: Thought to myself, a battle approaches. Blades'll need honin',
plate'll need some hammerin'. That sort o' thing.
Geralt: Thought right. Thanks, Zoltan.
Zoltan: Plan to top that by brewin' some more Mahakaman mix. Shite's so
volatile, ye need but glance at it to set it off like a flamin'
fart. Very useful durin' sieges.
• Geralt: Huh. You seem to be in a good mood...
Vesemir: If they can bleed, they can die.
• Geralt: Vesemir.
Vesemir: Welcome home.
• Lambert: She's one of us, Geralt. No way we'll let 'em take her.
• Geralt: Eskel.
Eskel: Greetings, Wolf.
===============================================================================
[If Ermion's invited, he and Vesemir will be talking instead. The heirophant
has created a crack in the stone where flammable gas leaks out.]
Vesemir: I certainly hope this gas will work.
Ermion: It shall. We must just ignite it at the right moment.
Vesemir: And that hole...is that there for good?
Ermion: We shall worry about the hole once it is all over. And now, step back,
master witcher. Anair, anadar, vallanda!
Vesemir: Never thought gas could stink so much. We need to warn the others,
make sure no one comes through here with an open flame. What's next?
Ermion: I could use a drink.
Vesemir: So could I. We'll find something after the council.
[Geralt walks over.]
Ermion: Whoever repaired these walls did a shoddy job of it.
Walls aren't exactly our area of expertise.
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Geralt: We're not masons.
Ermion: A shame. We'll not be able to keep the Hunt outside the fortress.
Vesemir: That's no loss. We don't know much about breaking sieges, either.
We'll face them in the courtyard.
We should patch up the holes.
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Geralt: Maybe we can still patch up these holes?
Vesemir: We've got the materials.
Ermion: I can help you if you wish.
Geralt: What about Lambert?</pre><pre id="faqspan-18">
Vesemir: Hm, I know exactly how he'll take to bricklaying.
Why'd you free the gas?
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Geralt: What's the gas for?
Ermion: It's highly flammable. I aim to detonate it, incinerate a few of the
Hunt's riders in the process.
Geralt: Castle walls won't suffer?
Ermion: The fortress walls are in ruin. They cannot be harmed any more than
they already are.
===============================================================================
[If Letho is invited, there'll be a longer scene where the other Wolf School
witchers are unhappy.]
Lambert: Still got time to leave.
Letho: I do, but I don't wanna.
Eskel: Think it over.
Letho: I will. I do my best thinking alone.
Eskel: You should have said no.
Letho: None of your business.
Lambert: Wrong -- it is his and mine. Rather not have you behind our backs
during the battle.
Geralt: What is it now?
Lambert: Why did you even bring him?
I need Letho.
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Geralt: I need Letho.
Eskel: Our opinions count, too.
Geralt: I need anyone who can face the riders of the Hunt in battle. Your
likes and dislikes -- they count for a lot less than that.
Lambert: You're making a mistake.
I'll keep an eye on him.
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Geralt: I'll keep an eye on Letho.
Letho: And I promise to be a good boy.
Lambert: Oh, fuck off.
Eskel: Geralt, this is a problem. Don't dismiss it.
[After:]
Geralt: Big fight ahead of us. How's morale?
Letho: Remember our encounter with them at the Hanged Man's Tree? We'll thrash
'em again this time.
===============================================================================
[If Keira was recruited, he can find one of her illusions in the main hall.]
Geralt: An illusion.
Keira: Greetings, Geralt. If I'm to die today, I wish to look smashing for the
occasion.
Geralt: Getting all gussied up for the Wild Hunt?
Keira: Women only ever beautify themselves for their own satisfaction.
Geralt: Glad you're here.
Keira: It's good to see you again.
Thought you'd arrive earlier.
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Geralt: Expected you earlier.
Keira: I started off heading in the opposite direction, but then turned
around.
Geralt: What made you change your mind?
Keira: There are times when a woman should simply not explain her decision.
That goes doubly for sorceresses.
Make yourself at home.
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Geralt: Won't find too many comforts, but try to feel at home.
===============================================================================
[If Vernon Roche and Ves are recruited:]
Vernon: You're here.
Geralt: Thanks for coming, both.
Ves: No need. By the way, it seems you forgot to invite me.
Vernon: Hold your excuses, Geralt. Ves vented on me all the way here, she's
almost over it. Are we really to be so few?
Yes.
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Geralt: Yes.
Yes, but we'll win.
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Geralt: Quality's what counts, not quantity.
Vernon: A witcher's approach. Works when hunting and fighting beasts, not
necessarily in full-scale battles.
Vernon: I certainly hope you know what you're doing.
Ves: We'll scout around a bit. Need to acquaint myself with the battlefield.
[If Vernon/Ves AND Letho are invited, the intro dialogue changes:]
Geralt: Glad to see you.
Vernon: Hmph. Set out alone, Ves tracked me down. Insisted on coming.
Ves: I ought to give you a hiding for not asking my help. But I took it all out
on Roche along the way.
Letho: Ah, some old friends.
Ves: What's this whoreson doing here?
Geralt: We need him.
Ves: You might've forgotten what he did. I haven't.
You gotta understand him.
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Geralt: Gotta save Ciri -- whatever the cost. And Letho's faced the Hunt
before.
Vernon: I don't question his abilities. I simply don't trust him.
Geralt: Letho won't betray us.
Vernon: You're naïve, always have been. Usually I don't give a shit, but this
time it could kill Ves and me both. Think this through before it's
too late.
I'll keep an eye on him.
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Geralt: I'll keep an eye on Letho.
Letho: And I'll behave, I promise.
Vernon: Watch this murderer, and you won't be watching the enemy. Why is the
kingslayer so important?
Letho: Eredin's a king, ain't he?
Vernon: Fuck you. Both.
I'm in charge here.
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Geralt: I'm in command here. I make the decisions. You both know there're no
debates when you're at war.
Vernon: You know what, Geralt? I've done many things in my life I wish I
hadn't. But I've always respected those who I served, always put my
trust in them. Here, at Kaer Morhen, this will be the first time I do
neither.
Ves: We'll stay and help. But we don't want him at our backs.
[After, Ves may practice archery while Vernon watches.]
Vernon: Elbow higher.
Ves: It's high enough.
Vernon: You drop it a bit every time you release the string. Apart from which,
flaming projectiles require a different trajectory.
===============================================================================
[Later, Geralt finds Vesemir.]
Geralt: Get everybody together. Time to talk.
[The allied forces are assembled in the main hall. Default allies: Yennefer,
Triss, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, Ciri.]
Geralt: Thank you for coming. The Wild Hunt'll be here soon. They're coming
for Ciri, want to take her. We'll stop them.
Lambert: How do you even know the Hunt'll show?
Ciri: They always know where I teleport to, and they move from place to place
in an instant.
Lambert: So what's our plan?
Gotta take the initiative.
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Geralt: Eredin, the King of the Hunt -- he's confident, he'll strike hard,
hoping to defeat us with the force of the blow alone. We've gotta
take the initiative away from him, foil his plan.
Yennefer: I'll generate a magic dome over the fortress. It will scatter them,
force them to land in the woods.
We'll all have a task.
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Geralt: There aren't many of us, but I'd trust any of you with my life. Work
together, and we'll defeat the Hunt. When they attack, Yen'll dome
the fortress with a magic shield. Hunt'll be forced to land outside
the walls.
Lambert: If they're dispersed out in the woods, we could hunt down small groups
of riders.
Geralt: Got our first volunteer for the hunting party. I'm the second.
• Letho: Count me in, too. Always believed attack was the best defense.
Yennefer: The Hunt will try to penetrate into the fortress through navigator
portals. I can do nothing against this kind of magic, so you'll need
to find and close as many as you can while hunting in the woods.
Geralt: Lambert'll make us dimeritium bombs. Remember the formula?
Lambert: Course.
Yennefer: Excellent. Yrden should work on the portals as well. I shall also
give you each an amulet. Snap them in half and you'll become
invisible, at least while you remain still or move slowly. Move
abruptly, engage any foes, clash with them, and they will see you.
Apart from that, they will be able to hear and smell you. If you
come across a large unit, do not attack. Signal Triss, and she will
provide support.
Triss: I'll look for your signal. Soon as I see it, I'll rain fire on the
forest.
Ciri's most important.
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Geralt: Ciri's most important in all of this. The Hunt's after her, and we
have to defend her at all costs.
Ciri: What do I do?
Yennefer: Stay inside the keep. If they break through, come inside, we'll all
converge to help you.
Ciri: Out of the question. I can look after myself.
Vesemir: No one doubts that, child. But remember the most important moment
when hunting a monster?
Ciri: "Wait for an opportunity."
Triss: After the council, I'll give you an amulet. If you use it, a ball of
fire will land where you're standing. Just in case.
We have to work together.
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Geralt: Remember, there's only a few of us. We have to help each other, work
together. If anything goes wrong and the Hunt puts us on the
defensive, we pull back, make a stand at the gates of the fortress.
The inner courtyard is our last line of defense. If we don't stop
them there, we're doomed.
Now for the rest of the plan.
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Geralt: What else do we have that we can use?
• Ermion: Do you know we stand on a vast deposit of gas? If need be, I could
open cracks in the earth, create explosions. I would need to
prepare, though.
• Vernon: Since you plan to ambush the Hunt in the woods, I could dig some
trapping pits. Blue Stripes style.
Vesemir: Meaning?
Ves: Deep as the dark abyss. Bottoms bristling with sharpened stakes.
• Zoltan: I brought this Mahamakam mix -- flammable as bone dry saltpeter and
ploughin' sticks to anythin'. We fill some barrels, stack 'em in a
narrow passage, and fire 'em up at an opportune moment.
Vesemir: There's a laboratory...and the workshop.
Eskel: One thing to remember -- we've got limited resources and even less
time. We oughta decide what kind of weaponry'll be most useful against
the Hunt.
Vesemir: Absolutely. We need to assign one type of weaponry each to the lab
and workshop.
What'll the lab get us?
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Vesemir: I started brewing some potions. Like to finish if you don't mind.
Eskel: I could prepare more of those witchers' traps. But I'd need all the
lab equipment.
Potions'll be the most useful.
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Geralt: Always relied on potions. We should brew as many as possible.
Witchers' traps -- that's the best idea.
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Geralt: There aren't many of us, so we'll need to prepare as many traps as
possible.
• Vesemir: Let's talk about the workshop.
Let's talk about the workshop.
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Geralt: Anyone have any ideas for the workshop?
Vesemir: Been wanting to fix that breach in the wall. But we'll need the
same tools to clear the rubble from the armory.
Geralt: Rubble?
Vesemir: Haven't you heard? Roof caved in a couple years back. There's some
excellent swords in there. Swords we could use.
Lambert: Filling in the breach seems just as important. They come through
there, the siege'll be over awfully quick.
Patch up the wall.
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Geralt: Fixing the breach in the wall's a priority.
Let's clear the armory.
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Geralt: We'll need weapons that can pierce the Hunt's armor. Gotta clear
the armory.
• Vesemir: Let's not forget the laboratory.
Vesemir: We won't have time to do much else. Everything settled?
Yes, let's get to work.
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Geralt: Yes, settled. We don't have much time, so let's get to work.
Like to change something.
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Geralt: Hm. No, we should do it differently.
Vesemir: What do you want to change, Wolf?
About the lab...
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Geralt: We should use the lab differently.
Potions will be the most useful.
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Geralt: We've always relied on potions. Need to brew as many as possible.
That'll take all the equipment we got.
• Vesemir: Let's talk about the workshop.
Witchers' traps -- that's the best idea.
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Geralt: There aren't many of us, so we should prepare as many traps as
possible. Devote all our efforts to that.
About the workshop...
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Geralt: Oughta use the workshop for something else.
Let's fix the wall.
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Geralt: Need to patch the breach in the wall first and foremost. Worth
using the whole workshop to do it well.
Let's clear the armory of rubble.
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Geralt: Gonna need weapons that pierce the Hunt's armor. Let's clear the
rubble out of the armory.
• Vesemir: And the laboratory?
Vesemir: Let's sum up: Yennefer will create a magic barrier to repel the main
assault. That should push the opposing force into the woods.
• Where Lambert and Geralt'll be waiting.
• Where Lambert, Geralt and Letho'll be waiting.
They'll use dimeritium to close the navigator's portals, stop as many
warriors as possible from entering the fortress. Triss'll be waiting
for their signal, then give the riders hell. All others will repel any
foes who make it inside the fortress walls.
Geralt: If anything goes wrong, we abandon the outer courtyard, pull back to
the keep. Remember -- Eredin can't get his hands on Ciri. That's most
important. Let's look at the map of the fortress, figure out the
details.
[A couple hours later...]
Geralt: Can't help feeling we've overlooked something important...
Lambert: Don't think about it.
Preparations coming along?
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Geralt: What's ready?
Lambert: Haven't had much time to prepare, so not much, honestly.
Let's talk about what to expect.
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Geralt: Wanted to talk about what we can expect...
Lambert: Thanks, not interested. You should talk to Ciri -- fine mood she's
in.
• Geralt: I'm exposing you all to danger. Unnecessarily.
Lambert: You worry too much. Wipe that frown off your face. We'll make it.
Geralt: Thanks. For everything.
• Lambert: Your potions.
Geralt: Can't help but worry. We're short on meteorite steel swords.
Lambert: Got enough for everyone. Here, Vesemir dug this up for you.
Gnome-forged blade, cross-guard's elven handiwork. Cuts through
armor like butter.
Geralt: Thanks. For everything.
Lambert: I'll saddle the horses. Come once you're ready to head into the woods.
• Geralt: Takin' Letho with us.
Lambert: You know my opinion.
[If Geralt talks to Ciri:]
Geralt: Got a minute?
Ciri: Oh. Serious talking coming.
Remember, you can't put yourself in danger.
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Geralt: They're after you. No matter what happens, you can't put yourself in
danger.
Ciri: Want me to sit and wait while others risk their lives for me?
Geralt: Listen to me this once -- don't take matters into your own hands.
I won't let them take you.
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Geralt: I won't let them take you, you know that?
Ciri: I know.
Geralt: You gotta keep clear, stay out of trouble.
Ciri: Don't treat me like a child.
Geralt: Didn't even do that when you were one.
Ciri: I like it when you smile. Come here. Everything will be all right.
[Geralt walks outside, seeing his comrades preparing. He's barely into the
courtyard before the sudden chill -- the Hunt's harbinger -- creeps into the
area.]
Lambert: See that?
Geralt: It's starting. Woods! Now!
[On the rooftop, Yennefer uses dual staffs to help create the magical dome,
stopping gale-force winds from ripping through Kaer Morhen's environs. Soon,
the sorceress expands the dome to encompass both the castle and the entire
mountain behind it. The hunting party, now invisible, can see this from the
lower woodland.]
Lambert: Gonna have to thank Yen once this is all over. That spell -- really
something. And the invisibility.
Geralt: Hounds could sniff you out, so don't get too close. And you'll be
visible as soon as you start fighting. Remember that.
• Letho: He always talk this much?
Geralt: Only when he's nervous.
Geralt: Good work with these bombs, by the way.
Lambert: Aim at the portals, be precise. I'm out of dimeritium.
Geralt: Yen mentione casting Yrden at the rifts. Said the sign could seal them.
Lambert: They're here. Time to say hello.
[They can see Hunt soldiers crossing a stream nearby.]
Geralt: Slow down. Element of surprise is key. Stay hidden, give Triss a chance
to show them what she can do. Then we'll hit 'em.
• Letho: Mean to say Merigold can conjure up more than a cloud of butterflies?
Geralt: Lots more. Wait and see.
[They watch as Triss carpet-bombs the interlopers with fiery explosions, one
after another, until all are slain and smoking.]
Lambert: Next time you get the feeling I'm about to piss off Merigold, make
sure and knock me upside the head.
• Letho: Love these moments. The air before a battle -- nothin' smells as
sweet.
[Geralt destroys the first of the targets.]
Geralt: I hate portals.
[They nix the second.]
Geralt: One less to worry about.
[The final one is closed soon after.]
Geralt: Problem solved.
Lambert: Geralt! C'mere! Look! They're regrouping!
Geralt: See the commander? Name's Imlerith. I remember him from back when I
rode with the Hunt.
Lambert: Damn it, spell's waning. We're becoming visible.
• Letho: We gonna try to kill him?
Geralt: Too risky.
Letho: Pansy.
[Geralt fires a flaming crossbow flare to signal Triss, but nothing happens.]
Lambert: What's with Merigold?!
Geralt: Shit.
[Meanwhile, back at Kaer Morhen, Ciri sees the flare's dying breaths. She runs
into Vesemir on the wall.]
Vesemir: You were meant to wait inside!
I must confront them.
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Ciri: I cannot hide forever. I must face them!
Geralt: Back inside, now!
I want to fight, too.
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Ciri: I refuse to sit idle while you risk your lives for me.
Vesemir: Back inside!
Ciri: No! Geralt gave the signal from the woods, and Triss hasn't cast the
spell!
Vesemir: Dammit! All right! Run to her!
[If Zoltan's with, he'll knock a Huntsman off the wall.]
Zoltan: Duvvelsheyss! Ciri! Watch out!
[Ciri finds Triss being swamped by Hunt members at her position.]
Ciri: Hold on, Triss!
Triss: Ciri! Get back to the Keep!
Ciri: No!
Triss: Give Geralt the signal!
[Ciri eliminates the attackers, giving Triss the time she needs.]
Triss: I'm ready!
[Suddenly, a Rider jumps from a portal and disarms Ciri. As he's about to lay
the killing blow, Triss enchants the airborne sword and plunges it right into
his abdomen.]
Ciri: Dammit!
[Meanwhile, Geralt and Lambert were spotted and are fighting off an entire
horde of Hunt swordsmen, with more coming still.]
Lambert: Geralt!
[He forces Geralt to kneel and traps them both in a Quen bubble, just as the
long-awaited fireballs rain down and fry Imlerith's cronies.]
Geralt: Head back!
[The two whistle for their mounts and gallop toward Kaer Morhen.]
Lambert: Yennefer's spell is waning! Blizzard's almost at the fortress! Wonder
if they took him out?
Geralt: Imlerith? Doubt it.
[The witchers finally make it back to the fortress' stable area.]
Vesemir: Large detachment approaching from the woods! We need to close the gate
before they get inside!
[Geralt hastily climbs up the wall and hits the portcullis switch, just in
time to stop the detachment from entering.]
Imlerith: Ladd nahw!
[Lambert is fighting several enemies below.]
Vesemir: Lambert! Don't be a hero! Geralt, go to Lambert! Now!
[If Keira's recruited, she'll save Lambert by levitating all his attackers and
flinging them into the wall at lethal speeds. If she's not with, Geralt, and
Letho if he's recruited, will do it instead.]
• Keira: Azar! Anatha! Vellos!
Lambert: That was amazing. Thanks.
Keira: You'd never have managed without me, would you? Come, now, admit it.
Vesemir: We gotta pull back! Yennefer's strength is waning!
[The two flee to the second courtyard.]
Vesemir: Heads up!
[He fire a ballista bolt, collapsing the entrance on the pursuers.]
• Vernon: Plough it! Not a second too soon!
Geralt: Get back to your position!
Ves: Zoltan sends his regards, you bastards!
Vesemir: Fall back! Through the gate, into the courtyard! Check the passage to
the courtyard!
[They find the innermost courtyard's doors shut fast.]
Geralt: Where's Eskel?
Vesemir: Dammit. We agreed he'd open that gate.
Geralt: Hasn't done it yet, means...
Vesemir: He'll be fine. We've got Triss to worry about now.
[The three run to Triss' position, where she's burning Hunt attackers alive.]
Triss: Just in time!
[They slay the wave of frigid intruders.]
Geralt: Everything all right?
Triss: Yes, thanks. Things were looking shaky.
Vesemir: We had to fall back. They tried to get in through the main gate. I'm
afraid they could succeed next time.
[They spot Ciri watching them from the upper parapet.]
Triss: What's with Eskel? We have to retreat!
Ciri: He's in trouble! I'm going to help him!
Triss: Remember the stone I gave you!
[The Wild Hunt's Navigator, Caranthir, and some men appear from a portal right
in Eskel's courtyard. The veteran witcher holds his own somewhat, but can't
do much against area-of-effect magic and Caranthir's teleportation. Ciri goes
to his rescue, using her own teleportation and slashes to draw blood.]
Ciri: See? I can do it, too.
[A guttural noise, like a large foghorn, rings out, drawing the attention of
Caranthir and the cronies. The navigator teleports away soon after, giving
extra time for Eskel to recover. Together, they both start eliminating the
foot soldiers.]
Eskel: I'll take these!
[The spill the remaining enemies' blood.]
Eskel: Should've stayed in the keep, sat your ass down like you were supposed
to.
Ciri: Hmph. Who would've saved yours, then?
[They kill another wave.]
Eskel: Thank you!
Ciri: We have to open the gate for them!
[Triss' party outside sees the good tidings.]
Vesemir: Eskel's opened the gate! We can retreat beyond it!
Geralt: Fall back!
[He sees Ciri at the gate's controls.]
Geralt: You're not supposed to be out here!
Ciri: Too late now.
Eskel: They're coming in through the gaps!
Vesemir: Dimeritium bombs. You'll find more in the crates by the walls.
Geralt: We gotta close the portals! If we don't, we die!
Eskel: Geralt! They're coming in through Savolla's breach!
• Eskel: The wall stopped 'em!
• Eskel: Damn the dogs! We should've patched up that wall!
• Ermion: Geralt, hold them back! I must form a Circle of Vitality!
[Geralt quickly closes all the nearby portals.]
Triss: Geralt! I can't hold them any longer! They're swarming the yard by the
main gate!
Geralt: On my way!
Lambert: Bastard wants to break through! Get inside!
[Just as they go to the main gates, Yennefer collapses on the roof, and her
barrier along with her. Vesemir dives to get Ciri out of the frosty shockwave
that freezes Geralt, Triss, Eskel and Lambert in place. Caranthir and his
cronies stream through the broken gate.]
Vesemir: Come!
[The old witcher takes Ciri to a deserted spot nearby.]
Ciri: Geralt... Where is he...? We must--
[Imlerith appears out of nowhere and knocks Vesemir aside with his gigantic
shield. As Ciri's attention is focused, Eredin appears behind her, grabbing
her hair.]
Eredin: You can't escape me this time!
Ciri: Aaaargh!
[As Eredin drags Ciri toward a portal, Vesemir's wily tactics knock Imlerith
to the ground. Eredin is mostly unprepared, and gets slashed across his back
for the trouble. When Imlerith approaches, Vesemir blows Ciri away from him
with Aard. Ciri gets up, finding her position completely surrounded, and her
"uncle" captured by Imlerith.]
Eredin: Imlerith!
Vesemir: Run!
[Imlerith raises Vesemir up by his throat.]
Eredin: She'll not abandon you. You humans are so...impractical.
[Eredin extends his hand, the implication being Vesemir will live if she goes
with him.]
Vesemir: Ciri! No!
[She throws down her sword.]
Vesemir: Aargh! I forbid you! You always were an unruly child. I adored that
about you.
[Vesemir takes a dagger from his belt and stabs Imlerith in the gut.]
Vesemir: Now fly.
[An angered Imlerith snaps Vesemir's neck, killing him.]
Ciri: Nooooooooooooooo!
[The sight of her dead teacher and imminent capture causes her powers to run
wild. Her screaming causes time-space distortions, easily killing the lackeys
and causing the big names to clutch their heads in pain. Eredin dares approach
her in the state, and has to be dragged into a portal before her disruptions
kill him. Even with the enemy gone, the portal made from her anguish continues
stripping and drawing in planks, rocks and other loose items. Eskel, still
frozen, even loses an ear. The intense noise draws Avallac'h to the balcony
above her.]
Avallac'h: Gvaed, gvaed uncym, cym'morth!
[His magic closes the portal; Ciri falls over unconscious. Soon after, those
frozen by the sudden frost thaw out, finding the battle's ended and the Hunt
already gone. Geralt finds Yen and Ciri by Vesemir's body in the courtyard
nearby. Geralt puts the old witcher's missing sword back in its holster.]
Ciri: I...I was too late...to help him.
Geralt: It's not your fault.
Ciri: I should not have fled here to Kaer Morhen.
Yennefer: Avallac'h is weak, but alive. Triss is tending to the others.
Ciri: I nearly killed you... Killed everyone...
There's no blame, just grief.
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Geralt: I can't cry, don't know how...
You saved us.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We'd all be dead if not for you.
Ciri: No, Geralt. The Hunt would never have come to Kaer Morhen if I wasn't
here.
Geralt: Vesemir's funeral -- we should prepare.
_______________________________________________________________________________
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12) BLOOD ON THE BATTLEFIELD [WK12]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[At midnight, all the surviving allies go to the Vesemir's mountain pyre. The
White Wolf finally lights the thing, then goes to stand by Ciri.]
Geralt: Don't blame yourself. No witcher's ever died in his own bed.
Ciri: You don't know how it is. To see someone you love die...because of you,
for you.
Geralt: We all knew what we were signing up for.
Ciri: Yes, and you saved me. For how long? A week? A month?
Geralt: We'll hide you, cover your tracks...
Ciri: No. I will flee no more.
[She takes Vesemir's medallion on the edge of the pyre. The elf approaches
Geralt afterward.]
Avallac'h: Va fail. For those who remain, death should never take precedence
over life. Pay your last respects to your friend. Then we must hold
council.
[Avallac'h leaves. Geralt can talk to the other allies to get their thoughts.
If Geralt recruited no allies, only his fellow witchers will remain.]
===============================================================================
[If Geralt interacts with the pyre:]
Geralt: I'll remember your teachings always. And the sacrifice you made.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talk to Ermion:]
Geralt: Thank you.
Ermion: Please. She was my ward, too. And the old should only ever stick around
to help the young. You know this hardly ends your struggle?
Geralt: I know.
Ermion: Whatever you aim to do now, remember you'll always find souls willing
to aid you in Skellige. Myself, Crach, his children...
Don't know what to do next.
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Geralt: Don't really know what I'll do next.
Ermion: When doubt plagues your mind, follow your instincts. Should they
steer you wrong and land you in muck, you'll land at peace with
yourself. And that's most important.
Geralt: Good advice.
Ermion: Bah! 'Course it is! I am a hierophant, aren't I? I must pick a
course for home soon. Take care of yourself, and Ciri.
Geralt: Thanks again, for everything.
I'll remember that.
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Geralt: Thanks, I'll remember that.
Ermion: I shall take another look at the wounded, but I'll need to go soon.
I'll leave you some medicines.
Geralt: Go in health, Ermion.
Ermion: Till we meet again.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Hjalmar:]
Hjalmar: There y'are. Cryin' shame about Vesemir. I'm sorry.
Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Hjalmar: I'd a debt to pay.
Straight back to Skellige?
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Geralt: Heading straight back to Skellige?
• Hjalmar: Wouldn't be right to tarry -- war with the Black Ones won't wait.
You can count on me, you know? Always.
Geralt: I know. Thanks.
• Hjalmar: Duty calls. But listen, Geralt, you've a king for a mate. Rare's
the man who can claim that. If you, or Ciri, or you and Ciri...if
yous ever need help, the gates of Kaer Trolde stand open.
Geralt: Thanks, I'll remember that.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So long, Hjalmar.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Eskel:]
Geralt: What's on your mind?
Eskel: Kaer Morhen. Can't imagine this place without Vesemir. I'll head down to
the valley soon. Then find somewhere else to winter next year.
Stay.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Come on. It's the only home we've ever had. Stay.
Eskel: No, Geralt. Place has been dying a while now. Last nail in the coffin
today. Time we accepted that.
I understand.
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Geralt: I get you.
Eskel: Try my luck in Lormark. There's always work where there's war. After
that, we'll see.
Geralt: Till next time.
Eskel: See you, Wolf.
===============================================================================
[Lambert has a special solo conversation only if Keira isn't recruited:]
Geralt: How are you feeling?
Lambert: Please.
Geralt: Thanks for everything.
Lambert: Sure.
Rest up, get well.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Get your health back.
Lambert: Leave me alone.
Something wrong?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's eating you?
Lambert: Do you seriously not know? Get lost. I'm done with this idiotic
conversation.
[If Keira's recruited, she and Lambert's conversation will overlap.]
Geralt: Thanks for everything you did for me and Ciri.
Keira: May I be honest? Had I known what would happen here, I'd never have come
anywhere near Kaer Morhen. I'm glad I could help, but I shall leave as
soon as Lambert feels better.
Going together?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You going together?
Keira: I've an idea, but I need a witcher to help me see it through. Lambert
has agreed to assist me.
Geralt: Hm. Good luck. And thanks again.
Keira: We're even now.
Happy trails.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take care of yourselves. And thanks again for everything.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to the ex-Blue Stripes:]
Geralt: So? Tell me.
Vernon: I can say I've seen it all now.
Ves: I still don't believe everything that happened.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for coming. Thanks for risking your lives for me.
Ves: Take care of the girl. Don't let anyone harm her.
How can I thank you?
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Geralt: Risked your lives for me. How can I repay you?
Vernon: We'll think of something, right?
Ves: Definitely.
Geralt: What will you do?
Vernon: We're bound for Novigrad, to fight the next fight.
Ves: If you miss us, look for us at the camp.
===============================================================================
[If he talks to Letho:]
Geralt: That was tough.
Letho: We managed.
Geralt: Thanks for helping.
Letho: You're welcome.
Wanna stay at Kaer Morhen?
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Geralt: Would you consider staying at Kaer Morhen?
Letho: It'd be nice. At least for a while, till I figure out what's next.
Geralt: Agreed. Do it.
What will you do?
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Geralt: What will you do now?
Letho: Probably head east, cross the mountains. After that? We'll see.
Geralt: Farewell.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Zoltan:]
Zoltan: Come to see how I'm feelin'? Thanks, not bad.
Geralt: That's good.
Zoltan: Argh, son, horrible about Vesemir. I know you were close.
Geralt: Thanks. We were.
Zoltan: Listen, far be it from me to stick my beard where it'll scratch no
itch, so don't take this the wrong way. I want to help, whatever you
decide. But to my mind, we've got to counterattack. We've got to find
the Hunt, Eredin, and charge 'em both like a bull at a heifer.
Not that simple.
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Geralt: Not that simple, unfortunately. We have no way of finding them, they
find us easily. Can take us by surprise whenever they want.
Too few of us.
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Geralt: There aren't enough of us. Sure, we repelled the Hunt's assault, but
that was a miracle, plain and simple. Won't be so lucky next time.
Zoltan: Forgive me, Geralt, but that's the blatherin' of a man who clearly
can't snap out of it after a tragic loss. Drink it off, sleep it off,
whatever it takes... Just get yourself together and think things
through.
Geralt: I'll do that, Zoltan.
===============================================================================
[Geralt eventually walks back toward Kaer Morhen. He finds the elven Sage in a
conversation with the sorceresses.]
Avallac'h: Zireael can harness immense amounts of the Power. Why has no one
taught her to control this?
Yennefer: Actually, some did teach her.
Avallac'h: Clearly to no effect.
Yennefer: I'll gladly argue you about this -- some other time.
[Geralt walks over.]
Geralt: Haven't had a chance to talk. Thanks for your help. And for looking
after Ciri.
Avallac'h: You will thank me later. Now, we must take Zireael away from here,
hide her. And then gather a greater force.
Triss: Anyone, everyone we could count on came here to Kaer Morhen.
Yennefer: Which is why we must seek the help of enemies. Magic is our best
defense against the Hunt. We need sorceresses. Archmistresses of
magic.
Triss: You mean the Lodge?
I don't wanna involve the Lodge.
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Geralt: I don't want the Lodge anywhere near Ciri. Just don't trust those
women.
Yennefer: What would you have us do instead? Fight alone, and die a beautiful
but pointless death? No, Geralt. By some miracle, we survived that
fight, eking out a measly victory at enormous cost. No more
guerilla warfare -- time to face the enemy in open battle.
Doesn't look like we have a choice.
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Geralt: Don't trust the Lodge one bit, but doesn't seem like we have a
choice.
Yennefer: Because we don't.
The Lodge is in shambles.
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Geralt: Many of the Lodge's members are dead, the rest are in hiding.
Yennefer: Philippa Eilhart, Margarita Laux-Antille and Fringilla Vigo are
likely still alive.
Triss: And Francesca and Ida? Think they'd agree?
Yennefer: I think they'll take convincing. Would you rather speak to Keira
alone?
Triss: That would probably be best.
Yennefer: I've made an agreement with the emperor. In exchange for its help,
the Lodge will be granted amnesty and find asylum in Nilfgaard. That
will be our bargaining chip. Triss, I wish to leave today to find the
sorceresses. Will you help me?
Triss: Of course. Even got an idea where you could start.
Ciri: Dammit! Again you plan without even asking what I think! I've had enough
of this! I won't be taken somewhere like a...bundle! I will not sit and
twiddle my thumbs! I'm sick of waiting, sick of hiding!
Gotta protect you.
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Geralt: You can't expose yourself.
Ciri: Am I a banner to be held aloft and kept from the enemy? That's how you
treat me. None of you has the courage to face this threat! Yet we must
kill them, or sooner or later we will all die.
You're right.
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Geralt: You're right. Proved today you can take care of yourself.
Avallac'h: Easier to pat someone on the back and hope things will work out
than it is to face the truth.
Avallac'h: Zireael possesses a great power she cannot control. She is a danger
-- to herself, to others. Until she learns to control it, she should
remain isolated.
Ciri: First of all -- bollocks. Second -- if you're going to speak of courage,
at least address me directly, and not through Geralt. I'm gone.
[Ciri storms off.]
I'll go after her.
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Geralt: Better go after her.
Avallac'h: Wait, she needs time. We must let her resolve her grief on her
own. Then we should start training as soon as possible.
Let her go.
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Geralt: Ciri needs time.
Avallac'h: True. But she also needs training.
Avallac'h: She must learn to control her abilities.
Geralt: This training really necessary?
Yennefer: You saw what happened. She could be a greater threat than the Hunt.
Geralt: Fine. We'll stay here a while longer. Then join you and Triss in
Novigrad. Meet at Dandelion's inn.
Triss: Come on, Yen. The sooner we leave, the better.
Geralt: See you.
[The sorceresses leave for Novigrad. A few days later, Geralt is sitting out
in the courtyard, sharpening his blade, when he sees Ciri and Avallac'h argue
about training.]
Ciri: Da-hah! It's not working, don't you see?!
Avallac'h: Discouraged after a mere eight attempts? Zireael...
Ciri: How many times must I try?
Avallac'h: As many as it takes.
Ciri: But I'm not getting anywhere.
Avallac'h: We shall return to this later.
[He leaves.]
Geralt: Didn't make it far first time out on the Gauntlet, either.
Ciri: Geralt, please. Not now. By comparison, the Gauntlet was a walk in the
park. But that's not the point.
Geralt: What is?
Ciri: Avallac'h says nothing will come of this until I stop thinking about the
battle. But at the moment I find it impossible to fill my head with
kittens and vanilla pudding. Tell me... How do you do it?
Geralt: What?
Ciri: Always manage to pull yourself together, focus, no matter what's
happening?
Relax. You don't have to be good at everything.
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Geralt: Hmm, don't know about vanilla pudding. Could work, but nothing picks
me up like Lambert's famous homebrew.
Ciri: Suppose it can't kill me... Might as well try.
Think I know what might lift your spirits.
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Geralt: Hmm, there's a certain ancient method. Vesemir taught it to me, and
Barmin taught it to him.
Ciri: Will you take me into the mountains and make me drink hemlock?
Geralt: The Skellige druids have used it for centuries. It always works...
[He throws snow in her face.]
Ciri: Heeeeeey! You'll regret that!
===============================================================================
[If they decide to drink together...]
Ciri: Whew, that's strong.
Geralt: Maybe you oughta try a different method.
Ciri: We've tried at least twenty.
Geralt: Wouldn't let it worry you... Not like you need to excel at everything.
You're great with a sword, an excellent archer... Leave the magic to
mages.
Ciri: Yeah... Pour me another.
===============================================================================
[If they have a snowball fight, she starts teleporting.]
Geralt: Hey! That's cheating!
Ciri: Wimp!
Geralt: We'll see about that!
Ciri: Haha! Come and get me!
[If Geralt's hit by a snowball:]
• You'll regret that!
• Oof! Good shot!
• Done playing nice!
[If Ciri's hit by a snowball:]
• Hey! That's cheating!
• Hahaha! Oh, I will thrash you!
• Oh, you're in for it now!
[After the snowball fight:]
• Ciri: Hahaha!
• Ciri: Ha-ha! Geralt of Rivia defeated! Need to work on those dodges.
Geralt: Sure I didn't let you win?
Ciri: Sure you're not smarting from a defeat by a true maestro? Heheh.
Ciri: You were right. That really works! Thanks.
Geralt: Glad to be of service. So what now?
Ciri: I'll go see where our dearest Sage is...
===============================================================================
[The next morning, he finds Ciri whispering to him by his bedside.]
Ciri: Geralt! Geeeraaalt! Wake up!
Geralt: Wha...what? What's happening?
Ciri: Get up, we must go. I've saddled the horses.
Geralt: Ciri, it's the crack of dawn. Where do you wanna go?
Ciri: To Velen. Bald Mountain. But a few days till the witches' sabbath. And
guess who's the guest of honor.
Enlighten me.
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Geralt: Dunno, enlighten me.
Ciri: Imlerith. We'll have no better chance to get him.
Don't care.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't know and don't really care, to tell you the truth. After this
training with Avallac'h, we were gonna ride to Novigrad. Remember?
Ciri: Change of plans. Imlerith will be at the sabbath. We'll get him there.
Geralt: Where'd you get this idea? What's gotten into you?
Ciri: I must avenge Vesemir. The sabbath -- it's the perfect opportunity.
Imlerith will be drunk, among cohorts, caught up in the revelry. He'll
not expect the blow.
Know what you're doing?
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Geralt: Ciri... Sure you know what you're getting into?
Ciri: Yes. And I must do this.
What's Avallac'h say?
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Geralt: Why do I doubt Avallac'h's a fan of this idea?
Ciri: Do you see him here? I left him a letter, we'll rejoin him in Novigrad.
How'd you learn about the sabbath?
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Geralt: How'd you learn all this? Imlerith, the sabbath...
Ciri: Avallac'h. He told me of those who chase us. Claims knowledge itself
can tip the scales.
Ciri: Come, we shall talk on the way.
Gotta visit the emperor first.
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Geralt: Wait, something I gotta tell you before we go. You know the emperor
really wanted you found?
Ciri: Yennefer...mentioned something.
Geralt: Wanted you to visit him.
Ciri: Why would you tell me now?
Geralt: Cause¹ this could be your last chance to see your...father.
Ciri: Think I should go?
Yeah, you should.
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Geralt: Probably just wants to talk.
Ciri: How can you be sure? What if he wants something more?
Geralt: Promised me he wouldn't force you to do anything.
Ciri: So I should go?
Geralt: He is your father...
Ciri: Vizima is on the way... I suppose we can drop in.
Wouldn't if I were you.
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Geralt: Ahh. You don't look good in black.
Ciri: What do you mean?
Geralt: Think he wants to meet you because he missed you? As I see it, he's
got plans for you.
Ciri: Ugh. Might've expected it... Geralt, I'm fed up. I won't have others
deciding for me behind my back. We ride for Velen.
Gotta make your own decision.
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Geralt: Oughta decide for yourself.
Ciri: But I want your opinion -- should I go or not?
All right, Velen it is.
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Geralt: Lead on.
[They hurry to the stables.]
Ciri: Ready?
Geralt: Let's go.
[If Geralt convinced Ciri to see Emhyr, there's an extra scene before the next
mission begins. They meet with the emperor in the garden sitting area.]
Mererid: Your Imperial Majesty, Geralt of Rivia and...
Emhyr: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Queen of Cintra, Princess of Brugge and
Duchess of Sodden, heiress to Inis Ard Skellig and Inis An Skellig, and
suzeraine of Attre and Abb Yarra.
[The nobles with him kneel upon hearing her lofty title.]
Emhyr: Get used to it. Before long every soul from Nilfgaard to the Dragon
Mountains will kneel before you. I did not expect you to keep your word,
witcher.
I always keep my word.
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Geralt: I always keep my word.
Emhyr: As do I.
We're here thanks to Ciri.
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Geralt: Ciri wanted to hear what you have to say.
Emhyr: And she will.
Emhyr: Your reward.
[A chamberlain returns with a wooden urn, presumably filled with gold.]
Thanks. Definitely need it more than you do.
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Geralt: Thanks.
Ciri: Geralt...
Chamberlain: Ten... Twenty... Thirty... Forty... Fifty... Sixty... Seventy...
Eighty... Ninety... ...and that makes an even one hundred. That
is all of it. Initial here, please.
Didn't do this for the coin.
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Geralt: Didn't come to collect on a deal. You asked me to bring your daughter
here. I did just that.
Geralt: Ciri will hear you out. Then we leave.
Emhyr: Are you sure? Never again would you need to stalk monsters while wading
through sewage.
Geralt: I'm sure.
Emhyr: I understand. Honor prevents you from accepting coin. In that case, a
stallion, a thoroughbred Nilfgaardian, awaits you in the stables. Treat
it as an expression of my gratitude.
Geralt: Thank you.
Emhyr: Now forgive me. I wish to speak to my daughter.
Mererid: Follow me, sir.
[Geralt leaves the two alone and waits in the palace's main hall. His old bud
Voorhis approaches.]
Morvran: White Wolf! Good to see you!
Geralt: Greetings, General.
Morvran: You had no trouble crossing the Pontar, I trust?
Geralt: None.
Morvran: I take it you crossed via the ford at Ban Gleán. It's fortunate you
did not choose to ride through Rinde. A troubled region, still.
Radovid seeks to branch the front in the west. But he'll not succeed.
Not before the princess becomes empress and we bring order to the
area.
Yeah, pretty clear it's a done deal.
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Geralt: Of course.
Morvran: While we're on the subject, how is our future ruler? Must admit I'm
curious how she'll react when she hears the throne will be hers. I
venture to say she'll be delighted...
Geralt: You never know...
Can't be sure Ciri'll agree to that.
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Geralt: Ciri hasn't agreed to that yet.
Morvran: Yes, of course, she's tactful, not one to celebrate an offer not yet
made... But this is not the kind of offer one refuses.
Of course it's not.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Indeed.
Isn't it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Isn't it?
Morvran: Do you know any who would not like to be emperor of Nilfgaard?
Morvran: Can you imagine? I thought only the wine-addled minds of bards and
poets could give birth to such stories. The prodigal daughter of the
most powerful ruler in the Continent's history returns, on the eve of
his final triumph, to embrace her inheritance. Simpletons adore such
stories -- as they do the princesses, ever beautiful and delicate,
who are their--
[Ciri emerges after her talk.]
Ciri: Geralt! We're leaving!
Morvran: So nice to see you, my lady.
Ciri: Likewise. Time we were on our way.
Morvran: A shame you can't stay. I hope to continue this on another occasion.
Ciri: That makes one of us.
[They walk away.]
Geralt: Well?
Ciri: If he thinks he can buy me, he is sorely mistaken.
• Geralt: He offer anything specific?
Ciri: Yes, very specific. And thoroughly absurd. Sorry. I don't want to talk
about it. Not now, at least.
Geralt: Won't pressure you. When you're ready. Let's go.
• Ciri: By the way, that spectacle with the coin -- what was that?
Geralt: Emperor's got lots. Couldn't see why he shouldn't share some with
us.
Ciri: Is that what this was about -- from the start?
Geralt: No. It's always been about you. Only you.
Ciri: It sure seemed like it was about the coin in there.
Geralt: Ciri, I...
Ciri: If it wasn't, you shouldn't have accepted it. Say no more. I'll be
over it by the time we reach Velen.
[They leave the castle.]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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13) BALD MOUNTAIN [WK13]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[Five days later, the duo is seen rowing toward Bald Mountain, a massive peak
in the southern reaches, notable for the mammoth tree on its summit. Finally,
they disembark at the base's village.]
Ciri: The men at Crow's Perch, they spoke of this place. Aard Cerbin. Home of
the Ladies of the Wood. The peasants feared coming here. And the baron
thought the Ladies of the Wood a terrifying tale for naughty children.
Incidentally, I wonder how the baron is.
• Geralt: Hanged himself after his wife died. Daughter's in Novigrad.
• Geralt: He found his wife, took her away, somewhere far. Anna...she was
unwell.
• Geralt: Ventured into the swamp to look for his wife. No idea if he ever
found her.
Ciri: A true shame.
[Either way:]
Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's get this done.
Ciri: We must reach the peak, we'll find Imlerith there.
</pre><pre id="faqspan-19">
You actually know Imlerith will be here? How?
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Geralt: We stand to find Imlerith here? You sure?
Ciri: Avallac'h told me of beings who commune with the Aen Elle elves. They
can be found in every part of our world. In Velen, the Crones do this.
Apparently, Imlerith came here at Eredin's behest, to order the Crones
to keep their eyes open and ears pricked. In case Avallac'h were to
seek shelter in his Velen hideout.
Geralt: Took the order literally judging by all the ears hanging in the
woods. Think Imlerith might still be here?
Ciri: He craves the pleasures of the flesh -- wine, sex... The Crones indulge
him, flatter his ego. I'm certain he'd not let this opportunity pass,
and will be on Bald Mountain for the Sabbath.
Familiar with this place?
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Geralt: You actually know this area?
Ciri: Centuries ago it was a hallowed site for druids. But then the Crones
arrived -- destroyed the Velen Circle and deformed the sacred oak atop
the mountain. An important feast is observed here annually. The
Sabbath, they call it -- all the local folk attend. I suspect Imlerith
attends, too -- as the Crones' guest.
Geralt: Seems to know it well.
Ciri: Avallac'h's a good tutor.
Ciri: The peasant folk of Velen call this night the Feast of Gifts. I've no
idea why. Avallac'h claims vanity is Imlerith's greatest weakness.
Geralt: Vanity?
Ciri: Any foe he faces, he strives to impress. The other one, Caranthir, is
said to be secretive and pragmatic. Hardly surprising given he was
Avallac'h's student.
[They approach the entrance to the revel.]
Guard: Should I shoot?
Man: Nay, the White One once served the Ladies.
Guard: But...he's an outsider!
Man: Let him approach.
Guard: But...
Man: They've come for the feast. Wouldn't do to cast them out.
Geralt: Didn't come to celebrate. We need to get to the top of the mountain.
Man: The gate is shut -- you'll not pass. But we've fires down thataway, with
food and drink aplenty. Sit down beside one and perhaps this year the
Ladies will descend, give us the privilege of seein' 'em.
We'll sit down by a fire.
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Geralt: We thank you for the invitation. Be glad to sit down, right?
Ciri: Speak for yourself.
Man: Come with me.
Time we were on our way.
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Geralt: We won't join you at your fires, though we thank you for the
invitation. Time we were on our way.
Man: You wish to see the Ladies. I, too, hope to, afore I die. Go up the
mountain and face old Thecla. She'll decide if you're worthy.
Geralt: Do just that. Farewell.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt decides to sit by the fire with the man (Stregomir) and Ciri:]
We should go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We should be going.
Man: Eager to see the Ladies. I share your yearnin'.
Ciri: We're afire with yearning. Come, Geralt, we must get there before
daybreak.
Man: Go to the tent and stand before Thecla. She's the one who decides who's
worthy to face the Ladies.
What's the feast celebrate?
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Geralt: This celebration -- what's it about?
Guard: Why d'ye need to know, wanderer?
Man: No need for anger. The White One served the Ladies, as we do now. We
send 'em gifts all year long, and on this night they repay us with their
blessing.
Ciri: I met one of your gifts to the Crones -- sniveling, scared to death,
and about eight years old.
Geralt: Stay calm.
Why do the Ladies need your children?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your children -- why do the Ladies need them?
Man: We know not and never ask.
Ciri: You don't know? Then let me tell you.
Man: Tell us instead what a peasant, his own young 'uns starvin', is to do
with a wanderin' war orphan? You're not from here. Don't judge us by
others' laws.
The Ladies' blessing -- what's that about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Said the Ladies bestow blessings on you...
Man: Aye, for our lives turn thus -- first a summer of laborin' 'neath the
hot sun, then autumn rains, then a winter of death. Then we await
spring, when all that is dead is born anew. And from our blood and
sweat the oak bears acorns -- atimes few, atimes a handful.
Geralt: What do you do with the acorns?
Man: The Velen elders gather, hold council. Some favor grindin' 'em to
spread on the fields for a rich harvest. Others want 'em given to a
cunning woman, who'd make medicine for consumption.
Ciri: A handful of enchanted acorns is enough for all Velen?
Man: Tis¹ never enough.
Changing topics...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Heard enough about this. We've got other questions.
This gate -- why can't we get past it?
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Geralt: Mentioned a gate. Said we wouldn't pass.
Man: Only the Chosen visit the Ladies. Every year young lads and lasses climb
the mount, but never more than three.
Geralt: Let me guess -- the young lads and lasses don't return.
Man: No, they return, happy and radiant. But rare is the one who then stays
in Velen. Off they go to seek fortune in the wider world.
The Ladies descend to you? What then?
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Geralt: Ladies of the Wood visit you?
Man: If they favor us. My father told me they descended once, passed from
fire to fire, listenin' to hopes and grievances. So each year we wait
for them to walk amongst us once more.
Geralt: Haven't done it in a long time, then.
Ciri: No point waiting to see if we'll get lucky.
Geralt: Yeah, we gotta try to reach the peak.
===============================================================================
[Geralt and Ciri head toward Thecla's tent. Ciri catches sight of a kid. If
Sarah from "Novigrad Dreaming" was evicted, she'll be here, too.]
• Ciri: Look -- a child.
Geralt: No -- a godling. I know him. Name's Johnny.
• Ciri: Look over there -- children.
Geralt: Both godlings. Ran into them before.
[Geralt narrates a godling "quest end" here if Sarah's with:]
Geralt: They say ghosts are manifestations of inner fears. Hauntings are said
to be longing and loneliness, grown to vast proportions. There's no
truth to that. It is true, however, that monsters can be as lonely as
humans...and that to conquer one's loneliness one must first conquer
one's fears. Some manage to do just that.
[They go over to Johnny and/or Sarah.]
• Johnny: Well I'll be, you're back! And I see you've found your lass! I'm
Johnny -- we've had the pleasure already, a bit one-sided though it
was. See, I saw you runnin', your back to me, as it was, heh, havin'
the pleasure of... 'Tis a long story.
Ciri: They call me Ciri. Nice to meet you.
Geralt: How're things, Johnny?
Johnny: Health's good, so no complaints. What brings you here?
• Johnny: He the one who kicked you out of your house?
Sarah: Yes.
Johnny: Well, I must have a word with 'im.
Sarah: Don't hurt 'im!
Johnny: Who do you think you are? Kickin' Sarah outta her home! How could
you?
Geralt: Wasn't her home, and besides--
Sarah: Please, it worked out in the end. If I'd not left Novigrad, I'd never
'ave met Johnny.
Johnny: Fine, I'll let you off this time. See you found your lass. So what
brings you here?
Looking for a path to the summit.
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Geralt: We gotta climb the mountain. Can you help?
Johnny: I'd rather try to dissuade you, but I'm certain that would be in
vain. The lass -- she as stubborn as you?
Ciri: Even more so.
Johnny: Figured as much. Sigh¹. Path to the peak starts here, past the gate.
But only old Thecla's got the key, so since you shan't ever get it,
you'd best turn back now.
Looking for a path up the mountain.²
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Geralt: We're heading up the mountain. Any advice?
Sarah: Yeah -- don't do it. Johnny says the Crones aren't to be fooled with.
Johnny: You've barely found your lass. Didn't find her just to lose her now,
did you?
Ciri: We'll be fine.
Johnny: Do as you will. Path up the mountain starts t'other side of the gate,
so you'll need the key. Old Thecla only gives it to those she deems
worthy of the Ladies' presence.
We gotta try.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta get to the summit. Simple as that.
Johnny: It's Thecla you'll need to convince. She's blind as your bum, but
she won't be fooled.
Ciri: We shan't try to trick her.
Johnny: She sits in that tent over yonder. I wish you luck and do hope we
meet again...someday.
Thanks for the advice. Let's go.²
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Geralt: Thanks for the advice. We should go.
Sarah: Good luck.
Johnny: Visit us sometime. We've a place not far from here.
Ciri: We'll be certain to stop by. So long.
Why won't we get the key?
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Geralt: The key -- why do you doubt we can get it?
Johnny: Good grief, you're worse than children! Three souls are allowed atop
the mountain -- and only strapping young lads or comely lasses among
them. They get the key, open the gate and meet the Ladies.
Ciri: I believe I qualify.
Johnny: But he's old and ugly. What good is he?
Geralt: Pretty damn good at finding lost voices.
Johnny: Then go find the voice of reason. It'll tell you to turn back.
There's no foolin' with the Ladies.
The key -- what's that about?²
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Geralt: Gate's locked? Why?
Johnny: Good grief, worse than children, these two. Durin' each Sabbath the
Crones demand to meet three beautiful youngsters. Old Thecla picks
'em and gives 'em the key to the gate.
Sarah: She's young and beautiful.
Johnny: But he's sure not.
Geralt: Let us worry about Thecla.
Johnny: Don't lie to her, she'll sniff it out at once. If she refuses to
help, you must tell her you wish to undergo the trial.
Ciri: The trial?
Johnny: Uh, Thecla will explain.
The Crones got any guests?
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Geralt: We're here to find an elf named Imlerith. Ciri thinks he might be a
guest of the Crones.
Johnny: Big bloke, in full plate? Goin' the right way -- he's atop the
mountain all right.
Ciri: You've seen him?
Johnny: Saw him in the bog first. Water froze beneath his horse's hooves.
Then I saw him again yesterday, heading up this path. Why're you
looking for him?
Ciri: He killed my friend.
Johnny: Wouldn't seek revenge, if I were you. Even the Ladies bow and scrape
before that one.
*** alternate version ***
Geralt: We're looking for an elf named Imlerith. Ciri thinks the Crones
might've invited him.
Sarah: The big knight? He near trampled me!
Ciri: On his way up the mountain?
Johnny: Yeah. What's it you want from him?
Ciri: He killed my friend.
Johnny: Out for vengeance, eh? Let it go. Dyin' foolishly won't help. Even
the Crones bow and scrape before that one.
Why're you here?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What are you doing here? Last we met, you and the Crones weren't
exactly friends.
Johnny: I got an invitation I couldn't refuse -- same as every year. In their
peculiar way, the Crones tolerate my presence and wish to see me at
their Sabbath... So I come, wander about, and go home with the rising
sun. What about you?
What're you doing here?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What're you doing here? And how'd you two end up together?
Johnny: Got an invitation we couldn't refuse. Around the Sabbath the Ladies
get nicer of a sudden. Or maybe they're just out to show me who's in
charge?
Ciri: Did I hear right? You walked here all the way from Novigrad?
Sarah: Weren't no trouble for someone who talks to birds. A blackbird told
me about Johnny, so I puttered over.
[They go to Thecla's tent. Only the old woman and her attendant are there.]
Thecla: Hm... Who's that? Well, c'mon, come closer, girl! Aye. What's she like?
Marica: Narrow hips, sparkly eyes -- a strikin', feisty lass.
Thecla: Never had a man? Mff. Never mind, got me answer. I choose you, girl.
This night you shall see the Ladies.
I'm going with her.
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Geralt: If she goes up the mountain, I go with her.
Ciri, what do you think?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri?
Ciri: Wonderful. Who wouldn't want to meet the Ladies? My companion comes
with me.
Thecla: Hmhm. What else has the cat dragged in?
Marica: It's gray and veiny. Got a scar. And eyes like a viper.
Thecla: Aye, mff... Stinks of clotted blood and corpses. Plus it's old and
infertile. I reject ye, freak -- the girl will ascend alone.
I'm going with her. That's that.
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Geralt: I'm going with her.
Thecla: Heheheh, he's fire in his gut. What do ye see?
Marica: He's determined. He loves the girl, but he seeks to hide it from us.
Appearances can be deceiving, I'm worthy.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You misjudged me. I'm worthy as anyone.
Thecla: Mmm... Girl?
Ciri: He's sprier than any youth. Only smells like corpses because he kills
monsters. And he'll kill any who stand in his way.
What's this about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's this about? What've you chosen her for?
Thecla: Tell 'im.
Woman: Each year three Chosen have the honor to meet the Ladies.
Geralt: What happens after they've had this honor?
Woman: When they return, they speak o' the past no more. Joy rules them and
they start life anew. The lass were not the first to be chosen this
day. But the moon hangs high, so she's like to be the last.
Thecla: Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps there's life in 'im yet? By ancient
rite, you may appeal my choice. But to do so you must best the
challenge.
I'll take your challenge.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I accept the challenge.
Thecla: Heheheh. Come.
What challenge?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What kind of challenge?
Thecla: Tell 'im.
Marica: You must descend into the cave and bathe in the waters below the
earth.
Ciri: What's the catch?
Thecla: The waters're deep, the waters're murky.
[After accepting Thecla's challenge, the four go and stand overlooking a huge,
flooded cave.]
Thecla: Look this over -- a coin from days of yore. Falka burns on its reverse,
so they call it the Defier's Oren.
[She drops the coin into the murky waters below.]
Thecla: Now bring me the coin.
[Geralt retrieves the coin from the waters and returns to Thecla's tent.]
Ciri: I was beginning to worry. Come, let's get the key.
Marica: They're back.
Thecla: Whaddaya want?
Retrieved the coin from the lake bottom.
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Geralt: Got that coin you tossed in the lake.
Thecla: It reeks of sludge.
Geralt: Nothing I can do about that. So, gonna keep your word?
Thecla: I always do, my boy. Show the coin to the gatekeeper past the
threshold -- he'll know its meanin'. Marica will open the gate for
ye. Now go.
What's on the peak?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can't help but be curious -- what's at the summit?
Thecla: Tell 'im.
Marica: The Ladies dwell there. But only the Chosen may look upon them.
Geralt: I know that, I want--
Marica: You'll learn nothin' else here.
Bye.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell.
Ciri: That went smoothly.
Geralt: Weren't the one to do the diving in the cave.
Ciri: Stop whining. You're a witcher, you've dived in murkier waters.
Geralt: Yeah. Have to tell you about the time I hunted a zeugl.
Thecla: The last of the Chosen will now ascend the mount to the peak, to meet
the Ladies! Let the festivities begin! And let them last till the crack
of dawn!
[Marica opens the huge gate into the mountain, then leaves. Inside, they soon
meet the gatekeeper -- a sylvan named Fugas.]
Fugas: Hm... What's your name, girl?
Ciri: What's yours?
Fugas: Hmm... Your name doesn't matter. Atop the peak you'll lose it and get
another. You may go. And you?
I passed the trial. Here's proof.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Let us through.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got something to do up there. So just let us through.
Fugas: Hahaha! Heh, givin' me orders? You? A human?
Geralt: I passed the trial. Here's proof. Recognize it?
Fugas: The Defier's Oren. A death sentence.
[They slay the gatekeeper when he attacks.]
Geralt: One tough son of a bitch.
Ciri: We've no time to lose. I'll tend to Imlerith, you take the Crones.
Avallac'h said they dwell below the oak, among its roots.
Geralt: No chance. I'm going after Imlerith.
Ciri: Fine, let's play for it -- rock, paper, scissors.
[Ciri loses in the end.]
Ciri: Dammit! Two out of three.
Fate has decided.
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Geralt: Out of the question. I'll climb the mountain, you face the Crones.
Ciri: Hardly a challenge.
Geralt: They're extremely dangerous. Be careful.
Ciri: You too.
Imlerith is dangerous, I'll take care of him.
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Geralt: Imlerith's a bigger threat than the Crones. I should face him.
Ciri: I'm no worse a fighter than you.
Geralt: We both know that's not true. Listen to me this once.
Ciri: But--
Geralt: No buts.
Ciri: Fine. Be careful.
Geralt: You too.
[Geralt and Ciri split up -- the former to scale the mountain, the latter to
delve into the caves. Ciri's portion begins first.]
Ciri: I must get down there.
[Soon, Ciri encounters the three witches. They stand amidst the roots, standing
in bloody water, around a cauldron of blood and gore -- likely the first of
the Chosen.]
Brewess: How was he?
Weavess: He lived a life of love, and knew no bitterness.
Whispess: Yum-yum.
[Ciri jumps down. The witches change from their nude human forms into their
disgusting usual ones.]
Whispess: Welcome, Child of the Elder Blood.
Weavess: We knew you would return.
Brewess: Your taste lingers on our tongues.
Ciri: You've talked enough.
[Ciri defeats the Crones. As she pokes their bodies to make sure they're dead,
Weavess suddenly grabs her neck, stripping her of Vesemir's wolf medallion.]
Ciri: Argh! Come here!
[From where she toppled over, Ciri throws Zireael at the Crone, only for the
enemy to explode into a flock of crows which escape with the necklace.]
Ciri: Dammit.
[Meanwhile, Geralt is climbing the rocky crags on the mountain's face.]
Geralt: Imlerith's at the summit, gotta be.
[Geralt climbs up to the sacred oak's clearing. His presence makes the succubi
around Imlerith flee.]
Imlerith: The sisters said you would come. They saw you arrive in the water's
surface. They did not see the girl, but she is with you, is she not?
I came alone.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm here alone.
Imlerith: A lie which will change nothing. First you, then her.
Yeah, she's here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah. We're both here.
Imlerith: Where is the girl?
Geralt: Doesn't matter. You'll never get her.
Imlerith: You fought bravely in the ruined keep, to the bitter end. I trust
this time will be no different.
Imlerith: Raargh!
[Imlerith puts on his helmet and picks up his maul, doing battle with Geralt.
Eventually, Geralt gains the upper hand, and blowing the maul away with Aard,
he stabs the elven warrior in the chest. However, Imlerith manages to pick up
the witcher and hold him over the cliff.]
Imlerith: Who taught you to fight like this?
Geralt: The witcher you slew.
[Geralt forces an Igni stream inside Imlerith's helmet. The surprised warrior
has no choice but to remove the red-hot helm from his burned face.]
Imlerith: Ugh...
[Taking the dropped maul, Geralt smashes Imlerith's head, killing the baddie.
By morning, Ciri has joined Geralt where he's sitting at the peak.]
Ciri: We did it.
Geralt: Barely. How'd it go down there?
Ciri: I slew only two of the Crones. The third fled...with Vesemir's medallion.
My sole memento.
Good idea to come here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Coming here? Good idea.
Ciri: I knew we'd succeed. From the start.
You avenged Vesemir.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You avenged Vesemir.
Ciri: Avallac'h claims vengeance is only ever satisfying when served cold.
He's wrong.
We were lucky, very lucky.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We got lucky this time. Hope it stays with us.
Ciri: It's not luck. You're a professional killer, and I'm a chip off the
old block.
Ciri: Now to find Eredin and kill him. An oren for your thoughts?
Geralt: Wondering what to tell Yennefer when we get to Novigrad.
Ciri: Tell her the truth. Always. I wonder if Triss and Yennefer have found the
sorceresses of the Lodge. We ought to rejoin them.
Yeah, let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah, let's get going.
Ciri: Thank you -- for coming with me.
Geralt: C'mere.
Ciri: Heh, let's go.
Not quite yet.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gimme a minute. I'm old, need more rest.
Ciri: Hm. You are and you do. Let's stay a bit longer.
[They walk down the mountain. The men they met at the feast before are there.]
Stregomir: The oak is dead!
Ciri: The oak, the Crones. I fear that was your last feast.
Man: What of our acorns?
Got one. Yours if you want.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I've got one. Take it.
Guard: But one? What'll we do now?
I don't know.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your acorns? No idea. Path to the summit's clear -- you can always
go looking for them.
Ciri: Or just go home.
You'll need to live without them.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't know, don't care.
Ciri: You must learn to live without them.
Learn to live without them.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: There won't be any more acorns. Need to get by without them.
Guard: What now?
Geralt: This is no longer no man's land, it's no longer the Ladies' land. It's
all yours.
Stregomir: But...what're we to do?
Ciri: Come, Geralt. It's time.
Geralt: Manage...on your own.
_______________________________________________________________________________
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
FINAL PREPARATIONS [WK14]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[A week later, Geralt and Ciri arrive in Novigrad. They see corpses impaled and
burned by the roadside -- either mages or nonhumans, depending on how Triss'
subplot went earlier.]
• Ciri: They're...nonhumans. Thought it was mages the hunters and the Temple
Guard were after.
Geralt: Mages left...hunters needed a new quarry.
• Ciri: It's changed a bit since I last left.
Geralt: Radovid's growing bolder.
Ciri: They say whoever takes Novigrad will take the north.
Geralt: A free city, full of riches -- tempting prize.
[Geralt narrates the end of the Novigrad mage story arc now if they escaped:]
• Hatred and prejudice will never be eradicated. And witch hunts will never
be about witches. To have a scapegoat -- that's the key. Humans always fear
the alien, the odd. Once the mages had left Novigrad, folk turned their
anger against the other races...and, as they had for ages, branded their
neighbors their greatest foes.
[Later, Geralt and Ciri visit Dandelion's inn.]
Zoltan: Dandeeelion! Ready some tankards! We've guests.
Dandelion: Geralt! Ciri! When I learned Geralt had found you--
Ciri: Glad to see you in one piece, too, Dandelion.
Zoltan: Where've you two been?
Imlerith -- we hunted him down.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Just finished hunting down the Crones of Velen and a general of the
Wild Hunt.
Zoltan: Well, you've had a busy morn, then, haven't you...
Here and there...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Went to Kaer Morhen first, then Velen...
Dandelion: Leave 'em alone, Zoltan. Can't you see they're beat?
Dandelion: In fact, you look terrible! Like you could really use some rest!
Ciri: Gladly take some. Point me to a room.
Zoltan: Course. Come on, little swallow, I'll take ye.
Ciri: Let's meet later, Geralt. I've a little matter to resolve. I'll freshen
up, then await you in the square in Gildorf.
Geralt: Right.
[Zoltan and Ciri leave upstairs.]
The sorceresses -- where are they?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Anyone here besides us?
Anything interesting happen?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Anything happen while we were away?
Dandelion: Uh, Pretty Polly came down with a fever, Matt Oyster caught a
knife between the ribs, and they're late delivering the Sodden
triple mead...
Geralt: Dandelion...
Geralt: Lodge of Sorceresses -- Triss and Yen were supposed to gather the
remnants.
Dandelion: They're working on it. Triss is upstairs, waiting for you.
Yennefer's gone to Crippled Kate's.
Geralt: Yen? At that portside dive? Why?
Dandelion: Didn't inform me. Imagine that. Ah, and that elf of yours moved into
the Ruby Suite. Told me to tell you he's waiting, too.
Gave him your best room?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gave him your best room?
Dandelion: He didn't exactly ask. I'd prepared another room for him, but he
blew past me and locked himself in the Ruby. Hasn't peeked out
since. Barely eats, drinks only water, and the only thing I've
heard from him is, "I wish to know when Gwynbleidd and Zireael
arrive."
Thanks, see you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Geralt: Thanks. Looks like I'll have my hands full...
[Geralt meets with Triss on 2F.]
Geralt: Greetings, Triss.
Triss: Have you lost your mind?! You went after Imlerith by yourselves?! To
the sabbath?! How could you put Ciri in danger?!
Calm down. It went well.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Come on, we came out of it fine. Can't say the same for Imlerith.
Triss: That's the sole comfort I find in this. But it's no justification.
You know what might've happened?
• Geralt: But it didn't. I was there.
• Geralt: Yeah. But I'd never let Ciri come to any harm. You know that.
Sorry, shouldn't have.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Shouldn't have... I'm sorry.
Triss: It ended well, luckily. But it didn't have to.
Geralt: I know. But Imlerith's gone. That's what matters.
• Besides, I was there the whole time.
• Besides, I'd never let anything happen to Ciri. You know that.
We had to do it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri had to do it. I couldn't let her go alone. You'd have done the
same in my boots.
• Besides, I was there the whole time.
• Besides, I'd never let anything happen to Ciri. You know that.
[If Geralt romanced Triss, he'll give her a kiss instead of the next line:]
• Geralt: Had the situation under control. Mind if we change the subject?
Any success summoning members of the Lodge?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Any success with the Lodge? Anyone out there willing to help?
Triss: It doesn't look good... Ida outright refused, while Francesca won't
budge from her little realm with a war raging. We don't know about
Fringilla. Haven't been able to contact her.
Passed a unit of witch hunters on the way in.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Town's decked in Radovid's colors. And we passed a sizable force of
witch hunters on the way in.
Triss: Novigrad's a lost cause. Unless by some miracle the emperor takes the
city.
Geralt: Hm, never thought of mages as fond of Emhyr.
Triss: Better predictable Emhyr and his semblance of freedom than crazy
Radovid, brimming with hatred for anything even remotely related to
magic.
Passed some pyres on the way in. Nonhumans.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Passed burning pyres on the way into town. Nonhumans on them.
Triss: Things grow worse by the day. No mages left in the city, so the
hunters had to find someone else to victimize. We need to resolve
everything as quickly as possible and leave Novigrad.
• Geralt: And the others? Keira? Margarita? Philippa?
• Geralt: You can count Keira out...
Triss: I sincerely hope we can contact Philippa and Rita in time.
• Geralt: Yen and I rescued Margarita.
Triss: I know. Dandelion set her up in a room upstairs. She's resting,
slowly recovering.
[If Geralt didn't kill Keira, there'll be another line:]
• Triss: Keira? I thought you of all people'd know... I sincerely hope we can
contact Rita and Philippa in time.
• Triss: Keira was seen in Velen at one point. No word of her since. She could
be dead...
• Triss: Keira...thought too much of her charm. Tried to buy her way into
Radovid's graces, offered to make a powerful weapon for him... I tried
to talk her out of it, but she refused to listen... Radovid laughed in
her face, ordered her captured, then...impaled. Nothing I could do...
===============================================================================
[Geralt will narrate the end of Keira Metz's subplot here. If she was sent to
Radovid:]
Geralt: Keira Metz was manipulative, a schemer -- and loved every minute of it.
She was also stubborn, even for a sorceress. But she had quite the
gift -- boy, could she be convincing. Deep down, though, Keira was a
little girl. She expected far too much from life and demanded instant
satisfaction. Little girls end badly when they fall in with the wrong
crowd.
[If Keira was sent to Kaer Morhen, she'll live instead, having gone on a nice
journey with Lambert.]
Geralt: Few can refuse a sorceress. And Keira Metz certainly had her ways...
But when she demanded the mage Alexander's notes, I had to turn her
down. Keira needed that, as she needed the impetus to start anew. She
found it where she least expected to. Years later, known for
discovering the cure for the Catriona plague, she was thankful none
remembered her time in hiding as a village witch.
===============================================================================
[If Keira was executed:]
Didn't deserve that.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Just his style... Coulda had her hanged, decapitated -- even a
burning pyre would've been a quicker death. He wanted to watch her
suffer...
Had it coming.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Keira played with fire. Had to know she might get burned.
Triss: Singed hands, maybe...but impaled?
Don't blame yourself.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't blame yourself. Keira wasn't one to listen to reason.
Triss: Before we leave, we have to bury her. I won't let crows pick her rotting
flesh off a stake. I can do that much, at least...
Geralt: Guards'll hand over the body given the proper incentive.
Triss: I really hope we contact Rita and Philippa -- before they meet a similar
fate.
[If Keira survived:]
Geralt: I've seen worse matches... Hope things work out for them.
Triss: I hope things work out for us, and we find Philippa and Rita.
[Either way:]
Where are Philippa and Margarita?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Don't worry, we will.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We will. We have to.
Triss: I'll rest easier when they're both here, with us.
Geralt: Know where they are?
Triss: Yennefer's looking into Rita's whereabouts. I have to figure out where
Philippa is.
Learned anything about Philippa?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So, learn anything?
Triss: A few things that could be interesting. Prefer the long version or
the short?
Short, to the point.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Guess.
Triss: In short, she was here, at this inn, under our noses the whole time.
Transformed, seated on her perch, with a dimeritium band on her leg.
Geralt: Zoltan's owl?
Triss: Mhm.
Geralt: So why isn't she here anymore?
Triss: Because Zoltan lost her in a card game a few days ago.
Long. Wanna know the details.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tell me everything. I want the details.
Triss: After fleeing Loc Muinne Philippa ended up here in Novigrad. She
sought help from a former lover -- the sorcerer Arthur de Vleester.
• Geralt: De Vleester? Rings a bell...
• Geralt: Philippa and a former lover? Something tells me "happily ever
after" is not how that story ends.
Triss: Philippa'd made a fool of him once. Arthur was out for revenge. He
convinced her she'd be safest as an owl. She transformed, and he
placed a dimeritium band on her leg. The mage hunts started shortly
afterwards. Sadly, Arthur fell victim. They auctioned off his estate.
Just so happens a certain dwarven acquaintance of ours stumbled on
the auction...
Geralt: Zoltan. Huh. So Philippa was here, under our noses, the whole time?
Triss: "Was" -- precisely. Zoltan lost her in a card game a few days ago.
Yen figure anything out about Rita?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Know what Yen's found out?
Triss: You'll need to ask her, I've been busy trying to find Philippa.
[After learning about Zoltan's card game:]
No way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Kidding, right?
Triss: Sadly, no.
Figures.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yup. That's Zoltan for you...
Triss: A man showed up here, fleeced Zoltan bare, then proposed they play for
the owl. Naturally, he won. The politely thanked Zoltan for the game and
left.
Geralt: Who was it? Know where he lives?
Triss: He's not from here. No one knows him.
Geralt: Great. We got any leads?
Triss: We have this.
[She produces a bird feather.]
Geralt: That Philippa the owl's feather? Thinking divination?
Triss: Specifically, hydromancy and a form of sortilege. We need a fountain
where we won't be disturbed.
Let's go now.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: One outside the Passiflora could work...
Triss: Good idea. Let's go.
Meet you somewhere later.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Need to take care of something first. Meet you somewhere later?
Triss: Fine. The fountain outside the Passiflora. And...hurry, please.
Let's get Keira first.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't you think we oughta get Keira first?
Triss: Hmm... Right... Meet you on the main square at midnight.
[The search for Philippa occurs in "Blindingly Obvious" below. Unrelated to
that, if Geralt speaks with Ciri at the square near the la Valette manor, or
finishes "Through Time and Space," her "Payback" mission preamble begins.]
• Geralt: Couldn't help it. Grew curious about this "little matter" you have
to resolve.
• Geralt: Looking for something in particular?
Ciri: Hmm. A pretty little trinket...
Geralt: Wanna give someone a present?
• Ciri: One of the people I told you about... A gesture of gratitude.
Ciri: When I was last in Novigrad I had my share of troubles...
Geralt: So I heard.
Ciri: A few people helped me then, others...not so much. Now I mean to repay
them both. Coming with?
Sure, let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lead the way.
•Ciri: We'll start with the Bits.
Geralt: Who're we gonna visit?
Ciri: You'll see...
• Ciri: We need to go to Temple Isle.
Geralt: Don't remember you being religious...
Ciri: Nor am I now. Let's go.
Gotta do something first.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Love to accompany you, but I gotta do something first.
• Ciri: No problem. I'll wait here.
• Ciri: In that case, I'll await you there -- the market in Gildorf.
[Yennefer, Avallac'h and Ciri's quests each have their own section. Same goes
for Triss' Keira-related one. Read those sections first for continuity. After
they're done, the quest concludes by speaking to Ciri on 3F of Dandelion's
inn.]
[After completing Avallac'h, Yennefer, Triss and Ciri's quests, the rescued
sorceresses -- Philippa and Margarita -- have had enough time to recover. The
witcher goes upstairs to visit, finding Ciri waiting in the stairwell.]
Ciri: Geralt!
Geralt: What is it?
Ciri: Nothing yet, but something's afoot. Philippa and Margarita with to speak
with me.
What about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: They say about what?
Ciri: No, but I have my suspicions.
They don't bite.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Then talk to them. Not like they're out to bite you.
Ciri: If they do, I'll bite back.
Geralt: So what's the problem?
Not good.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't waste any time, do they.¹ I don't like this.
Ciri: Neither do I.
Ciri: I bet they have plans for me. And they're deigning to inform me of them.
Going with you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not a conversation you're likely to avoid. I'll go with you if you
want.
Ciri: Hmm... They'll weigh their words more carefully with you there.
Geralt: Wouldn't be so sure... But two heads're better than one. Let's get
this over with.
You'll do fine on your own.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got nothing to be afraid of. Just go, listen to what they have to
say.
Ciri: And if they try to force me into something?
Geralt: Can't believe you'd ever let them. Margarita's only ever cared about
your education. Doubt she'll try to drag you into politics.
Philippa's tougher. Plays a mean game, but ultimately respects those
who hold their own views. If she makes you an offer, and you firmly
turn it down, she'll respect that.
Ciri: Thanks, Geralt.
Geralt: Well, go. Don't give 'em any more time to strategize.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt goes with Ciri to her meeting:]
Ciri: You wished to speak.
Philippa: To you. Not to Geralt.
Ciri: Geralt stays or we both leave.
Rita: Let him stay, Phil. He'd learn all of it anyways, eventually.
Philippa: Ekhem. Fine then. So long as he does not interrupt.
I'm all ears.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think of me as part of the decor.
Not up to you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I won't. Until Ciri decides otherwise.
Philippa: The Lodge once had great plans for you, important plans. Surely you
remember. You were to complete your studies and become one of us.
Unfortunately, that did not come to pass. We intend to revive the
Lodge. And we renew our...offer -- you must join us.
• We are saddened our dear
• Síle will not join in this endeavor,
• sisters, Keira and Síle, will not join us in this endeavor,
but the circumstances preclude any prolonged mourning. What is your
decision? Will you join us?
Ciri: As before? I'm to marry some princeling and become your puppet?
Rita: You were a child then, and we...misjudged the situation. This time we
offer you a partnership.
With the Lodge, someone's always in charge.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No equality in the Lodge. That's garbage. Some have always taken the
reins, while others politely nodded.
Rita: A wise and capable sorceress finds the role, the position that best
suits her.
Philippa: And yours should be supreme, you deserve to lead.
The Lodge is wanted by the law, you'll be on the run again.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The Lodge of Sorceresses has been outlawed throughout the Continent.
Joining them means facing persecution, always being on the run.
Philippa: Kings die, realms fall, but magic endures.
Philippa: Realize, please, that you were made for great things. Work with us
and you shall achieve them... Just as soon as we teach you to control
your power, channel--
Ciri: I have Avallac'h for that...
Philippa: You allow this? Do you truly believe his intentions are pure?
No, but better him than you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't, but I'd rather deal with one Sage than the entire Lodge.
Yes. Avallac'h can be trusted.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Purer than yours, that's certain.
I don't trust anyone. It's Ciri's decision.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't trust him, I don't trust you, but that doesn't matter. Ciri
decides.
Rita: Sages invariably have hidden agendas. Altruism is simply not part of
their constitution. You're a tool in his hands, even if you don't see
it.
Philippa: We will assure you knowledge and protection, but you shall be your
own rudder, captain and ship. And unlike Avallac'h, we can promise
you this.
Rita: We don't expect you to commit now. Think it over, what you've heard, what
you feel. We will speak when you're ready.
• Ciri: If that is all, then...
• Geralt: ...We need to go to Skellige, find the Sunstone. Avallac'h awaits
down at the port.
[They leave to find Yennefer waiting outside.]
Yennefer: So?
Ciri: I don't know... Don't really want to talk about it... I'm going for a
walk.
• Geralt: I could use a little rest myself...
Yennefer: Good idea. Get some sleep.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt sends Ciri in alone, Yen will find him.]
Yennefer: Not going with her?
Geralt: Can't hold her hand if they're gonna take her seriously.
Yennefer: True. Good decision.
Don't worry, she'll be fine.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Relax, she'll be fine.
Yennefer: Rita won't hurt her, but Philippa... She can be ruthless.
Pacing's making me nervous.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Calm down. You'll wear a hole in the floor.
Yennefer: I'll calm down once she comes out.
Geralt: Ciri's been in tougher situations and come out of them all right.
Yennefer: True, we managed to instill some principles, skills that have
helped...
Geralt: Exactly, so there's nothing to be afraid of.
Yennefer: Of course. I'll just have a peek.
Stop spying.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't spy on her. You really have that little faith?
Yennefer: I don't trust Philippa and Rita.
Geralt: So why'd you even allow this meeting to happen?
Yennefer: For the same reason you did: if they're to respect her, she can't
be seen to be hanging on to my apron strings.
Expected as much.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Knew you couldn't resist...
Yennefer: Pots and kettles, Geralt. You were dying to do the same, I saw you.
Geralt: You're the one with your face to the door.
Yennefer: Mmm, which is why I can see what's happening.
Finally. Thought you didn't have the gall.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Finally. Thought you wouldn't do it, didn't have the gall.
[Then:]
What do you see?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Lemme see.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lemme have a look.
Yennefer: In your dreams.
Geralt: What do you see?
Yennefer: Philippa pontificating. Ciri pacing wall to wall. She's stopped.
She's saying something. Philippa's turned pale!
[Then:]
What now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What now?
Bravo, Ciri!
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That's my Ciri. Probably gave her an earful.
Yennefer: Quiet! Hear she comes.
[She barely pulls herself away from the keyhole before Ciri exits.]
Yennefer: So?
Ciri: You were eavesdropping.
Geralt: Yes.
Yennefer: No.
Ciri: You haven't changed a bit.
What happened. Tell us.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tell us what you talked about?
Ciri: I'd rather not. Not yet, at least.
Yennefer: Of course, when you're ready.
Geralt: Take a walk, get some air... We need to sail to Skellige. Avallac'h's
waiting at the port.
Ciri: Of course. I'll be there soon.
Geralt: Just wanted to...
Yennefer: Go meet Avallac'h. He wished to see you, apparently.
If you wanna be alone...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: If you wanna be alone for a while, to digest, process...
Ciri: Yes. I shall go for a walk. I must unwind.
Geralt: Remember, we need to go to Skellige. Avallac'h awaits at the port.
Ciri: I remember. I'll be there soon.
Geralt: I hope she's...
Yennefer: She'll be fine. She's tougher than we think. You ought to visit
Avallac'h. He wished to see you, apparently.
________________________________
____________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: FINAL PREPARATIONS |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
15) BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS [WK15]
_______________________________________________________________________________
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[Triss and Geralt visit the Passiflora's isolated fountain for their search.]
• Triss: We're here.
Geralt: Nice and quiet. Shouldn't be any disturbances.
• Triss: Sure you weren't followed?
Geralt: Yeah.
Triss: Let's begin. Observe the water's surface carefully. We can't let
anything go unnoticed.
[Images will show as Triss uses her divination spell.]
Triss: Graeme et dwyr! Rhobeir'me gelle a failte!
• Geralt: What's that?
Triss: Uhh...nothing. A preliminary image.
Geralt? What?
Stop interrupting! I have to focus.
Graeme et dwyr! Deagnis cair-ile ess pyr'shena a et cleytte!
Geralt: Looks familiar... A bathhouse. I know the place. Dijkstra! He has her.
At his bathhouse. Might've guessed as much.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt is romancing Triss, he'll ask her about the mysterious first image
of a house.]
Triss: That was the recent past. Anything might happen to her in Dijkstra's
hands. Let's go.
Geralt: Not so fast. The first image... What was that?
Triss: Nothing, really.
Geralt: Don't brush me off. I know how hydromancy works. Image appeared because
you're thinking about it.
Triss: It was... Kind Tancred asked me to be his court advisor, in Kovir.
What did you say?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You mentioned Kovir in the lighthouse. I understand why, now... Did
you accept?
Triss: Only a fool would refuse. Tancred's been supportive of the mages from
the start. The evacuation was only possible with his help! Now he
wants to revive the Council and the Conclave. And I'm to head both.
King of Kovir -- what's his motive?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tancred's picked a strange battle... All the North's hunting down
mages, and he's out to revive the Council?
Triss: These are troubed times, and Tancred could be alone in remembering
that mages are a powerful force. And that we know how to show
gratitude.
Any idea what you're getting yourself into?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It's a great opportunity... Congratulations...
Triss: You don't exactly sound thrilled...
Geralt: Bit worried, that's all. You really ready to dive into politics
again?
Triss: I wasn't sure at first... Ultimately, though, it's something I've
always dreamed of. The dreams'¹ within reach now. I'm not about to
let it go.
Congratulations, you'll be great.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You deserve it. Best decision Tancred ever made.
Triss: Thank you. I hope I can rise to the task.
Geralt: You will. With you leading it, the Council might actually do some
good, start helping people.
You turned him down, of course.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You mentioned Kovir in the lighthouse. I understand why, now... Huh.
Hope you turned him down.
Triss: I didn't... I said yes.
Geralt: Triss... These last few months, they've really taught you nothing?
Triss: Tancred's been supportive of the mages from the start. The evacuation
was only possible with his help! Now he wants to revive the Council
and the Conclave. And I'm to head both.
[Same extra options as "What did you say?"]
Hope you agreed.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You mentioned Kovir in the lighthouse. I understand why, now...
Generous offer. Hope you took it.
Triss: Only a fool would refuse. Tancred's been supportive of the mages from
the start. The evacuation was only possible with his help! Now he
wants to revive the Council and the Conclave. And I'm to head both.
[Same extra options as "What did you say?"]
The house -- what was that? / What was that house?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
• Geralt: You mentioned Kovir in the lighthouse. I understand why, now...
Geralt: The vision was of a house, not a royal court...
Triss: It's the house that awaits us in Pont Vanis.
Triss: When we're done here, when all this is over, once we've defeated the</pre><pre id="faqspan-20">
Hunt and Ciri's safe, I'd like us to live there. Together.
Of course.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Guess you've got everything planned out...
Triss: You don't like it?
Geralt: I like it. A lot.
Have to think about it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm...surprised... Don't really know what to say...
Triss: You don't need to decide right away. But I'm glad you know. I was
afraid how you'd react. It's a big deal, resettling, to a permanent
home. If you don't want this, I'll turn it down. What I really want
is to be with you, to...to be together and...
Geralt: Triss?
Triss: Yes?
Geralt: We'll be together. And you don't need to turn anything down.
A witcher's life for me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I dunno, Triss... The life of a witcher, it's no fairytale. But I
like being on the Path, sleeping under the stars, waking up with dew
on my face...
Triss: I'm not asking you to sacrifice anything. You're not cut out to be a
courtier, I know that... You can set out on the Path whenever you
want, for however long you want... It's just...you'll have somewhere
to come home to.
Geralt: Always used to be Kaer Morhen... House in your vision looks a lot
cozier...
[They make out for a bit]
Triss: Ha... I'll tell you the details later. Right now we need to get
Philippa.
Geralt: Right.
Triss: Come on.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt isn't romancing Triss, the conversation is far more basic:]
Bathhouse. Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's go to the bathhouse, might not be too late.
Triss: Come on.
Was that the past or the future?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Was that the past or the future?
Triss: The recent past. We have to hurry.
[Either way, the pair sprints toward Sigi Reuven's bathhouse.]
Triss: I hope we get there in time. I hope Dijkstra hasn't already hurt her.
Geralt: The possibilities are many. Could be Dijkstra that got hurt.
Triss: Not likely. Dijkstra never forgave her for sending assassins after him.
And Philippa's weakened, no doubt about it.
Geralt: Weakened, maybe, but still a powerful sorceress. If Dijkstra's men take
the dimeritium off, Philippa'll kill them before they can say "Oh
shit."
[They approach Dijkstra's domain, feeling tremors from the battle within.]
Geralt: Guess they underestimated Philippa...
Triss: You were right. She must've changed back into human form. Quick! I sense
strong magic. We have to get inside.
[They enter, finding Dijkstra hiding in the entryway. Philippa's fireballs
blow up part of the decorative latticework.]
Reuven: Surrender! This place is a maze, witch! You'll never get out! Goddamn
fools! After her!
[He barely manages to avoid catching a fireball with his face.]
Geralt: We'll handle this.
Reuven: Oh, no! No, no! The sorceress stays here.
Fine.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Stay here, Triss. In case she tries to flee this way.
Triss: Be careful. She might be blind, but she's still dangerous. And don't
hurt her.
Triss goes with me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We're going together.
Reuven: Not a chance.
Triss: It's fine, Geralt. I'll stay. In case she tries to flee this way.
Geralt: Fine. Be right back.
[In the baths proper, the henchman have been mindjacked by Philippa's magic.]
Henchman: Wha... What's happenin'?
Henchman: W-w-witcher. He's gotta die.
Henchman: Kill the witcher.
Geralt: Damn, she cast a spell on them.
[In the vault area, Geralt can hear the sorceress conversing with Bart.]
Geralt: Philippa! Wait!
Bart: Perty birdy... Good stink...
Philippa: I am your master now. You're to protect me, understood?
Bart: Bart standunder.
Philippa: Stand here -- and let no one pass!
Bart: Bart herestand. None pastgo.
[Geralt soon encounters Bart.]
Bart: Witcher no pastgo. Perty birdy nosay.
Geralt: Dammit, cast a spell on him too.
I need her.
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Geralt: I need her. Gotta catch her.
Bart: Birdy no want you her catch.
Geralt: Get out of my way before things get unpleasant.
Bart: Bart no can do. Bart promise.
Geralt: You asked for it.
I want to help her.
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Geralt: She's hurt, did you see that? I wanna help her.
Bart: Birdy no pastgo say. Bart no let pastgo.
Geralt: Hmm... Ever had a stomachache?
Bart: Hmm... Ache, aye. Bart once old drowner eat.
Geralt: Her stomach aches like she just ate a hundred old drowners.
Bart: Bart no want... Drowner make ache very bad...
Geralt: Let me pass. I can help her.
Bart: Hmm... Bart let pastgo... Witchar¹ help.
[Geralt enters the sewer area that had the pops' mold earlier.]
Geralt: I wanna help you!
Philippa: Help me die?! Don't hold your breath!
Geralt: I'm not out to hurt you!
Philippa: Bollocks!
[He finds her waiting in one of the larger chambers beyond.]
Philippa: You will not take me!
Geralt: I wanna help you!
Philippa: Hah! Forgive me, but I just don't believe you!
[She summons a fire elemental for him to fight.]
Geralt: Gotta be kidding me...
[Geralt slays the blind sorceress' creature.]
Philippa: What's happened? So quiet, all of a sudden?
[He sneaks up on her and wrestles her to the ground.]
Geralt: Stop squirming. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be long dead by now.
Philippa: What do you want? To torment me? To watch others do so?
Geralt: I need your help.
Philippa: Betray me and I will--
Geralt: Relax. Not planning on it. Triss is outside, she'll explain everything.
[They return upstairs. The conversation can be much longer if one previously
helped Dijkstra with his conspiracy in "A Deadly Plot."]
Reuven: Deepest apologies, but the lady will come with me.
Geralt: Dijkstra...I don't have time for this, get out of my way.
Reuven: I've no quarrel with you, Geralt. But Phil and I have lots to talk
about... Remember the assassins you sent after me, darling Phil? A
grave error. Such matters ought to be handled personally. As I will
now demonstrate.
I need her.
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Geralt: Not gonna demonstrate a damn thing. I need her.
Reuven: And I don't give a flying fuck. I've awaited this moment forever, so,
very sorry, but I care as much about your plans as I do about the
snows of Mahakam.
Back off before this ends badly.
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Geralt: I like you, Dijkstra. Don't make me hurt you.
Reuven: Save your threats for the rats that run about the port. They don't
make the slightest impression on me.
This is no time for a lovers' quarrel.²
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Geralt: I remember your little...bond, but this is no time for a lovers'
quarrel.
Reuven: But it's an excellent time to settle a score.
Reuven: Philippa will come with me. And answer for all the courtesies she's
paid me.
Tell you what the emperor's after if you let us go.
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Geralt: Always knew the value of information, Dijkstra...
Reuven: Which is why I don't believe you have anything I don't already know.
Geralt: The emperor of Nilfgaard wasn't able to sway the Trade Corporation.
Reuven: Opposition nibbling at his arse, eh? Hm, seems the White Flame won't
dance on the graves of his foes much longer.
Geralt: His daughter has returned. The emperor wants to abdicate, give her
the throne.
Reuven: Cirilla? Impossible! This...this could shift the tide of war...
• Reuven: But what's Philippa got to do with it?
Geralt: Philippa will help us protect Ciri from the Wild Hunt.
Reuven: Go. Before I change my mind.
• Provided, of course, you're not mistaken...
Heard it from Emhyr himself.²
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Geralt: Emperor himself told me, so...information's first hand.
Reuven: Emhyr's a lying whore.
Geralt: When it comes to his daughter's future? Doubt it.
Time'll tell.²
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Geralt: Time'll tell if I am or not.
Reuven: Except if you are talking bollocks, and I swallow it whole,
well...it'll be too late.
Geralt: Guess you gotta take that risk.
Reuven: You've no idea the importance of this information. A change on the
imperial throne? Could bring the war to an end. Radovid's sure to
be delighted. If Emhyr sounds the retreat, there'll be no force
left that could possibly stop that madman. Especially in light of
our bloody aborted plan.
Geralt: You didn't actually believe you could do it? Radovid's crazy but
he's no idiot. Knows all too well there's dozens out there who'd--
Reuven: Silence.
Philippa: Do I understand you correctly? You want to kill Radovid? Well,
well, Sigi, I am impressed. Doubted you still had it in you,
frankly. Sadly, as you well know, Radovid has sought refuge on
his boat. He's guarded so closely I'd not be at all surprised
to learn he shares his bed each night with two sentries.
Reuven: You know too much, Phil. Yet one more reason why you must die.
Let her talk.
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Geralt: Think you might wanna hear her out? Daresay Philippa despises
Radovid at least as much as you do.
Philippa: I'm content someone apart from myself has finally gotten the
idea to rid the world of the degenerate.
Reuven: Save your praise for others. I couldn't give a shit.
Philippa: Currently, only two individuals stand to draw Radovid off of
his boat. Emhyr...and myself.
Geralt: You'd agree to be the bait?
Philippa: I fear you'd be hard pressed to convince Emhyr to dangle
himself as such...
Reuven: Fat fucking chance! Geralt, I wouldn't trust this cunt to hard
boil my eggs!
Philippa: Rightly so -- I'm terrible with eggs. But think on this:
Radovid hears that you've captured me... Will he not throw
caution to the wind? Will he not jump at the chance to kill
me...personally...with his bare hands?
Reuven: Out of the question! Geralt, get her out of here before I burst
a testicle! And then...then we must meet. With our friends. I've
leased a warehouse portside. Be sure to come.
Except you won't.
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Geralt: Dijkstra, Philippa's not gonna die -- we're done discussing that.
Forget about it.
Reuven: Situation's changed, witcher. She's in a position now to foil my
plans.
Philippa: Do you really think I will run to warn the man who gouged my
eyes out?
[Shove Dijkstra aside. Forcefully.]
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Geralt: Sorry. Can't let that happen.
[Geralt works him over.]
Reuven: Ooh! Aaa-aaa-aargh! No, no -- not my leg! Arrrrggggghhhhhh!
[They return to the entrance.]
Triss: Sorry to take so long, but I had to deal with the guards.
Philippa: Hello, Triss.
Triss: Philippa, are you all right?
Philippa: I've been better.
Triss: I'll get you out of here.
• Geralt: Gonna be all right?
Triss: Yeah, thanks for your help.
• Triss: Meet me at night in the main square. We have to take care of Keira.
Geralt: See you then.
[They disappear into a portal.]
________________________________
____________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: FINAL PREPARATIONS |_
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16) THE GREAT ESCAPE [WK16]
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[Geralt meets Yennefer at Crippled Kate's brothel in Novigrad.]
Geralt: Buy you a drink?
Yennefer: I'm afraid the dishwater's as good as it gets in this establishment.
Imlerith -- was that your idea or Ciri's.
Mine.
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Geralt: Mine.
Yennefer: Lying didn't always come to easily to you.
Geralt: If you intend to--
Yennefer: I was about to say...it's nice that you protect her. And you did
the right thing to go with her.
Ciri's.
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Geralt: Ciri's.
Yennefer: As I thought. I'm glad you went with her.
Spare me your lecture.
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Geralt: Spare me your lecture about responsibility.
Yennefer: I was actually going to recite an anthem praising your glory, but
if you're not in the mood...
[Then:]
Not mad?
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Geralt: I thought you'd be angry.
Yennefer: Angry? Why? Because you supported Ciri in her decision? Or because
you fought by her side and won?
Geralt: What if we'd lost?
Yennefer: We wouldn't be having this conversation. And the female part of the
Continent's population would be drowning in tears. You won. No
point bothering with "what ifs."
What're you doing here?
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Geralt: Hm. Charming place. Why're you here?
Yennefer: You'll find out soon. In the meantime, tell me about Philippa.
• Geralt: Nothing to tell yet. Came to get you first.
• Geralt: Triss and I found her and freed her. It turned out Dijkstra had
her. But the situation's under control.
Yennefer: That's a relief.
Geralt: So, gonna tell me why you're here?
Yennefer: I was able to establish Margarita's whereabouts -- the prison in
Oxenfurt. I also learned the identity of a man who escaped from
there. He should arrive shortly.
Who is this guy?
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Geralt: What do you know about this fugitive?
Yennefer: I know he's the only one ever to escape from Deireadh. Every
guardsman in the city now seeks him.
Geralt: Sure he can be trusted?
Yennefer: We'll soon find out. He just walked in.
About the Lodge...
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Geralt: Talked to Triss. Reconvening the Lodge -- it's not going so well...
Yennefer: Dangerous times, especially for sorceresses. Each thinks five times
before sticking her neck out. And I can't blame them.
[The fugitive comes in.]
Yennefer: Abbé Faria?
Faria: Who's asking?
Geralt: We'd like to talk.
Faria: Damn...
[He knocks Geralt down and bolts out the door.]
Yennefer: Ugh. Best run and get him.
[The escapee takes to the scaffolding.]
Geralt: Dammit, scaled the ladder. Guess I'm in for a roof walk...
[If the chase goes on too long, Yen teleports in and captures Abbé with magic.
Otherwise, Geralt catches the runner himself.]
• Yennefer: Take off the kid gloves, Geralt.
Faria: Help!
Yennefer: Stop screaming, or I'll harm you.
Geralt: Thought you'd agreed to meet.
Yennefer: I said I'd found him, not that I'd spoken to him.
Faria: What do you want from me?! Let me be!
Geralt: Calm down. We just want to chat.
Faria: Uh-huh, and then stick a shiv between my ribs, leave me in the gutter.
Yennefer: Look at us. Do we look like bandits to you?
Faria: Hm... No... Not really, no¹.
Yennefer: I'm glad you agree. Besides, you'd be worthless to us dead.
Faria: So...you shan't hurt me?
Geralt: No. You're gonna tell us your story, then be on your way.
Faria: Hm...so be it. But we really ought to go back to Kate's. It's, uh,
unwise to linger in the street.
[Back at the brothel...]
Yennefer: Drink up, it'll help.
Faria: Thanks... What do you want?
Yennefer: To get into Deireadh.
Faria: Find a hunter, tell him you practice magic. They'll lock you up
lickety-split.
Geralt: We need to get in without anyone noticing. Tell us how you escaped,
then get on with your life.
Heard no one gets out of Deireadh alive.
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Geralt: They say no one gets outta Deireadh alive...
Faria: Aye, so they say... My thought -- why not try it dead?
Yennefer: But they burn the corpses.
Faria: They didn't start burning them until they learned an old fellow like
myself had escaped. Before, they'd drop the stiffs into a great pit.
The pit's connected to the sewers, and the sewers empty into the
river. And once you reach the river, you're as free as a fish.
Can we get in through the sewers?
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Geralt: So theoretically we could get in the same way you got out.
Yennefer: Assuming we don't mind the company of decomposing corpses.
Faria: And assuming you can squeeze through the grate. They barred the
outlet to the river after I escaped.
Geralt: Huh. Explosives could take care of that.
Yennefer: For half the city to hear us? I've a better plan. Oxenfurt was
built on elven ruins...
Geralt: Which have to connect to the sewers somewhere. If we can find a way
into the ruins...
Yennefer: We'll get into the prison.
How'd you fake your death?
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Geralt: So you played dead... No one caught on?
Faria: As a youth I'd apprenticed with an apothecary in Silverton. Learned
a thing or two about herbs. Sleeping mushrooms grew on the walls of
my cell. And I found belladonna in the prison yard. Just had to mash
them together and eat the pulp an hour before evening rounds...
Yennefer: You might have lost your life.
Faria: I preferred to die on my own terms were that to be my fate.
What about the guard?
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Geralt: They say Deireadh's better guarded than the keep at Vicovaro.
Faria: They choose the guards from among witch hunters -- the worst dregs,
rabid fanatics! If only you knew what they did to folk... Torture
everyday -- the wheel, the rack... We only knew peace on holidays,
when they'd drink themselves blind.
Yennefer: They're allowed to drink on duty?
Faria: No-not officially, but...you know how it is.
Thanks for the help.
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Geralt: See? Wasn't so hard.
Yennefer: One last bit of advice -- find a new tavern. Everyone here knows
you.
Faria: Thank you. Whatever your plans, I hope they work out.
Geralt: So do we. So long.
[Faria leaves.]
What now?
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Geralt: What now?
Yennefer: What our friend said about the guards was interesting...
Geralt: Drinking on duty? Zoltan could make sure they have plenty of hooch.
Yennefer: Good idea. I'll search for the entrance to the ruins.
Interesting, what he said about the guards.
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Geralt: What he said about the guards -- could prove handy.
Yennefer: True. Things will go more smoothly if we can get even a few of them
drunk.
Geralt: Zoltan oughta manage it. I'll ask him.
Yennefer: Let's meet on the Oxenfurt bridge.
[Yen sneaks into an alley to teleport, leaving Geralt to visit Zoltan.]
Geralt: They're holding Margarita in Deireadh. Got a plan to break her out, but
we need your help.
Zoltan: What should I do?
Geralt: Load a wagon with as much Mahakaman as you can find and drive it to
Oxenfurt. Yennefer'll give the signal, you'll drive through the gates
and treat the guards.
Zoltan: Ugh, these're terrible times... Since the mages left town, the
hunters've taken to harassin' nonhumans. A dwarf lingerin' 'round the
prison gates only stands to attract attention.
Geralt: Right, didn't think of that... I'll go straight to Yen, in that case.
She went to find a way into the ruins beneath the city.
[Geralt visits the university city, finding Yen where she said she'd be. If
the mages weren't evacuted earlier, impaled corpses will be visible nearby,
leading to extra lines.]
Yennefer: Geralt!
• Geralt: It's never been this bad.
Yennefer: They failed to find a way to leave Novigrad, so they made a last,
hopeless stand...
[Geralt narrates the mage subplot ending here.]
Geralt: Street side soothsayers, chiromancers, herbalists and healers...
though townsfolk had always sought their help, they'd never trusted
them. Folk generally dislike those privy to their fears and
weaknesses. The Free City of Novigrad became a trap for all mages.
Its merchants, craftsmen and burghers held their breath when death
came for those they despised. And they never expected the mages to
take up arms, fight back.
Geralt: Find a way in?
Yennefer: Several. Nearest is through a well not far from here. Did you arrange
any help?
Geralt: We'll manage on our own.
Yennefer: Shall we begin?
Let's.²
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---
Wait, I'll get help.²
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Geralt: Actually, maybe you're right. A little help can go a long way.
Yennefer: Of course I'm right. Go. I'll wait here.
Geralt: Let's do this.
[They walk to the destination.]
Geralt: Sure the guards don't know about the passage through the ruins, haven't
planted sentries there?
Yennefer: They haven't.
Geralt: How can you be sure?
Yennefer: Novigrad's heirarchs have taken great care to eradicate any and all
memories of the city's elven roots. Even if anyone remembers the
ruins are there, they have no recollection of how far and where they
extend. And I'm absolutely certain no one thought to place sentries
there.
Geralt: Hope you're right.
[They reach a well in a sitting area, just off the main road.]
Yennefer: Here we are.
Geralt: This is it? Hmm... Boulder was plugging the well ring until recently.
Yennefer: Due to an edict Hemmelfart issued some years ago. But I managed to
find two brawny and obliging passers-by who agreed to remove the
impediment. For a modest fee, naturally. Here.
Geralt: What is this?
Yennefer: Use it once you find Rita. I'll be able to pinpoint your location.
Thought you'd come with me.
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Geralt: Not coming?
Yennefer: Mucking through ruins and sewers, hmmm, I'd rather leave it to the
expert.
Geralt: Meaning you'd rather waltz in once the hard work's done.
See you later.
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Geralt: See you inside, then.
Yennefer: Good luck.
Geralt: Wet clothes... Oh joy...
[Geralt jumps down the well when no one's looking, and soon finds the ruins.
Several things are investigation-worthy.]
• Heheh. Tomb raider. Seems this one liked elven stuff...
• Locked tight. Won't budge. Gotta be a lever around here somewhere...
• This'll come in handy.
• That oughta do it.
• Wall looks brittle...
[Using Aard, the witcher blows through the feeble partition to find the sewer.]
Geralt: Phew, reeks in here...
[He kills the rotfiends and ghouls inhabiting the corpse-filled dump site, and
heads for the mouth -- the basement of Deireadh. Killing a few witch hunters
clears the way into the dungeon, where he finds the bedraggled sorceress in
her cell.]
Rita: What... What is this?
Geralt: Margarita!
Rita: Who...who's that? Geralt? Gods, I'm hallucinating...
Geralt: Getting you outta here.
Rita: No chance. We'll both die in here.
[If Geralt told Morvran earlier that Síle de Tansarville was left alive, Rita
motions to the half-dead woman beside her.]
Geralt: Síle?
Rita: They captured her first. Her condition's critical. It's pointless...
You'll never open it without the key... The warden keeps them with him
at all times. His room is upstairs.
Geralt: Be right back.
[The witcher slays the detachment stationed in the prison yard and returns to
Rita's cell with the key.]
Rita: What are you doing?
Geralt: Yen insisted on coming.
[He uses her trinket to summon a portal; Yen gets her first look at the cell.
If Rita is the only one there:]
Yennefer: Rita! What have they done...? When I get my hands on those
whoresons...
Rita: I'll gladly help. If I live to see it.
Yennefer: I must take her from here. Immediately.
[If Síle is alive, Yen will see how cruelly she's been treated -- her body's
scarred, mutilated, bruised and swollen from her torture sessions.]
Yennefer: Rita? Síle?! When I get my hands on the sons of bitches...
Síle: Yenna... I shan't make it...
Yennefer: Hold on, you must hold on.
Síle: Aaaargh! I'm dying, Yenna. I'm a sorceress, let me die with dignity.
I'll do it.
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Geralt: Yen, get Rita out of here.
Yennefer: Geralt...
Síle: Yenna, for once, don't argue with him...
Let's go.
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Geralt: Yen, we should go. Nothing we can do to save her.
Yennefer: No. But we can help her die the way she wants to.
Geralt: I won't do it.
Yennefer: I will.
[She performs the mercy killing.]
Yennefer: Come. We must hurry, or else we'll lose Rita, too.
[Either way:]
Yennefer: I can't pass through the portal with you both. You'll need to get
out on your own.
Geralt: Don't like portals anyway. Go.
[If Geralt agrees to kill Síle, the other girls leave them alone:]
Síle: Funny...there was a time I'd have asked you not to do this...
Geralt: No, you'd never have asked... You're too proud...
[Either way, Geralt escapes the prison thorough a broken portion of the wall.]
________________________________
____________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: FINAL PREPARATIONS |_
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17) PAYBACK [WK17]
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[If Geralt meets with Ciri and agrees to help her clear up loose ends from her
last visit to Novigrad, this quest'll begin in the Bits.]
Ciri: Almost there.
Geralt: Where are we going exactly?
Ciri: To see Whoreson Junior.
That's not the way to Whoreson's.²
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Geralt: Wrong direction. Whoreson's headquartered on Temple Isle.
Ciri: So I thought, but I think we should check something first. Zoltan
claims the word in town is we're more likely to run into Whoreson
around here.
He's dead.²
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Geralt: Bit late for that. He's dead.
Ciri: I asked Zoltan, and he said Whoreson's alive and well on Temple Isle.
Geralt: I was there, stuck a sword in his gut.
Ciri: Your hand must've slipped, because it seems he's recovered.
Let's go.
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Geralt: Lead the way.
Geralt: Why're you doing this again?
Ciri: I want to look him in the eyes.
Geralt: What then?
Ciri: Don't know. Depends what I see.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt "killed" Junior previously, they two will visit Temple Isle. More
specifically, they return to his hideout seen in Ciri's flashbacks.]
Sentry: What?
Geralt: Here to see Mr. Wily.
Sentry: Mr. Wily's expectin' important guests, so bugger off, you, you...
Sentry: Turds!
[Axii Sign] We'll figure something out.
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Geralt: Make a deal, maybe...?
Sentry: Eeer...yeah, yeah, a deal.
Sentry: Go on upstairs. Boss is waitin'.
Get outta my way or regret it.
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Geralt: Here I thought we could do this the nice way...
Ciri: Out of the way, you louts, or we'll cut up your mugs so the girls at
Crippled Kate's won't even have you.
Sentry: What'd you say?
Ciri: Didn't understand? Too many syllables? Fuck off.
Sentry: Oh, you little bitch!
[They start fighting.]
Ciri: Geralt! On your left!
Sentry: You say "Geralt"? Geralt who?
Geralt: Of fucking Rivia.
Sentry: We-e-ell, why didn't you say that from the get-go?
Sentry: Sorry to hassle yous -- misunderstandin', that.
Sentry: Mr. Wily's expectin' you.
[They go in.]
Ciri: That was...strange.
Geralt: To say the least.
Ciri: I wonder what they're doing.
Geralt: We'll know soon enough.
[The two go up to the 3F room where Wily held Dudu previously. The man himself
is already there.]
Junior: Well, well, who do we have here? Finally found your little ward. Took
your sweet fuckin' time.
Ciri: Seems in fine health to me.
Junior: Ahh, 'cause you thought you'd killed me that time. Surprise,
sur-fuckin'-prise. Shut your trap, witch, afore somebody fills that
hole for you!
Ciri: Enough. I'll finish what you started.
Junior: Whoa-ho, stop! It's me, Dudu! Dudu Biberveldt! You really didn't
recognize me?
Ciri: Dudu?
Prove it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wait, Ciri. After the heist, after Dijkstra's vault was emptied,
you vanished. How'd I find you? Quick.
Junior: Butchers' Yard -- the mummers' play, Priscilla's. You dragged me
onto the stage.
Geralt: Sheathe your sword, Ciri. It's Dudu.
He's lying, kill him.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: He's lying, end it.
Junior: No, wait, I tell you true!
Ciri: Prove it.
Junior: Remember...remember when we went to steal Dijkstra's treasure? We
released pops spores, made the troll drowsy. He sang in his sleep
about Dijkstra's foot wrappings and asked for elf soup!
Junior: Gods! You gave me quite the scare!
That was a stupid joke.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not wise to play games with a witcher.
Ciri: Whoreson Junior? Was there no one else you could impersonate?
Shoulda picked someone else to impersonate.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wouldn't have had to if you hadn't impersonated Whoreson.
Ciri: What the blazes were you thinking?
Dudu: Once we'd fled, I had no idea what to do. I could only hide for so
long, they'd find me sooner or later. It wasn't a hard decision. We knew
he was dead, but not many others had caught on. That was me chance.
[Geralt narrates the end of Whoreson's subplot:]
Geralt: No one mourned for Whoreson Junior. In all his miserable life, he'd
never helped a soul. Amusingly, once dead, he became a useful member
of society. They say everyone deserves a second chance. Seems true
enough. Whoreson got his, in a way...sharing it with a doppler named
Dudu.
Ciri: That was courageous, Dudu. I'd never expect it from you.
Dudu: Neither would I. Oh, by the way -- you've no idea at the relief I feel
you're alive and well.
Ciri: And I'm relieved I didn't slit your throat.
How's business?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Chose an interesting line of business.
Ciri: Dudu's always had a head for numbers. What's a few brothels and
casinos? He'll manage.
Dudu: That's the thing -- I don't need to. Two weeks after Wily died I
announced that I'd seen the light of the Eternal Fire. Sold all the
illegal enterprises. I'm a blue water trader now.
Geralt: Whoreson's men didn't protest?
Dudu: I've contacts in the guilds, run a thriving trade, profits are twice
what they were before. To Wily's men, a purse twice as heavy means
twice as much respect for the man handin' it to them.
Not afraid of being found out?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Be careful. You could get found out.
Dudu: Wily's men are too stupid to catch on. His colleagues ain't much
better. Mind you, even you were fooled.
Ciri: And that might've ended very badly for you.
Dudu: True, I...get a bit carried away at times. But mostly I'm careful.
We need to go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Time's up.
Ciri: Right, we must still go by the Golden Sturgeon.
Dudu: It was nice to see you both. And take care of yourselves.
Ciri: You too.
Geralt: So long, Dudu.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt spared Junior's live previously, they find the one-time kingpin,
now a crippled beggar, being harassed by kids.]
Kid: Stupid old goat!
Kid: You stink!
Junior: Bugger off...little shits!
Kid: What can you do?
Kid: Hahahaha!
Geralt: Get outta here.
Ciri: Not what I thought I'd find...
[Geralt will narrate the end of Junior's presence in the story here:]
Geralt: Whoreson Junior wasn't a pious man. But there came a moment when he
prayed to all the gods at once...for his life. Since the gods disliked
Junior, they granted his prayer. Years later, he had just one regret...
...that at the moment in question, he hadn't surrendered to death. For
he had had the courage to do so, courage he would never have again.
[They observe Junior for awhile.]
Wonder what happened to him...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wonder what happened to him.
Ciri: We'll soon find out.
He deserved this.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So there is justice in this world.
Ciri: Come, let's see...
[They walk over.]
Junior: Who...who's there?
Ciri: Remember me?
Junior: You...you cunt. You little arse-fucked whore! You...you'll pay for what
you did to me!
[He tries to stand up, but can't even accomplish that.]
Geralt: I'd watch your words if I were you.
Junior: Wi-i-i-tche-e-r! It's all your fault! Happy, you cocksucker?! I've
naught left! Not a bloody scrap...of human dignity left!
[A kid sneaks up and throws a rock at him.]
Junior: Ow! You little shit!
[They walk away.]
Ciri: On the way here, I didn't know what I'd do. Killing him was definitely an
option.
Geralt: Still want to?
Ciri: No. This is worse.
Geralt: Let's go.
Ciri: We've done the hardest part. Only the pleasant bits left now.
Geralt: Where're we going?
Ciri: The Golden Sturgeon. A girl who works there helped me.
===============================================================================
[Regardless of Junior's outcome, they set off for the docks.]
• Geralt: This girl we're about to see -- who is she again?
• Geralt: Why're we going to the Sturgeon?
Ciri: To see a girl who helped me once.
Geralt: Who might that be?
Ciri: A friend of Dandelion's. Her name's Bea. She's a waitress at the Golden
Sturgeon. Helped me contact Dandelion. I wish to thank her. She risked a
lot.
Geralt: Risked a lot? How's that?
Ciri: The Temple Guard were breathing down my neck. If she'd been seen with me,
she might've been flogged, or worse.
Geralt: Always getting into trouble.
Ciri: I take after you.
[There's an extra convo if the two left from Dudu's hideout:]
Ciri: I visited a city once that was very much like Novigrad. But the people
there were much taller and had dark skin.
Geralt: This somewhere in Zerrikania?
Ciri: No. In another world.
Geralt: Hmm... What's it like, hopping between worlds? Anything like passing
through a portal? Or different?
Ciri: A bit different. It was hard going at first. I wasn't very good at
controlling it. So I had to concentrate intensely and hope I didn't land
in the crater of an active volcano. The training I did with Avallac'h
was very helpful. Now I merely think of the place I wish to travel to,
close my eyes -- and it's done.
[They enter the back door, finding Bea arguing with looters.]
Looter: Word is you been lettin' nonhumans in your tavern again!
Bea: I admit whomever I please! You don't scare me!
Looter: Sure we don't?
Looter: Gave you a chance. Shoulda taken it.
Bea: I spit on anything you give me.
Looter: You'll regret that, you cow.
Geralt: Mind your manners, you're talking to a lady.
Looter: Stay out of this -- this is not your concern.
Leave on your own...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sure it is.
Looter: You're a fuckin' freak, too.
Ciri: He is. Very dangerous at that. The Butcher of White Orchard.
Looter: What'd he do there? Trim the trees?
Looter: Yugen, he slew half the village, dragged the bodies of the ealdorman
and his wife behind his horse to Novigrad. Let's get out of here.
Geralt: That's pretty good advice your friend's offering.
Looter: S-s-sorry.
Or I'll throw you out.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Draw your weapons. Let's get this over with.
Looter: Whoa...what?
Geralt: You're out to hurt her, I won't let you, so we'll argue and swagger
and have who knows how long a pissing contest. I don't have time for
that. Draw your swords.
[They get rid of the rabble.]
Bea: Thank you. They seemed more determined this time.
Ciri: Shouldn't cross them, I told you.
Bea: I'm to bar nonhumans from this establishment because some thugs threaten
me? Not likely!
Ciri: So good to see you again, Bea.
Bea: And you, Ciri. Who's your charming companion?
Geralt of Rivia.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia.
Bea: THAT Geralt?
A defender of the downtrodden.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: A defender of the downtrodden.
Bea: Mmm... Just so happens I was just trodden upon head to toe. Perhaps
you'd be kind enough to help me recover?
Ciri: Bea, you strumpet, control yourself! This is Geralt!
Bea: Ah. Aha! Why didn't you say so to start with?
No one in particular.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Nobody important.
Bea: I'd gladly put you up for the night. Could use a "nobody" like you...
Ciri: Bea, you strumpet, control yourself! This is Geralt!
Bea: Ah. Aha! Why didn't you say so to start with?
Bea: Mh-- Very nice to meet you. I've heard so much.
What've you heard?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Really? What, for example?
Bea: For example, how you've saved her from woe so many times she's lost
count. And how you always know how to make her laugh. That's Ciri, of
course. Other ladies, however...
Ciri: Bea, I'm standing right here.
Bea: All right, all right.
Ciri, get to the point.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri, didn't you have something to take care of?
Ciri: Right.
Bea: So, what brings you here, darlings?
Ciri: I wanted to thank you. For everything.
Bea: Oh, stop! Anyone would've done the same in my shoes!
Ciri: Not many would've done it with such courage. Thank you. This is for you.
A trinket, to remember me by.
Bea: Oh my, it's beautiful! Thank you! So? Will you stay for stew? Innkeep
slaughtered a piglet this morning.
Ciri: Thanks, but we must still visit Farcorners.
Bea: Ahh, off to see Valdo, eh? Well, shan't stop you, then. They'll feed you
properly there too, no doubt. Farewell to you both. And do take care of
her, witcher.
Geralt: I will. So long.
[They head for the next stop.]
Geralt: So, your friend... Bea...
Ciri: What about her?
Geralt: Nothing, seems nice...
Ciri: Geraaalt, you're terrible.
Geralt: What'd I say?
[They continue on.]
Geralt: What's there to see in Farcorners?
Ciri: The camp of some traveling circus performers. Nonhumans. When I came here
before, I wanted to contact Triss. Life was hard. I quickly spent nearly
everything the baron gave me. Triss and I never met, because the Temple
Guard showed up. I was a wanted woman afterwards.
Geralt: Triss didn't try to contact you?
Ciri: How could she? She didn't know anything. In fact, she thought she was to
meet another alchemist wanting to flee Novigrad. I preferred not to put
her in danger. I was being hunted, had not a copper to my name. Then I
met Valdo. He and his troupe helped me, then introduced me to Bea, and
through Bea I found Dandelion. You know the rest.
[They visit a small elven fairgrounds outside of Novigrad.]
Geralt: Where's this friend of yours?
Ciri: Hmm... There! Valdo!
Valdo: Ciri! You devil incarnate! Where've you been?!
Aegar: Come here, darling! Hallo -- what's this? Brought your granddad?
Ciri: Aegar, you're incorrigible. Allow me to introduce Geralt of Rivia.
Valdo: Ahh, greetings! We've heard heaps about you!
Exaggerated tales from Ciri, probably.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Mostly lies, I bet.
Valdo: If it's a lie that since her younger years you've been her friend and
mentor, then indeed -- she is a bold-faced liar!
Thanks for taking Ciri in.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Likewise. And thanks for helping Ciri.
Valdo: Oh, we had no choice! Found it hard to refuse a lass like her!
Valdo: Weeelll, good you're here. Come in the nick of time! We'd have been gone
by tomorrow.
Ciri: You're leaving?
Aegar: They're to start resettling nonhumans shortly. We'd rather stay ahead of
events.
Ciri: I understand...
Aegar: Problem is, we lost two horses, and another two are too weak to haul
anything.
Valdo: We'll manage somehow! We don't leave till tomorrow, so naught to worry
about today!
Aegar: Yes... For some. I'm off to see a merchant. There's a chance I can trade
our nags for a healthy horse. Wouldn't want Valdo to have anything to
worry about tomorrow...
He mad about something?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What's eating him?
Valdo: Oh, don't worry. That's just how Aegar is. Be back to his jolly old
self by evening.
Maybe we can help?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hm... Any way we can help?
Valdo: Oh, don't fret about us. We always get by somehow, right, Ciri?
Valdo: What brings you here?
Ciri: I've come to apologize. I disappeared so suddenly then...
Valdo: Pish-posh! What matters is you're back, and you're well.
Ciri: This is for you. All that you loaned me plus a small premium.
Valdo: Ciri... You know I can't take this...
Ciri: And you know I shan't let you refuse.
Valdo: Hmm... I know! We'll make it a pot for a wager! Do you still race?
Ciri: Of course.
Valdo: Then I challenge you! Geralt, will you join us?
Why not.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gladly.
Valdo: A man after my own spirit! Come!
Ciri: Geralt! Choose one of these!
Geralt: Coming, coming...
No, thanks.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No, thanks. Not up to it today.
Valdo: For every ache of body and soul, there's no better remedy than
Kaedweni golden, isn't that right, Ciri?
Ciri: As rain.
Valdo: Stay with us!
===============================================================================
[If Geralt decides to race:]
Valdo: You were faster once!
Ciri: Giving you a head start! Faster! You're trailing!
Geralt: Watch where you're going or you'll fall!
Ciri: Haha! Seems you've slowed!
Valdo: Just want to admire you from the side!
[Afterwards:]
• Geralt: Can still beat you.
Ciri: I let you win.
Valdo: Lovely race!
• Ciri: Still swift as the wind, Valdo.
Valdo: Haven't raced anyone that good in a while. Haha. You're worthy
opponents, you gave me wings!
Valdo: Well, this calls for a celebration! Stay the evening! We've several
barrels of Kaedwen's best.
===============================================================================
Valdo: Bonfires to be lit soon round which all will gather! This night shall be
ours!
[Hours later, Geralt and Ciri are by the campfire. First subject is Geralt's
love life...]
• Ciri: Worked out nicely, don't you think?
Geralt: What're you talking about?
Ciri: You and Triss. Never expected it, to be honest.
Geralt: Life's full of surprises.
Ciri: So, how did the two of you--?
Geralt: End up together? Hmm. With Yen it was fight after fight, lots of
arguments, drama... Not saying it was bad, but...
Ciri: But what?
Geralt: Got o¹ be exhausting. With Triss, it's not. I finally feel...harmony.
A calm. Feel like things are the way they're supposed to be.
• Ciri: You know...perhaps it's not my concern, but...I'm glad you and Yennefer
have ended up together.
Geralt: Me too.
Ciri: You took your time.
Geralt: Hm. Guess we both needed a while to grapple with it.
Ciri: So what was it like? You know, when the wish lost its hold. What did
you feel?
Geralt: Hmm. Well, there we were, the two of us, on the mountain top. I
looked at her, and... And felt like I was exactly where I was
supposed to be. At long last.
Woman: More wine?
Ciri: Thanks. I'm glad we stayed.
Geralt: Me too. They like you here.
Ciri: I like them, too. Ahh, I've love to join them... Drink and race, travel
from town to town. Not worry a whit about anything...
Good plan.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Good plan. Think I'll go with you.
Ciri: Then our future's settled. If, that is, there's more than ash left of
us once this is all over.
Geralt: Defeating the Hunt won't be easy, but with the Lodge's support,
Avallac'h's... We can do this.
What's worrying you now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Something worrying you now?
Ciri: Ahh... What awaits us.
Geralt: Defeating the Hunt won't be easy, but with the Lodge's support,
Avallac'h's... We can do this.
Need to defeat the Hunt first.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hmm... Fairytale life...but we gotta defeat the Wild Hunt first.
Ciri: I fear fighting the Hunt will only be the beginning. For me, at least.
What do you mean?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What do you mean?
One thing at a time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't worry about that yet. One thing at a time. You do know you can
always count on me, whatever happens?
Ciri: I do. Thank you, Geralt.
What will be will be.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You worry too much. What will be, will be.
[They see a flirty elven couple having fun nearby.]
Woman: Hahaha!
Man: You promised!
Woman: In jest!
[The couple runs off.]
Ciri: Sometimes I wish I could be like them.
Drunk?
¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Drunk or giggly? Whichever it is, today's your chance.
Ciri: Haha, not what I meant. I'd like to be ordinary.
Meaning?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Meaning?
Ciri: Ordinary.
I get you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Me, too. Being a witcher's a burden sometimes...
Ciri: As is my "inheritance." I'd so like to be ordinary.
[Then:]
You were born to great things.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Problem is, you're not. You were born to greatness.
Ciri: As I've been hearing since I was born.
You choose who you are.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your life is yours, exclusively. You choose who you are.
Ciri: Geralt, you know that's never been true.
Ciri: All because of this damned Elder Blood! My gift -- my curse. It granted
me all these powers, but it's also why I've spent my life fleeing,
hiding.
We'll defeat Eredin.² / We'll defeat Eredin. You'll be free.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Then it's time to end this. Once we defeat Eredin, you'll be free.
Ciri: Really? Eredin's hardly alone. There are others, they have plans for
me.
Gifts can be renounced...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can always renounce a gift, turn it down...
Ciri: It's not that easy. I tried once, remember? Besides, even if doing that
were to free me of Eredin, there will always be those with some kind of
plan that includes me.
Ciri: It was the sorceresses of the Lodge once, now it's my father, even
Yennefer...
Geralt: You're forgetting Avallac'h...
Ciri: Avallac'h's different... He's intent on my gift not falling into the
wrong hands, not spinning out of control. It's why he teaches me,
protects me.
Hope you're right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: If you say so...
Ciri: You doubt it?
Don't be naive.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The sooner you get rid of that illusion, the better.
Ciri: What do you mean?
Geralt: There'll come a day when Avallac'h will ask you for a favor.
Ciri: Perhaps... But if so, it will be a very, very long time from now... And
I'm certain whatever it is, he'll give me a choice. I will have the
option to refuse.
Geralt: Hope you're right...
[They watch the nearby juggler.]
Ciri: That's Pablo. I plan to learn how to juggle one day.
Geralt: Incredibly useful skill.
Aegar: Finally found you two! Enjoying yourselves?
Yes.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Bonfires, wine, jugglers... What more could you ask for?
Aegar: I could name a few things I'd trade it for, but it's a life...
Ciri: You seem concerned. Things not go well with the merchant?
No.
¯¯¯
Geralt: We were. Until someone interrupted us.
Aegar: Rather prickly, this friend of yours.
Ciri: You've much in common. How did you fare with the merchant?
Get the horses?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'd rather know how you fared with the merchant. Manage to get some
horses?
Aegar: Bah, lost cause. The man refused to trade, I said I'd buy, he asked
three arms and a host of legs for one healthy animal. We need horses.
But we'll have to find another way to get them...
Ciri: Ho-ho, I sense trouble...
Aegar: I knew you'd warm to the notion. We need to sneak into the man's stable.
With thirty head, a few more or less won't make a difference in his
life. Coming with?
Ciri: Of course!
Let's steal some horses.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ehh, what can I do? Gotta help those in need...
Ciri: Yes, yes, yes!
Aegar: Must say, you didn't seem the type to me...
Geralt: What type?
Aegar: Steady. Time to go! We'll meet by the stables.
Not about to steal.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: None of this concerns us.
Ciri: This does concern me. These are my friends.
Geralt: They'll manage on their own.
Aegar: If Ciri wishes to ride with us, she should. She's not your property.
Geralt: I won't let her risk her neck for thieves.
Can't just buy them?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Just buy the horses. Why can't you?
Aegar: With what coin?
Geralt: Ciri gave you a full pouch...
Aegar: Enough for one, at most. Whereas at the least we need four.
Ciri: Geralt, stop fussing. We'll not strip the merchant bare, and it's
finally a chance to do something other than run from the Wild Hunt!</pre><pre id="faqspan-21">
Don't make us beg!
Buy 'em for you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Gotta be another way to solve this... Just so happens I got some coin
I could lend you.
Aegar: We' have no way to repay you.
Geralt: Wouldn't have to.
Ciri: Shame the emperor doesn't have another daughter. We could buy all the
horses in Novigrad.
Aegar: A generous offer, but not one to resolve the situation. The merchant
didn't object to our coin, he objected to us. "I'll not trade with
such scum" -- believe those were his words. And if he'll not trade,
we've no choice but to steal from him.
You've convinced me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as "Let's steal some horses.")
Don't like this idea.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I dunno. Doesn't seem like the best idea...
Ciri: Geralt, stop fussing. We'll not strip the merchant bare, and it's
finally a chance to do something other than run from the Wild Hunt!
Don't make us beg!
===============================================================================
[If Geralt calls Aegar a thief, the elf will attack first. One of them will be
get their gob smacked.]
Valdo: What is this? Have you gone mad?! We were to revel, not punch each other
to a pulp!
• Aegar: Had a falling out...with Ciri's companion.
• Geralt: Should've made that clear to your friend.
Valdo: Ciri... Much as I hate to say it, I think it's time the two of you left.
Ciri: I know, the magic's gone. Sorry.
[If Geralt and Ciri leave after he beats up Aegar:]
Ciri: I'm going down to the riverside. Want to take a walk, be alone for a bit.
I'm sorry.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sorry for that.
Ciri: You've no need to apologize for acting according to your nature. I'll
meet you back at Dandelion's.
See you later.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I understand. Let's meet at Dandelion's.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt agrees to stealing the horse, Ciri and him will visit the Novigrad
stables where the thievin' will take place.]
Geralt: Aegar, keep a lookout. Ciri and I'll try to get inside.
Aegar: All right.
[They try the back door.]
Geralt: Locked...gotta find another way in.
[They see drowsy guards at the front.]
Geralt: Hard to find good guards these days...
Ciri: Quiet, you'll wake them.
[Geralt sneaks inside using some scaffolding. He opens the door for Ciri.]
Geralt: Hah. Here's the key. Quick get in here.
Ciri: *whistles*
Aegar: Finally!
[The mission complete, they steal four horses, startling the guards who can do
nothing but watch them gallop off. Back at the circus grounds...]
Aegar: Whooo-hooo! We did it!
Ciri: Excellent work! Did you see the two fools who tried to chase us?
Aegar: Almost tripped over their own boots!
Ciri: Thanks, Geralt, that was splendid!
Sure was.
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Geralt: Yeah... A nice change from killing monsters.
That was wrong.
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Geralt: Glad to see you happy... But I don't think what we did was right.
Aegar: How can you keep the company of such a bore?
Ciri: Leave him alone, Aegar. That's just how Geralt is -- righteous.
Aegar: Thanks for your help. And for visiting.
Ciri: It was so good to see you all again. Hang in there and take care of
yourselves.
Aegar: Don't forget us. So long.
[Aegar leaves.]
Ciri: I must bid Valdo farewell.
Geralt: All right. See you at Dandelion's, then. Got some things to take care
of in town.
Ciri: See you, Geralt.
________________________________
____________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: FINAL PREPARATIONS |_
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18) THROUGH TIME AND SPACE [WK18]
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[Geralt goes up to the Ruby Suite to find Avallac'h. He finds the elven sage
on the bed; there's nude drawings on the floor.]
Geralt: Need a hanky? Gotta admit, never expected this of you...
Avallac'h: You humans have...hm, unusual tastes. How did you fare on Bald
Mountain?
Geralt: Need to ask? You're a Sage.
Avallac'h: I ask as a courtesy. A concept you clearly forgot when you left
without uttering a word.
Geralt: Ciri was in a hurry.
Avallac'h: I know, so she wrote in her letter. But that is not my concern. You
eliminated Imlerith adeptly. So adeptly you might say you inspired
me...
What've you got in mind?
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Geralt: Meaning?
Be straight with me.
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Geralt: Skip the guessing games, I'm tired.
Avallac'h: The loss of one of his great generals has weakened Eredin.
Significantly. Two others remain.
Geralt: How do we get rid of them?
Avallac'h: Caranthir is a loyalist, but Ge'els -- that is another story. He was
a devoted follower of our former king... And as it happens, Eredin
poisoned our beloved ruler.
Think Ge'els would betray Eredin?
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Geralt: Regicide -- serious stuff... Take it not many know about this?
Avallac'h: Of the living -- only I. And Eredin, of course.
Geralt: Question is, can you get Ge'els to believe you?
Avallac'h: Nothing you need worry about.
Who knows this?
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Geralt: You make it sound important. So, guess it's not exactly common
knowledge...
Avallac'h: I'd even call it a secret.
Geralt: How'd he manage to hide it?
Avallac'h: Oh, I assure you, he's excellent at covering his tracks -- though
not terribly subtle. But I'm even better at uncovering them.
How do you know it was Eredin?
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Geralt: How do you know? Or are you bluffing?
Avallac'h: Eredin made sure very few individuals knew of his betrayal. Most
are now dead.
Geralt: Didn't answer my question.
Avallac'h: "How" matters not. What matters is I know -- and I've an idea how
to use this knowledge.
[Then:]
What do you intend to do?
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---
Think you can make a deal with Ge'els?
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Geralt: Haven't mentioned killing Ge'els...
Avallac'h: Such drastic means are not always necessary.
Geralt: So, you probably plan to offer him a deal.
Avallac'h: Brilliant deduction, bravo.
I'd rather kill Ge'els than make a deal.
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Geralt: Wanna deal, talk to him, trust him? I'd rather just kill him.
Avallac'h: That is precisely one of the reasons why Ge'els abhors your
world. Your senseless brutality. At times one must use reason,
rather than blades.
Geralt: Fine, so what do you propose?
Avallac'h: Why, to bring Ge'els here, show him the truth of what happened.
Geralt: Fabulous plan -- if we only knew where to find him.
Avallac'h: We do. In the land of the Aen Elle.
How do you mean to get there?
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Geralt: Think you're forgetting something -- you and Ciri might know how to
travel between worlds. But me, not so much.
Avallac'h: You clearly know there are many other worlds apart from the one
where we now stand. They're linked by passages, hidden gateways
that afford travel from one world to another. Of course, few know
of these gateways, even fewer can locate them.
Geralt: Elven Sages, for example?
Land of the Aen Elle? What's that?
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Geralt: Land of the Aen Elle?
Avallac'h: You don't recall? After all, you did travel with Eredin for some
time. The land of the Alder Folk. The world where we arrived
centuries ago, a world that is now our home. The Red Riders come
from there. And it is there where we will find Ge'els.
[They look at a Novigrad map.]
Avallac'h: For example. One such passage will open soon, near where we are,
fortuitously enough. Between this noble edifice and the Butchers'
Yard. That's our chance. Shall we go?
Let's go now.
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Geralt: Let's go.
Meet you there.
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Geralt: Meet you there. Gotta see to something along the way.
Avallac'h: Hurry. I'd rather not loiter in the street any longer than
necessary.
[They return to the house where Geralt encountered Corinne Tilly.]
Geralt: I know this house. Supposed to drive a godling from here.
Avallac'h: Supposed to?
Geralt: Decided it was harmless.
[They enter the basement kitchen.]
Avallac'h: The passage is here, past this wall.
[Sure enough, once the wall's broken, an active portal is visible.]
Avallac'h: This is the place. Once we enter, there'll be no returning until we
reach Ge'els. Ready?
Geralt: Yes, let's go.
Avallac'h: Remember, wherever you land, search for a place that looks like this
one. We shall meet, sooner or later.
Geralt: Mean we'll be separated?
Avallac'h: It's possible. I lack your ward's talents. Zireael is the Lady of
Time and Space, I merely know how to use this arcane knowledge to a
limited degree. It's time.
Geralt: I hate portals.
[The two are warped to another world, this one an arid, canyon-filled land. A
few remnants of civilization, reclaimed by the land, can be seen.]
Geralt: Where are we?
Avallac'h: Welcome to the Ddiddiwedht Desert.
Geralt: This somewhere in our world?
Avallac'h: Ever seen such canyons in your world? Come, we must go.
Geralt: What is this place?
Avallac'h: A very old world, thoroughly raped and destroyed.
Geralt: Anything live here?
Avallac'h: Mainly desert creatures able to survive months on end without water.
Oh, and large sandcrabs, beneath the surface. We must be careful
they don't sense us.
Geralt: And before? Were there any...people? Or elves?
Avallac'h: Do you believe humanoids have a monopoly on destroying worlds?
Geralt: So what did live here? Sentient monsters of some sort?
Avallac'h: Look at those cliffs. Remind you of anything?
Geralt: Hmm... Looks a bit like the bed of a giant river.
Avallac'h: Or the bottom of a sea.
Geralt: Mean there were water creatures here once?
Avallac'h: No creatures. Merely a sea.
Geralt: Trying to say that...?
Avallac'h: That there are many different worlds, and even more forms of life.
Many of them intelligent, much more so, in fact, than you humans.
But as it turns out, not even that could stop them from exhausting
all resources of their world. To the last drop.
[They walk through the wasteland for awhile.]
Avallac'h: Ah, the portal.
Geralt: Looks more like a ruin.
Avallac'h: Appearances can be deceiving.
Geralt: So what're we waiting for?
Avallac'h: For it to open. Shouldn't take but a few moments.
[They can feel tremors nearby.]
Geralt: What's going on?
Avallac'h: The sandcrabs have sensed our presence.
Geralt: Wonderful.
[They start fighting off the crustacean-like sand creatures.]
Geralt: They just keep coming!
Avallac'h: We can't hope to defeat them all! As soon as the portal opens, you
must jump in after me! Three, two, one... Very good. On time.
Geralt: What a relief.
Avallac'h: Quickly! Jump in!
[Geralt does. He ends up, alone, on a mountain cliff overlooking a valley of
strange red plants.]
Geralt: Avallac'h?
[He can see a far-off portal still active.]
Geralt: There it is.
[He goes down to the red plants' level, finding they're emitting some type of
gas.]
Geralt: Vapors don't look terribly inviting.
[He runs through, clambering to high ground.]
Geralt: Akh kha ah... Akh akh. Dammit, gotta hold my breath. Any longer and
I'd have suffocated. Should avoid those clouds. Or bolt through them.
[Geralt finally makes it through the next portal, finding himself smack dab in
an underwater cavern. Passing through there leads to a frost-encrusted cave.]
Geralt: Brrr... Cold.
[Breaking through an ice wall, Geralt finds a blizzarding world.]
Geralt: Freeze to death if I don't hide somewhere. And I gotta find that next
passage quick. If I can just find cover along the way, I should make
it to the passage.
[Geralt slides down the mountainside to reach an empty, icebound village. A
lighthouse nearby has a visible beacon at its peak.]
Geralt: Light, in a place like this? Someone must've lit it. With any luck, it
was a certain grouchy elven Sage. Snow's up to the rooftops, wonder how
long this blizzard's been blowing.
[He slides further into town, finding Wild Hunt hounds by a warehouse.]
Geralt: Course... What else? Might've expected this.
[Eventually, Geralt reaches the lighthouse's base, where Avallac'h's waiting.]
Avallac'h: Took you a while. Did you run into trouble?
Geralt: Erm, no. Just taking in the sights. What is this place? Feels like I've
been here before.
Avallac'h: You have. You fought Eredin's projection here. Before that, Ciri
fought here. For you.
Geralt: What're you talking about?
Avallac'h: Ever wondered how you managed to leave the Red Riders?
Geralt: Many times, but I don't remember a thing.
Avallac'h: Ciri came for you. She sensed you were in danger, tore you from the
Hunt's grasp, then deposited you in the woods near Kaer Morhen.
Geralt: Did Eredin start hunting her because of that? Because of me? Why didn't
she say anything?
Avallac'h: Ugh. What would it have changed?
Let's go.
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Geralt: Doesn't look safe here, either. Let's go.
Avallac'h: This way.
Geralt: Next passage -- when will it open?
Avallac'h: Shortly.
What is this world?
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Geralt: Where are we? World of the Aen Elle?
Avallac'h: No. This is Tedd Deireadh, the Time of the End. The world
destroyed by the White Frost. Alas, this awaits us all, though at
differing stages of our existence.
Geralt: So calm when you say that...
Avallac'h: Eredin succumbed to his knowledge of the apocalypse. Fear rules
him now. I'll not commit the same error.
Geralt: Care to clarify?
Avallac'h: Not here, not now.
Why is Ge'els so important?
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Geralt: Going after Ge'els is proving quite a trek, but I still don't know
why he's so important.
Avallac'h: Eredin differs from the king he killed. Power for its own sake
interests him. He has little patience for bureaucracy. He spends
most of his time atop his steed, leading the Red Riders. So what
does he need in the capital? A good viceroy. Ge'els is an
excellent administrator and an even better plotter. He's the most
dangerous individual amongst the Aen Elle.
Geralt: He got any weaknesses?
Avallac'h: Yes. He's righteous.
Where did your journey take you?
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Geralt: I was hoping we wouldn't get separated.
Avallac'h: I warned you it could happen.
Geralt: Where'd your journey take you?
Avallac'h: Through a world whose sun had just died. I barely reached the next
passage in time.
That light on the peak -- you put it here?
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Geralt: Light on the peak -- was that you?
Avallac'h: I thought it might aid your passage. After all, that is what
lighthouses do -- show the way.
[The next portal leads to the viceroy's palace in Tir ná Lia.]
Avallac'h: At last.
Geralt: Is this Tir ná Lia?
Avallac'h: The Palace of Awakening, formerly the Moon Palace. Ge'els'
headquarters.
[They reach the vista overlooking the distant town.]
Geralt: Hmm...beautiful.
Avallac'h: I'm glad to know you appreciate it. Elven architecture is a bit more
sophisticated than yours.
[They find Ge'els at a canvas, painting a nude model nearby.]
Woman: Oh? Who's this? And why are they here?
Ge'els: I believe we're done for the day, my tulip. Be a dear and leave us
alone. For I think we can agree this matter is between us and us alone,
correct? Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha and the witcher of Rivia.
Ceádmil. Do you like my new model? Something of Lara Dorren about her,
wouldn't you agree, Crevan?
Avallac'h: Her height, perhaps. Nothing more.
Ge'els: Ah, I see I've touched on a tender spot... So let's change the subject,
shall we? Care for a drink?
Be glad to have a drink.
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Geralt: Got any vodka? Oh, yeah, keep forgetting you don't touch that filth,
disgraceful as it is.
Not in the mood.
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Geralt: Didn't come here for tea.
Ge'els: Hm... I must admit, you appearing here -- quite the surprise, witcher.
Incidentally, interesting choice of allies. Do you think Avallac'h is
honest with you? Just curious...
Yes, he's honest.
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Geralt: I think that even among the Aen Elle elves there are those capable
of being decent.
Ge'els: Naïvety's a fool's blessing...
No, but it doesn't matter.
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Geralt: No. But honesty's not a facet of your species. So quit spewing bile,
won't gain you anything.
Ge'els: I detect a shadow of impatience in your faces, it seems. So, what
brings you here?
Avallac'h: I've come to tell you who killed our king.
Ge'els: You've gone through a great deal of trouble to reach me... So I must
believe you've put equal effort into preparing this lie.
Avallac'h: You shall see the truth. You will dream it.
Ge'els: You've an oneiromancer? Hmph. My intuition was correct -- this will be
interesting.
Talked enough, let's go.
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Geralt: Tired of your pseudo-sophisticated courtesy. Let's go.
Ge'els: Where to, if I might ask?
This way, please.
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Geralt: Better believe it. This way, please.
Ge'els: Witcher Geralt, a true man of action. Might I know where we're going?
Avallac'h: To the world of the Aen Seidhe. Directly, this time.
Geralt: Let's go. Before any guards show up.
[Geralt and the two elves arrive back at the Ruby Suite, where Corinne Tilly
is waiting with Ciri.]
Avallac'h: I take it I needn't introduce our guest.
Ge'els: Greetings, Zireael. So it's true -- the Swallow has befriended the Fox.
Ciri: There's naught you can do to make us turn on one another.
Ge'els: Avallac'h blackmailed you -- do you not remember? Tried to force you to
warm our king's bed? Treated your body like a side of pork.
Ciri: I remember. But I also remember what you advised Eredin do with me once
I was caught. And I remember what the Red Riders did at Kaer Morhen.
Ge'els: I didn't come here to argue. The proof you promised, where is it?
Avallac'h: You will see it. In your dream.
Ge'els: Ah yes, the oneiromancer. Visions that cannot be fabricated. Do you
wish to show me how Eredin murdered our king? What then? Am I to incite
the Aen Elle against Eredin? Call for revolution and proclaim Avallac'h
our new king?
No. Defy Eredin, that's all.
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Geralt: Don't flatter yourself. Defy Eredin, that's all you need to do.
You'll do what you want.
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Geralt: You'll do what you want. If you decide to continue serving the
regicide, so be it. Wouldn't even be surprised.
Ge'els: Very well. Have your oracle summon dreams of my king's last moments.
Avallac'h: We shall all dream them. To make certain there are no
misunderstandings.
Ge'els: Why not.
[Tilly begins her dream. Avallach touches her forehead, showing the moments to
everyone through his own magic. There, they see a king on a throne, dropping
a poisoned vial, which Eredin picks up.]
Eredin: The king is dead. Long live the king.
[They all finish seeing the dream.]
Ge'els: You must face him on your terms, in this world, in a place of your
choosing. It's your only chance. Sail to Skellige and find the
Sunstone. With it, you will summon the Naglfar. Eredin will come, too.
Should he call for reinforcements, no Aen Elle will answer.
Avallac'h: You have done the thing most just. A new portal to Tir ná Lia will
open. I shall stabilize it, and you will return. Come with me.
[The two elves leave. Later that night, Geralt and Ciri talk on a balcony.]
Geralt: Just as well, could've been bluffing. Might've just said that so we'd
let him go. Dammit. We should've pressed him.
Ciri: Calm down. Avallac'h knows him better. We'll hear him out when he
returns.
Geralt: Speak of the devil.
[The elven sage comes out into the fresh air.]
Ciri: Geralt's worried. He believes we let Ge'els go too easily.
I don't trust him.
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Geralt: He got off cheap and easy... Sold us a few pieces of advice, some
story about a Sunstone...
Avallac'h: He gave us his assurance that he'll not support Eredin. And that
is quite a lot.
Just wanna be careful.
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Geralt: Can never be too careful.
Avallac'h: Agreed. Yet I do believe Ge'els will keep his word, withhold
support from Eredin.
Ciri: Seems to me you have a plan. Care to share it with us?
Avallac'h: Once we find the Sunstone, aided by your sorceresses and their
magic, we shall draw Eredin's ship to a bay along the coast of
Undvik. We will wait in ambush. Lay a trap. When the King of the
Hunt arrives, we will spring it and kill him.
Geralt: Just like that?
Avallac'h: Defeating Eredin will be no small feat, but we will accomplish it.
Find the sorceresses of the Lodge and we'll meet at the port. Then
we sail to Skellige.
________________________________
____________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: FINAL PREPARATIONS |_
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19) A FINAL KINDNESS [WK19]
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[This quest only occurs if Geralt lets Keira take the notes to Radovid instead
of sending her to the safety of Kaer Morhen. During "Final Preparations," one
will learn the risky gamble didn't pay off -- she was executed by impalement
and her body's displayed in Novigrad's main square. If Geralt agrees to help
Triss get and bury her, they meet at midnight.]
Triss: You're here, finally.
Geralt: What do we do?
Triss: You've got to approach the guards. I...they could recognize me, I'd
rather not show my face.
Geralt: Right. You stay here.
[Geralt approaches the sentries guarding Keira's corpse.]
Geralt: What was her crime?
Sentry: Same as all of 'em. Witchcraft and fornication with succubi!
Sentry: Cunt tried to seduce Radovid. But he saw through her. Showed her what
we do to traitors.
[Axii Sign] Leave, now.
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Geralt: Take your friend and go for a walk.
Sentry: Perhaps we've earned a break...
Sentry: Aye, high time...
Leave or regret it.
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Geralt: Get outta here. Both of you.
Sentry: Don't rightly believe you know who you're talking to.
Geralt: Oh, I do -- two idiots. Soon to be two dead idiots.
Here for the body.
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Geralt: Here to take the body.
Sentry: First we've heard of anyone collecting it.
Sentry: Guard the witch, those're our orders.
Farewell.
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Geralt: So long.
[After dealing with the guards, they remove Keira from her stake. Triss sits
with the corpse on a bench.
Triss: I'll take her somewhere safe. Then wait for you outside the Passiflora.
Want help?
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Geralt: Sure you don't need any help?
Triss: Don't trouble yourself.
See you there.
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---
Geralt: See you.
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IT TAKES THREE TO TANGO [WK20]
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[This quest only occurs if Geralt confessed his love to both Yen and Triss.
It'll automatically begin during "Final Preparations," after Ciri meets with
Philippa and Rita about her future. The witcher either has a conversation
with Yen and Triss there, or will go to sleep, having a similar one the next
morning.]
• Triss: How'd it go?
Yennefer: No casualties, so not bad, I suppose.
Triss: Ciri can handle herself... Gets it from you... Since it seems to be
over, perhaps...
Yennefer: Yes, good idea.
• Yennefer: Geralt... Geralt, wake up.
Geralt: Wh...what? Yen? Something wrong?
Triss: Wake up. Sit with us a while.
Geralt: Triss? You here too? What's, uh, going on?
Triss: We need to tell you something.
You're acting strange.
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Geralt: You two are acting strange...
Yennefer: Us? No...
What is this?
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Geralt: Something's not right. What're you up to?
Triss: Don't be nervous.
Triss: Yen and I, well, we talked and concluded...
Yennefer: ...That we've wasted much too much time fighting...over you.
Triss: Meanwhile, we'll probably soon face the Wild Hunt, most likely battle
Eredin himself... And who knows what could happen.
Yennefer: So, we decided we must try to make the most of the time we have left.
Together.
I like that idea.
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Geralt: Together? Go on...
I don't like that idea.
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Geralt: I don't like this...
Yennefer: You soon will...
Triss: We've always loved each other, you're in love with us...
Yennefer: There's no point in fighting it. We must enjoy what we have.
Triss: So we've prepared...something special.
Yennefer: Come by the Kingfisher this evening...
Triss: Bring wine. Lots of wine.
Yennefer: See you later, love.
Triss: I can't wait.
[The women leave.]
Geralt: This'll be interesting...
[That evening, Geralt enters a bedroom on the tavern's second floor. Triss and
Yen are already semi-undressed.]
Yennefer: I'd lost hope that you'd appear.
Triss: We couldn't wait for you to show.
[After a little foreplay, the girls put the witcher's arms into the shackles
on either side of the bed. That done, they promptly get some refreshment.]
Geralt: What about me? Don't I get any?
Triss: You...
Yennefer: ...just got exactly what you deserve.
Geralt: Hey! This isn't funny!
[The girls finish their goblets and leave Geralt chained.]
Geralt: Come back! Triss! Yen!
[The next morning, Dandelion's arrived to the spectacle.]
Dandelion: Haha. Well, well. Ladies did quite a number on you.
Save it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Save it. I'm not in the mood...
Dandelion: Well, I sure am. What'd you play? "Tame the fiend?" Or was it
"Free the prince?"
Were you in on this?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You know about this?
Dandelion: No, they didn't tell me till this morning. A shame, really,
because it looks like you had a roaring good time.
I'll do a number on you...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Do a number on you if you don't...
Dandelion: In your shoes, my friend, I'd be promising mounds of gold, not
making threats.
Geralt: Untie me now, or you'll need that gold to replace your teeth.
Dandelion: Haha. You'd have to catch me first. And you don't exactly look
like you're getting out of here anytime soon.
Geralt: Dandelionnnn...
Dandelion: All right, all right. Sorry, don't often see you like this,
couldn't resist... So, how do you feel? A bit numb, I bet.
[The bard unbinds the captive.]
Triss and Yen will pay...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Triss and Yen -- where are they? Got something to say to them...
Got what I deserved.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got what I deserved... Should've known it was too good to be true...
Dandelion: You certainly should have.
Don't wanna talk about it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Tell anyone about this and...
Dandelion: Calm down, won't peep a word. It's one thing to laugh at a friend,
another thing entirely to make a laughing stock of him.
Dandelion: Oh, Geralt, how little you know about women... Did you really think
you could have them both? You have a great deal to learn... Glad to
give you some advice if you want.
Geralt: Think I'll pass. I'm off to see Avallac'h. Wanted a word, apparently...
_______________________________________________________________________________
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21) BATTLE PREPARATIONS [WK21]
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[Geralt goes to the docks; the sorceresses are talking by the gangplank.]
Philippa: Yennefer, if this is untrue...
Yennefer: It's true. Help protect Ciri from the Wild Hunt, and the emperor will
grant you amnesty.
Rita: I hope we can trust you.
Yennefer: You can.
Rita: What of Fringilla?
Yennefer: That I don't know... But I shall take it up with him.
[She goes off to the side with Geralt.]
Geralt: You've barely said hello and you're already plotting something.
Yennefer: It's clearly in our nature.
What was that about Fringilla?
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Geralt: Bit about Fringilla -- what was that? Triss told me you couldn't
contact her.
Yennefer: Perhaps because she sits in the emperor's dungeon, chained in
dimeritium. At least that's what Rita implied.
How would Rita know?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: How's Rita know? Barely got out of prison herself.
Yennefer: She spoke to Fringilla before they imprisoned her. Fringilla said
that the emperor had summoned her and she'd explain why after the
meeting. No one's heard from her since.
Geralt: Thought this kinda drama only happened around Radovid.
Emperor hid that from you?
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Geralt: Hmm... Take it the emperor forgot to tell you about this?
Secured them amnesty? Really?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I hear right? You convince the emperor to pardon them?
Yennefer: Provided they help us defend Ciri.
Geralt: Hmm... Got a hard time believing emperor'd go in for a deal like
that.
Yennefer: If you can't believe it, don't. I don't need you to.
Yennefer: I don't like it. That was not our deal. When it's all over, I'll need
to have a candid discussion with the emperor. Come, they're all
waiting for us.
[Everyone boards the ship; Geralt finds Avallac'h.]
Avallac'h: All are present. You were the last to arrive. Might we set sail?
Yes, let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Anchors aweigh.
Gimme a minute.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wait here, forgot something.
[Some time later, the sorceress' ship approaches Skellige. Yen watches Geralt
and Ciri talking and laughing with each other. As she sees the Nilfgaardian
fleet in the distance, Yen conjures a messenger raven; it flies and crashes
into a barrier.]
Yennefer: Well, that settles the question of His Imperial Majesty's
whereabouts.
Ciri: Does he aim to conquer Skellige? But he knows...those are my friends!
Yennefer: He wishes to grant you the isles. With Cintra...and the rest of the
empire.
Triss: There is an upside to all this.
Ciri: Is that so?
Avallac'h: The emperor will have to help us fight the Hunt. And we've just
found Fringilla Vigo.
Ciri: We must hurry and find the Sunstone. Seems we've plenty to do in Skellige
after that.
Yennefer: Fringilla Vigo -- we need her here.
Can you teleport me onto the emperor's ship?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Can you teleport me onto Emhyr's ship?
Yennefer: Not a chance. It's better shielded than the emperor's alcove.
Triss: Though we could try to force our way through...
Avallac'h: We need Fringilla in one piece.
Get on Emhyr's ship myself.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll get on the emperor's ship myself.
Triss: Plan to swim? With swords on your back? You'll get shot up like a
sitting duck before you can say "The White Flame Dancing on the
Graves of His Foes."
Yennefer: Don't panic. He'll find a way. Make your approach by night, you'll
stand a better chance then. Once you're on board... Show His
Imperial Majesty this letter. Hand it to him directly. We should
remind him what he promised, and what he'll get in return.
They know we're here?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think they know we're here?
Yennefer: Emhyr's mages? Of course.
Geralt: If the matter of Fringilla Vigo were resolved, they'd probably just
send her over here in a skiff.
Yennefer: It's far from resolved. The emperor pledged to ensure the Lodge's
safety, but...
Triss: Fringilla is a pricklier matter. She's his subject, one officially
sentenced to death for treason.
Yennefer: You'll need to learn what Emhyr has planned for her -- once we've
found a way to toss you over to the imperial flagship.
Don't even know what the Sunstone is.
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Geralt: At the moment we don't even know what the Sunstone is.
Avallac'h: It was created so the Mountain Elves could summon the vessels of
the Aen Elle. Now it merely serves as a symbol of the lost
opportunity to unite the two tribes... Truly? Can all of you be
unfamiliar with the story of Gealbhan and Dillian of the White
Fleet?
We're sure the Sunstone's in Skellige?
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Geralt: The Sunstone's in Skellige? How do we know that?
Avallac'h: From legends. Elven ones. It lies where the White Fleet landed
centuries ago.
Yennefer: Meaning anywhere on any one of the Isles. Splendid...
Geralt: Ermion -- I'll talk to him.
Yennefer: Know where he is?
Geralt: I'll ask around the port. Crach's longships are moored there.
I'm more interested in how to use it.
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Geralt: What I wanna know is if we'll be able to use the Sunstone.
Avallac'h: You? No. Me? Naturally. With a touch of help from the
sorceresses.
Yennefer: Of whom some are below deck vomiting, while others remain
unreachable.
I love Elven legends, let's hear it.
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Geralt: Tell us, please. Absolutely love elven legends.
Avallac'h: Gealbhan was a Sage of the Alder Elves. He fell in love with an
Aen Seidhe elf -- Dillian. Yet she spurned him.
Ciri: Ahem. That was a jest on Geralt's part?
Avallac'h: Too late. It won't hurt any of you to know this. On the day the
White Fleet was to set sail, Gealbhan gave Dillian a gift -- the
Sunstone. He believed Dillian's heart would soften in time. Once
her longing for him burgeoned, she was to use the Sunstone.
Though worlds away, he would return for her.
Yennefer: Sounds promising. Let's just hope this Sunstone proves more useful
to us than it did to that elf woman.
I'm off.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm off.
Ciri: Good luck.
===============================================================================
[If one lingers, Yen/Triss/Ciri will have conversations on the deck:]
Yennefer: Perhaps you should talk to him after all.
Ciri: What would be the point? Surely none now.
Yennefer: And later? Don't count your father out just because he's the world's
richest and most powerful--
Ciri: ...authoritarian rotter unworthy of even one inch of trust?
Yennefer: Actually, of all people, I believe you can trust him, perhaps you
even should.
Ciri: What about the dictatorial rotter part?
Yennefer: Something to get used to.
Yennefer: I thought you wished to see Crach?
Ciri: It's just that... What if I disappear again tomorrow? For good this time,
like my mother did? I feel like...I shouldn't see anyone who is...fond of
me. At least not until we defeat the Wild Hunt.
Triss: We can always drop you back on the Isle of Mists.
Ciri: Heh. Thanks a lot.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt goes into the other sorceress' cabin:]
Rita: Do you know what I just realized?
Philippa: Hm?
Rita: Except for the two of us and Ciri, Geralt has slept with every woman on
this ship.
Philippa: Don't worry, it's only a matter of time in your case.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Philippa for the first time since her rescue:]
Philippa: Well? What is it?
Geralt: No need to thank me, Philippa. Always glad to save your ass. You're
welcome.
Philippa: You stood to gain -- that is why you saved me.
Did you really want Dijkstra killed?
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Geralt: Way back when, did you really send assassins after Dijkstra?
Philippa: You believe I...? Do you not remember we were once lovers?
Geralt: Maybe it's just me, but I think you'd consider that in itself to be
reason enough. Actually, I've long wondered why you parted.
Quarelled¹, even.
Philippa: Ahh, you see, Geralt, there are those who keep politics separate
from their private lives, and those who do not.
Geralt: Which one was Dijkstra?
Philippa: The more boring of the two.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Margarita for the first time since her rescue:]
Geralt: How're you feeling?
Rita: Better, I thank you. If you'd not arrived in time, things might have
ended considerably worse. I am your debtor.
Geralt: Thank Yennefer. It was her idea, her plan.
How'd the witch hunters nab you?
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Geralt: Thought Margarita Laux-Antille'd be among the last to get nabbed by
witch hunters.
Rita: Were it dependent solely on me, of course I would have. But you forget
I had my students to consider. I knew the hunters would eventually
reach Aretuza -- it was but a matter of time. So when I heard Triss was
organizing escapes to Kovir, I saw no reason to hesitate. I gathered my
novices and we rode here to Novigrad. Sadly, we were caught and thrown
in Deireadh before I could contact Triss.
Geralt: Didn't see any other sorceresses in there with you...
Rita: Because they'd already been executed. Burned...alive...one after the
other. The most talented girls in the North. Radovid was saving me for
last.
Aretuza, the school -- what happened to it?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: If you're here, what's become of Aretuza?
Rita: The day I arrived in Novigrad, I received a message from Biruta Icarti.
A short, curt note -- "School overrun by Redanians. The libraries burn.
Handful of pupils fled with Nina Vivero, the rest are dead. It is
over."
Geralt: No reaction from the Council, the Conclave?
Rita: Do you jest? They asked Radovid to "intervene." Just after he'd
appointed them.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell, Rita.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt talks to Fringilla after "Veni Vidi Vigo"...]
Fringilla: Yes, Geralt?
Looking good.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You look good.
Fringilla: For a captive of Emhyr -- is that what you mean?
Geralt: Seems like he's shown you surprising...leniency. No interrogations,
no torture. Or did you just tell him everything he wanted to know?
Fringilla: If I'd told him everything, he'd hardly still need me alive,
wouldn't you say? Anyway, we shan't speak of it. I and what
concerns me have not been a concern of yours for some time now.
So long.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So long.
[After completing "Veni Vidi Vigo," "The Sunstone," "Child of the Elder Blood"
and "Skjall's Grave," it's time to return to the Kaer Trolde boat to update
Avallac'h. Yen will be talking to the elven sage on the upper deck.]
Yennefer: We looked around your laboratory.
Avallac'h: I never doubted you would. But why did you? You might've just asked.
me.
Yennefer: To hear you reveal all about your experiments with the Elder Blood
gene? Unlikely.
Avallac'h: I've hidden nothing that could be useful in our struggle against
Eredin. As regards the Elder Blood...you're all aware Ciri is
exceptional. I am alone in knowing to what extent.
Yennefer: Or maybe you're just obsessed with her?
Avallac'h: I'm obsessed?
[If Geralt talks to Avallac'h about the lab expedition:]
Geralt: Went by your laboratory.
Avallac'h: I trust you did not make a mess.
Geralt: Didn't mention you were the Aen Elle elves' chief source of knowledge
about Ciri's abilities.
Avallac'h: I didn't mention many things. Fortunately, they're no longer
important.
Geralt: Your experiments with the gene, Elder Blood -- that's not important?
Avallac'h: I pursued those studies to protect Ciri. To protect Lara Dorren's
blood, in whomever's veins it courses.
Ran into someone at your lab.
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Geralt: Ran into someone at your lab.
Avallac'h: Did you, now?
Geralt: Mhm. A she-elf. Claimed you hate Ciri. So how's that fit you trying
to protect her, whatever the cost?
Avallac'h: Not at all. You don't really expect me to confess my feelings to
you, do you?
Maybe this is all about Lara for you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So maybe you're hoping to gain control of Lara herself? After all
these years?
Avallac'h: Lara is dead. My only hope is that Ciri will fulfill her calling
and survive.
I believe you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I believe you.
Avallac'h: I know. You'd never let me within five hundred yards of Ciri
otherwise.
[Geralt can tell Avallac'h the prep work's over:]
Geralt: We found the Sunstone.
Avallac'h: Geabhan's gift to Dillian of the White Fleet. As legend has it, she
never used the stone, and Gealbhan died of sorrow.
Geralt: Won't keep Eredin waiting that long.
Avallac'h: It seems we've everything. We can go. Keep in mind -- once we
commit, there'll be no returning.
Taken care of everything. Ready when you are.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm ready. High time we set sail. Undvik awaits.
Meet you on Undvik.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: See you on Undvik.
[This starts the quest "On Thin Ice."]
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___________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: BATTLE PREPARATIONS |_
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22) VENI VIDI VIGO [WK22]
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[The Nilfgaardian fleet is stationed off the northeast coast of Undvik. Should
he be spotted prematurely:]
Soldier: Sink the boat! Shoot!
Geralt: Wait! Parley! I'm a-- Dammit!
[Either way, a lookout spots him if he nears the flagship:]
Soldier: Hold! It's the witcher! Emperor's orders! Stand down!
[Geralt climbs aboard the flagship. The talk with Emhyr is slightly longer if
Ciri wasn't brought to him in Vizima earlier.]
Emhyr: Witcher. What a pleasant surprise.
Geralt: Warm welcome. Thank you, Your Majesty.
• Emhyr: We are at war, if you haven't noticed.
Geralt: I've noticed. Can see the smoke from burning huts miles away.
• Emhyr: You should have come with my daughter, your welcome would have been
different. Where is she?
Nearby.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Close.
Emhyr: Close, White Wolf, is what you are to decapitation.
Zerrikania.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: In Zerrikania. She longed for sunlight.
Emhyr: I am known neither for my sense of humor nor for my patience.
Emhyr: You're insolent because you believe I cannot afford to hurt you. And
you're right. Yet that will change one day. When you are no longer
indispensible, but...disposable. But enough of that. Let's not get
ahead of ourselves.
Emhyr: What do you want?
Geralt: Fringilla Vigo. Been told you promised Yennefer you'd free her. I can
see... I know you're a busy man...so here's a letter. Oughta refresh
your memory about the Lodge.
[He reads it.]
Emhyr: Hm... Even Yennefer's humblest requests seem like threats. I've always
liked that about her. Very well, so be it.
Time for me to go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Time I was on my way.
Emhyr: At last, a point we agree on. Guards! Bring me Fringilla Vigo! You may
remove her dimeritium shackles.
Ready to forgive them? Truly?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Truly prepared to forgive them? Amnesty in exchange for help?
Emhyr: I'm prepared to abide by the agreement I made with Yennefer.
Geralt: Didn't answer my question.
Emhyr: Nor must I.
[The short-haired sorceress comes to the top deck.]
Emhyr: No introductions are necessary from what I've heard. Farewell.
Geralt: Fringilla... Been a while. The other sorceresses, they're on Gynvael,
near Ard Skellig. We could take a boat--
Fringilla: I'm sick to death of boats.
Geralt: And I despise teleports. But have it your way. Let's go.
[They warp back to the ship moored at Kaer Trolde's port. Yennefer/Philippa or
only Triss will be waiting, depending on who one's romanced.]
• Philippa: Look what the cat dragged in! Fringilla Vigo!
Fringilla: Philippa. A pleasure as always.
Yennefer: Come now, we need none of that. Fringilla, we must speak.
Philippa: Oh my.
• Triss: Fringilla!
Fringilla: Triss... Where's Yennefer?
Triss: She'll be here soon. And she's sure to want to talk to you.
Fringilla: I don't doubt it.
[If Yen didn't meet Geralt when he returned with Vigo, the sorceress will have
a catty converation onboard the ship with her sister mages:]
Fringilla: And truly you could do nothing? At all? For six whole months?
Philippa: Why don't you tell me about the emperor. He's apparently become
terribly attached to you.
Rita: Philippa...
Philippa: What?
Rita: Want a cracker?
_________________________________
___________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: BATTLE PREPARATIONS |_
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23) THE SUNSTONE [WK23]
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[To get a lead on the Sunstone, Geralt must find Ermion. He goes to Crach at
the lower port, finding him watching the Black Ones' boats with a spyglass.]
Crach: Wolf, do you see? The black dogs in their rickety tubs! They bay at our
gates, seek to strike fear in our hearts!
Geralt: Saw 'em all. Where's Ermion?
Crach: Went to see Lugos. An an Craite on the throne remains a thorn in his
arse, heheh. Now he's seen the Black Ones, it pricks him even harder.
The druid's gone to reason with the dimwitted knob.
Geralt: Think I'll join Ermion. Need to talk to him.
Crach: Go. And when you see that bloody twit Lugos, be sure to tell him-- Argh,
best not. The druid knows what to say. Farewell.
[Geralt goes to Kaer Muire, the Clan Drummond castle Lugos lives at. He finds
the jarl arguing with the druid visitor.]
Madman: And what else would Crach have? He not content to have the mightiest
fleet, take control of my isle, and seat his spawn on the throne?
Ermion: Under present circumstances--
Madman: Under present circumstances Crach can go ahead and reap the shite he
sowed. Almighty Crach -- well, surely he can take on the Black Ones
and meself. I'll not kneel before an an Craite! Never! That clear to
you?!
Ermion: You prefer to aid the Black Ones?
Madman: I'd sooner aid the wraiths of bleedin' Mörhogg than let Crach rule all
Skellige!
Ermion: And your men, what do they say? Will they follow you when the jarls
call you a traitor?
Madman: This here's my land, druid! Watch your words!
What is it if not treason?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What would you call it, if not treason?
Wanna be king by the grace of Nilfgaard?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Would you be king by Nilfgaard's grace?
Madman: That your bark before you bite? Did Crach send you here for my head?
Well then, go ahead, try to take it! Get 'em!
[Lugos sics his loyal men on the pair, and as a result, the traitorous jarl</pre><pre id="faqspan-22">
and his lackeys all lose their lives.]
Ermion: Come, we should not stay here.
[With the regrettable slaughter over, the two talk outside Holmstein.]
Ermion: Well, Geralt, I can see no row can occur in Skellige without your
participation.
Geralt: Mean and inaccurate, Ermion. Seems to me I've missed quite a few.
Ermion: The blood of Crach's blood sits upon the throne, and that is your
doing. I'm afraid you've ignited a small civil war.
===============================================================================
[Geralt will narrate the end of the island king subplot:]
Geralt: For ages, men had shed each other's blood in the quest for Skellige's
crown. Politics as usual -- just a difference of degree. Yet the bloody
feast at Kaer Trolde was different. It was dishonorable, treacherous,
needed investigation. More witchers' work... Work that culminated with
crowning of the Isles' new
• ruler.
• queen.
===============================================================================
Ermion: So, Clan Drummond will attack sooner than we expected, it seems.
Geralt: Thought Crach sent you to negotiate an agreement with Lugos.
Ermion: Hah! An agreement! Only Crach believes such a thing possible at this
stage.
Geralt: Mean I didn't actually ruin things for you?
Ermion: Not this time. Lugos' death stands to change a great deal. His cousin,
who will now be named jarl, is a weak commander, stupid. This war will
start soon, and end even sooner. But why have you returned to Skellige?
Ever heard of the Sunstone?
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Geralt: Listen, Ermion. Know anything about the Sunstone? Legends place it
somewhere in Skellige.
Ermion: The Mask of Uroboros first, now the Sunstone. Monsters may rest easy
-- you've become a treasure hunter. I've never found the Aen Seidhe
elves interesting. But there's a skald, Eyvind -- he could help you.
Once told me of some inaccessible caverns or ruins or somesuch...
Geralt: Where will I find him?
Ermion: Today? In Arinbjorn, doubtless. You might also ask the pearl divers
Erling and Matthias Fishlung. Of late they hunt near the tip of the
bay, eastern end.
Fishlung?
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Geralt: Fishlung? Interesting.
Ermion: So they call him. Submerges for hours at a time. None know how he
does it. But I've my suspicions.
Geralt: Hm. Not too fond of him?
Ermion: It's nothing personal. I couldn't stand his father or grandfather
either.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help.
Ermion: One thing, Geralt. These caves or ruins -- Matthias' and Erling's
ancestors would've looted them bare centuries ago were they not
protected by some magic barrier. Take a sorceress with you. You
must've brought at least one along.
Geralt: Whole gaggle, this time.
Ermion: Ugh! Gods protect us.
How's Hjalmar?²
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Geralt: Hjalmar handling things all right?
Ermion: Lad's developed quite a taste for heroic adventures. Left ruling the
Isles to his father. Quite fortunate, in fact, as now, on the eve of
war, we need a more experienced leader.
Geralt: And Cerys?
Ermion: I would say she's being more useful than Hjalmar.
How's Cerys?²
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Geralt: How's Cerys handling things?
Ermion: Has the makings of an excellent queen, if she would only flee her
father's shadow. Everyone, Lugos excepted, declared their support
for her. Yet the minute the imperial fleet appeared on the horizon,
the jarl took matters into his own hands.
Geralt: And Hjalmar?
Ermion: The lad's led three raids against the imperial fleet. All against
Crach's will, all failed. Yet he'll find volunteers for another.
Geralt: Yeah, sounds like Hjalmar.
[If Geralt goes to the skald, he'll find him on a rocky cliff, keeping vigilant
watch over the nearby bay.]
Eyvind: Not now!
Geralt: Watching for Nilfgaard's fleet?
Eyvind: Fleet? Oh, aye, they mentioned something... Nay, I've more important
matters on my mind. By my calculations, today's the day Gevorg, the
legendary white whale, will swim the waters of Skellige. Been waitin'
for this my whole life.
I'll watch for Gevorg with you.
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Geralt: Let's watch for Gevorg together. And you can tell me what you know
about any elven ruins in Skellige.
What's this whale?
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Geralt: What's this whale about?
Eyvind: He's to appear when specters descend from the heavens into the waves,
the serpent wakes the sea's wroth, and an icy monster devours an
isle. Be the first bard to compose a ballad about him.
Geralt: Legends don't happen to mention a Curse of the Black Sun, do they?
Eyvind: Black sun? What're you on about?
Geralt: Never mind.
[They watch the seascape for awhile.]
Geralt: Heard of some cavern no one's been able to enter?
Eyvind: Good thing, too. Elsewise they'd 'ave plundered it long ago, like all
the others.
[Just then, Geralt sees Gevorg breaching.]
[Say nothing.]
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Eyvind: Hah! Can tell by your mug I was right! And to think, didn't take you
for a looter at first...
Geralt: I just wanna look around the cavern. Research.
Eyvind!
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Geralt: Eyvind!
Eyvind: What?
Geralt: I...ugh, just wanted to assure you I only want to look around the
cavern. It's research.
Eyvind: Research?
For a treatise on the Aen Seidhe. Under Ermion's tutelage.
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Geralt: Writing a historical treatise on the Aen Seidhe elves. Under Ermion's
tutelage.
Eyvind: Ermion? Man never cared a whit about the Elves of the Mountains.
I've seen through you, you conniver! Cut me to bits if you like, I'll
never tell you about the cavern.
Geralt: Ugh...
Gathering material for an adventure novel.
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Geralt: Writing an adventure novel. Gathering material for it.
Eyvind: Mean to write up the comin' of the White Fleet? Prime idea. Mayhaps
you could use my translation of the Song of Gealbhan and Dillian?
Geralt: Gladly, gladly. So, where's this cavern?
Eyvind: Gotta sail east from Kaer Trolde. Cavern's in a cove, only
accessible from the sea.
Geralt: So long. And...good luck with the white whale.
Eyvind: It'll show today. I'm sure of it.
[If Geralt goes to find the pearl diver, he checks the rocky coast near the
Eldberg lighthouse.]
Geralt: Must be the pearl divers' boat.
[Underwater, he finds a cave where the divers are looting waterlogged bodies.]
Matthias: Look, Erling. Told you we wasn't done for the day. Didn't even have
to fish this one out.
Erling: You daft? Can't you see he's a witcher?
Matthias: What's a witcher doin' here?
No more pearls?
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Geralt: Run outta pearls?
Erling: Not your concern. What the sea gives, we take.
Geralt: Seems she's a reluctant giver.
Matthias: Aye, I could use a better knife. But a few hours and their fingers
are swollen.
These are your people.
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Geralt: Never heard of Skelligers looting fallen warriors. That a tradition?
I mean, these are your own people.
Matthias: You not have eyes? Whaddaya mean, our own? These are Faroe scum!
Erling: Went after the Black Ones with two longships. Fishbrains!
[Then:]
Heard you know something about elven ruins.
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Geralt: Listen. Heard you know a thing or two about elven ruins in Skellige.
Matthias: Who says?
Geralt: Ermion.
Matthias: Hm. You'll not tell 'im what you saw today, will ya?
Geralt: Depends.
Erling: Elven ruins, you say? What do you want to know?
Geralt: Druid mentioned some cavern you've never been able to enter. Where
is it?
Matthias: East of Kaer Trolde, in a cove you can only reach from the sea.
Erling: We got nothin' else for you, so if you're done, we'd rather get back
up top.
Geralt: I'm done. And good idea.
Hand the bodies over to their families after?
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Geralt: Plan to return the bodies to their families at least? I mean, once
you're done?
Matthias: You speak true -- mutants got nothin' resemblin' refined
sentiments. Look at 'em. You think their ever-lovin' wifeys wanna
see 'em in this state? The sea'll bury them.
Erling: And that's that.
Taking quite a risk.
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Geralt: Risking a lot.
Matthias: Why? That a threat or somethin'?
Geralt: Don't need to worry about me. But I heard calls underwater. Monsters
-- must've sensed blood.
Matthias: Huh. I-I don't...hear nothin'.
Geralt: Ordinary folk never hear these things...till it's too late.
Erling: We best get outta here, Matthias.
[Regardless of the chosen method, Geralt returns to Yennefer once he learns of
the cave's location.]
Yennefer: I'd rather verify it now. Otherwise, I'll continue to wonder if he's
not about to stab me in the back.
Philippa: You've something of a persecution complex.
Yennefer: You needn't come with us.
Philippa: I hadn't intended.
Geralt: Going somewhere?
Yennefer: Ciri says there's a site in Skellige we must examine. Avallac'h's
clearly hiding something from us.
Ciri: Earlier, when we were in the Isles together, Avallac'h mentioned a
laboratory. At one point, he wished to teleport there...to retrieve
something. And he refused to take me with him. It was all very strange...
Yennefer: Sufficiently suspicious, don't you think?
Yes, sufficiently.
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Geralt: So what? Wanna just sneak in and root around?
Ciri: Exactly. Coming with?
Making too much of it.
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Geralt: Making too much of it. Avallac'h's as secretive as any elf. What're
your suspicions, exactly?
Ciri: I...don't know, Geralt. I've a feeling it's important. Come with us.
Geralt: Fine. Where is it?
Ciri: On a small isle between Undvik and Spikeroog.
Geralt: Not exactly on our way. Just found out the Sunstone's on Ard Skellig.
Cavern along the coast, that we can only access from the sea. Gonna
need some real magic to get in, too.
Philippa: Go find this laboratory. I will explore Ard Skellig. You can join me
later.
Yennefer: Philippa, your eyesight -- only just recovered and magically
simulated. Didn't you say you'd need some time to get accustomed?
Philippa: Did I?
[She opens a portal anyway and leaves.]
Yennefer: I'd forgotten how irritating she can be. Come, Ciri. We'll await you
there.
[They, too, teleport out for the Pali Gap Coast isle. Those adventures are
recorded in the "Child of the Elder Blood" section. When Geralt finally finds
the crypt's entrance, he sees Philippa's already beaten him to the punch.]
Geralt: Just wonderful.
Philippa: I say, look at this!
[Her magic dissolves the locked entrance that's kept looters out for ages.]
Geralt: Let's go.
[She leads the way with her magical eyes lighting up the path through her
blinfold. They enter the cavern beyond.]
Geralt: What now? Gonna grow yourself some new eyes, like Vilgefortz did? I
remember the moment I killed him -- cultivation wasn't complete, they
hadn't grown in fully yet. Looked...disgusting, but...
Philippa: I take it your mention of that deviant is purely coincidental?
Geralt: Course. Also heard of this rich, blind dwarf from Mahakam...had them
put two sizable rubies in his eye sockets. Couldn't see a damned thing,
but word is it looked pretty tasteful.
[There's a noise in the distance.]
Geralt: Hear that?
Philippa: Mhm.
[In the next cavern, a loud siren summons drowners to fight the pair.]
Siren: Arhaaam shinaaaz!
Geralt: What'd she just say?
Philippa: You're not her type.
[They slay the annoyances.]
Geralt: Drowners were protecting her. Damn, there's a lot...
Philippa: I hope you don't plan to muck about in this carrion, now. We came
here for a reason.
[They come to a broken walkway.]
Geralt: Hm. So how do we get up the--
Philippa: The stairs? I'll fix them right away.
[The broken stairs reform with her magic.]
Philippa: Ready.
Geralt: Let's go.
Philippa: Couldn't help noticing the tension between you and Yennefer and
Triss. It's very hard on Ciri, I think. There are times I doubt you
three realize how it looks. Triss plays the big sister to Ciri, but
eagerly awaits a chance to hop in bed with you. You and Yennefer
play the parents--
Geralt: Yeah, so if you're angling to make it a fivesome, there's clearly no
room.
[In the next room, after slaying a golem, they come upon a door with a mural.]
Geralt: What now?
Philippa: It appears I must do everything for you. See the sentry who seems to
be waiting for payment?
Geralt: I'm fresh out of change.
Philippa: Ugh. In blood, not coin. The sentry if Fiallan, of the elven legend.
Do you literally read nothing?
[She slices her hand and wipes blood on the door, opening it.]
Philippa: There you are.
[They enter the next room, where the sorceress stops.]
Philippa: Yennefer must have tremendous pull with the emperor. To get him to
guarantee the Lodge's safety? What's your take on it?
Geralt: My take? Obviously a leading question. No "Geralt, I'm tired, let's sit
and chat a bit" first?
Philippa: Is foreplay that important to you?
Deal with Emhyr is sorceress business.
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Geralt: This deal with Emhyr -- it's sorceress business. Pick someone else's
brain.
Philippa: So she's not told you anything? What about personal plans? Has she
mentioned anything? A possible advisory position? Beside a young,
promising empress?
Geralt: Stay away from Ciri.
Philippa: She's an adult, Geralt. You keep forgetting. She can decide for
herself. So, onward?
Hash it out with Yennefer.
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Geralt: You oughta talk to Yennefer. Painfully clear there's unfinished
business there.
Philippa: Yennefer's always walked her own path. I'm actually touched she
decided to take an interest in matters of the Lodge this time.
Geralt: You don't trust her. So once the Hunt's defeated, leave, find asylum
elsewhere. I hear Redania's offering.
Philippa: I'd sooner stick my head in a zeugl's spiky orifice. Thanks, but
I've other plans.
Not excited to work with the emperor?
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Geralt: You'll get to work with the emperor. Not excited?
Philippa: No. I-I mean, yes, of course I am. Thus far the Lodge has oft
banked on weak rulers. It's been one of our biggest mistakes.
Geralt: Hm... So you're impressed Emhyr keeps his mages on a short leash.
Philippa: Yennefer's wise to keep you out of politics. I'm afraid you'd not
realize which way the wind was blowing if you pissed straight into
it.
Philippa: Don't you think it's time you stopped interfering in Ciri's life?
Geralt: No.
Philippa: But you do know we're not a pack of wolves you can just drive away
from her with your sword.
Geralt: Sure you are, and yes, I can. If the need arises.
[They come to a room with several pedestals sprawled around a cavern, plus a
weird mechanism hanging from the ceiling.]
Philippa: Wait, there's something here. Feel it?
Geralt: No. My medallion--
Philippa: A ridiculous bauble. Don't make me laugh. Tuning into elven magic is
just slightly more difficult than sniffing out a malodorous fiend.
Watch this. Arha'an lumar!
[Her magic projectile hits the ceiling object, brightening it up and shooting
a beam of light at one of the pedestals.]
Geralt: Uh-huh.
Philippa: That means the Sunstone is here. Don't stand there looking stupid.
Try to shift the mirrors.
[She walks to a part of the cavern.]
Philippa: The scan's echo is strongest here.
[Geralt tweaks the mirror setup until the prismatic beam hits where Philippa's
standing; the Sunstone appears.]
Philippa: Found it! At laaast...
Geralt: Hand it over, and let's get outta here.
Philippa: Not so fast. We've a matter to discuss.
Geralt: Lemme guess -- you gotta fly. You're about to tell me why you need the
Sunstone so much more than we do. Then you'll change into an owl and
-- whoosh!
Philippa: No idea where you got such a ridiculous notion. Ciri's safety is most
important to me now. But I wish to talk to you about the future. My
future.
I recommend the alpine air of Nazair.
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Geralt: You'll like Nilfgaard -- no two ways about it. I recommend the fresh
alpine air of Nazair.
Philippa: Hahah, and Yennefer claims you have no sense of humor. Now listen
carefully.
Emperor's got plans for you -- I'm sure of it.
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Geralt: Wouldn't worry. Emperor's got plans for you, I'm sure.
Philippa: Stop playing the jester and listen to me carefully.
Philippa: Once we've defeated the Hunt and Ciri is safe, Yennefer's meteoric
rise at the imperial court will come to an abrupt end. Which is
wonderful from my perspective. I'm not interested in reviving the
Lodge if I'm not to have the deciding vote.
Geralt: You're telling me this because...?
Philippa: If I know even one bit, I expect that once we've defeated the Wild
Hunt, you aim to slip out the back door, with Ciri...to disappear
into the wilds, correct? All very romantic, but perhaps instead of
destroying the girl's life, you could take Yennefer with you. And go.
• Geralt: Triss might object.
Philippa: Ah, yes. So give Yennefer some friendly advice, would you? She'll
listen to you.
Done? Can we go?
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Geralt: Any other words of wisdom? Or can we go?
Philippa: You may go. I know you've things to do. I shall find my own way
back.
You want to take Yen's place beside Emhyr.
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Geralt: You want to take Yen's place at Emhyr's side.
Philippa: And at Ciri's. I think you understand it's inevitable. And I would
truly prefer Yennefer to be far away when it happens. Holding her
in the imperial dungeon would be costly. And it would give the
wrong impression.
[She polymorphs into an owl and flies off, leaving Geralt to spelunk out on
his own.]
_________________________________
___________________________________________/ MAIN QUEST: BATTLE PREPARATIONS |_
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24) CHILD OF THE ELDER BLOOD [WK24]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[Geralt reaches the small isle's cave, finding Yen and Ciri investigating in
the entryway.]
Yennefer: Entrance is very well protected. I believe we'll find something
interesting inside...
Ciri: How will you lift the barrier?
Yennefer: Atlan Kerk's inclusion should do the trick. Remember the spell?
Ciri: I remember you teaching me. And to think I thought you an overbearing,
cold shrew at the time.
Yennefer: Now, now. This is no time to get soppy.
Geralt: So? Any incriminating letters? Closets full of skeletons?
Ciri: We've not even opened the door yet.
Yennefer: It's a highly complex magic barrier. Let's try... Geata'ar ligen!
[The barrier shows some signs of weakening. A golem statue reanimates nearby.]
Ciri: We've awoken a sentry.
Geralt: I'll take care of him.
Yennefer: I shall try to get through the barrier.
[After the fight, the locked door finally budges, revealing a lab.]
Yennefer: Come.
Geralt: Pretty cozy. Doesn't look much of a lab at all.
Yennefer: That proves nothing. We must look around.
Ciri: It's a bit low, isn't it? Rummaging through his papers?
Yennefer: You wished to come, my dear.
[There are some drawings of a girl's face on one of the desks.]
Geralt: Portrait of Ciri, I think.
Ciri: No, that's not me. Where's the scar?
Geralt: It's definitely you. Hm, really captured you. Sure Avallac'h's only
interested in you for your magic abilities?
Ciri: Pfff. Very funny.
Yennefer: Look, Geralt!
[She directs his attention to some food and drink nearby.]
Yennefer: It seems someone was literally just here...
Avallac'h's on the ship. We know that.
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Geralt: Avallac'h's on the ship. We know that.
Yennefer: What if he's not...?
Geralt: Stop.
An assistant, maybe?
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Geralt: Avallac'h's assistant, maybe?
Yennefer: No, somehow doesn't seem like Avallac'h to have one.
Geralt: Hm. A distillate? Smells like...
Yennefer: Verbena.
Geralt: Herbs. Not very incriminating.
Yennefer: Wait. We've not examined the entire laboratory yet.
[There are several things to inspect in the lab.]
• Huh, didn't know he had a sweet tooth.
• Feel like I've walked into somebody's bedroom.
• Hm, mirror's standard. Might've expected a hidden portal.
• Mff. Hmm. Elves sure know their fragrances.
[Further in, a large genealogical mural of Ciri's ancestors is displayed. The
game has an extra line if Ciri gets there first, but the game treats the scene
as if Geralt located it.]
• Ciri: Riannon. Amvet. Finoa. Corbett the Cintrian. Muriel. Adalia. Calanthe.
Pavetta...
Geralt: Yen! Genealogical chart of the Aen Hen Ichaer, the Elder Blood. From
Lara Dorren...
Ciri: To me. You never showed me the full version. I had no idea Videmont of
Aedirn was an ancestor. Was he the one who punished his daughters with a
hot iron, or the one who had his own father's eyes gouged out?
Yennefer: Him of the daughters. My, even I'd never seen the full version. Seems
Avallac'h has analyzed all the paths of Lara's gene, even those we
thought extinct.
Had enough of this.
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Geralt: Forget this. Not like we're gonna learn anything new.
Yennefer: How can you know?
Ciri: I don't wish to read this either.
Let's look at his notes.
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Geralt: Let's look at his notes.
Yennefer: Gods... He's spent over two centuries on this. He was the first to
study Lara's gene. Falka... Mh, some entries about Ciri... But it's
here, later, that things get interesting. He actually tried to
cultivate a genetic mix like Ciri's. But one excluding the human
line.
Ciri: Meaning what exactly? That I ought to be looking about for giant jars
holding my siblings?
Yennefer: Don't be foolish! Avallac'h never got that far. Apparently, all his
experiments ended in failure. You are unique.
Ciri: And that's why we've the Wild Hunt to contend with. Let's ferret on --
see if we can't find something even more interesting.
Only analyzed?
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Geralt: He's only analyzing -- really believe that? If he's anything like our
mages, I seriously doubt he's standing back and observing how Lara's
descendants are doing.
Yennefer: I don't think we'll ever know if or how deeply the elves have
meddled in the gene's mutation.
Ciri: Did you have a hand in...in what Geralt mentioned? The work of those
human mages...
Yennefer: Of course not.
Yennefer: Someone's there. Beyond the door...
[They enter an ornate bedroom, finding an elven woman sitting there.]
Woman: How did you get in here?
Who are you?
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Geralt: Who are you?
Woman: Not your concern. Get out of here. Now.
We mean no harm.
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Geralt: We mean you no harm.
Woman: I care not at all why you're here. Get out.
[Ciri enters.]
Ciri: You...I remember you. From Tir ná Lia.
Woman: Remarkable. I thought all elves looked alike to those of your race. If
it's Avallac'h you seek, he's not here.
Ciri: I know.
Woman: And yet you come here? What for? To spy on him? He tries his damndest
to save you every time you do something stupid -- is that not enough?
Ciri: What can you possibly know about that?
Woman: You'd be surprised. He's told me a great deal about you.
For example?
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Geralt: Like what?
Ciri, let's go.
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Geralt: Ciri, let's get out of here.
Ciri: No. I want to listen.
Woman: He said you shared Lara's features -- I don't see whatever it is he
sees. It seems a bit like trying to drink water from a mud puddle.
But... I imagine that belief somehow helps him with his task.
Yennefer: What task?
Woman: Do you think he trails you everywhere for pleasure? Even I grow ill at
the sight of you.
Yennefer: It's incredible how those like you still believe you're superior to
humans -- in any way.
Woman: She's no human. She's a degenerate half-breed. To have no choice but to
use something like that -- it's humiliating.
Yennefer: Another world and I'll--
Woman: What? You'll change nothing. She must do what she must. Then Avallac'h
will finally be free of her.
[The elven woman walks out.]
Geralt: If he hates me so deeply, why didn't he just tell me to my face?
He that important to you?
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Geralt: Avallac'h means that much to you?
Ciri: What's that got to do with anything?
Didn't actually believe her, did you?
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Geralt: Ciri, you didn't actually believe her, did you? She's, uh...
personally involved in the matter, that's clear.
Ciri: What of it?
Ciri: If they despise me so, they should leave me be!
Yennefer: Ciri...
Ciri: What?! Do you fear I'll level this place like I did Kaer Morhen? Shame I
can't do that at will, because I'd really like to now!
Calm down.
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Geralt: Calm down. The elf was right.
Ciri: Argh. Aren't you supposed to cheer me up?
Geralt: You carry Lara's gene -- nothing you can do about it. Inherited her
talent and her power, too. That she-elf would give up a century of
her life to be you.
Ciri: Certainly didn't seem so.
Geralt: You were born with a great gift. And only you can decide how to use
it.
Go for it.
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---
[If one picks the "go for it" option, Geralt pretends to "accidentally" knock
over a bottle. This encourages Ciri to start knocking things over, and soon,
it becomes a lab-wrecking competition. Yennefer watches on, although at the
end, it's revealed she defaced a portrait of Avallac'h herself.]
Ciri: Ha-rah!
Geralt: Ugh!
Ciri: Eeeeeeerrrgh!
Geralt: Aaa-argh!
Ciri: There. That's better. Let's get out of here.
[If Ciri was calmed down, Geralt picks up a necklace from the nearby dresser.]
Ciri: What's that?
Geralt: A necklace. Lara Dorren's.
Ciri: It's beautiful, but...
Geralt: Yours, to wear...
Ciri: Let's go. I'm sick of this place.
[Either way, they all go outside to the beach.]
Ciri: Must we return to the boat right away?
Geralt: Something else you wanna see?
Ciri: Not here. On Hindarsfjall. In Lofoten. I met a young man, Skjall, and I'd
like... What is it?
Yennefer: Ciri, Skjall is dead.
Ciri: The Wild Hunt... Everyone...? No one survived?
Yennefer: Skjall died later.
Ciri: You sure it was him? You'd met him?
Yennefer: I was there. I saw his body.
Ciri: Will you visit his grave with me? I'd like to...say goodbye.
Yeah. I'll go with you.
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Geralt: I'll go with you.
Ciri: Thank you. Could you open a portal -- to Hindarsfjall?
Yennefer: I can.
Let's go, Ciri.
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Geralt: Let's do this.
Yennefer: Come back soon, all right?
Ciri: Mhm. See you.
Meet you there.
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Geralt: You can take that alone, Ciri. Meet you on Hindarsfjall.
Ciri: As you wish. I'll be at the graveyard.
Yennefer: Please get it done quickly. And Ciri, try not to get into any
trouble, all right?
Ciri: Certainly don't plan to. See you.
No time.
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Geralt: Ciri, no time for that.
Yennefer: You can go later. We've more important things to do now.
Ciri: Yes. There are always more important things.
[She walks off.]
Yennefer: I'll talk to her. You're liable to spill.
[He watches them talk and teleport out.]
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25) SKJALL'S GRAVE [WK25]
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[This quest is skipped if Geralt didn't agree to go with Ciri to Hindarsfjall.
Meeting Ciri outside Lofoten will have different intro dialogue, depending on
whether they teleported there or not.]
• Geralt: Let's look around. Should be a relatively fresh grave mound.
Ciri: Thank you for coming. I detest graveyards, especially wandering them
alone.
• Ciri: Glad you made it. I'd started to think you wouldn't find the time.
Geralt: You don't mean that. So...find the grave?
Ciri: No, I can't stand graveyards. Really dislike wandering them alone.
Let's look together.
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Geralt: Let's look around together. Come on.
Don't like graveyards either.
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Geralt: Graveyards, not my favorite either.
Ciri: Why not?
Geralt: Remind me of work. Never been to a cemetery to visit someone's grave.
Always hunting some ghoul or rotfiend.
Ciri: Ah, frankly, I'd rather have come here with a contract, to do some
witchers' work.
[They venture in, looking at the headstones.]
Ciri: Lasse, son of Njord... Olaf, son of Ove... Ynge, daughter of Trottnir...
Dammit. He's not here. Skjall has no grave! Geralt, I shan't leave until
I bury him. Think... The body... What could have become of it?
Geralt: They didn't burn it. Save that honor for kings and heroes. Doubt they
left him in the garden, too. Hm.
Ciri: Ugh. Bastards!
Geralt: What?
Ciri: Beyond the village -- there's a pit. They fill it with sheep taken by
blackleg. Crabs pick at their bones at night.
[They go to the pit, finding Skjall's body atop many livestock corpses. Later,
they've made a small grave for him on the seaside cape. Some villagers catch
sight of them and walk over.]
Woman: What're you doin'?
Ciri: What you should've done long ago. We're burying Skjall.
Man: Buryin' Craven? You defy the writ of the elders. Begone, leave this place.
You defile our laws!
Quiet down.
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Geralt: Lower your voice. Before we need another grave.
Woman: How can you defend him?!
Your laws don't bind us.
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Geralt: We're not bound by them.
Woman: Aye, and you've clearly no respect for our customs, either.
Man: Craven's place is in the ditch.
[Ciri punches him.]
Ciri: Ugh. Skjall saved your bloody lives! The Wild Hunt was after me. Had
Skjall not led me away then... Why, they would've reduced Lofoten to ash.
Woman: What would the specters be wantin' of some lass who--
Ciri: I am not some lass. And anyone who so much as touches this grave will
learn that the hard way.
Man: Aye, none will disturb it. Desecratin' graves -- well...it's the only
thing elders punish harder than fleein' the battlefield. And what you
said... Can't know the truth of it. The gods'll judge Skjall now.
[They walk off.]
Ciri: We were right to come. I was deeply troubled. You've no idea.
Geralt: Well, they shouldn't spit on his name anymore.
Ciri: Let's go.
Together.
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Geralt: Back to the boat.
Ciri: Mhm.
Got something to tend to.
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Geralt: Go back alone. Need to tend to something.
Ciri: Very well. I'll see you.
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26) ON THIN ICE [WK26]
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[After finishing "Battle Preparations," Geralt, Avallac'h and the sorceresses
sail to Undvik's coast to begin for the final battle with Eredin.]
Sentry: Geralt of Rivia?
Geralt: Know any other Geralts?
Sentry: Come with me, please. They've been expecting you.
[The main players are in a tent pouring over a map.]
Avallac'h: ...You will position yourselves on the cliffs here, here, and--
Yennefer: Thank you. I believe we know how to form a circle.
Philippa: Even those of us who lack eyes for the moment.
Avallac'h: I simply wish to avoid-- Oh, Geralt. We were waiting for you.
How nice.
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Geralt: That's nice of you.
Really? Looks like you started without me.
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Geralt: Really? Seems to me you'd started already.
Avallac'h: We were discussing questions of a magic nature. Nothing of great
interest to you.
Geralt: Right. 'Cause I'm just a simple witcher.
• Yennefer: Don't worry. Simplicity has a charm all its own.
• Yennefer: Simple, yet with so many complexes. Not now, Geralt.
Geralt: You were about to explain your plan.
Avallac'h: It's simple...which does not mean it will be easy to execute. I
shall activate the Sunstone. If Caranthir answers the call, the
Naglfar should appear in the bay shortly afterwards. The Lodge must
then prevent the ship from returning to the world of the Aen Elle,
while the imperial fleet blocks its escape by sea. The 7th Ymlats
Infantry Regiment under Duke var Attre must then board it. With your
help, naturally.
Emperor's not stingy...
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Geralt: Wow... Emhyr's being generous with his resources.
Fringilla: He's halted his entire Skellige campaign to help us.
Geralt: Not doing it just to be nice, believe me.
Yennefer: He's doing it for the same reason we all are.
And you? What're you gonna do?
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Geralt: What about you? Where will you be?
Avallac'h: Waiting in reserve. If something goes wrong...I shall react.
Geralt: Mm. Like a general commanding troops from a hilltop. Gonna signal us
by horn or use messengers?
Avallac'h: Exquisite irony, but what did I do to deserve it? Have I given you
cause to doubt my intentions?
Philippa: Ladies and gentlemen -- less talk, more action, please. Sisters, we
must scale the cliffs.
Triss: Good luck.
[The sorceresses leave.]
Geralt: Plan's missing one important element -- what about Ciri?
Avallac'h: Zireael will wait. At a safe distance from the Naglfar.
Wise.
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Geralt: Makes sense.
Ciri: Huh. I thought I could at least count on you to treat me seriously.
Geralt: Never treat you any other way. You know that. You can't defeat
Eredin, don't stand a chance. Dammit, I don't know if I can. So stay
far away from him, far away.
Guessing this wasn't Ciri's idea...
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Geralt: Wild guess -- not what you had in mind...
Ciri: No. I wanted to go with you -- that was my idea.
Avallac'h: But I won't allow it. Far too great a risk.
Can't say you're wrong.
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Geralt: Well, can't say you're wrong there.
Ciri: Huh. I thought I could at least count on you to treat me seriously.
Geralt: Never treat you any other way. You know that. You can't defeat
Eredin, don't stand a chance. Dammit, I don't know if I can. So stay
far away from him, far away.
Got no right to give her orders.
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Geralt: Don't have the right to order her around.
Avallac'h: Amusing. Zireael said the same thing, only at a much higher
volume. I do, in fact, have this right. For only I know how to
activate the Sunstone. Which I shall do on my terms -- or not at
all. Zireael recognized the strength of my argument. I've no
doubt you'll do the same.
Avallac'h: Zireael, do you swear to stay on shore?
Ciri: Do I have a choice?
Avallac'h: Where are you going?
Ciri: For a walk? Or is that not allowed either? Because I could break my
leg...
[She leaves.]
Avallac'h: Oh yes...the Elder Blood can be fiery.
Got her personality from her father.
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Geralt: Gets that from her father.
Avallac'h: I beg to differ... Emhyr is a pragmatist, Ciri an idealist.
Geralt: An idealist? What're you talking about?
Avallac'h: Never mind.
Forbidding Ciri from doing things is pointless.²
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Geralt: Telling Ciri she can't do something is counter-productive. Speaking
from experience there... Ultimately, she does what she wants.
Avallac'h: Let us hope.
Geralt: Pardon me?
Avallac'h: Never mind.
She didn't sound convinced.²
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Geralt: Didn't sound convinced.
Avallac'h: No. But I can't very well tie her up and teleport her away, can I?
Geralt: Hm. Definitely advise against trying that.
Avallac'h: Time is short. If you wish to do something, brew your substances and
whatnot... Do it now. You won't get the chance later. I shall await
you by the boats, amongst the soldiers.
===============================================================================
[Soon after Avallac'h exits, Triss sneaks back in, if she was romanced.]
Geralt: Triss? Everything all right?
Triss: Yes. I just wanted a moment to talk to you. Before...before it begins.
Geralt: Chin up... The Hunt's weakened. We've got--
Triss: No. No more about the battle. Just hold me. And say something nice.
Can't wait till we leave for Kovir.
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Geralt: All this snow...it makes me think of Kovir.
Triss: And what do you think about?
Geralt: That it's like this all year there. Dark and cold. And you know what?
It won't bother me one bit.
Triss: It won't?
Geralt: No. Because the days, yeah, days might be short, but the nights?
Nights'll be long. I can't wait.
There's a lighthouse not far from here...
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Geralt: Hm. There's a lighthouse not far from here, you know.
Triss: Geralt! Are you suggesting we--?
Geralt: No...well, at least not right now. Just wanted to say... Wanted to
say that since...since Novigrad, whenever I see the beam of the
lighthouse, I feel good. Thinking of you.
Triss: Unbelievable! You said something romantic! You, Geralt of Rivia!
Geralt: Moment of weakness.
Triss: Well, none of those during battle, please. If anything should happen to
you...
Don't think about that.
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Geralt: Can't think about that.
Triss: So what am I supposed to think about?
Geralt: Emhyr var Emreis. On parade. Completely naked.
I'll be fine.
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Geralt: I'll manage.
Triss: You always say that.
Geralt: Haven't killed me yet. Well, except for that one time.
Triss: Ah, Geralt. You're so charming when you try to be funny.
Geralt: Try? Take it back. That was a great joke.
Triss: Mhm. Sure. I love you, you know.
Geralt: You trying to make me cry? Ciri'd never let me forget it. Go on, get.
[She leaves.]
Geralt: Love you too.
===============================================================================
[After the sage leaves, Yennefer sneaks back in if he was romanced.]
Geralt: Yen? Why're you here?
Yennefer: To see you.
Geralt: Something happen?
Yennefer: Not yet. But it might soon. We may not survive this. In fact, our
chances are slim.
Don't worry. It'll be all right.
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Geralt: We've come a long way, and I'll be damned if we've come to fail.
It'll be all right.
Yennefer: I admire your optimism. Wish I shared it.
True, things could get rough.
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Geralt: Well, we are here to battle Eredin and the Wild Hunt at full
strength. Could be like Sodden. Could be worse.
Yennefer: Nothing could be worse than Sodden was.
Try not to panic.
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Geralt: Yen, try not to panic... Just doesn't suit you.
Yennefer: I'm not panicking. Just trying to be realistic. But that's not what
I came to discuss.
Yennefer: Listen to me. Once it's all over, if we survive... I wish to leave,
go far away. And I'd like you to come with me.
Geralt: Where?
Yennefer: Wherever. To Poviss, beyond the Dragon Mountains, Zerrikania, even.
As far as possible from politics, plots and so-called high society.
Course I'll go.
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Geralt: I'd go anywhere with you.
Yennefer: The answer I was hoping for.
Sounds too beautiful.
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Geralt: I dunno, Yen. Honestly, sounds too beautiful to be possible, even.
Yennefer: You can always return -- if after a month we can't stomach each
other's company.
Geralt: All right. Willing to try.
Yennefer: That's good enough for me.
You dropping politics? That'll be the day.
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Geralt: You? Dropping plots and politics for good? You're in your element in
that world, it's your life.
Yennefer: Time to start anew.
Geralt: I'll believe it when I see it. Even now, you're up to your neck in
it.
Yennefer: Yes, but only to set matters straight, to be able to withdraw
having retained the upper hand.
Geralt: What then? A small, secluded hut with a flower garden to tend to?
Yennefer: Why not? If that is what you dream of? We shall leave together, go
where we please, do whatever strikes our fancy. So. Coming with?
Yennefer: Go, Geralt, Avallac'h awaits. And don't get killed, witcher.
[Geralt soon moves through the Nilfgaardians' shoreline camp and finds the elf
at Marlin Coast, waiting.]
Avallac'h: So, Geralt... Ready?
We can start.
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Geralt: Let's get these bastards.
Avallac'h: With pleasure, Geralt. With pleasure.
Gimme a minute.
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Geralt: Need a bit longer.
Avallac'h: Fine, but don't dawdle excessively.
[By dawn, everyone's in their positions. Avallac'h takes out the Sunstone.]
Ciri: "I give you my heart?" What kind of a spell is that?
Avallac'h: It's an old love letter. Ancient. As I said, this stone was to
reunite a pair of lovers.
Ciri: Never thought I'd say anything of the sort to Eredin. (in Elvish) I give
you my heart. But I shall take your head.
[The stone glows as she speaks, floating out over the water's surface. On the
cliffs, the sorceresses are signaled by Avallac'h's staff.]
Yennefer: The elven bauble worked.
Avallac'h: They approach.
[A rift opens in the sky, its magic freezing the sea solid. The sorceresses
successfully keep the frigid magic at bay.]
Avallac'h: Break a sword, Geralt.
[Meanwhile, Geralt is with the Nilfgaardian fleet, sailing towards the rift.]
Soldier: (in Nilfgaardian) Ice! Reduce speed!
[The ice forms too quickly, however, and they soon run aground on Undvik's
new ice field. Geralt hops over the side.]
Geralt: Follow me. The Naglfar must be nearby.
[Caranthir can be seen on the Naglfar, which has been trapped by the sorceress
teams' magic. Avallac'h and Ciri watch from the Marlin Coast pier.]
Ciri: Silence. It's completely still.
Avallac'h: It's a trap. We must flee. Now.
Ciri: Not this time.
Avallac'h: No, Zireael. You are not ready. You do not control your powers.
Ciri: I'll manage. Get out of my way.
Avallac'h: Ciri! The ice... It's a spell. You must find the mage who cast it,
destroy his staff.
Ciri: I'll not stop with his staff.
[She teleports out to join the battle, ending up near the Naglfar. Using her
time-space powers, which she controls better this time, she easily cuts into
the Hunt's ranks, one-shotting the cronies who attack. Soon, she encounters
Eredin's navigator.]
Caranthir: Zireael. I await.
[The experienced portal-opener puts up a good fight, but Ciri's unlimited
teleportation prove even too much for him. Soon, his staff thrust parries
her lunge, causing a huge magic explosion of a sort. He recovers first and
looms over her.]
Caranthir: Almost, Zireael. Almost.
[She disappears.]
Caranthir: Ysgarthiad...
[Nearby, Geralt, who was temporarily flash-frozen by the magic explosion,
unthaws and jumps down to face the wounded navigator.]
Caranthir: Witcher...? So be it. Let us end this.
[They start their intense battle.]
• Caranthir: You see? It's not so simple. I've more where that came from.
• Caranthir: You cannot win...even if you kill me.
• Caranthir: Er'chyl vatt'gern!
• Caranthir: Gvialen!
[At long last, Geralt slices Caranthir in the stomach, then stabs him. As he
throws the foe down and prepares the coup de grace, he notices objects in the
area start shaking. He swings downward, but is too late -- Caranthir grabs
his leg and teleports, this time dropping them deep under the sea's surface.
However, he's too wounded do struggle -- he sinks down, giving Geralt ample
time to swim up through the thawing ice and fleet debris. Once on a floe, he
sees the Naglfar pull up near Ciri.]
Geralt: Ciri...
[Serendipitously, a burning longbow crashes into the Naglfar, killing potential
attackers and saving Ciri. Geralt breathes a sigh of relief when Ciri warps
out of the carnage. Nearby, he can see Udalryk's warriors fighting some of
the portal spawn and planning to attack the Nilfgaardians as well.]
Udalryk: Now's our chance! Bjaaarni! You and your crew against the imperials!
I'll lead mine at the wraiths!
Geralt: Have you seen Ciri?!
Udalryk: She was with your elf!
[He returns to his men.]
Udalryk: You'll not cut through their plate! Too thick! Push 'em in the sea!
[Hjalmar is fighting on a beached ship nearby.]
Hjalmar: Who's next?! Who wants to taste Skellige steel!?
Geralt: Hjalmar! Have you seen Ciri?!
Hjalmar: By the Naglfar!
[He goes back to the fight.]
Hjalmar: We'll drown all you bastards! Till the bay's black with your corpses!
[More soldiers are doing battle nearby.]
Soldier: Bloody hell! Which ones?! Who're we to shoot at?
Soldier: Whoever the fuck you have in your sights!
Soldier: We knew in settin' out -- there'd be no returnin'!
Soldier: We was to kill the Black Ones!
Soldier: Now we face the wraiths of Mörhogg! We'll die glorious deaths,
fightin' in the Final Battle!
Soldier: Waaaaaaagh! Outta my way, whoresons!
[Geralt finally reaches the Naglfar, where a wounded Crach an Craite is doing
battle with Eredin.]
Eredin: Any last words?
Crach: Shut your trap...and fight!
Eredin: You had your chance.
[Just then, Geralt boards the vessel.]
Eredin: Witcher. I was hoping you'd come.
Geralt: Because?
Eredin: I've something to tell you. But I'll do so afterwards. As you expire.
Go on. Show me your spins, pirouettes and feints. I want to watch.
[Soon, the King of the Hunt opens a portal to another location, and tosses the
witcher in for their final battle.]
• Eredin: Well, well... When cornered, you can bite.
• Eredin: They trained you well at Kaer Morhen.
• Eredin: I planned to kill Zireael quickly, painlessly... But now...I shall
not deny myself the pleasure.
[Geralt kicks Eredin's as on the upper Undvik bluff, forcing him to retreat
through another portal to the Naglfar. The witcher follows, and manages to
wound Eredin's eye. The King uses his last move for an overhead blow, but
gets slashed across the neck by his opponent. Geralt holds him at swordpoint.]
Geralt: Said you had something to tell me.
Eredin: Avallac'h has tricked us both. He set us against each other...and he's
made off with Cirilla.
Geralt: I don't believe you.
[Eredin dies before he can answer. As the Naglfar starts leaning and beasts
start flowing aboard, Geralt is suddenly pulled into a portal by Yennefer...]
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27) TEDD DEIREADH, THE FINAL AGE [WK27]
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[The two manage to reach Undvik's coast safely.]
Geralt: Where's Ciri?
Yennefer: What? I thought you knew.
Geralt: All I know is Avallac'h might've betrayed us. What the--? That a storm?
Yennefer: Geralt... Look!
[They see a huge magical barrier over the island's iconic elven tower. Power
is shooting up from it toward another rift in the sky.]
Geralt: Wha... What the hell's happening?!
Yennefer: I find it damned hard to believe, but... The gate between the worlds
is open. We must reach the tower. Quickly. Stop Avallac'h while this
can still be reversed.
Least we know where Ciri is.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Least we know where to look for Ciri.</pre><pre id="faqspan-23">
Yennefer: Mhm. Follow me. And stay alert.
What can we expect?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What're we gonna find there?
Yennefer: If the tomes are to be believed, nature's laws will cease to hold.
Gravity, time, Undvik -- all of it will be turned on its head.
Geralt: Exaggerating for effect, right?
Yennefer: Not one bit. The Conjunction of Spheres has begun. The worlds --
they're aligned, permeate one another. Avallac'h could use this --
bring the Aen Elle here...or something far worse.
[They start moving inland.]
Geralt: We need to focus on Ciri. What do you think Avallac'h wants from her?
Yennefer: Same as Eredin, I imagine. He will use her to open a gate between
the worlds.
Geralt: Shit. An earthquake?
Yennefer: We must hurry.
[They reach the galleon the giant was trying to build, still in its dry dock.
A rain of fire from the otherworldly sky portal hits it.]
Yennefer: Dammit... That ship's about to disintegrate!
Geralt: Hide in the hollow on the other side. Go!
[They reach the abandoned watch tower the Nilfgaardians were using earlier.
They nick stray horses from the camp.]
Yennefer: Grab the horse! We'll save time!
Geralt: Giddy-up!
[They ride through the craggy inland cliffs, dodging the boss-level creatures
that are being summoned via the portal's influence.]
Geralt: "And giants shall face giants in battle..." Just like in the ballads.
Yennefer: This is not Ragh nar Roog...not yet. The Conjunction is just
beginning.
Geralt: What'll happen next?
Yennefer: I don't know, Geralt. I'd rather not find out.
Geralt: Mhm... More on the way.
Yennefer: We must hurry, Geralt. The gates between the worlds are growing
wider.
Geralt: Tremors're getting worse.
Yennefer: We've not much time.
[Past the abandoned village, there are frozen corpses.]
Geralt: What happened to them?
Yennefer: The White Frost.
Geralt: Dammit... It'll bury us!
Yennefer: Wait! Gvares, tavel! Keep near me!
[She summons a protective bubble, keeping the deadly frost at bay.]
Yennefer: Damn... Avallac'h's surrounded the tower with a magic barricade.
Geralt: Can you dismantle it?
Yennefer: Dismantle? No. I can make a tear, at best. But only for a moment,
because there's no--
Geralt: Specifics, Yen. Will we both get through?
Yennefer: No. You must go alone.
Geralt: I'll come back -- with Ciri.
Yennefer: I know. Agored, teirgane agored! Now, Geralt!
[He hops through the tear, but stops when he sees Yen's collapsed somewhat.]
Yennefer: I'm fine. Now go...and give Avallac'h my heartfelt regards.
[Geralt climbs the steps to Tor Gvalch'ca, finding Avallac'h, who stops his
spell when he hears the witcher approach.]
Avallac'h: Geralt... So unfortunate. I'd hoped you wouldn't have to witness
this.
Geralt: Where's Ciri?
Avallac'h: Nearby. Listen...
Geralt: Shut up. I've heard enough of your bullshit. Draw your weapon, let's
get this over with.
[The sage draws his sword...and throws it on the ground.]
Not falling for that.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think I'm gonna fall for that? No chance, you're wrong. Trusted you
once. Won't make that mistake again.
Think I'll spare you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think I'm willing to spare you?
Avallac'h: I think you will not attack one unarmed.
Geralt: Wouldn't be so sure. I'm in a foul mood.
Avallac'h: I am not your foe. I am merely helping Cirilla.
Geralt: I don't believe you. Can't. Not after all that's happened.
Ciri: Will you believe me?
[She walks into view.]
Ciri: Avallac'h speaks the truth. I asked him to help me open the tower --
because I aim to enter it.
Why would you do that?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
Didn't think to warn me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Didn't think it worthwhile to tell me, warn me of your plans?
Ciri: I'm sorry. I know, I should have...but I feared you'd not understand.
Geralt: Ahhh... Feels like I'm talking to Yennefer. Leave with me. Please.
Ciri: I will, Geralt, once I emerge from the tower. If I emerge.
Geralt: Why the hell would you do this? The Wild Hunt's been defeated.
Ciri: The White Frost has not. The prophecies were true. I have seen worlds
bound in ice. I know what awaits you. Only the Elder Blood can stop the
White Frost. Only I can stop it.
I don't care. Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I couldn't care less about the White Frost. Let's just leave, go.
Ciri: No, Geralt. I've seen what is to come, I know destruction approaches.
The worlds will freeze, one after the other, and all life will be
eradicated. Only I can prevent this from happening.
You don't have to make this sacrifice.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You don't have to make this sacrifice.
Ciri: You're wrong. The White Frost is inevitable, it will come to freeze the
worlds one after the other, eradicating all life. Only I can stop the
destruction. I've given it much thought and made my decision.
There's no annihilation coming.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ithlinne's prophecy is drivel. Destruction is not our fate.
Avallac'h: You have seen the future, don't you remember? Entropy cannot be
stopped. The worlds will freeze, one after another, and all life
will perish.
Ciri: Avallac'h is right. If I do nothing, humans, elves, all will face
destruction.
Avallac'h's put nonsense in your head.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Avallac'h's muddled your mind with a fortuneteller's fables.
Ciri: You're wrong. The White Frost truly does approach. Worlds will freeze,
one after another, and all life will be eradicated. Avallac'h gave me
a choice. I made the decision. I must stop it.
Geralt: There's gotta be another way...
Ciri: What can you know about saving the world, silly? You're but a witcher.
This is my story, not yours. You must let me finish telling it.
[Say nothing.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Ciri: I'm sorry.
Ciri...I forbid it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ciri, I forbid you.
Ciri: You know me. Nothing I like more than breaking rules.
Geralt: This? You're breaking more than a rule.
Ciri: I'm sorry.
Don't do this to me. Please.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't do this...to me. Please. Not now.
Ciri: Geralt, believe me... A tavern, mulled wine, our boots drying by the
fire -- I'd like nothing better. But I can't. I must try. For you, Yen,
Triss...for everyone. Keep your fingers crossed.
Good luck.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Good luck, Ciri.
Ciri: Perhaps I should have told you. I see now you might have understood.
Geralt: Know you better than you think. Don't keep me waiting.
[Ciri enters the portal connected the interplanar rift and disappears. On the
other side, she braves the White Frost, apparently at the source. On Geralt's
side, the portal is shown closing...but Ciri hasn't emerged.]
________________
____________________________________________________________/ ENDINGS | NDNG |_
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BAD ENDING [END1]
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[a.k.a. the Ciri Dies ending. Since stopping the Frost requires concentration,
this ending occurs if Geralt hasn't been supporting Ciri and/or letting her
blow off steam. She'll advance to the source of the White Frost and is never
seen again. The playable portion begins a week later, as Geralt treks through
the southern Velen swamps, following the Trail of Treats. He hears howling in
the distance.]
Geralt: A werewolf...
[Geralt approaches the hulking beast. It has a villager's ear hung on its head
via a string.]
Werewolf: Who are you?
Geralt: You know who I am. And why I'm here.
Werewolf: I do. You needn't... I'm no longer a threat. I starve, for the swamp
is poisoned. I've no strength to hunt humans.
Geralt: Crone summon you?
Werewolf: In my sleep...once I had wolf dreams. Now I dream hunger, pain, and
blood.
Geralt: Where is she?
Werewolf: Out there...in the swamp.
[The wolf's gaze turns to Geralt's drawn sword.]
Werewolf: Is there no other way?
No.
¯¯¯
Geralt: None. How many have you already killed? How many more might you
still?
Werewolf: I don't know. Mostly I had no choice in the matter. 'Tis a foul
age.
Geralt: That it is.
Werewolf: A last wish?
No.
¯¯¯
Geralt: No.
Fine.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Speak.
Werewolf: There's a wolf den nearby. Wolf cubs inside. Carry them out of
the swamp.
Geralt: Why?
Werewolf: They'll not survive here, or they'll change into something...evil.
Geralt: I'll try.
There's one.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: There's one. Find the Crone, guide me through the swamp -- to her.
Werewolf: And then?
Geralt: Then I'll see.
Werewolf: Uh...
Werewolf: The Crone, what's she done to you?
Geralt: Stole my daughter's medallion.
Werewolf: Heed my words. The Crone will fight like a wounded wolverine. She may
cripple, even kill you...
• If I may...
Why risk it? Find the girl a new pendant. Her sorrow will pass in
time.
Geralt: No, it won't. My daughter's dead.
• Go.
[If Geralt slays the werewolf without hearing a last request:]
Geralt: Maybe, once, in a different time...I'd have helped.
[If Geralt has the 'wolf guide him through the noxious bog:]
Geralt: What's your name, werewolf?
Berem: Berem.
Geralt: Lead me to the Crone, Berem.
Berem: There's a wolf den nearby. Wolf cubs inside. Carry them out of the
swamp. They'll not survive here, or they'll change into something...
evil. I sense a wolf...and men.
Geralt: How many?
Berem: Ten, no more.
Geralt: Stay out of it.
[Geralt can visit the hunters' camp. This is optional if Berem died, mandatory
if he didn't. Nearby, a wolf is caught in a bear trap.]
Geralt: What're you doin' here?
Hunter: A she-wolf's been on the hunt for the last few days. Killed a cow,
wounded a man. So we set some traps.
Hunter: Stupid beast walked right into one, heheheh. Once she tires, we'll set
the 'ounds on 'er, have us a wolf-baitin'.
Geralt: What happened to your ear?
Hunter: Why's it matter? None of your ploughing concern.
Where's the Crone?
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Geralt: Where's the Crone?
Hunter: Sod off, your kind's not welcome here. Leave our lands.
Geralt: Not just yet. Soon. First the Crone.
Hunter: You're one. We're ten, we've got hounds. Wanna end like the she-wolf?
[Hit him.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[Geralt punches the mouthy hunter.]
Hunter: Uhh... We'll flay you alive, you wretch!
Don't make me kill you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Calm down. We don't need to fight.
Hunter: Just go. And the Lady of the Swamp -- you leave her be...
Release the wolf.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Release the she-wolf.
Hunter: She's not weakened yet.
Hunter: She's ragin', knows she's as good as dead but has yet to accept it.
Geralt: Get outta here.
Hunter: What? You dim in the head? Beast killed our cattle, and she'll keep
huntin' -- damned animal! It's the ploughin' enemy! It's her, or us!
Geralt: My sentiments exactly.
Fine, not interested.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: True enough. Hunter: Shove off, then! You're spoilin' our fun.
[Hit him.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as above)
I'm off.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: See ya. Got something to do.
[If Geralt had Berem guide him, they'll talk after dealing with the hunters.]
Berem: One cub lives...
Geralt: Come on, no time for that.
Berem: Won't survive on its own.
Geralt: Lead me to the Crone.
Berem: She's close. Somewhere here...
Geralt: Go back to your wolf dreams, Berem. Save the cub. Go away, far away.
Find yourself a comely wifewolf. And live.
Berem: Let me help you.
Geralt: No.
Berem: Remember -- like a wounded wolverine she'll fight. She could kill you.
Geralt: I know. Now go.
[Either way, Geralt ends up back at the Crookback Bog orphanage. He can hear
the remaining Crone talking in the chapel.]
Weavess: Patience, sisters. I sense him, he comes. You shall yet have his
soul... His pain, his icy suffering will be yours. And you will feast
on him. Soon, sisters, very soon.
Geralt: Come out!
[She does. Geralt can see drowner types gathering nearby.]
Weavess: I sense your pain. I see your fear... Look about you! Feel their
hatred? You slaughtered their brethren for a fistful of coin. They
would see you suffer, while you've lost your claws, wolf. The
prophecies do not lie... You cannot survive this struggle. Zireael
is dead. Naught but a small frozen corpse in an icy wilderness. And
you are afraid... You feel fear.
Geralt: You lie. I don't feel a thing anymore.
[They begin fighting.]
Weavess: You've changed. You suffer. You seek death, I feel it. I know the
smell of a suicide's breath... The omens do not lie. That little
whore, her accursed blood... She slew my sisters. I am alone -- 'tis
your doing.
• Berem: I can't look at this... You must die...
Geralt: Stay out of it!
[Weavess continues taunting throughout the fight.]
• Despair devours you like maggots devour a corpse!
• Your flesh cured with toxins...sweet with pain.
• She suffered too. Miserable and alone. Oh, so alone...
• This shall haunt you forever.
• Do you wish to die, witcher? Do you wish your suffering to end?
[He cuts Weavess down, forcing her to run away pitifully. Geralt doesn't even
bother chasing -- he simply throws his sword, catching her in the back. The
final blow is jamming his other sword right into her head. When he learns the
medallion isn't on her corpse, he angrily wrecks the chapel's interior. At
last, he finds Vesemir's keepsake. As he sits in quiet contemplation, many
drowners and ghouls are seen congregating. The ending concludes as they all
rush in.]
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GOOD ENDING 1 [END2]
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[a.k.a. the Empress ending. Players get this by supporting Ciri throughout the
game -AND- not taking her to meet her father before Bald Mountain events. A
few weeks after the Undvik battle, Geralt enters the palace at Vizima. His
old friend the chamberlain approaches.]
Mererid: The gentleman will follow. His Imperial Majesty awaits.
[He's lead to the emperor's chamber.]
Emhyr: Speak.
Geralt: Ciri is dead.
Emhyr: How did it happen?
Geralt: The White Cold... You're familiar with the prophecy? Ciri tried to
stop it. She did, but paid the ultimate price.
Emhyr: Where is the body?
Geralt: I doubt it'll ever be found.
Emhyr: Who else knows?
Geralt: Avallac'h, elven Sage... But I doubt you'll find him, either.
Emhyr: And Yennefer?
Geralt: She's decided to stay in the North. Provided you don't object.
Emhyr: I don't. And you?
Got post-war work to do.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Plenty of work for witchers after a war. I'll travel east, maybe
north.
None of your business.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: That's none of your business. Not anymore.
Emhyr: Hmmm.
Emhyr: Did Cirilla say... Did she ask you to convey anything?
Regretted not being able to say goodbye.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She regretted not getting a chance to say goodbye.
Emhyr: Did she tell you this, really?
Geralt: Didn't have to. She wanted to make peace, I know that.
You weren't a good father...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You weren't a good father. Ciri saw you as a threat. Even if she'd
asked me to tell you something, I doubt you'd have liked to hear
those words.
Emhyr: Understood.
Didn't talk about you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We didn't talk about you.
Emhyr: I see.
Geralt: If there's nothing else...
Emhyr: There is. But you may go.
[He turns to leave.]
Emhyr: Witcher. I do not wish to see you. Ever again.
[Geralt leaves. Later, on a White Orchard road, Geralt stops at some travelers'
campfire.]
Geralt: Need a hand with your wagon?
Man: Err...no.
Man: It's not exactly ours, more a captured vehicle. Booty, you might say.
Man: Folk must've abandoned it in their rush -- to where, I don't know. Be a
shame for the Reds to claim it, loot it.
Geralt: Change is coming.
Man: Grown accustomed, we have.
Man: With the Black Ones gone, witch hunters'll move in. Yet life'll roll on.
We've to seize the day.
Man: True, that! So let's get to work afore the night creeps up on us!
Sure you don't need help?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sure you don't need any help?
Man: I believe we'll manage.
Gotta go. Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Time I was on my way. Good luck to you.
Man: Where you headed? Nearest inn, by the looks of it.
Geralt: Yeah. Supposed to meet someone first -- at the former campsite of the
Nilfgaardians. You take care, now.
[Geralt rides to the Nilfgaardian garrison, mostly deserted, in White Orchard.]
Geralt: Master Ort! Hmm... Probably got held back.
[Geralt meditates for a few hours. A man approaches.]
Geralt: You're late.
Ort: Soldiers...
Geralt: ...blocking the roads, I know. No matter. You have it?
Ort: As agreed.
[He produces a silver sword.]
Ort: Thirty-eight and a half inch blade. Weight -- just under 40 ounces.
Silver-plated siderite steel core. Glyphs and runes both the length of
the blade and on the hilt.
Geralt: Beautiful.
Ort: Been in this trade for three decades. Only the best swordsmen have the
coin for my wares. When I say no witcher has, or ever had, a better
weapon, you ought to trust me.
Geralt: Reputation precedes you, Master Ort. I'd never doubt you.
Ort: The inscription, as you asked...
"Zireael."
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: "Zireael." Swallow.
"The flash that cuts..."
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: "Dubhenn haern am glâdeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin."
Ort: "The flash that cuts through darkness, the light that breaks the night."
Geralt: Exactly.
Ort: Classic Elder Speech runes. No styling, simple and precise.
Geralt: May I?
Ort: It is yours. If you'd like to test it -- had my lacqueys put out a
training dummy.
Geralt: Mhm. Your payment -- gems only, as requested.
Ort: If you've an eye out for work, heard a striga's prowling the Maribor
Forest.
Geralt: Thanks. Need to visit the tavern first, but after...who knows?
Ort: Good luck on the Path, witcher.
[Geralt goes to the White Orchard inn, the one him and Vesemir visited so long
ago. He sits down next to a veiled woman, revealed to be Ciri.]
Ciri: Is it done?
Geralt: Yes.
Ciri: Did he believe you?
Geralt: I have no idea.
[He gazes at a money pouch on the table.]
Ciri: For the cockatrice. And we've a new contract. It won't pay much, but I
think it's worth the toil.
Geralt: You've been busy.
[He puts the silver sword on the table.]
Geralt: It's yours.
• Ciri: A witcher's silver sword...
Geralt: Like it?
Ciri: It's beautiful. May I?
• Ciri: Swallow. Ooooo. Beautiful. May I?
Geralt: Not here. You'll have ample opportunity soon enough, witcher.
• Ciri: What's this inscription?
Geralt: An old witcher's motto. Had a sword like this once myself. But this
one's better...much better.
Ciri: Let's try it out, then.
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GOOD (?) ENDING 2 [END3]
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[a.k.a. the Empress ending. Geralt will get this by supporting Ciri through the
story -AND- siding with Roche during the Radovid-related "Reason of State".
The ending begin several months after Undvik events, in White Orchard. Geralt,
Yennefer/Triss, Dandelion and Zoltan are drinking in the tavern.]
Zoltan: I might believe you if you showed me a pair of monogrammed batiste
gilligaskins.
Dandelion: More likely you'd just say I stole them.
Zoltan: Heheheh.
Geralt: Dimwits.
• Triss: Were'nt you supposed to be somewhere?
Geralt: Yeah. Alright.
• Yennefer: You were supposed to be somewhere.
Geralt: I was. Fine.
• Yennefer: Where will you meet?
Geralt: Near the huntsman's cottage.
• Triss: Where'd you agree to meet?
Geralt: By the huntsman's cottage.
[The other two are talking nearby.]
Dandelion: Old man always had a soft spot for me. He could sense I was a family
man, a man of peace... Good-natured like himself. Woulda never
crossed his mind to disown me if it wasn't for that hag I call my
"sister."
Zoltan: What's the name again? Count Julian Alphonzo de what?
Dandelion: Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove.
Zoltan: Hahahaha!
Dandelion: Don't believe me? Just watch -- you'll wipe that doubting leer off
your face when we go visit my estates!
Zoltan: Hahahaha! You just invent this count bit? Quite the imagination for one
who's sober.
Dandelion: Geralt'll vouch for me. Tell him -- I've always said I'm a count.
Geralt: True. You have always said so.
Zoltan: Just nobody's bothered to verify it, hahahah.
Geralt: What's with this count business all of a sudden?
Dandelion: Well, when we leave this gods-forsaken dung hole, I plan to reclaim
my heritage -- the titles and estates that are rightfully mine.
I'm going hunting.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm going rabbit hunting. Dandelion?
Dandelion: Glad to have some rabbit stew. But freezing my ass off to amass
the ingredients? Did not sign up for that. I'll gather the herbs,
spices. No stew is complete without some sun-drenched thyme and
the aroma of rosemary...
Zoltan: Aye, fields're covered with rosemary bloomin' like wild just before
Yule, aren't they?
Dandelion: That's why I'll be gathering my herbs from the kitchen.
Geralt: Eh, so long.
And what'll you do with them?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got plans for all these lands and titles?
Dandelion: I'll take possession of them. 'Course, there's also the issue of
progeny...
Zoltan: Is that so? Mean you finally found a lassie worthy of the great
Dandelion?
Dandelion: My dear friend and companion, why, my heart belongs to the one and
only Priscilla, known also as Callonetta.
Zoltan: Your heart might, true...but the rest of your anatomy...
Dandelion: I resent the insinuation! And hasten to remind you that you are
talking to a count!
Geralt: No need for the count to get riled. Rather you told us how your
beloved is.
Dandelion: Recovered, mostly. Even started singing again. Her voice is a
little lower pitched, gravelly... Actually sounds a little better.
Thanks for helping back then, Geralt. Meant a lot. Really.
Geralt: What're friends for...? Give her my best.
Dandelion: Don't worry, I will. Give her a kiss, even -- a bit from you,
mostly from me!
[Geralt walks outside. A pedestrian stops him soon after.]
Geralt: Gotten cold.
Man: Out on a hunt, master witcher? Thought you'd cleared the area of beasts
your last time through.
Geralt: Rabbit hunting this time around.
Man: Aah, so that's it. Maybe you'd come 'round, visit us this eventide?
Verka's bakin' a pie.
Geralt: Hm, don't know if...
Man: As you will. You're always welcome.
[The witcher finds the huntsman tanning a hide outside his cabin.]
Mislav: She's gone.
Geralt: Mad she had to wait?
Mislav: No, eager to roam the fields. Prepared the cover scents and oiled the
jaw traps all by herself.
Geralt: Make a good hunter, wouldn't she?
Mislav: Nah. Too impatient, that one. Probably snatchin' rabbits barehanded,
puttin' 'em in the traps 'cause they're too slow to step in themselves.
Geralt: Where'd she go?
Mislav: Not far. Over yonder.
Geralt: Farewell.
[He approaches the meeting spot, finding Ciri watching her trap from a rocky
sitting spot.]
Geralt: Not up to hunting rabbits anymore?
Ciri: Tsk. Not really.
Geralt: What now?
Ciri: Nothing. Just sitting, waiting for you. It's nice here.
Geralt: Ah, wait till you see Dol Blathanna in winter. And the Blue Mountains.
We'll head east soon as the snow melts. Think we might've settled in a
bit too much...
Ciri: You promised to show me that griffin's nest before we left. Let's go now.
We should collect the traps.
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Geralt: We should pick up the snares.
Ciri: Mislav will collect them. And we should probably try to hunt along the
way.
Really interested?
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Geralt: You actually interested?
Ciri: Absolutely. You said it yourself -- a royal griffin's a rare sight.
Geralt: Not that rare. Venture to say we'll have to slay a couple more before
we get back to Kaer Morhen. But if you wanna see the nest, it's just
up the hill.
Ciri: Come!
Geralt: Just this morning the rabbits were a matter of life and death.
Ciri: To be honest, I just wanted to go for a walk with you.
Geralt: Let's go, then. Nest is just up the hill. Griffin's carcass might still
be there.
Ciri: Mmm, splendid!
[They start walking.]
Geralt: We were supposed to train today.
Ciri: Uh-huh.
Geralt: Tomorrow at sunup, then? Work you hard like I did in the good old days.
Probably been a while since anyone showed you just how much you still
have to learn.
Ciri: Mhm.
Geralt: Ahem. Almost there.
[They climb to the snow-capped cliff.]
Geralt: Careful now.
Ciri: This is no time for you to lecture me.
Geralt: Ciri, wait. There's something in the--
Ciri: We really don't need to play hare and hounds.
Geralt: Ciri!
[He dashes to fight the forktail that was creeping up on Ciri. They defeat the
brute together.]
Ciri: What?
Geralt: A hair faster -- that's all it needed to be to rip your shoulder wide
open.
Ciri: But it wasn't and it didn't. We killed it. What is this about?
Geralt: You're angry, wanted to unload. But be that careless, and next time--
Ciri: Don't you understand?! There won't be a next time!
Geralt: Ciri? What are you talking about?
Ciri: I'm sorry, it's just...it's not a good time.
Geralt: Wanna head back? All right. Enough. Let's go fishing.
[They start on their way again.]
Geralt: We bring Dandelion a nice, fat perch, and he just might forget about
the rabbit stew.
Ciri: Mhm.
Geralt: Shame he didn't come along. He could use a bit of exertion.
Ciri: Mhm.
Geralt: Ice shouldn't be too thick here.
Ciri: Uh-huh. How exactly do you plan to catch anything?
Geralt: Heh, you'll see.
[They see a bear at their frozen-over fishing destination.]
Geralt: I'll be damned...
Ciri: Should we go?
Geralt: No, no way. Lake's gotta be full of perch, bream, or pollard. Mmm...
fresh pollard -- would you like that?
Ciri: I wouldn't mind some, but...do we plan to wait until he leaves?
Geralt: No, we'll scare him off.
Ciri: How?
Geralt: I'll improvise. Wait here.
[He throw a bomb near the bear, scaring it off with the blast.]
Geralt: An old witchers' trick for tough winters. Not terribly subtle, but...
Ciri: Effective.
Geralt: Mhm. Remember, don't ever do this.
Ciri: Why show it to me at all, then?
Geralt: Just in case. Never know what could happen on the Path, what could
save your life.
[He collects the dead fish in the bomb radius.]
Geralt: All right. Let's go.
Ciri: Who taught you that?
Geralt: Vesemir. A long time ago.
Ciri: How long?
Geralt: Very. Back when I wanted to call myself Geralt Roger Eric du
Haute-Bellegarcie.
Ciri: What? Hahahah.
Geralt: Tell you about it tonight.
Ciri: And about the time you broke your leg, after wagering you'd jump off the
roof of Kaer Morhen and land on a horse's back?
Geralt: Hm, how do you even know about that?
Ciri: Eskel told me. But I want to hear you tell it. I'm certain you have a
rational explanation.
[They continue walking.]
Ciri: You never gave me piggyback rides at Kaer Morhen, remember? Vesemir was
the only one willing.
[She jumps on his back in a sneak attack.]
Geralt: Ugh! Had to wait till now to remind me? You've put on some weight since
Kaer Morhen.
[He spins around, 'til they all fall over, laughing.]
Geralt: Ciri?
Ciri: We should get back. Remember me training on the pendulum? How I feared
I'd never manage, yet you forbade me from giving up? I was black and blue
practically all the time. That pendulum was a nightmare.
Geralt: How could I forget?
Ciri: Those months at Kaer Morhen -- they passed so quickly. I wish we'd spent
more time together then.
[They walk back to White Orchard, spotting some Nilfgaardian soldiers. Morvran
is there, too.]
Ciri: Almost managed to forget it was today. They're here for me, Geralt. I'm
going to Nilfgaard. To Emhyr. I know you didn't expect this, but... In
Vizima, my father and I spoke...for long. Argued, really, and parted.
Then a messenger came, with a letter. I didn't say anything at first
because I wasn't sure, and then... I realized I had to stop fleeing.
Realized that if I wish to change anything, I cannot do so hunting
monsters round forgotten villages. I mut do so from there. From
Nilfgaard.
This is what you want?
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Geralt: Is this what you want?
Ciri: Yes. You'll not try to stop me? Take me to the Blue Mountains by force?
Geralt: Traveled half the world to find you, but I never intended to force
anything on you.
Ciri: I know.
Could've told me.
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Geralt: You could've told me, warned me.
Ciri: I wanted to, but...I didn't know how. I've been happy here. I was
afraid I'd ruin it. I wanted to make every minute count.
Geralt: So, back at the nest -- that was about this. I didn't pry, didn't
want to force you to tell me. Thought we had time. A lot more time.
You make this choice on your own?
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Geralt: You make this choice on your own?
Ciri: If you mean to suggest Yennefer had anything to do with this, then the
answer is no.
Geralt: Great. She even know?
Ciri: No. And I'd prefer she not get involved this time.
Geralt: I'll let you tell her that.
Geralt: You'll be fine, you're a witcher.
Ciri: We needn't say goodbye.
Course not.
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Geralt: Course we don't.
Ciri: I don't know when we'll see each other again.
Geralt: You know where to find me.
Ciri: You can't possibly stay at Kaer Morhen all the time.
Geralt: Makes no difference. You'll find me.
Ciri: True.
Geralt: Remember what I taught you. Never know -- could be useful there,
too...
Yeah we do.
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Geralt: Yeah we do.
Ciri: You could come with me.
Geralt: No, Ciri. That's not me, you know that.
Ciri: I know, but...I thought--
Geralt: You've made your decision. And I made mine long ago. War's over. I'll
have plenty of work chasing monsters round forgotten villages.
Ciri: When do you leave?
Geralt: Now.
• Ciri: Won't you at least give Triss some time to pack? So this is...
• Ciri: So this is...
[A teary-eyed Ciri reluctantly unstraps her sword and hands it to Geralt, then
hugs him. The witcher watches her ride off with the Nilfgaardian contingent.]
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ENDING SUMMARIES [END4]
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These are the Dandelion-narrated blurbs that occur at the very end, telling
how various subplots completed thanks (or no thanks) to Geralt.
THIRD NORTHERN WAR SUBPLOT
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• Radovid had many faults. He was cruel, impetuous and pathologically
ambitious. But he was a tactical genius -- that's undeniable. Commanding
forces far outnumbered by his foe's, he handily defeated the invader from the
south. The Redanian Eagle spread its wings, taking all the North, including
Novigrad, beneath them.
With victory in the war against Nilfgaard secured, Radovid proceeded to
complete his witch hunt. As they had in Novigrad, pyres burned in Temeria
and Aedirn, lands now "liberated" by the Redanian monarch. In the drive for
moral renewal, simple herbalists, pellars, healers and nonhumans -- all
supposed heretics -- were murdered in droves. For many, freedom beneath the
Radovid's scepter proved more tragic than servitude to another.
• The 3rd Northern War was a clash between two great strategists: Radovid V,
known as "The Stern," and Emhyr var Emreis. Both seemed invincible, yet both
were defeated. Nilfgaard, invading from the south, was repelled in the field,
while the North's "supreme leader" fell victim to assassins. Yet Redania
stood victorious, and a man who had thus far operated in shadow took up the
reins of power. That man was Sigismund Dijkstra.
Once firmly in the chancellor's seat, Dijkstra ruled the victorious North in
his patiently cynical and ruthless manner. He knew that to preserve the
peace he would need to prepare for war. Following Nilfgaard's example, he
consolidated his rule over vast lands through a broad program of settlement
and industrialization. All for the good of his subjects -- though often
contrary to their will.
• The 3rd Northern War ended -- the invader from the south achieved complete
victory. Robbed of Radovid's tactical genius, the Northern Realms could not
withstand Emhyr's countless legions. Black banners appeared over Novigrad
and all Redania.
Weary of rebel raids, Emhyr var Emreis conceded, restoring Temeria as a realm
in liege to the empire. When the guerillas laid down their arms, the emperor
shifted his forces to other fronts. Through Nilfgaard's victory, Temerians
got their country back, and history once again proved a consummate trickster.
EMHYR'S FATE
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• As long as his armies went from one victory to the next, Emhyr's subjects
remained boundlessly obedient. When a string of humiliating defeats proved
Emhyr var Emreis fallible, the opposition -- thus far secret -- attacked. The
subjects of the emperor who had danced on the graves of his foes laid him to
rest in a tomb of his own.
• Having dealt with Radovid, Emhyr var Emreis did the same with enemies
domestic. The emperor's loyal spies named all who had conspired against him
-- traders, soldiers and aristocrats alike. Though their mutiny had only been
a murky plan, the emperor showed no mercy. As was his wont.
SKELLIGE KINGMAKER SUBPLOT
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• While the Continent bled engulfed by war, Skellige bloomed under Cerys'
enlightened rule. Unlike those who had come before her, the young queen did
not raid foreign shores, looking instead to her people, tending to her land.
The island bound nation prospered, though its fangs of yore were dulled.
• Though the war on the Continent had ended, Hjalmar refused to lay down his
arms. The young king pledged to raid and burn the shores of the Empire of
Nilfgaard each spring. He meant to keep his word, even at the cost of
drowning his own people in their own blood.
• Many islanders believed Svanrige would be no more than his ambitious mother's
puppet. The young king proved them wrong, ignoring her whims and ruling with
an iron hand all his own. Tired of the jarls and their endless feuds, he
resolved to turn the Isles into an absolute monarchy modeled after those of
the Continent. What he resolved, he achieved, but only by shedding his
countrymen's blood.
CIRILLA'S FATE
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• Cirilla Fiona Ellen Riannon, heir to Nilfgaard's throne, chose the life of a
witcher, on the Path. Geralt taught her all he knew, every skill he
possessed, then each set off on their own. Soon word of the ashen-haired
witcheress had spread throughout the North, from the Yaruga to the mountains
of Kovir...
• After years in exile, Ciri returned to Nilfgaard, her paternal home, where
Emhyr prepared to name her his successor. The woman had the necessary
qualities. From her father she'd inherited an empress' political instincts.
From Geralt she had gained a sense of simple, human decency. Few monarchs
boast both traits -- which is quite a shame...
• As for Ciri? That's hard to say. Since the events on Undvik, she has yet to
be seen.
GERALT'S FATE
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• While monarchs moved borders and populations, Geralt and Yennefer lived a
calm, quiet life far from all things political. They breakfasted well after
noon, more often than not in bed, and passed the days on lazy strolls and
long conversations. Boring, you say? Perhaps. But both had sought this more
than anything else.
• Hard as it may be to believe, Geralt planted roots -- in faraway Kovir. He
and Triss settled down, their home warm and smelling of freshly baked cakes.
Guests were always welcome, no matter the day or the hour. The witcher would
take jobs at times, more from habit than need. For Triss earned a true
fortune as the mage advisor to Kovir's king.
• "And what of Geralt?" -- you might ask. Well... He continued on as before,
living hand to mouth, job to job, on the road, ever coinless. We would meet
at times over a glass of strong drink to talk about the old days and
speculate what could have, would have, might have been...
____________________
________________________________________________________/ KEIRA METZ SUBPLOT |_
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MAGIC LAMP [KM01]
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[This quest begins after "Hunting the Witch" and "Wandering in the Dark," the
sorceress' first main quest appearances, if Geralt agrees to help her look
for the lamp the mysterious elf promised her.]
Keira: We're certain to find something here.
[If Geralt said he wouldn't help with the lamp, then goes after Keira anyway:]
Keira: How about that, you changed your mind.
Geralt: Miss me?
Keira: Hardly. Now focus.
[Either way, the room is filled with a locked door and several statues]
Keira: Looks like another damned riddle to me.
Geralt: Inscription here.
Keira: Show me!
[She runs over to the locked door.]
Geralt: Can you translate the inscription? I can decipher maybe a third, but
that third doesn't make much sense.
Keira: Give me a minute... I was never any good at the high variant of the
Elder Speech... Hm, all right. This might seem a bit literal. I'm afraid
I can't replicate its sophisticated internal rhymes.
Geralt: Just -- translate it to make sense.
Keira: "Four guardians, four flames, standing proud in a line. The First to
light his fire dared not march on the end. The Second, by the First,
played a woeful lament. The Third kept close to his faithful beast.
The Fourth marched not beside the First, yet like the Second, played a
tune. And thus they stood o'er their queen, who slept beneath flickering
stars."
Geralt: Hm... Sounds like a riddle all right.
Let's try to solve it.
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Geralt: All right. Let's see if we can't solve this.
Repeat the inscription.
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Geralt: Mind repeating the riddle?
[Keira says the translation again.]
[Keira may say things if the correct braziers are lit:]
Keira: Lit up like a charm.
[If the order is off and the attacking wraith is killed:]
Keira: Um, seems we did something wrong.
[When the second brazier's lit:]
Keira: Wait. Something just happened.
Geralt: Mhm. Behind that wall, a movement.
[When all braziers are lit, the locked door opens.]
Keira: It worked! Oooh!
Geralt: Looks like some elven sanctuary...
[They walk over to a sepulcher of some sort. A bird marking's drawn on it.]
Keira: Whose grave is it -- what do you think? No inscription, sadly.
Geralt: Hm... Sign of the gull. If I didn't already know where she was buried,
I'd guess this is Lara Dorren's sepulcher.
Keira: Perhaps it's a monument to her?
Geralt: Can't see the elves commemorating her this way. Heroine of a tragic
legend to some, but... Most see her as a traitor to her race, who got
her just desserts for marrying Cregennan of Lod.
Keira: Perhaps the elven mage is Lara's kin. It would explain why he's helping
Ciri.
Geralt: Possible. This what you're looking for?
[Keira takes an odd-looking lantern off the grave.]
Geralt: So what's it supposed to do?
Keira: Hm, I hope I'll be able to activate it... Let's leave this place, shall
we?
Geralt: We going?
Keira: Mhm.
[They dispel a final rocky illusion, revealing fresh air at last.]
Keira: Whew, at last. But it was worth it, right? You learned something about
Ciri in the end, something important. Do you intend to venture into
Crookback Bog? You must tell me about it afterwards.
Geralt: Don't know that I'll get the chance.
Keira: Geralt, there are two types of men: those who see opportunity and take
advantage, and those who forge the opportunities themselves. I've always
seen you as an example of the latter. Besides, I've a favor to ask you.
So, visit me some time?
Be sure to stop by.
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Geralt: I'll stop by. You can be sure.
I'll try.
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Geralt: I'll try.
Keira: In that case, I shall be waiting.
Geralt: See you, Keira.
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________________________________________________________/ KEIRA METZ SUBPLOT |_
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AN INVITATION FROM KEIRA METZ [KM02]
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[After exiting the mysterious elf's lab with Keira, he later revisits her at
her Midcopse cabin. She's having a conversation with a ghostly figure being
projected by the mystical lamp.]
Keira: The rats -- why did he need them?
Man: Bloody rodents, better to have stuffed them with a poison or crushed them
into a pulp with a shovel, but no...
Keira: Did you see what he did with them?
[If Geralt helped with the lamp, his reception's warmer:]
Geralt: Keira? What are you doing?
Keira: Geralt! You gave me quite a start!
Man: ...but nay, the mage says, "Bring me the rats! An' healthy ones! Not
something the cat dragged in."
Geralt: This the lamp from the elf's hideout? And what's this about rats?
Keira: Nothing important, I'll explain later. Now tell me -- to what do I owe
the pleasure.
[If Geralt didn't help with the lamp, his reception's chillier, and carries
extra convo options: "Find the lamp?" and "Hope you're not mad at me...". The
others appear no matter how the lamp quest went.]
Geralt: Keira.
Keira: What are you doing here?
Man: ...but nay, the mage says, "Bring me the rats! An' healthy ones! Not
something the cat dragged in."
Geralt: What's this? What's he saying about rats?
Keira: It's no concern of yours.
Find the lamp?
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Geralt: Manage to find the lamp?
Keira: Yes. And you? Come to ask my help again?
Geralt: No. But if there's anything I could do for you...
Keira: Hmm...
Geralt: So there is something.
Keira: Hmm...indeed, I do have a small favor to ask of you.
Hope you're not mad at me...
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Geralt: Hope you're not mad at me.
Keira: Oh, of course not. I understand perfectly well that you had
valid, important reasons for leaving me in an underground cavern
all by myself.
Why'd you want a magic lamp?
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Geralt: Why'd you want the lamp?
Keira: You just witnessed why. To communicate with lost souls.
Geralt: Didn't know you were interested in that kind of magic.
Keira: There's nothing wrong with it.
Geralt: Mhm. Why'd the elf promise you the lamp?
Keira: We traded for it. He needed powerful magic and sensed I was no
common wart charmer. I brewed him a potion. To delay nervous
tissue degeneration, stave off memory loss, or some such.
Geralt: Who'd he want to use it on?
Keira: He didn't say...
Said you had a request for me.
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Geralt: Mentioned you wanted something from me.
Keira: I did. And still do. The cursed isle on Lake Wyndamer -- you've
heard of it, I'm sure. The local peasants mumble incessantly
about it, about the wraiths that haunt it. They claim none who
go there return.
• Geralt: I managed to. But while on the island, I did sense
something strange.
Geralt: How'd it come to be cursed?
Keira: That's what I don't know! I must break this spell, yet I've been
unable to identify its source.
Geralt: Gotta know something...
Keira: Scraps. The curse is somehow linked to the tower where Vserad,
the lord of these lands, took refuge when Nilfgaard invaded.
Claims in the village are that peasants, desperate of hunger,
sailed to Fyke Isle to beg for food. Met their end there, it was
a massacre.
Keira: So, will you please help me lift this curse? You're so good at these
things.
I'll help you.
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Geralt: All right. I'll help.
Keira: I knew you'd find it irresistable! Naturally, you'll need to
sail to Fyke Isle.
Geralt: Fine. What then?
Keira: Well, the spirits who wander the isle -- you must establish a
rapport with them, don't know how. But they could point us in
the direction of the curse's source.
Geralt: Think they'll be willing to chat?
Keira: Of course, provided you take my magic lamp with you. I shall let
you keep it afterwards, in appreciation. You'll find it quite
useful, I'm sure.
The magic lamp -- how's it work?
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Geralt: How's the lamp actually work? I mean, do I just rub it or do
I have to do something, uh, magical?
Keira: You needn't even rub. Just place it where you find bones and
hear whispers. Ehm... I suppose I should warn you -- it might
not be the most pleasant experience.
Geralt: Figured as much. Tell you all about it later, maybe skip the
drastic bits.
Keira: You'll need to do neither. I'll give you a xenovox. It's a
bauble that will let us speak over some distance. You will tell
me what you see, and I shall tell you what to do and look for.
I'm off to Fyke Isle.
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Geralt: I need to know anything else before I go?
Keira: No. That is all. Oh, go already. I can't wait to see what you
discover on Fyke Isle. Just be sure to come and see me
afterwards. And...Geralt?
Geralt: Hm?
Keira: Thank you.
Xenovox -- never heard of that.
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Geralt: Never heard of a xenovox.
Keira: It works just like a megascope, but is far more portable.
Think of it as a magic box that talks.
Geralt: They hard to build?
Keira: Extremely. That's why they're so rare. I certainly couldn't
build anything like it.
Geralt: So, no chance these xenovoxes'll catch on, with every mage
using one?
Keira: Not the slightest.
Where'd you get the xenovox?
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Geralt: So, where'd you get the xenovox?
Keira: Found it in the mine, along with the lamp. Thought it was part
of the lamp at first. Didn't realize what I'd actually found
until later.
Geralt: Think it belonged to the elven mage?</pre><pre id="faqspan-24">
Keira: Clearly. And I didn't even know the elves used them.
Why won't you go with me?
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Geralt: Can't you just come with me?
Keira: I tried to go to Fyke Isle once. Thought my head would burst,
the curse's magic was so strong.
Geralt: Nice of you to send me there.
Keira: I experienced an acute nasal hemorrhage. You stand to endure
a wobble of your medallion at most. At Aretuza they trained me
to detect even the subtlest magic pulses. This was like getting
smacked across my haunches with a grain flail.
Geralt: Funny, thought you'd go in for that sort of thing.
Keira: Take my boat. I left it on the lake shore, near the village.
Should be fit to use. Provided rot hasn't eaten it, as it seems
to eat everything here.
Why do you want to lift the curse?
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Geralt: Why're you so intent on this?
Keira: I'm not, the local peasantry is. "The isle, miss! You've got to
lift the charm! You're a good witch, a great witch!" There's no
end to it.
Geralt: Uh-huh. See, I thought you didn't care for the locals. The
great witch you are...
Keira: I fail to lift the curse and they could conclude I'm not so
great, not enough to conceal me from the witch hunters and risk
getting sent to the gallows themselves.
Geralt: What others think, your image -- that's all you care about.
Keira: The point is... Listen, I didn't flee to these wilds just to
stupidly get caught because some boor with grit under his
fingernails grows annoyed with me.
Vserad had all the peasants killed?
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Geralt: So the peasants who went to the island for food -- this lord
had them murdered?
Keira: The villagers say he had them poisoned.
Geralt: A real gentleman.
Keira: Hm... I never met him, but he didn't seem such a cruel man
judging by what a mage from the isle told me.
Geralt: A mage lived on the island? Did you know him? Where is he now?
Keira: We were friends. Sadly, he died that day as well. Very few
survived. Yet even those who escaped the island suffered
agonizing deaths. Strangely, they did not seem to have been
poisoned.
Lemme think about it.
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Geralt: Need to think about it.
Keira: Not too long, I trust. If you've any questions--
Geralt: ...I'll know where to find you.
Keira: Ughh...
____________________
________________________________________________________/ KEIRA METZ SUBPLOT |_
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A TOWERFUL OF MICE [KM03]
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[Geralt sets out for Fyke Isle in southern Velen. Soon, his xenovox responds.]
Keira: Geralt? Can you hear me? How goes it? Where are you?
Geralt: Almost there!
Keira: Splendid. I shall contact you again too.
Geralt: Wait! This xenovox -- can I contact you with it, or is it one way¹?
Keira: One way¹ only, I'm afraid. You'll have to trust my feminine intuition.
Geralt: Your what?
Keira: My feminine intuition!
Geralt: Wonderful.
[Eventually, Geralt makes landfall on the isle, crawling with drowners and
all sorts of undead types. Distant screams from villagers can be heard.]
Keira: Geralt? Are you on the isle yet? Does the xenovox work? Can you hear me?
Geralt: What? I can't hear... Great, broke already. Sheesh. Short-lived, this
magic...
Keira: What did you say? There's some interference... You must be very careful.
[Near the ruined tower's palisade, Geralt finds a weird green glow.]
Geralt: Let's try Keira's lamp.
[The lamp shows three souls. Like a glimpse into the past, Geralt can see them
converse as they did on the fateful day of Fyke Isle's massacre.]
Ghost: They're onto us... They'll not let Graham in.
Ghost: Quiet, fool! Babble on and the noble himself will hear ye.
Ghost: Nah...He's sat his arse on silk pillows. Likely be gobblin' meat, heheh!
Ghost: ...with no notion we's comin' to tear him to shreds!
Ghost: Way's clear, lads! At 'em!
[There's another glow near the isle's southern waterline, showing escapees.]
Ghost: They left us! Look! All of 'em done went!
Ghost: We've to swim. Come on.
Ghost: What about all this? I can't leave it! You go. Find a boat and come
back for me...if you make it across.
Ghost: Hah! Why wouldn't I? Be back before you know it.
[At the ruined tower's base, there's an inspectable corpse.]
Geralt: Wonder what lead them here. Hunger...or greed?
[Behind the tower is another spot to use the lamp. Two ghosts are there, but
one falls to its knees.]
Ghost: Millie, we gotta flee! Quick now! Millie? Millie, what's with ye?
Ghost: I dunno... So hot...burnin' -- agh!
Ghost: What? No, no, stay back!
Ghost: Don't...leave me!
[Geralt enters inside the tower proper, finding the area full of mice. There's
another spot to use the lantern. Two ghosts are hunched over a corpse.]
Ghost: Where's that noble? Lyin' here, quiet as a mouse, head split open like
a rotten pumpkin. More like a peasant now, sloshin' around in his own
blood and shite. Be nothin' noble 'bout him.
Ghost: Too quick a death,¹ they gave him. Shoulda been made to suffer!
Ghost: He's not the end of it. Sons can suffer for 'im...and the daughter! To
the top!
[This floor has some things to inspect as well, like weapons and scratches.]
• Blood... Many must have died here.
• Peasants didn't come here to ask nicely.
• Place is full of rats -- as many dead as alive. Think they're feeding on...
Keira: Geralt, stop! You needn't be so detailed.
[Geralt finds another lantern hotspot in the basement. Two peasant ghosts are
standing near stacks of provisions and the old laboratory cages.]
Ghost: Rich folk, doubt I'll ever understand 'em. Keepin' rats in cages -- like
rabbits.
Ghost: Let 'em out, maybe...? Like to die of hunger if we leave 'em there.
Ghost: I'd sooner burn the vermin. Releasing 'em's not like to bring no good.
Imagine the harm they'd do if they swam back to the village.
Ghost: Swam? Rats? How d'ye figure they'd do that?
Ghost: Ye needn't fret for 'em. Clever little bastards. Cleverer'n you.
Ghost: Hm, they seem sluggish to you? Got the mange, maybe? Oargh! And that
stench!
[With the lower floors cleared, Geralt to 2F, where another hotspot is. This
one's between Vserad, the baron seeking refuge, and his daughter. Alexander,
the mage Keira knows, was there, too.]
Vserad: Don't start, Anabelle! Back to your crafts! Always bending my ear about
fool peasants! I'll not hear of them again! That simpleton turned your
head! But one Graham hardly makes the rest courtly, one and all.
Alexander: My lord! Peasants! They're through the door, in the tower!
[The floor above holds another lantern location, this one in a small bedroom.
The soul is of a robber who's murdered by someone. Given his corpse is still
there, it must've been semi-recent.]
Ghost: Gooold! Piles of it! Won't do the dead any good now, will it? Strange
it's still here -- the noble died a time ago. Who's that? Show yourself?
Anyone there? Who...who are you? Aaaaaaaaaargh!
[A few floors up, the xenovox responds.]
Keira: Where are you? Have you got to the laboratory at the top of the tower
yet?
Geralt: I'm at the top. Nothing here that looks like a laboratory.
Keira: Then you've not reached the highest level. Look for a passage.
[Scratches mar the floor.]
• Hm, someone dragged something across the floor. Or dragged it from one wall
to the other, repeatedly...
[The suspicious switches open a false wall, showing the way to the upper lab.]
Geralt: Hm, looks like a laboratory. Pretty well equipped, too.
• Experimenting on humans... Never would've gotten away with it if the Conclave
were still in charge.
[At the top of the tower are corpses in cages.]
Geralt: Kept in there until the end. What a shitty way to die.
[Activating the final hotspot shows a girl's ghost, lamenting a lost love.]
Ghost: Why did you leave? You claimed to loved me. I'm cold... Why has no one
come for me? I cannot leave this place, I see no way out...
[Surprisingly, the ghost notices Geralt's presence.]
Ghost: Who are you? Do you seek to hurt me as well?
I'm a witcher.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher.
No need to fear me.
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Geralt: Don't be afraid.
Geralt: I wanna lift the curse that grips this island. Your turn to tell me
who you are. The other ghosts...they couldn't see me.
Anabelle: I'm special. Always was. The rare beauty. The lord's daughter. These
lands, as far as the eye can see, were ours. My family and I, we hid
in the mage's tower, to await the war's end, the end of hard times.
It was not to be forever!
What happened in the tower?
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Geralt: Tell me what happened here. Peasants sailed to the island to
ask for food. Is that true?
Anabelle: No, they came to rob and kill! They thought us rich,
believed we'd stowed ourselves away here to laugh at their
misery. Yet we had little food as well. Too little to
share with those who came. They slaughtered everyone...
I heard my father cry out, but the mage told me not to
reveal myself or to let anyone in. He gave me a potion.
If I was discovered, I was to drink it... He said
everything would be all right.
The potion -- what was it?
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Geralt: What kind of potion was it? Remember its smell, what it
looked like?
Anabelle: I remember only that I feared to drink it.
What happened next?
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Geralt: What happened then?
Anabelle: Fear, terrible fear. I feared the men who approached, but
I also feared the potion, drinking it.
The mage of the tower -- who was he?
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Geralt: Mage who lived here -- who was he?
Anabelle: Alexander. I hardly knew him. He spent most of his time
locked away in this tower. He's dead, too, you know!
They're all dead! Mountains of corpses! Yet I stand here
alone! All alone! They've all abandoned me, even he who
promised me everlasting love. You will abandon me as well!
Geralt: If I can lift the curse, you yourself'll be free to leave.
Geralt: Didn't trust the mage?
Anabelle: In the village, they claimed he meddled in disease. Not curing it,
but causing it. They said he lured rats into the tower, infected
them with the Catriona. Only rumors, surely. But I was afraid, so
horribly afraid... And then I heard him, my beloved Graham. He
called to me...I opened the door for him, but others rushed at me.
They lunged at me, and...and...
Did they harm you?
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Geralt: Did they hurt you?
Anabelle: They gripped my arms, tore at my dress... I managed to
free myself and drink the potion, and then...nothing.
Geralt: Poisoned? That how you died?
Anabelle: No, for I later awoke. I was alone, it was dark. Only
there were rats...everywhere. Dozens. Hundreds. And I...
couldn't move.
Geralt: Sleeping potion. Effects hadn't worn off yet. You were
paralyzed...
Anabelle: They were everywhere, all over me, like insects. My
face, my hands... I felt them rip open my skin, then
crawl into my stomach... They tore me apart, and I could
not even scream... Have I not suffered enough? Why can't
I leave this place?!
How can I help you?
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Geralt: How can I help you?
Anabelle: A curse born of hatred binds me to this place. Only
love's power can hope to lift it, but...who could love a
wraith?
Geralt: And your beloved -- he dead, too?
Anabelle: Graham... No, he lives. I would know if he died. But he
fled and abandoned me! Left me here all alone!
Geralt: Maybe you could strip the curse of its power by forgiving
him. You might cleanse the isle.
The curse is focused on you.
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Geralt: As I see it, you're the curse's focus. The other ghosts
on the island -- their auras aren't nearly as strong as
yours. My medallion started pulsating as soon as we
started talking.
Anabelle: I don't know what you mean, but you do seem to know some
things. You could be right. My fate is tied to the isle
-- I feel that. Perhaps because I'm heiress of these
lands?
Geralt: It could be your blood ties to the land, the base of the
curse, that is. If so, forgiving Graham, laying your
resentment to rest, should lift it.
Graham -- tell me about him.
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Geralt: Your beloved -- who is he? A noble's son?
Anabelle: No, a poor fisherman. My father objected. Strongly. He
did not see us together. Oh, I miss him so... Each night
I walk the island's shore to gaze upon the village. Does
he remember me still?
Geralt: Hm, said before you can't leave the tower.
Anabelle: Did I? You must have misheard.
Geralt: I don't think so.
Anabelle: I...I don't know anymore. It's all a nightmare to me...
Found a fresh corpse in the tower.
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Geralt: You weren't the last to die on this island. Found a fresh
corpse in the tower.
Anabelle: The island's a dangerous place. Folk should not venture
here -- I too wish to leave.
Geralt: The dead man -- looked like a monster attacked him.
Recently. The tower home to anything else?
Anabelle: How am I to know? There's lots of wraiths here. I hear
them whispering every night.
Geralt: Not talking about ghosts. A monster who hunts here. You
must've noticed something...
Anabelle: I don't know! I've noticed naught -- why do you ask?!
Why must you press me so?! You're to be my savior, not
my tormentor!
Can you talk to other souls?
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Geralt: Can you talk to the island's other specters?
Anabelle: No, I'm alone here. The others, they flee when they see
me. I know not why. You do not fear me, do you?
Geralt: No. Used to dealing with ghosts. Though...gotta admit,
there's something about you. You're...different.
Your beloved failed to save you. Why?
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Geralt: Your beloved failed to save you. Why?
Anabelle: There were too many... "Leave her be!" he shouted. He
grabbed at them, tried to stop them. They just
laughed...
Anabelle: I...loved him. I'm prepared to forgive him. But I must know he
regrets what he did. Take my bones to him. He must bury them. This
will be our farewell. Will you speak to him? Will you do this for me?
Fine.
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Geralt: Fine, I'll talk to Graham. Where will I find him?
Anabelle: He lives in the village on the lakeshore... Yet...what if
he's forgotten me?
Geralt: If he loved you, he'll remember. And wanna help.
Anabelle: He said he would always love me... Go to him. Make haste,
please.
Not sure I trust you.
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Geralt: Really sad story, but something's not right. Got a
feeling...
Anabelle: What is it?
Geralt: You're not telling me everything. You know the island's
dangerous, yet refuse to tell me about the monster that
lives here.
Anabelle: There is no monster!
Got a feeling you might be lying.
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Geralt: I think you're lying. Question is: why? To protect the
beast, or is it that--
Anabelle: Stop! I will not hear this!
(goes right to "I won't help you." bit)
I won't help you.
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Geralt: I can't help you. Taking anything off this cursed island,
from any cursed place -- just too dangerous. And a dead
woman's bones? That's asking for trouble.
Anabelle: They said witchers are heartless beasts. Will you bring
Graham here, then? I so long to say goodbye.
Geralt: Anabelle, listen--
Anabelle: You never wished to help me! And here I hoped someone
would finally take pity on me. Stupid woman that I am!
Need to look around.
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Geralt: Really hope I can help. Need to look around first.
Anabelle: Whatever for? Naught in the tower but bones and rats.
Don't leave me with them again!
Geralt: I'll come back for you. You can be sure.
Anabelle: Very well. But...come back soon. Don't keep me waiting.
========================== PATH 1: TRUST ANNABELLE ============================
[Geralt goes to Graham's house in Oreton. Someone's banging on his door.]
Peasant: Why you been followin' me?
Geralt: Just wondering what you want from him. From Graham.
Peasant: Me? Didn't want nothin'. It's his mother be worried 'bout him... Been
locked in his hut since he came back from the isle. Talks to no soul.
Love's misery...curdled his brains, I reckon.
[He knocks on the door.]
Geralt: I wanna talk.
Graham: You deaf, dammit? I told ye-- Who are ye?
I'm a witcher.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher.
Graham: What of it? Why should I care?
Geralt: I've been to the island. I know what happened there.
Been to Fyke Isle...
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Geralt: I've been to the island. I know what happened there.
[The man lets Geralt inside.]
Graham: What d'you want of me?
Geralt: Wanna talk to you about Anabelle.
Graham: Anabelle. What can you know about her?
Geralt: I met her, talked to her...
Graham: Anabelle's dead. Drank poison. And I...couldn't save her.
Fyke Isle -- what happened there?
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Geralt: What happened on Fyke Isle? You gotta tell me.
Graham: Twere¹ Millie, Finch and Faulkner -- they rallied the men,
all roughs, to go to the isle, take back what was ours from
the noble. They knew I was known at the tower, that the lord's
servants would open the gate for me seein' as I sold them
fish.
Geralt: They force you to go with them?
Graham: No, I...I saw my chance in it. For Anabelle and me to flee.
But...it all spun into chaos. Our boys from the village, they
started killin' everyone! Anabelle, they wanted to rape!
'Twere then she drank poison. Mage must've gave it to 'er. I
ran out the tower, hollerin' that I wanted to die, cursin'
them all to hell. Don't force me to speak of it. No more,
please.
It wasn't poison Anabelle took.
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Geralt: It wasn't poison. Anabelle took a strong sleeping potion.
Mage wanted to protect her, make it look like she was dead.
Convinced everyone.
Graham: But...that means... Is she...? You said you spoke to her.
Geralt: Spoke to her ghost. By the time she awoke, tower was full of
cold corpses. And rats. She was warm meat. Rats ate her
alive.
Graham: You mean...she was alive the whole time? But...can't be! She
was cold all through, like a corpse. I shook her, begged her,
"Open yer eyes!" I never thought...
You can still help Anabelle.
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Geralt: Anabelle needs you. You can help her.
Graham: But...what can I do? It's too late...
Geralt: Bury her bones. Anabelle should be laid to rest by one who
loved her. It's the only way to lift the curse that holds
Fyke Isle.
Graham: Those are...her bones?
Geralt: Yes.
Graham: Give 'em here. And leave me be.
Not your fault.
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Geralt: It's not your fault. No guilt in not knowing -- and you
couldn't know it wasn't poison she drank.
Graham: Gods, what 'ave I done! If I'd stayed behind to bury her...
I'd a noticed she was alive. It might 'ave ended different,
ended well!
Geralt: If you'd stayed on the island, I doubt you'd have survived.
Graham: I'd take death over leavin' her to the rats like that! But
there's naught I can do about it now!
Geralt: Wrong on that count.
What exactly did you say?
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Geralt: Said you were hollering as you fled the tower, the island.
What exactly did you say?
Graham: I...don't remember. I wanted them to pay -- for what they'd
done to her!
Geralt: Might've cursed them. There's a powerful magic aura on Fyke
Isle. Passions, evil intent, strong emotions of any kind can
activate it. Your words could be the curse's source.
Graham: She took the poison, because of them.
You loved Anabelle?
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Geralt: Did you love her?
Graham: Aye, somethin' mad. Loved her so deeply I believed we'd come
through, believed we'd be together. Course, 'twas not to her
father's likin' -- his daughter and a plain lout!
[With the remains handed over, Geralt leaves. However, he's barely down the
walkway before he hears Graham's blood-curdling screams. A giant wraith is
floating over his corpse, then disintegrates.]
Geralt: Dead... Anabelle was no ordinary ghost. She's a pesta. And now she's
free.
======================== PATH 2: DON'T TRUST ANABELLE =========================
[If Geralt says he doesn't believe her, she ends up attacking him. After a
bit of fighting, she flees.]
Geralt: Dammit... Gotta catch them!
[Geralt follows the pesta to the tower courtyard, where he wounds it.]
Pesta: You cannot kill me. You know this...
[The xenovox responds.]
Keira: What was that? It sounded for a moment like you'd joined the wraiths
yourself.
Geralt: Had to fight a pesta.
Keira: A pesta? And did you learn how to lift the curse before you lunged at
her, sword in hand?
Geralt: Yeah, we talked a bit. Looks like I need to get her beloved to the
island. Fisherman named Graham.
Keira: I know the man. Lives in Oreton, village on the lakeshore. Find him
immediately. We're close to unraveling this, I can feel it.
[Geralt goes to Graham's house. Someone's banging on his door.]
Peasant: Why you been followin' me?
Geralt: Just wondering what you want from him. From Graham.
Peasant: Me? Didn't want nothin'. It's his mother be worried 'bout him... Been
locked in his hut since he came back from the isle. Talks to no soul.
Love's misery...curdled his brains, I reckon.
[Geralt knocks.]
Geralt: I wanna talk.
Graham: You deaf, dammit? I told ye-- Who are ye?
I'm a witcher.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher.
Graham: What of it? Why should I care?
Geralt: I've been to the island. I know what happened there.
Been to Fyke Isle...
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Geralt: I've been to the island. I know what happened there.
[The man lets Geralt inside.]
Graham: What d'you want of me?
Geralt: Wanna talk to you about Anabelle.
Graham: Anabelle. What can you know about her?
Geralt: I met her, talked to her...
Graham: Anabelle's dead. Drank poison. And I...couldn't save her.
Fyke Isle -- what happened there?
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Geralt: What happened on Fyke Isle? You gotta tell me.
Graham: Twere¹ Millie, Finch and Faulkner -- they rallied the men,
all roughs, to go to the isle, take back what was ours from
the noble. They knew I was known at the tower, that the lord's
servants would open the gate for me seein' as I sold them
fish.
Geralt: They force you to go with them?
Graham: No, I...I saw my chance in it. For Anabelle and me to flee.
But...it all spun into chaos. Our boys from the village, they
started killin' everyone! Anabelle, they wanted to rape!
'Twere then she drank poison. Mage must've gave it to 'er. I
ran out the tower, hollerin' that I wanted to die, cursin'
them all to hell. Don't force me to speak of it. No more,
please.
It wasn't poison Anabelle took.
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Geralt: It wasn't poison. Anabelle took a strong sleeping potion.
Mage wanted to protect her, make it look like she was dead.
Convinced everyone.
Graham: But...that means... Is she...? You said you spoke to her.
Geralt: Spoke to her ghost. By the time she awoke, tower was full of
cold corpses. And rats. She was warm meat. Rats ate her
alive.
Graham: You mean...she was alive the whole time? But...can't be! She
was cold all through, like a corpse. I shook her, begged her,
"Open yer eyes!" I never thought...
You can still help Anabelle.
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Geralt: Anabelle needs you. You can help her.
Graham: Is she still there...in the tower? Can I...see her?
Geralt: Yeah. One thing you should know, though. In death, Anabelle
turned into a pesta.
Graham: A "pester"? What's that?
Geralt: More than a restless ghost. A plague maiden, a powerful
wraith filled with grief and hatred that drive her, give her
the power to sow disease and death.
Graham: She suffers... How am I to help her? Gods know I'm willin'.
Love can shatter the curse's power.
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Geralt: A curse has imprisoned Anabelle and the other spirits on
the island. Love can shatter its power, free her and them.
Graham: Just as in the legends...
Geralt: If you know the legends, you know one kiss is enough to
break an evil spell. On one condition -- it's a kiss from
someone whose love is true.
Graham: I told you, I love her with all my heart! Take me to her,
please.
Geralt: It's dangerous, there are risks involved. Understand that,
don't you?
Graham. Course. I'm no coward. I'll not run this time.
Let's go now.
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Geralt: Nothing. Let's go.
Graham: I'm ready.
Meet you there.
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Geralt: Nothing. Meet you by the tower on Fyke Isle.
Graham: Good. I'll await you there.
Anabelle thinks you've abandoned her.
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Geralt: Anabelle thinks you abandoned her.
Graham: Gods! She...hates me! And all this time, she thought I ran,
abandoned her?
Geralt: Yes. Go to the tower, talk to her. Maybe you can convince
her that's not how it was.
Graham: I thought she'd died...I'd never have left her there
otherwise!
Not your fault.
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Geralt: It's not your fault. No guilt in not knowing -- and you
couldn't know it wasn't poison she drank.
Graham: Gods, what 'ave I done! If I'd stayed behind to bury her...
I'd a noticed she was alive. It might 'ave ended different,
ended well!
Geralt: If you'd stayed on the island, I doubt you'd have survived.
Graham: I'd take death over leavin' her to the rats like that! But
there's naught I can do about it now!
Geralt: Wrong on that count.
What exactly did you say?
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Geralt: Said you were hollering as you fled the tower, the island.
What exactly did you say?
Graham: I...don't remember. I wanted them to pay -- for what they'd
done to her!
Geralt: Might've cursed them. There's a powerful magic aura on Fyke
Isle. Passions, evil intent, strong emotions of any kind can
activate it. Your words could be the curse's source.
Graham: She took the poison, because of them.
You loved Anabelle?
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Geralt: Did you love her?
Graham: Aye, somethin' mad. Loved her so deeply I believed we'd come
through, believed we'd be together. Course, 'twas not to her
father's likin' -- his daughter and a plain lout!
[The two return to the isle.]
Geralt: Let's go to the tower.
[Inside, wraiths of the trapped Oreton souls appear.]
Ghost: You! We wander this place because of you!
Ghost: I've waited long enough for revenge! And now he comes to us on his own!
Graham: No! No, run! We gotta go! They'll kill me!
Geralt: Don't be afraid. You'll be fine.
[Geralt slays the wraiths.]
Graham: Last I came through here I still hoped Anabelle and I would... It
weren't impossible! We could've been together! And now... She's dead!
And it's my fault! If only I'd been able to protect her!
Geralt: Can't change the past, but you can still help Anabelle, to move on, to
rest in peace.
Graham: It's terrifyin' here... It's too quiet.
Geralt: Chop, chop. Speed up. Let's get this over with.
Graham: I remember the screams. Inhuman, they were. Now it's silent. They're
dead, all dead.
Geralt: Don't think about that. Keep walking.
[They return to the laboratory. She's in her pesta form, with half her face
rotted off, a huge tongue hanging out, etc.]
Anabelle: You have not forgotten. You've returned for me.
Graham: I-is-is th-that...?
Anabelle: Don't you recognize me? It's me, Anabelle, the one you abandoned,
remember?
Graham: Anabelle, I--I was sure ye were dead. If I'd known otherwise, I'd a
never have left ye! I'd do anything for ye, I would. Ye know that well.
Believe me, I beg ye.
Anabelle: Prove it. Kiss me.
Geralt: Graham, careful...
[He kisses her, turning her back to her human self. However, in doing so, he
drops to the floor, dead.]
Anabelle: At last.
[Anabelle disintegrates.]
Geralt: The curse is lifted. And Graham and Anabelle're reunited.
=========================== AFTER LIFTING THE CURSE ===========================
[Geralt returns to Keira in Midcopse's forest. The conversation depends on if
Geralt learned Anabelle was a pesta at the beginning or the end.]
Geralt: Fyke Isle's free of its curse.
Keira: And you withheld this news until now? Why? I gave you a xenovox! But
the curse -- what was its source?
Geralt: The dark spirit clung to the spirit of Anabelle, the lord's daughter.
To free her and the isle, Graham, her beloved, had to help me.
Keira: So it ended well.
Geralt: Hm, I lifted the curse, so the island's clear. Anabelle's soul is free.
Thing is, turned out she's a pesta. Graham's dead.
Keira: And you failed to notice? You're losing your touch. Be that as it may,
Fyke Isle is free of its curse. That's important. I'm almost inclined
to say, "good work."
Geralt: Fyke Isle's free of its curse.
Keira: Able to persuade Graham to go to the tower with you? Did you mention
there was a pesta involved?
Geralt: He knew the risks, but he'd also heard lots of stories about true love,
whose kiss can break any spell. Can't help thinking that gave him
courage.
Keira: And? It ended well?
Geralt: Depends how you look at it. Curse is lifted, Anabelle's spirit has left
in peace...but Graham's dead.
Keira: Oh, poor boy. Still, he's proved that true love may be more common than
some suppose.
What do you wanna do with the lamp?
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Geralt: The lamp -- what do you wanna do with it?
Keira: As I said, you may keep it. I don't believe I shall need it
anymore given the isle's been cleansed. I actually regret not
going there with you. Perhaps we can make up for that lost time
now.
Alexander was doing some strange research.
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Geralt: One thing's bothering me...
Keira: What?
Geralt: Anabelle said Alexander was studying diseases. She mentioned
"Catriona." You knew this?
Keira: All the mages knew about it. Alexander was a highly regarded
epidemiologist. I would have given anything for an opportunity
to study his notes, but he guarded them jealously.
Farewell.
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Geralt: All right. Time I was on my way.
Keira: Perhaps...perhaps you'd stay just a bit longer? There's one
small favor you might yet do for me.
Geralt: What is it?
Keira: I put in an order for a few substances from Novigrad. The trader
was due to be here yesterday, but has yet to arrive. Could you
see what happened? The package is rather important to me.
Fine, I'll look into it.
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Geralt: Why not. If he was coming here from Novigrad, he must've
passed through Blackbough. I'll check the area.
Keira: Thank you. I shall be ever so grateful.
I don't have time for this.
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Geralt: Got it all wrong, Keira. I'm not your errand boy.
Keira: Oh, you're definitely no boy. You're a strong, poised witcher
who will surely help a woman in need.
Geralt: Can't promise you anything, but I'll let you know if I run
into him.
Keira: That is all I ask.
____________________
________________________________________________________/ KEIRA METZ SUBPLOT |_
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A FAVOR FOR A FRIEND [KM04]
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[Geralt goes to Hangman's Alley, a common location for hanging bandits and
deserters. There, he has a clue trail to follow.]
• Wide, heavy wheels. A merchant's wagon.
• Veered off the road at high speed. Doesn't bode well.
[He finds the wagon soon after, its cargo strewn on the ground.]
Geralt: Yeah... Merchant traveling across Velen alone... No way that was gonna
end well...
• A dry red from Zubarran. Southern slope, notes of...blackcurrant and citrus.
Ugh, pains the heart...
• Leftovers, cuts of meat...catoblepas? Wonder what spell requires that.
• Human. From an artery. Can't be far. Wouldn't have made it.
• Hid and waited for help. It never came. That's Velen for you.
Geralt: Package still intact. Don't sense anything magic, though... Wonder how
Keira'll explain this one.
[Geralt returns to Keira with the ingredients.]
Geralt: Got those, uh, substances you wanted.
Keira: Splendid. I can finally begin my study of double arboreal racination
patterns. But first I'll--
Geralt: Brew yourself a mug of mulled wine? Saw what the wagon was carrying.
Exquisite meats, expensive wines, Zerrikanian spices...tsk -- not a
speck of magic. Care to tell me what you're up to?
Keira: I would rather show you. But you must wait a bit.
Fine, I'll wait.
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Geralt: Color me intrigued. Fine, I'll wait.
Keira: Then shoo -- outside!
Geralt: Gotta slip into something more comfortable?
Keira: Later... Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Well, go on -- out.
Maybe some other time.
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Geralt: Maybe another time...
Keira: I don't like men who turn me down.
Geralt: And I don't like surprises. Especially ones sorceresses spring on me.
Keira: I daresay this one, once sprung, would thrill you... Ah well, change
your mind -- come and see me.
[Later, the two meet outside the cabin.]
Keira: You've been patient -- thank you. It's almost ready...
[She sees small mice around Keira's feet.]
Geralt: Huh? If I wanted to see white mice, I'd just get drunk.
Keira: Note that I said "almost." Now don't interrupt. Byc'hane, gyvn, caeffyl!
[She transforms the mice into saddled horses.]
What happened to the third mouse?
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Geralt: Third mouse -- what happened to it?
Keira: The spell has a sixty-six point six seven percent chance of success...
I always use one more than I need. Just in case.
Geralt: So where'd it-- Keira, gonna explain what's going on here?
I don't get it.
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Geralt: Changed mice into horses -- third level transfiguration. I'm
impressed. But I still don't get it.
Keira: Know the fairytale about Cinderella?
Geralt: Mhm. True story it's based on, too. A zeugl cropped up in a palace
pond and ate Princess Cendrilla whole. Left behind one slipper, so...
Keira: I beg you, not another word about zeugls. Now, to return to the
fairytale... I'd like to escape these ghastly swamps for one magical
night. I don't need a fairy godmother, I'll cast the spells myself. But
I could use a prince charming... It just so happens you're the only
decent candidate in all Velen. So, what do you say to a moonlight ride
on horseback...and dinner?
With pleasure.
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Geralt: Sounds tempting. So tempting I don't think I can refuse.
I'm a witcher, not a gigolo.
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Geralt: I'm a witcher, not a gigolo.
Keira: Don't flatter yourself. I don't want to shag you in the bushes, but to
share a pleasant evening. But if no... Then no.
Fine. I'll do it.
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Geralt: Ooh, all right. I'll do it.
Keira: I feel honored, truly.
Bye, Keira.
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Geralt: You're gonna have to conjure up your prince, too. Heard frogs are
great for that.
Keira: You heard wrong. It's princes who get turned into frogs... It could
happen to a witcher just as easily, so get out of my sight.
Keira: Before we go...there's one more thing.
Geralt: Gotta transform a pumpkin into a carriage?
Keira: No. I shall transform our rancid rags into something more glamorous.
Don't wince. It will only be an illusion, won't hurt a bit. And at dawn
everything will return to normal.
Why not.
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Geralt: Why not. Might as well go all out.
Keira: Then hold on tight. Gvella, glan!
[She conjures some new duds for herself.]
Keira: So, what do you think? Neckline too modest?
Geralt: It's just right.
Keira: I might also have changed your hair color while I was at it... I've
always fancied dark-haired men. Oh well. Any port in a storm.
No way.
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Geralt: No way. Don't like having spells cast on me... Besides, my clothes
aren't rancid.
Keira: Debatable... But let's not argue and ruin the mood.
Keira: Well, off we go. Dinner's waiting... Last one there does the dishes!
[The two race to the destination.]
Keira: Eeee-yah!
Geralt: Whoa, Cinderella! Or you'll have a great fall!
Keira: As fast as you can! Try to catch me!
[They arrive at their destination -- a candlelit dinner in the middle of the
woods.]
• Keira: Congratulations. You'd make an excellent jockey.
Geralt: If only I were a foot shorter and five stone lighter.
Keira: Well, yes...but then I'd not have invited you here.
• Keira: I thought you a better horseman.
Geralt: For the record, I was riding a mouse.
Keira: For someone who usually trots around on a Roach, that shouldn't
present a challenge...
Keira: Now do you see why I needed those...substances?
It was worth the trouble.
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Geralt: Beef in cinnamon and cloves, roasted capon with shallots... It was
worth the trouble.
Keira: Shall I pour the wine or the--?
Geralt: Dry red. But let it breathe a little first.
Could've told me.
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Geralt: Could've just told me what this was about right o--
Keira: Ugh. "Geralt, run into the woods and fetch my shopping. I'd like to
make dinner." Well, would you have helped?
Geralt: If I'd known I'd get a glass of Zubarran dry in return? Of course.
Keira: Well, well... Never took you for a wine connoisseur.
Geralt: Think witchers suck the marrow out of drowner bones and wash it down
with puddle water?
Keira: More or less. Well, we've chatted long enough on empty stomachs. Let's
dig in.
Geralt: Must've cost you a small fortune. Sure you don't need me to pitch in?
Keira: Please, I manage. You know, a dozen eggs here, a cock or gander there...
Besides, my finances are about to improve.
How's that?
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Geralt: How -- if you don't mind me asking? I mean, you'd think the only work
to be had in Velen would be in farming.
Keira: Hah. Very true. So, I've two options. I can either start cultivating
some turnips or...leave.
Hm. So we celebrating something?
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Geralt: All right, I'm curious. We celebrating something?
Keira: Yes. A return to the living.
Keira: But that's not what I wished to discuss. Thank you once again, Geralt,
for your help with the tower. You were fabulous.
Geralt: Not the first curse I've lifted.
Keira: But among the most difficult, correct? What happened on that island...
Why, I shiver at the thought. And the laboratory... I sincerely hope
you burned everything -- the cages, the corpses, the papers...
Didn't destroy the workshop, if that's what you're asking.
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Geralt: Didn't destroy the workshop, if that's what you're asking. Didn't
see any reason to.
Keira: If Alexander's findings were to fall into the wrong hands...
Although... Fyke Isle has a terrible reputation. None even dare go
there. Perhaps there's nothing to worry about.
Why do you even care?
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Geralt: Ugh, why are you even interested?
Keira: Because I grasp the importance of the studies conducted there. In the
wrong hands, the findings could do immense harm.
Thought we came here to make love.²
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Geralt: All right, let's get down to business.
Keira: What are you talking about?
Geralt: Sex. That's why we're here, isn't it¹?
Keira: Ah! You may know about wine...but you remain quite unsophisticated
otherwise. That's very good. Because boors are much better in bed.
Now close your eyes...and count to ten.
Keira: Ugh, I'm sorry. Such a gloomy subject to broach... I simply shouldn't
have -- not during our romantic dinner.
Geralt: Romantic? Thought we came here as friends.
Keira: Friends...with benefits. So?
Don't have to ask me twice.
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Geralt: Your fairytale, your rules.
Keira: Really? Then, close your eyes...and count to ten.
Not in the mood.
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Geralt: Sorry. Just not in the mood.
Keira: Is it a headache? Or does the problem lie elsewhere in your anatomy?
Ugh. I knew we shouldn't have had that wine before dinner...
Sorry. There's someone else.
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Geralt: Sorry... There's someone else.
Keira: So what? Oh, Geralt, Geralt. You're so old-fashioned.
[If Geralt turns Keira down for the bone sesh:]
Keira: Will you at least lie down and gaze at the stars with me?
Geralt: Hmm... Why not.
===============================================================================
[If Geralt takes Keira up on the bone sesh plan:]
Geralt: One... Two... Three... Four... All right, that's enough.
[Keira is already gone.]
Geralt: Keira...? Wanna play hide-and-seek? Why not.
[Geralt can find clothing-related clues in the forest.]
• A skirt? Guess we're playing hunt-the-hare, not hide-and-seek.
• Good. Won't have to fumble with the fasteners.
• Hm, shame. Coulda kept her shoes on.
• Now where's that Cinderella gone to...?
[Geralt eventually finds her at a water's edge sitting spot.]
Keira: Found me. Congratulations.
Geralt: Do I get a prize?
Keira: I've nothing on me, but I'll think of something.
===============================================================================
[Either way, the night ends with stargazing.]
Keira: Know what they call that constellation in Zerrikania?
Geralt: Dragon something, I bet.
Keira: No, it has a different name... A bit indecent, actually. Lean closer and
I'll whisper it in your ear. Egvane navr.
[The spell puts Geralt to sleep. He wakes up the next morning in the same spot,
only the lovely miss is gone.]
Geralt: Keira? Where...? Put me to sleep with a spell. Means she's up to
something.
[He stares out across the Wyndamer, seeing a certain curse-free tower with its
windows lit up.]
Geralt: Fyke Isle. The tower.
____________________
________________________________________________________/ KEIRA METZ SUBPLOT |_
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FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING [KM05]
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[After waking up, Geralt returns to Fyke Isle.]
Geralt: A light... Top floor of the tower.
[Keira exits the structure just as Geralt comes into the courtyard. With her
new bundle of papers, Geralt can guess she's raided the lab.]
Geralt: So. Found what you were looking for?
Keira: Yes, thanks for asking. How are you feeling? Sleep well?
What's with the notes?
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Geralt: What do you want with those papers?
Keira: Why, I am to use them to continue important work that a man's tragic
death put on hold.
You used me.
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Geralt: You used me.
Keira: Oh, please... I merely seized an opportunity.
Geralt: If I'd known you just wanted Alexander's notes, I'd have never helped
you lift the curse from Fyke Isle.
Keira: All right, perhaps I wasn't completely honest, didn't quite toe the
line. But I knew you'd manage -- you're so manly and all...
Geraltie-pooh...wipe that frown off your face, or I might think you
don't like me anymore.
I don't like two-faced serpents.
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Geralt: I don't... You're a vile, two-faced, four-tongued viper.
Keira: Aha! Ho, ho... And I always took you for a gentleman.
Geralt: All jokes aside -- what're you gonna do with those notes?
Keira: Do you really believe you can call me names and then revert to polite</pre><pre id="faqspan-25">
conversation just like that? Get out of my sight... Before I give in
to my urge to teach you some manners.
Gimme the notes.
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Geralt: I'll go as soon as you hand me those notes.
Keira: Then you shall stay here forever...
I don't have time for this.
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Geralt: All right. Don't have time to argue with you. Do what you will.
Keira: I need neither your permission nor your blessing. Get out.
Joking aside, what exactly are you playing at?
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Geralt: Didn't come here to play games. I wanna know what you're up to.
Keira: Naturally, you suspect me of the worst. I don't deserve that. My
intentions are pure -- like a virgin's tears.
Keira: Alexander was studying the Catriona plague. I'll use his notes to
produce medication, perhaps a cure...or at least a vaccine.
Geralt: Mhm. Strictly humanitarian motivations, is that it?
Keira: No. Strictly selfish ones. The mighty would pay willingly for such a
remedy. Can you imagine how much? Take Radovid, for instance. Why, he
might even consider forgetting my past associations with the Lodge.
Radovid's not interested in medicine.
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Geralt: You're either incredibly gullible...or you're trying to play me
again.
Keira: Whatever do you mean?
Geralt: Radovid has one objective -- to defeat Emhyr. Curing Catriona,
stopping the plague, won't help him do that. So he'll either burn you
at the stake with those notes among the kindling...or he'll make you
use them -- to create a weapon.
Keira: Don't be ridiculous. Bacteria cannot be controlled.
Geralt: Not yet... But it's possible in theory, isn't it?
Keira: In theory it's just as possible for a dachshund to impregnate a
she-wolf. I don't have time to debate this, Geralt. I'm going to see
Radovid, whether you like it or not.
Radovid never forgets.
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Geralt: Radovid doesn't forget, and Radovid certainly doesn't forgive.
Especially when it comes to sorceresses.
Keira: He'll make an exception for me. He'll have to. I have something he
wants.
Geralt: Please, you don't believe that.
Keira: Well, you believe Yennefer will stop treating you like a dog someday.
Don't see me laughing. I'm going to see Radovid, tell him of this
research, whether you like it or not.
[Then:]
Can't let you do that.
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Geralt: Keira, I can't -- I won't let you do this. Thousands of lives in
exchange for your amnesty... Might seem a fair price to you. Not to
me.
Keira: I'll not give you these notes. I'll not give you anything.
Geralt: Please... Don't make me...
Keira: Shut up and draw your sword.
It's suicide.²
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Geralt: This is suicide, Keira. You'll wind up tied to a stake, burned to
bolster the morals of the masses while entertaining them.
Thousands may die. It'll be on your head.²
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Geralt: It's your conscience, but you do know hundreds...thousands could die.
Keira: What of it? What difference will it make if Nilfgaard's legions die
by steel or because of some fucking germs? None!
Geralt: A plague can go wrong, go wild. A sword won't. That's the difference.
Can't believe we fucked.²
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Geralt: So you're fine assisting in genocide? That doesn't strike you as
incredibly wrong? Really? I can't believe we fucked...
Keira: Yen won't either when I tell her... Or Triss. Sorry. Lost track of
who you're currently obsessed with. We're done talking, Geralt. Get
out of my sight.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Fine. Farewell, Keira... Here's hoping Radovid rolls out the red
carpet for you.
Keira: Shove your sarcasm up your arse.
Do what you want.
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Geralt: Right on that count -- I don't like this. But it's your life. Gonna
hand it to Radovid? Well, quick and painless -- hope he grants you
that in return, at least.
Keira: Cute. Thank you, I guess... All the best to you as well.
[If Geralt tries talking her out of it:]
Keira: Shut up for a moment and look at me. See this? Bedbugs, Geralt. Bloody
bedbugs! I, Keira Metz, advisor to Foltest and member of the Lodge of
Sorceresses, have bedbugs! Think what you will, but I'll not stay in
this bloody swamp one day more. Not one day! I shall cross the Pontar,
and that means Radovid's men will find me sooner or later. Don't you
understand?! I don't have a choice. I will have to parley.
Go to Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: Got another option. Go to Kaer Morhen.
Keira: You believe I'd be safe there?
Geralt: No. The opposite. When I get there with Ciri, I expect we'll have to
battle the Wild Hunt.
Keira: Unbelievable! Have you even been listening to me?
Geralt: Closer than you think. You're not looking for safety. You want your
dignity back. You want to be Keira Metz, Sorceress of the Lodge, not
some healer from the swamps who reeks of manure. Giving you an
opportunity Radovid won't give you. Go to Kaer Morhen. Show everyone
what you're made of.
Keira: Yennefer was right. You do have some notion of what women want, how
they think.
See you at Kaer Morhen?
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Geralt: So, see you at Kaer Morhen? Beds free of bedbugs...mostly.
Keira: I long to be there already... See you, Geralt.
Before I go... The notes, I'll take 'em.
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Geralt: Yeah, kinda... So before I go, I'll need you to hand me those notes.
Keira: All right, all right. Take them already. Farewell, Geralt. Or rather,
see you soon.
Expect me to pity you?
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Geralt: Expect me to pity you...? Because of some bedbugs? You're joking,
right?
Keira: They... They truly did leave you heartless. Get out of my sight.
Do what you think is right.
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Geralt: I'm not one to judge... Whatever you think is right.
Keira: Farewell, Geralt of Rivia. I hope... I truly hope you find your Ciri.
[If Geralt tries taking Keira's notes, she'll turn hostile, forcing him to kill
her. If he does, Geralt takes Alexander's notes and burns them with Igni.]
Geralt: Didn't have to end this way...
______________________
______________________________________________________/ BLOODY BARON SUBPLOT |_
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RETURN TO CROOKBACK BOG [BB01]
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[This is the final, and optional, quest in the Bloody Baron saga, taking place
after finishing "Family Matters". To begin it, one must visit Downwarren. If
the Whispering Hillock's ghost was slain, the witcher finds the ealdorman
talking with the baron.]
Baron: Witch hunters? They hanged two, you say?
Ealdorman: Y-y-yes, m'lord. For w-w-witchcraft and com-com-communin' with the
C-Crones. But we 'ere 'ave never--
Baron: Yes, you lot ne'er do anything! I know you. They leave a while ago, the
hunters?
Ealdorman: Not--Not so long past.
Baron: Why the devil are there witch hunters here to start with? They didn't
ride from Novigrad to hang two blobtits, did they?
Ealdorman: I-I-I don't know, m'Lord.
Geralt: They say where they were headed?
Baron: Geralt! Good you've arrived. Can't draw any meanin' from this rabble's
bawlin'. Perhaps they'd talk some sense after a few lashes. Well? Spit
it out -- where'd they go?!
Ealdorman: T-to the v-v-village in the swamp, m'Lord. Lass rode with 'em --
askin' after her mother, constant.
[If the Hillock's ghost was freed, Downwarren's mostly in ruins. The baron and
the ealdorman will instead be talking about the Black Beauty, the horse that
now houses the tree's ghost.]
Baron: What's happened here? Some sort of blasted vendetta?
Ealdorman: M-m-m'lord...we'd 'ave never thought...
Baron: Speak, dammit!
Ealdorman: The B-b-black B-beauty came th-through...
Baron: A beauty? What the devil do you mean?
Ealdorman: A great mare, a horse fiend... Folk done went mad, lunged at each
other. Murderin' all, neighbors or young 'uns...
Geralt: It's the spirit of the forest. Taking revenge on those who sought its
demise, driving them mad.
Baron: Geralt! Good you've arrived. I've trouble drawing any sense from their
canting. Should give 'em a taste of the whip, to bring 'em in line,
'cause--
Ealdorman: M-m-m'Lord, 'tis true what th-they said, too! About the mare,
meanin'. That it's the f-forest's dark g-ghost.
Baron: Who claimed so?
Ealdorman: Th-The w-w-witch hunters. Passed through just now, headin' for the
v-v-village in the swamp. S-s-some l-lass was l-l-leadin' 'em,
askin' after her mother.
[Either way:]
Baron: Lass? We must go there at once, Geralt!
You're right.
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Geralt: Agreed.
Baron: I'll gather my men!
Gotta prepare.
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Geralt: Gotta prepare.
Baron: Prepare, now? Will you shine your boots and trim your nails? Argh, do
what you will! I shall take my men and go.
Geralt: Meet you at the Crones' village.
Baron: Fall in! We've a swamp to cross and those cursed Crones to hunt down.
[They start their march into the bog.]
Baron: Ploughin' swamp! Pox-ridden air promotes brain-rot in the peasants.
Crones, fuck me. What will these hayseeds think of next?!
Geralt: The Crones exist. You'll know that soon enough.
Baron: Hah, right. More likely some mad old wenches making mincemeat of peasant
minds. Likely Anna agreed to stay with 'em, care for 'em out of the
kindness of her heart. Good as gold, that one, always...
Geralt: Mhm.
[They slay a pack of drowners.]
Guard: Oof, hard fight, tough goin'.
Guard: Aye, haven't seen that many all at once in a while.
Guard: We shouldn't a come here. Got no business traipsin' about. Managed the
one time, but who the hell knows what we'll find deeper in.
Guard: That fear talkin'? Through you? Brawny Bert?
Guard: Who, me? Fear? Not on your life! All right, boys, let's move on. At
pace! Show these horrors who's in charge!
[They next kill a water hag and some rotfiends.]
Baron: Hrr hrr hrr hrr...
Guard: Bloody hell? What the--?
Guard: Water hags.
Guard: Where's a horror like that come from?
Guard: A wench that's had too much hooch turns into that. So next time you
think to give a woman booze, don't. Better off drinkin' it down
yourself.
[They finally reach the orphanage clearing, finding Graden, Tamara, and some
Eternal Fire types fighting drowners.]
• Graden: I don't know you, but-- Arghh! I thank you!
Geralt: Introductions later!
• Graden: Witcher? Why are you here?
Geralt: Tell you later!
[They slay all the current beasties.]
• Tamara: Who're you?
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia, witcher.
Tamara: We could use your kind if you'd find the heart to serve the Eternal
Fire. I'm Tamara.
Geralt: Heard quite a lot about you.
• Tamara: Witcher? Change your mind? How much did my father pay you?
Geralt: Don't think you have anything to fear. Brought your new friends with
you.
Tamara: I have no fear for the Eternal Fire protects me.
Geralt: Mm, won't need to protect you from me.
Baron: Tamara, dear daughter! You return after all! Come, don't deny me this
embrace...
Tamara: Stay away from me. I've come for mother. Unlike you, I'll not see her
rot in this swamp.
Baron: Why the hell do you think I'm here? To take her home.
Tamara: Oh, you'll do no such thing. You'll not lay a finger on her. Never.
I'll not let you.
Baron: You've a right to be cross... I was not the best husband, the best
father, I know. But I've changed! Ask anyone! Geralt, come, tell her!
Baron wants to find his wife.
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Geralt: Your father -- he wants to find his wife, your mother. Really.
Tamara: He pay you much to be his yes-man?
Your business. I won't meddle.
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Geralt: Your business. I refuse to meddle.
Tamara: Rightly so.
We'd better find Anna.
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Geralt: Stop arguing. It's stupid. We need to find Anna.
Graden: "Verily I say unto you that ire and vehemence can lead to naught but
one's downfall."
Baron: Who the bloody hell is this?
Graden: And who are you to ask so crudely?
Tamara: This is my commander.
Graden: And that should be of no concern to a drunken swine.
Baron: Tamara! You stand with their kind now? Perhaps you'd have them torture
and hang your own father?
Tamara: You're not my father. And I care not a bit what befalls you.
Graden: A-hem. I remind you we've a matter to resolve here.
• Witcher, will you help us?
• You're a witcher. Will you help?
Geralt: Wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing.
Graden: I've lost five men and have little notion of what else to expect in
this cursed place.
Geralt: No time to lose. Crones could return any minute.
Graden: Hah. How do you know they're not here already?
Geralt: Cause¹ we're still alive.
Graden: Search the village!
====================== IF THE HILLOCK'S GHOST WAS SLAIN =======================
[The witch hunters search the outbuildings, finding no one there. The baron
tries to put a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder.]
Tamara: Don't!
Hunter: Over here!
[Tamara runs into the chapel the hunters have broken into. Anna is slumped
against a wall, reciting nonsense to herself.]
Anna: Scrubbed it good. Oy! Get back, stinky-head, gingerbread loaf, freshly
baked and hot.
Tamara: Mother...
Anna: Ah, there, clean as a whistle...fresh as a daisy... Go on, whip me, I
made too little, I nibbled it, but just to see if it's firm. But it's
fresh...so take pity.
Tamara: Oh, mother...
Anna: Take pity.
[They bring the missing wife outside.]
Anna: But I pleaded... I begged...
Tamara: Mother, it's me. Do you recognize me? Wha--what's happened to her?
Anna: I said I'd do it all. Give it 'ere, I'll scrub it again. Scrub it clean.
Tamara: Mother!
[A hellish roar peals in the distance]
Geralt: Something's coming. Get ready.
Tamara: What was that?
Baron: Wolves...perhaps?
Graden: Didn't sound like wolves.
Geralt: Because it wasn't. Get ready.
[Drowners sneak-attack the party from all sides.]
Brewess: We'll cut you up, boy. A fine broth you'll make.
Whispess: You reek of fear. You'll spoil our feast.
Weavess: Mmm...the muscle, the sinews, the fat...deliciousss... Sluuurp.
[A gigantic horned beast appears, but the conjoined effort defeats it.]
Baron: What was that?
Graden: Looked a fiend to me.
Geralt: Crones've sensed us, they know we're close. Sent the beast for Anna.
Tamara: Those damned witches! When will it end?! Look what they've done to her!
Are they not satisfied?! Enough. I'm taking her away.
Baron: She's my wife. She'll return home with me. You're welcome to come with
us, if you wish.
[She pushes him away from Anna, who's playing with flowers in her own world.]
Tamara: Don't touch her! We leave this cursed place now.
Baron: She's sick, weakened... Where would you take her in this state?
Oxenfurt? It would mean her death!
Tamara: I know how to care for my mother!
Graden: She's not a rag doll to be ripped from hand to hand! Let her decide!
Anna: Pie! Pie for dinner! Mud pie!
Geralt: She's incapable of deciding anything just now.
Tamara: A dark spell, it must be. Help her, witcher. I beg you.
Dark spell, not likely.
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Geralt: This is no dark spell, I'm afraid.
Tamara: Well, what is it then?
Geralt: She's been through a lot. Lost a child, was carried off by a fiend,
lived in the Crones' village taking care of children who are now
gone... It's left its mark, as it would on anyone.
Tamara: So it's hopeless? You can't help her? She's to be like this?
Geralt: I'm sorry.
Baron: I know a hermit, a very wise man with a gift for healing. Met him some
time past. Lives in the Blue Mountains. I shall take her there.
Worth a try.
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Geralt: Might be worth a shot.
Makes no sense.
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Geralt: It's no use. Doubt a healer can do anything for her now. Doubt
anyone can.
Baron: I must do something!
We need to go, take her somewhere safe.
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Geralt: Before we do anything, we've gotta get out of here. Crones know we've
come for her. Might send another monster, something worse than a
fiend.
Tamara: I'll not go anywhere until you tell me you can help her, break the
spell.
Tamara: I shall go with you.
Graden: That's impossible, sadly.
Tamara: Why?
Graden: You have duties, duties deriving from your commitment to the Church
of the Eternal Fire. Once we finish our work in Velen, we return to
Oxenfurt.
Tamara: You said you'd save my mother!
Graden: And I kept my word. Your father can care for her now.
Tamara: He, care? You know him! You know what he did to her!
Graden: He swears to be a changed man. And in his eyes I see true sorrow,
remorse for his sins. He will care for her. And you've a new life,
and new duties -- to the Eternal Fire.
Baron: Fear not, all will be well. I will not touch drink. I will find the
hermit. And once she is herself again, we will find you.
Tamara: Swear it.
Baron: You have my word, child.
[The baron helps Anna up and goes to walk her out of the wretched bog. Geralt
narrates the end of the subplot:]
Geralt: Witchers were made to kill monsters. It doesn't matter who posted the
notice. The coin has to be right, that's all. Witchers don't debate.
Their conscience plays no part. They just get on with it...then pick
up the coin pouch tossed at their feet and set off on their way. Folk
don't expect witchers to save them from themselves.
[The narration cutscene ends.]
Tamara: Thank you witcher. Despite all.
Graden: May the Eternal Fire guide and protect you.
Geralt: Farewell.
[The quest ends, although one can overhear...]
Graden: You were right to let your father take her.
Tamara: I'm not so sure.
Graden: We could do nothing more. Nor could the witcher. If she can be helped,
only a learned sage will know how.
Tamara: Perhaps you're right...
[Returning to Crow's Perch, after Phillip/Anna go to the mountains:]
Sergeant: Ah, witcher! Greetin's! Baron's not here. Rode off to find a healer.
For the wife, naturally.
Geralt: I know. Seen what's happening outside the gates?
Sergeant: What do you mean? Baron left me in command. Told the boys to set
things right, put 'em in order, the new order.
Baron: They're murdering and pillaging.
Sergeant: That is the new order. And I don't give a flyin' fuck if you like it
or not.
======================= IF THE HILLOCK GHOST WAS RELEASED =====================
[The witch hunters search the environs, eventually busting into the chapel.
Inside is a strange, water hag-like creature laying on the floor.]
Hunter: Over here!
Hag: Hssss... Hssss...
Tamara: M-m-m...
[They bring the hag outside. It doesn't seem interested in attacking anyone,
which tips everyone off to it being Anna.]
Tamara: Mother?
Anna: Oooo! Aaargh!
Tamara: Huh! Is--Is that her? No-- Noo... Impossible -- we must do something!
Witcher!
Anna: Aaaaaarrrgghhh!
[A sound bellows in the distance.]
Geralt: Something's coming. Get ready.
Tamara: What was that?
Baron: Wolves...perhaps?
Graden: Didn't sound like wolves.
Geralt: Because it wasn't. Get ready.
[Drowners sneak-attack the party from all sides.]
Brewess: We'll cut you up, boy. A fine broth you'll make.
Whispess: You reek of fear. You'll spoil our feast.
Weavess: Mmm...the muscle, the sinews, the fat...deliciousss... Sluuurp.
[A gigantic horned beast appears, but the conjoined effort defeats it.]
Baron: What was that?
Graden: Looked a fiend to me.
Geralt: Crones've sensed us, they know we're close. Sent the beast for Anna.
Tamara: Those damned witches! When will it end?! Look what they've done to her!
Are they not satisfied?! Just look at her... Witcher, you know these
things, you must. What...what's wrong with her?
She's been cursed.
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Geralt: Last I was here, she was nothing like this. Crones must've cursed
her.
Graden: Can you lift this curse?
Geralt: Not till I know what it is.
Tamara: She can't have lived here alone. Perhaps there's someone else,
someone who saw something...
Geralt: Maybe Johnny...
Graden: Who?
Geralt: Err...a boy. A hermit. Lives in the swamp. Came around here from time
to time. He mighta seen something.
Graden: We must find him.
Geralt: Doesn't like strangers. You wait here. I'm better off going alone.
Calm down. You're not helping.
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Geralt: Easy. Shouting won't help. Calm down.
Tamara: Simple for you to say! How can I?! That's my mother, understand?!
Graden: He's on our side. Let him think. Witcher, do you know what's wrong
with the woman?
[Geralt returns to Johnny's burrow, killing the water hag and drowners who've
parked outside.]
Geralt: Johnny! Joohnnny! Not here. Something's not right. Gotta look around,
might be hiding nearby. Fresh footprints. Johnny ran through here --
fleeing something.
[He follows the trail to a small shelter where Johnny's sleeping.]
Geralt: Johnny, wake up.
Johnny: What? Who? Oh, witcher. You frightened me. Thought it were those vile
hags.
Geralt: Killed a few near your den.
Johnny: The Crones sent them. To punish me.
Any idea what happened to Anna?
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Geralt: So you saw what happened to Gran?
Johnny: By happenstance, Gran mixed some poppy seed and ash. Went by to help
her sort it out. Mother nature gave me small hands, see, so I can do
it easy like. Workin' away we was, separatin' seeds from dust... Out
of nowhere, Gran cried out! The mark on her hand started glowin'!
She yelled at me to hide. I crawled into the chest. Barely had time
to blink before the Crones tottered in. The Weavess snipped a lock
of Gran's hair. Called it punishment for lettin' the children escape.
Then the hags opened the door in the floor. Went down, down, down --
shame it weren't all the way to hell.
What happened next?
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Geralt: Stay in the chest until the Crones left?
Johnny: Wanted to. "Sit tight and quiet," said to meself. "Not a peep out
your beak till they go." But then Gran fell to the floor. Started
screaming and tearing her hair out. Didn't know what to do. So I
leapt out the chest. Thought herbs might help her -- the ones she
cured the children's aches with. But Gran was no longer herself.
She was a beast.
Geralt: So? You give her the herbs?
Johnny: Couldn't manage it -- the Crones came back. I dropped to my knees
and begged 'em to spare Gran. Brewess piped up first. "Naughty boy,
oh naughty. Shouldn't say 'no' when the sisters want to hear 'yes.'"
Then the Whispess said, "Run, boy, run, before your legs rot off."
They all laughed -- and I legged it.
I'm going back. Gotta see Anna. Thanks.
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Geralt: There's something in that cellar. The key to finding out what
happened to Gran, I think.
Johnny: Will you help her?
Geralt: Provided it's not too late. Thanks, Johnny. And good luck to you.
Johnny: Likewise. And if you happen on any water hags, give 'em a nice,
fat walloping on me behalf. Farewell, witcher.
What now?
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Geralt: You escaped. Consider yourself lucky.
Johnny: I do. But I've not lost the Ladies for long. If I'm to live, I must
hide, and I can forget my cozy hole. It's the first place they'll
look if they set out to nab me.
Geralt: Try deeper in the swamp, maybe?
Johnny: Argh. I suppose I must. And what will you do?
What's beyond the door?
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Geralt: Take a look under the door?
Johnny: I look like a fool to you?
Geralt: No. You do look like the inquisitive type, though.
Johnny: My inquisitiveness ends where folly begins.
Why'd the Weavess need Gran's hair?
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Geralt: Why'd the Weavess need Gran's hair? Any idea?
Johnny: The Crones take folks' ears to hear all. Hair gives 'em power over
folks' lives. There are times they weave the hair into odd strings.
Other times they take it downstairs.
Crones wanna punish you? Why?
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Geralt: Get on the Crones' bad side?
Johnny: I told 'em off, and they don't like it when you tell 'em off.
Geralt: Why'd you do it?
Johnny: Wanted to help Gran. She's always been good to the children. Would've
been the doldrums out here without 'em, she'd 'ave died of boredom.
Begged the Crones not to hurt Gran, but they were angry she'd let
the children escape.
[Geralt returns to the orphanage clearing.]
Tamara: Did you learn anything?
Geralt: Just as I thought -- the Crones probably cursed your mother. Took a
lock of her hair, disappeared down the stairs. Cellar under the house,
cellar door's hidden.
Graden: In that case, we've no time to lose. Come.
I'll go first.
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---
Going alone.
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Geralt: I work alone.
Graden: This matter concerns us all.
Geralt: We don't know what's in there. Your men'll make a lot of noise, more
than I'll make alone.
Graden: I am the Church of the Eternal Fire's agent in these lands. It is my
duty to go with you.
Geralt: Fine... Just you, then. The rest stay here with Anna.
Geralt: Lemme go in first. Give you a shout if I find anything interesting.
Graden: So be it. Let's begin.
[In the chapel, Geralt finds a trapdoor.]
Geralt: Graden!
[In the cellar, they approach an ear-covered, blood-smeared shrine, with many
crude dolls on its altar.]
Graden: By the Eternal Fire... I've never seen so many before.
Geralt: Looks unsavory. What is all this?
Graden: The trappings of a black magic ritual. Witches weave human hair through
dolls they first curse. They gain a grasp on individuals' souls this
way.
Geralt: Think one of the dolls represents Anna? Can we free her if we find it?
Graden: It's the only way I know of, but there are risks involved. The items
woven into the dolls -- see them? They symbolize the individuals the
dolls are meant to represent. We must find the doll that is Anna and
take it from here.
Mentioned a risk...
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Geralt: This risk you mentioned -- take it we only get one shot at choosing
the right doll?
Graden: I'll not chance it. I did not know Anna... You've learned much of
her. Should find it easier to choose.
Geralt: All right. Let's take a look at these dolls.
How do you know all this?
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Geralt: Seem to know a lot about this.
Graden: From tomes on black magic. Initially, we burned any that we found.
Recently we decided it might be wise to read them first.
Geralt: Poisoning your minds with magic, heh, superstition? What's the
heirarch think of that?
Graden: Have you met the man?
Geralt: No.
Graden: Neither have I.
[Geralt stoops over the doll-laden table.]
Doll with the red bead.
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Geralt: Hm, red bead attached to this one. Anna wears a string of those around
her neck.
Graden: As do half the women from Novigrad to Vengerberg. This cannot be the
one.
You're wrong. I'm taking this doll.
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Geralt: And I think it is. I'm taking this doll.
Other dolls are worth a look.
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Geralt: Hm, all right. I'll look at the others.
Doll with the bird feathers.
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Geralt: Hm, bird feathers woven into this one... If I had to bet on it, I'd
say this one represented Phillipa.
Graden: Phillipa Eilhart? If that's true, then--
Geralt: Relax, first name came to mind, that's all. Phillipa's way too clever
for the Crones to have snared her in some trap. Besides, we're not
here for Phillipa, we're here to save Anna. And I can't think of any
link between her and bird feathers.
Graden: That might seem obvious...but what if it's a ruse, and this doll, in
fact, symbolize Anna?
You might be right. I'm taking this doll.
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Geralt: Could be true... Fine, I'm taking this one. Sure as hell hope you're
right.
Graden: As do I.
Should look at the others.
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Geralt: Doubtful. Crones'd have no reason to employ trickery here. Should
look at the others.
Doll with the violet hollyhock bloom.
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Geralt: Hm...this is interesting.
Graden: A doll with a flower? What's so interesting in that?
Geralt: Not just any flower -- a violet hollyhock. Baron once told me it was
Anna's favorite flower.
Graden: Hm. You believe this to be the doll?
Yeah. I'm taking it.
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Geralt: I'm sure it is. Taking it.
I should look at the others.
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Geralt: Might very well be, but I can't be sure. Should look at the others.
Doll with the human ear.
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Geralt: Human ear attached to this one.
Graden: Belonged to one of the peasants, doubtless. Anna still has both her
ears.
Geralt: Let's look at the others.
========================= IF THE RIGHT DOLL IS CHOSEN =========================
[Picking the hollyhock up earns a weird howling sound from outside.]
Graden: Quick! Outside!
[The two go topside to see Anna's returned to her normal form.]
Tamara: Mum, you're back! All will be well, you're going to be fine.
Anna: Tammy... I'm dying...
Baron: She's not well, ravin'... Doesn't rightly know what's happenin'...
You're weak yet. You must rest.
Anna: No, listen to me... The Crones... I was to be their beast in the end,
forever. You broke their spell, but now I must go.
Tamara: Wh-What's she talking about, witcher?!
Crones tricked us.
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Geralt: Hmm... The Crones deceived us. Their curse is a death sentence. No
way to lift it, at least not in a way that would let Anna live. We
broke their spell temporarily, partly. Now it's gotta run its
course.
Tamara: What?! What does that mean?!
Baron: She's dying.
No way we can help her.
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Geralt: Nothing we can do to help her.
Baron: But we... No! That's impossible!
Anna: Dear daughter... Phillip...
Anna: It's good...to see you together...
Baron: I'm sorry, Annie. For everything... I'm sorry.
Tamara: Mother...
Anna: Tammy... Do you remember? That day on the Ina...?
Tamara: Of course. Those plums were so sweet, your dress so blue... You wove me
a wreath of flowers. We laughed the day away.
Anna: Please... Remember me like that.
[She keels over, dead.]
Tamara: Noooo!
[Graden and the witcher stand off to the side.]
Graden: I thank you. They had a chance to say goodbye. That was your doing.
Geralt: Shame I couldn't do more.
[He nods and walk to Tamara.]
Graden: Come, child. The Eternal Fire will soothe your pain.
[The baron gets up and starts leaving.]
Baron: Leave me be. Your pay will await you at Crow Perch. Collect it there.
========================= IF THE WRONG DOLL IS CHOSEN =========================
[A scream can be heard in the courtyard.]
Graden: It's Anna! What have you done?!
[They return to see Anna's dead, a charred corpse.]
Tamara: What have you done? You were to save her! She burst into flames, hear
me?! My mother burned alive!
It's better this way.
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Geralt: This was a cursed place. Anna herself was cursed. This is the best
we could do for her. She's better off dead.
Tamara: You bastard!
Not my intention.
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Geralt: I'm sorry. Didn't know it would end this way.
Tamara: You're sorry? You're sorry?!
[She turns to the baron.]
Tamara: And you! Will you just stand there?! You hired this murderer! Have you
nothing to say?! Did you care that little for her? Not even...not a
single tear...!
Graden: Come. Let us go. This might've been done differently. We could have
avoided this. I'm certain of it. Naught left for us here. We ride for
Oxenfurt! Don't cry, child. The Eternal Fire will soothe your pain.
Open your heart, take comfort in its warmth.
[The baron walks by Geralt.]
Baron: Come to Crow Perch for your pay.
[After, Geralt can overhear...]
Graden: None of this was your doing.
Tamara: I know... Which makes it no easier to bear.
Graden: The pain will pass in time.
Tamara: I'd like to believe that, I would.
Graden: You may have a moment with her... Then we must bury her and return to
Novigrad.
Tamara: Very well.
Graden: We must give her a moment, let her collect her wits. Once she has
calmed, we return to Novigrad.
Guard: Yes, sir.
======================== PATH BRANCHES REJOIN HERE ============================
[Geralt later returns to the baron's seat of power. The sight of the baron
hanging from a tree stops him in his tracks.]
Geralt: What the hell happened?
Sergeant: Hanged himself. Plain enough to see.
Was he drunk?
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Geralt: Was he drunk?
Baron: Yeah... Always knew the hooch'd be his end.
You help him?
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Geralt: Himself, or did you boys help him?
Baron: What the fuck do you take me for, a murderer? He was what he was, a
right bastard. But I respected him.
[Geralt narrates the subplot's ending scene:]
Geralt: If I'm to choose between a greater and lesser evil, I'd rather not
choose at all. Usually, though, the stakes are just too damn high.
Sometimes in choosing a greater evil, you do good, albeit in a small
way. When I chose to save the orphans of the swamp, I couldn't know
Anna would die. And I never thought the baron would leave his wife
where she lay, find a rope and hang himself. Most times you make your
choice and never look back.
Sergeant: Lost everythin' he cared for. No surprise he lost the will to live.
Geralt: Don't look too concerned, you and your boys.
Sergeant: What would you have us do -- sit and wail? Baron was a good soldier.
But settlin' in here at Crow's Perch -- it made him soft. We'll
introduce a new order, things'll be different now.
Geralt: I imagine they will.
________________________
____________________________________________________/ TRISS MERIGOLD SUBPLOT |_
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A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH [TM01]
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[During their adventures in "Count Reuven's Treasure," Triss mentions she has
something she needs help with. Geralt can follow up by visiting her hideout
and knocking on the door.]
Man: Yes? Who you 'ere for?
Geralt: Triss.
Woman: Told 'er from the start -- no men, no pets! 'Tis a decent house, for
decent folk.
Geralt: Don't worry, won't stay long.
[Triss is found upstairs.]
Triss: Geralt, I've got a problem. Can we talk?
[Since I haven't listed it anywhere, here're Triss' generic options:]
Been in Novigrad long?
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Geralt: Been in Novigrad long?
Triss: Long enough to know how not to get caught...and survive.
Geralt: And before you came here, where were you?
Triss: Oh, places...where I managed to get by without your help, too. Which
doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you.
You kept the rose of remembrance.
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Geralt: See you kept the rose of remembrance I gave you in Flotsam.
Triss: Seems so long ago... Probably because so much has changed.
Geralt: So, sentimental value...that why you kept it?
Triss: Partly. Though...more as a warning.
How do you feel?
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Geralt: Feel all right?
Triss: Hm. So-so. Why do you ask?
How's your hand?
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Geralt: Been wondering -- how's your hand, your fingers?
Triss: They'll heal. Listen, it was my idea. I knew exactly what I was
getting into. Don't need to worry about me.
We should change the subject.
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Geralt: Hm... Maybe we should talk about something else.
Triss: Gladly. I was about to ask the same.
See you.
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Geralt: So long, Triss.
[When chatting up Triss via "Want to tell me something?"...]
Geralt: What did you wanna talk about?
Triss: I got a strange message. I don't quite know what to think.
Geralt: Who was it from?
Triss: Ingrid Vegelbud's servant. Apparently Lady Vegelbud's prepared to donate
a tidy sum. She wants to help mages escape from Novigrad.
Geralt: Guessing this wouldn't be a selfless act of charity.
Triss: You guess right -- and that's my problem. Vegelbud needs a favor, from
me... No details in the letter, unfortunately. I'm supposed to meet the
servant at the fish market. Says he needs to explain everything face to
face, but these days I can't be sure meeting him's a good idea.
Lemme help you.
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Geralt: Don't like this at all... But you seem determined -- not about to let
you deal with it alone.
Triss: Thank you.
Geralt: The servant -- how're you supposed to contact him?
Triss: Said I'd recognize him -- he'll be in a blue tunic, have a load of
keys strapped to his belt. I'm supposed to ask him about the price
for his trout.
You're joking, right?
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Geralt: Gotta be kidding me... He tell you to come holding a red rose?
Triss: He doesn't mention flowers, but I won't refuse if you feel like
giving me some.
Geralt: It's a fish market, Triss. Be able to get you some salted cod at
best.
Whose idea was this?
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Geralt: Whose idea you think this was -- the servant's or Vegelbud's?
Triss: My bet's on Ingrid. High-born damsels have a lot more time than their
servants to read adventure novels.
Don't go near this.
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Geralt: I don't think you should contact this man.
Triss: I'd like at least to check... My guess is this could be about a mage
who needs help.
Geralt: Seems suspicious, and you just had a close scrape. Sure it's not time
to let one go?
Triss: And let the hunters grab the mages who remain here? Out of the
question. If you don't want to help -- tough.
Fine. I'll go with you.
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(same as "Lemme help you.")
Don't do this.
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Geralt: Triss, this is foolish. They catch you, and you won't be there to
help anyone else. Promise me you won't go alone.
Triss: I'd hoped to go with you. If you change your mind, come and see me.
Geralt: I'll think about it.
What're you afraid of?
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Geralt: What're you afraid of, exactly?
Triss: That it's a trap. On the one hand, it's an opportunity I can't afford
to let slip -- we need the coin. On the other...
Geralt: Nobody expects you to risk your life.
Triss: I expect that of myself. The thing is, it used to be easier. When I
didn't know what happens when the witch hunters get their hands on
you...
Geralt: You could've escaped at any time.
Triss: I know! But I was still terrified! What if they fetter me in real
dimeritium? You won't always be there to help.
Geralt: Think it'll be better if I talk to mystery man in the blue tunic.
Triss: He's expecting to meet me.
Geralt: You just wait nearby. I'll make sure that note didn't come from the
witch hunters. Then you come in.
Triss: Mhm, fine. Let's meet there.
[Geralt goes to the market.]
Geralt: Lots of blue jerkins. Interesting.
[Geralt finds the key-holding NPC.]
Man: Yeah?
Where'll I get the best price on trout?
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Geralt: Know where I can get the best price on trout?
Man: Perhaps... But it wasn't you I was to meet, sir.
Geralt: Wanna talk to the letter's recipient, I gotta be present.
Man: Caution would advise--
Geralt: Caution's advising you not to argue right now. Trust me.
Man: Seems I've got no choice. Come with me.
Farewell.
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Geralt: So long.
[They start walking through the market.]
Man: This way! It's not far.
Bandit: That's im! Get 'im!
[They're accosted by bandits, but Geralt lays 'em in the grave.]
Man: Thank you... Let's go.
Geralt: What'd they want from you?
Man: I've no clue! First time I've laid eyes on 'em. Maybe...well, recently
someone's been tryin' to question our messengers...'bout the young count.
Hold on. Where's Miss Merigold?
[Triss approaches.]
Man: You were to come alone, miss!
Geralt: If not for him, that trio would've dragged you in for questioning. The
tall one was Valdo Muris, works for the witch hunters.
Man: Aye, you're surely right, miss. I...it just weren't what I expected, since
Lady Vegelbud...
What's this about?
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Geralt: So what's this about? Be straight.
Man: Lady Vegelbud's son -- he's the...problem. Master Albert's taken an
interest in alchemy... Temple Guard's gotten wind...
Who are you, exactly?
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Geralt: Now that we're past the initial courtesies, maybe you can tell us
who you are.
Man: Lady Vegelbud's valet. I...I meant you no offense, sir.
Triss: Why wouldn't Lady Vegelbud meet with me personally?
Man: She was afraid they'd follow her. Been a nervous wreck of late.
Triss: Wouldn't worry about the Guard, but since the mage hunters tried to
grab you, I'd say Albert's in serious trouble.
Man: Aye, Lady Vegelbud bought off the guardsmen, but since the hunters pay
for every mage revealed to 'em...
Geralt: Guardsman took a bribe from the frightened family, then whispered
word to the hunters anyway...
Seems high time for Albert to disappear.
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Geralt: Seems Albert needs to disappear -- soon as possible.
Triss: I can arrange that. Think young Vegelbud can slip out of the house
unnoticed?
Man: 'Tain't that simple, sadly. Master Albert's in hiding -- at the
Vegelbuds' country estate. Lady Ingrid's got the notion she can get 'im
out quietly -- wants to throw a lavish masquerade ball.
How'd you find Triss?
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Geralt: How'd Ingrid Vegelbud know to contact Triss? That Triss was the
right person?
Man: We learned Miss Merigold had helped Myra Baiss disappear once the witch
hunters were onto her. Myra provided Lady Vegelbud with magical
assistance on a few occasions, with m'lady's...ahem...afflictions.
Triss: Makes sense. Myra mentioned treating a high-born lady to me once.
Triss: Am I supposed to attend, help him escape?
Man: Aye, we'll not manage without you, miss. Lady Vegelbud fears the help's
bein' watched.
Good idea.
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Geralt: It's a good idea. A boisterous bash, that'll distract the hunters.
Triss: Especially if even half of what I've heard about the Vegelbuds' balls
is true.
Bad idea.
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Geralt: If the hunters are after Albert, I doubt some merrymaking will
distract them.
Triss: Geralt, a ball at the Vegelbuds' is hardly some merrymaking...
Triss: Word is at the last one they served a hundred different desserts, and
the fireworks boomed from dusk till dawn.
Man: What with the war and all, m'lady's ordained but eighty-five desserts this
time. Won't be no candied petals of blue roses from Nazair. The roses've
become dreadfully hard to come by.
Triss: Oh, I'd love to see it all...
I'm going with Triss.
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Geralt: Hope we won't have to stay till the end.
Triss: You're coming with me?
Geralt: Course I am. Not about to send you into what could prove to be the
lion's den by yourself. Think about it -- eighty-five desserts. While
you're trying to keep your waist at twenty-two inches...
Expecting any trouble?
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Geralt: Expect any trouble during the ball?
Man: Hardest part'll be to keep Master Albert's departure a secret from his
grandmother.
Triss: Is that necessary?
Man: Lady Patricia's a fervent believer of the Eternal Fire. Knows naught
about Master Albert's interests in alchemy. Luckily the elder Lady
Vegelbud's a rare visitor to the country residence.
Geralt: Truly an atypical family...
Man: I'm not one to judge, sir.
Triss: Geralt, please... How do we get to the residence?
Man: Your invitation -- take it. Guard at the gate'll have instructions for
you. You're to wear a fox mask, all right? Good luck to you.
[The servant leaves.]
Can we head there now?
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Geralt: Think we can head there now?
Triss: You're kidding, right? We have to prepare, change clothes...most
importantly, buy our masks.
Need to get something else done first.
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Geralt: Something I need to do first.
Triss: Fine, buy our masks while you're at it. And you should change -- ball
attire.
Triss: I bet you can get everything you need for the ball at Elihal's shop.
You know it?
Geralt: Been there before. Elihal's a friend of Dandelion's. Just masks, right?
Probably don't need to wear a...doublet, do I?
Triss: A doublet, Geralt. And it's not up for discussion. Take care of that,
then come see me.
[Geralt buys his gear from Elihal, then returns to Triss, who's trying on her
best strapless dress in the mirror. If Geralt dressed up properly:]
Triss: Oh my, certainly took my request to heart.
Geralt: Mean you weren't being serious? Still got time to change...
Triss: Don't you dare. You look great.
[If Geralt didn't dress up:]
Triss: Geralt!
Geralt: Someone's in a good mood.
Triss: So?
Geralt: Nothing. Just, you look good when you're giddy.
[Either way:]
Triss: You get everything?
Bought the masks.
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Geralt: Everything's ready, we can go.
• Triss: A shame events like this are so rare. Without them I'd never get to
see you dressed up.
Geralt: Argh. Damn doublet's chafing my armpits. And it feels like they
sewed wires into this.
Triss: I'll be sure to admire your valiant suffering the whole time.
• Triss: Just a shame you didn't dress up like I asked.
Geralt: Really expected me to show up in a lacework collar, ruffles on my
trousers?
Triss: You'd even look great wearing a bustle.
Geralt: Doubt I wanna know what that is. For now, you'll just have to
survive on bread and witcher.
Triss: Well, then -- shall we go?
[Put on wolf mask.]² / [Put on harlequin mask.]² / [Put on bird mask.]²
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(Geralt dons the chosen mask.)
Learn anything else about Albert?
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Geralt: Learn anything else about Albert?
Triss: Well, almost none of the mages have heard of him. An amateur, I guess.
Geralt: So why the interest -- temple guards first, then hunters?
Triss: He's easy prey. And that's exactly why we should help him.
Need to prepare before we go.
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Triss: Come back once you've got it all.
[The two head to the Vegelbuds' sprawling estate that evening.]
Sentry: Greetings, m'lord, m'lady.
Geralt: We're Lady Ingrid Vegelbud's guests.
Sentry: Your invitation, please.
[Triss gives her invite.]
Sentry: All's in order. You'll find Lady Vegelbud in the estate's yard. Look
for the parrot mask. One more thing -- leave your swords here, please.
Think there's been a mistake...
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Geralt: Must be some mistake. You know why we're here, don't you?
Sentry: Of course. But I've orders to make certain every guest enters the
estate unarmed.
Geralt: Dammit...
Fine.
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Geralt: Fine.
Sentry: A pleasant evening to you both.
[Triss and Geralt get into the estate grounds.]
Triss: It's beautiful here! I haven't been outside the city in ages!
[A drunken guest stumbles to them nearby.]
Patron: Hello, Vivian! No use pretending you don't know me! Is that any way to
treat an old mate? Refuse to acknowledge him?
Triss: There's been a mistake. I don't know you, sir.</pre><pre id="faqspan-26">
Patron: Don't be foolish, Vivian... I'd recognize that mane anywhere. You might
play the great dame now, but before that Baron Edward...something...
pulled you from the gutter, you were a common--
Geralt: Enough. The lady says she doesn't know you.
Patron: Who's this? The new one? Older than the last, it seems. A decrepit
moss-covered prick. So, the less they can, the more they pay, is that
it?
You asked for it...
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Geralt: You asked for it...
Triss, let's get out of here.
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Geralt: Let's go, Triss. Wouldn't want to make a scene.
Patron: Vivian! Hey! Ah, I liked you much better when you worked the
carriages outside the Passiflora.
[Triss will remark on the encounter afterwards, depending on whether Geralt
walked away or kicked his ass.]
• Triss: What a jackass.
• Triss: We weren't supposed to draw any attention
Geralt: What? Nothing happened.
Patron: Mercy... I've had enough.
[As they head further into the estate, Triss approaches a masked man.]
Triss: Moritz? What're you doing here?
Moritz: Little Miss Merigold, well, well. And I was led to believe this would
be an elegant affair.
Triss: Yes, I missed you, too. But can we put that aside for now? Do you have
a way out of Novigrad? You can join us if you want.
Triss! Not what we're here for.
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Geralt: Triss! Not what we're here for.
Triss: No, it's exactly why we're here. Well, Moritz?
[Don't react.]
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---
Moritz: Join you? And just who would I join?
Triss: Your friends, among others. Once we've all gathered, I'll lead you--
Moritz: You will lead? Forgive me, Merigold, but that is like allowing myself
to be led by a lame duck. Farewell.
Who was that?
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Geralt: Who was that?
Didn't like that guy.
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Geralt: Didn't like that guy. Why'd you insist on talking to him?
Triss: He's an old friend. His name's Moritz Diefenthel. Tell you the story
later.
[They enter the party proper.]
Triss: Oh! Let's look around.
[The two soon go over to Ingrid Vegelbud.]
Guest: Then I said, "Perhaps you should not remove your mask." And she said...
Ingrid: Mhm, mhm.
Guest: Are you listening to me, Ingrid?
Ingrid: Excuse me a moment.
[She goes over to Triss and Geralt.]
Ingrid: Miss...?
Triss: Yes, it's me. The trout buyer.
Ingrid: Hm? Oh, yes, of course. Please excuse the precautions, but...perhaps we
can speak somewhere in private?
[They go to a deserted well nearby.]
Ingrid: Thank you for agreeing to help. My valet warned me you might come with
a...friend. I'd prefer as few as possible knew of Albert's flight, but
if you trust this man...
Triss: Like no one else.
Let's go get Albert.
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Geralt: Let's get Albert. Where is he?
Ingrid: Entertaining the guests. He has always been an outsized presence at
my receptions. I preferred not to arouse any suspicions...
Triss: When can we take him away?
Ingrid: We shall have to wait until the guests have imbibed enough to notice
only the goblet-laden trays. Don't fret, it won't be long.
How will we recognize him?
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Geralt: How will we recognize him?
Ingrid: He's donned a panther mask. He knew you were due to come for him.
Seemed rather excited, ironically. I'm afraid he's not fully
comprehended the danger he faces. As I said, he's not terribly
bright.
Geralt: Don't worry about that. He'll fit in with a good number of the other
mages.
Triss: Geralt! Let's go find him.
Ingrid: I shall await word from you.
Is Albert ready to leave?
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Geralt: Is your son ready to go? We'll have to act quickly.
Ingrid: Yes, I've seen to everything. Where will you take him?
Triss: You're better off not knowing any details. He'll be safe, I promise.
Ingrid: But...
Triss: Please trust me. It's not my first time I've done this.
Ingrid: I know. Thank you.
Any sign of the hunters?
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Geralt: Any sign of the hunters recently?
Ingrid: Since they attacked my servant at the market -- none. All has been
quiet. But I bribed a man at the Temple Guard. He claims there's more
and more talk of Albert in the ranks.
Triss: How did the guardsmen learn about your son's interests to begin with?
Ingrid: Ahh, unfortunately, I cannot be sure Albert himself was not the
source, merely boasting about an experiment. He's careless that way.
Like his father -- a kind man, but a dimwit. Devoured by an arachas,
I don't know if you've heard.
Geralt: Yyyeah... Must've traveled far and wide.
Ingrid: Hardly. He attempted to breed them. Perhaps I should be pleased
Albert adopted alchemy as his hobby -- a safe one, relatively
speaking, until recently, that is.
Triss: Let's look for Albert.
[They find him regaling some ladies near a hedgerow.]
Albert: ...and then, a colossal boom!
Woman: Oh!
Woman: And? And?
Albert: Nothing. I leapt out of the way in time, naturally, and it merely
singed my eyebrows. Alchemy can be a dangerous sport.
Woman: Oh my!
Albert: One needs the agility and reflexes of a panther. Wrrroar!
[Triss and Geralt approach.]
Albert: Yes?
You Albert?
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Geralt: Albert Vegelbud?
Albert: No, heheheh...
Woman: Heeheehee.
Albert: I'm a black panther! Rrraw!
Woman: Oh, my. Count!
Your mom sent us, Mr. Panther.
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Geralt: Your mom sent us, Mr. Panther.
Need to talk about your excursion to Novigrad.
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Geralt: Your excursion to Novigrad -- we should talk about it.
Albert: Oh, so you are...
Nice mask.
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Geralt: Nice mask.
Albert: Rrraw!
Woman: Heeheehee!
See ya.
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---
[He goes off with Triss/Geralt.]
Triss: Yes. When can we leave the estate?
Albert: Weeeell... Mama said it would be best to wait until everyone's drunk.
Besides, there'll be fireworks later -- a jolly good distraction. Once
they've begun, I shall slip away, saunter into the garden. We will meet
in the hedge maze.
Geralt: Be waiting for you there.
Albert: Very well, but first you must absolutely try the Fiorano rosé.
Absolutely!
[Albert wanders off again.]
Geralt: Hope Albert hasn't forgotten the reason for this whole get-together.
Triss: Wanna wait in the garden? I saw a nice spot there earlier.
[They find a secluded bench.]
Triss: Care to sit down for a spell? Relieved to get that mask off, if only
for a little. Great view from here. And there's even wine. It's been so
long since I've been to a feast, ball or reception. Amazingly pleasant
change from the sewers of Novigrad.
Geralt: So, does this mean it's a good time to ask you about...
Triss: Yes?
Geralt: About that mage we met earlier.
Triss: Ah, Moritz. What do you want to know?
Got the impression he doesn't like you...
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Geralt: Got the impression he doesn't exactly like you.
Triss: I just think he'd love to have me as his charge, rather than his
leader.
Geralt: See, but you're the one organizing the mages' escape from Novigrad.
Where do you know him from?
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Geralt: How'd you meet?
Triss: Geralt, all mages know each other. Some are well over a century old --
that's plenty of time to make acquaintances.
Geralt: In that case: when did you meet him?
Triss: At a feast, long go. He walked up and...just blatantly offered to
teleport us somewhere...quieter.
You turn him down?
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Geralt: You turn him down?
Triss: Is that what you think?
Seems the type.
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Geralt: Seems just like the type.
Triss: Really. At the time, he seemed to me...sweet.
He actually pursued me for awhile afterwards.
Triss: Sometimes I have no idea how I actually managed to bring them all
together...
Simple -- you're charismatic.
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Geralt: You're a charismatic leader. Simple as that.
Triss: You really think so?
Geralt: Absolutely. Next thing you know they'll be calling you Iron
Merigold. Could even wear an eye patch and it'd look right.
Triss: Hahah. For a moment there I thought you were being sincere.
Geralt: Course I'm being sincere. Look at me -- didn't blush a bit.
Triss: Hahahah.
Personal charm.
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Geralt: Personal charm -- that's what it's about.
Triss: Hahaha. Careful -- that sounded like a compliment.
Good.
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Geralt: Glad it did.
Triss: Oh. Are you trying to...?
Wasn't supposed to.
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Geralt: Didn't mean it to. Don't quite know why I always say stuff around
you.
Triss: Always? Guess I remember things a little differently...
They don't have anyone else.
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Geralt: They don't have anyone else.
Triss: Sheesh. Thanks, Geralt. If you meant to say something nice, try
again.
Glad we came here.
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Geralt: I'm glad we came here, together.
Triss: Really? Despite all these bloated nobles, the bowing, the fake
smiles?
Geralt: Mhm. Not often we get the chance to just talk.
Triss: Something you've been meaning to say to me?
You're¹ eyes are like stars.
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Geralt: Your eyes, they're like stars.
Triss: Hmmm... Geraaalt...
Geralt: Really, they're incredibly shiny. Could be the wine. You better not
drink anymore.
Triss: You're terrible, you know that?
You look nice.
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Geralt: Uh, you look nice.
Triss: Pfff, a witcher's compliments...
Geralt: Someone's coming.
Triss: Is it Albert?
Geralt: No, just some lost guest. Shh!
Triss: Heeheehee. Must be looking for his beloved. Like in that elven tale
about the frog and the lark. "Inchu, inchu, beag broggha..." "Inch by
inch, little frog..." Heeheehee.
Geralt: Sshhhh! Let's go.
Triss: Hahahha. I sure hope the other guests don't get drunk as quickly as I
did!
Geralt: Sooner we get out of here, the better.
Triss: Oh, no! I plan to have a good look at this famous maze of theirs
first... I hear the statues there are completely...entirely...
Geralt: Entirely what?
Triss: Nude! Come on, Geralt!
Geralt: Triss, wait!
Triss: Geeeralt! Coming?
[She runs off into the maze. Geralt follows the tipsy woman to a fountain
area, where she immediately starts walking on the fountain's rim.]
Triss: Hahaha! Waaaoho! Hahaha...
Geralt: Careful...!
[He catches her when she falls.]
[Kiss Triss.]
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(They kiss under the fireworks.)
[Not the time for this.]
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(Geralt puts her down when she leans in to kiss.)
[Albert arrives.]
Albert: Miss Merigold! At last! So sorry we were forced to meet under such
incredibly inopportune circumstances...
Geralt: You could say that again.
Albert: ...but I'm sure we'll make up for it another time. I absolutely must
show you my alchemical formulae...
Triss: Anyone follow you?
Albert: I don't believe so.
Triss: Just in case, you two switch masks.
Triss: We'll go first. Geralt will follow right after.
Albert: Saddled horses await in the stables.
Geralt: Good. Meet you there.
[Triss takes Albert out. Fifteen minutes later, Geralt tries leaving. He can
hear a woman shouting for Albert as he rounds a corner.]
Woman: Albert! Why do you hide? Albert! You promised to show me your
laboratory! Albert! There you are, my love! Here you are! So, about
this private showing...
Geralt: Under any other circumstances I'd give you the full monty.
Woman: Oh. I'm sorry, I...
[Three men, obviously masked witch hunters, approach and surround Geralt.]
Hunter: Albert Vegelbud?
Hunter: Please step away, miss.
Hunter: Nobility's naught to us, young count. Try anything and you will get
bruised.
Geralt: Hmm, doubt it.
[Geralt cleans their clocks, then makes for the stables.]
Ingrid: I had begun to worry.
Everything's fine.
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Geralt: Everything's fine. Though you should probably send someone to...clean
up the garden -- before any guests wander in there.
Ingrid: I'm to send servants to the garden?
Geralt: Yes.
Had a little problem.
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Geralt: Ran into some trouble.
Ingrid: Hunters? Will they come here?
Geralt: No. We've got some time. But please someone to the garden. Needs a
little tidying.
Ingrid: I shall see to it. And you must hurry.
Geralt: Everything set?
Triss: Yes. Got your swords back from the guard. And Ingrid gave me the coin.
It's, uh...more than I expected. Stunningly more, frankly.
Great. So where're we going?
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Geralt: Excellent. So where're we gonna get away to?
Triss: You? Nowhere.
Glad I could help.
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Geralt: Glad I could help you collect it. You'll find good use for it?
Triss: It's finally possible, probable, even -- that we can get all the mages
out of Novigrad. You know where to find me if you want so say goodbye.
Geralt: Goodbye?
Triss: What happened at the fountain...
• Triss: We shouldn't have... It was my fault, I know. The wine...went
straight to my head. I'm sorry.
Geralt: Triss... Don't apologize.
• Triss: I'm sorry, I acted irresponsibly. It was the wine, too strong.
Geralt: No need to apologize. It was...nothing.
Triss: Yes, nothing.
Albert: Miss Merigold...
Triss: We need to go.
Geralt: I know. Be careful.
[Triss escorts Albert out of the estate.]
________________________
____________________________________________________/ TRISS MERIGOLD SUBPLOT |_
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NOW OR NEVER [TM02]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[After the Vegelbuds' bash, Geralt visits Triss's hovel again. He spots some
Temple Guardsmen outside.]
Geralt: Guardsmen outside Triss' house. Not good.
[He can eavesdrop on their convo.]
Hunter: Strange. Butcher swore he saw her here.
Hunter: Maybe he lied.
Hunter: He lied when I cut off his first finger. They all grow very honest
after I take a second.
Hunter: The ginger bitch hides behind her witchcraft... But we'll find her.
Matter of time.
[Geralt goes over:]
Geralt: What's going on here?
Hunter: Fungus in the city. We're scrubbin' it clean.
Hunter: Why you wincin' that mug like you stepped barefoot in dung?
Mind your manners.
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Geralt: Mind your manners.
Hunter: Mind our--? Heh, be glad we don't smash your snout, mutt!
Hunter: Wait. Grab him. I'll teach him his place.
I'm going.
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Geralt: Relax. I'm going.
Hunter: Hah! Look at that -- tail between his arsecheeks!
Hunter: Freaks're learnin' their place. Slow, but they're learnin'.
[Geralt goes up to see Triss. Her landlords are there, too. Dialogue changes
depending on if Geralt spoke with the hunters outside.]
• Woman: Murder... Everyone saw it!
Triss: They came for me. And for you.
Woman: Are you daft?! Wanna get us killed?
Geralt: What's the problem?
Woman: Wha--? Slaughters a hunter on our doorstep, and then asks what the
problem is?! Ploughin' mutant.
Geralt: We can hide the corpse.
Man: The whole street saw what happened. The guardsmen'll come. Turn us in!
Triss: Calm down. We've put you at risk, true. But we'll make it up to you.
• Triss: But I paid in advance! The entire month!
Woman: You did...but you paid the old price. The risks are greater now and so
should the rewards be.
Triss: I'm out of coin...
Man: But you've got somethin' else, dear.
Woman: Give us the necklace and get out of here.
Hands off, or I'll cut 'em off.
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Geralt: Hands off, or I'll cut 'em off.
Triss: Geralt. You don't need to.
Geralt: I wanna. Grab your things and let's go.
[Don't react.]
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Triss: Stop. I'll take it off myself.
Woman: Get out. Now!
[The landlords leave.]
• Triss: When I need your help, I'll ask for it.
Geralt: What? Are you angry?
Triss: Argh...angry? No.
• Geralt: Sorry... Didn't know if you wanted me to interfere.
Triss: I didn't. Their behavior -- disgusting, I know.
Triss: But they deserved the necklace. They risked a lot just by sheltering me.
I was worried about you.
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Geralt: I was worried about you. City's crawling with hunters.
Triss: I know. We had everything in place, we were ready to sail...but the
hunters moved faster. They locked all the gates, placed guards at
every corner. All in one night. Then they started searching the city
-- street by street, house by house. They stop anyone who seems even
slightly suspicious. Mostly it's common folk with rabbit's-foot charms
or lucky horseshoes... But sometimes they get it right, arrest actual
mages...
They risked it because it paid well.
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Geralt: They took a risk, sure. For a hefty fee.
Triss: Yes. The thing is, they could've taken the coin and turned me over to
the hunters. But they didn't, which was extremely honorable by
Novigrad standards.
Geralt: Please, don't make excuses for them.
Triss: Geralt, we could debate morals, or any number of other topics, but I
don't have time for that now. You saw what's happening in the city.
[Then:]
How can I help?
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Geralt: How can I help?
Triss: Everything's falling apart. I don't know where to start.
Forget the others, save yourself.
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Geralt: Actually, this is the perfect time for a moral debate. We can start
by setting some limits on self-sacrifice. High time you forgot about
your fellow mages. Saved yourself instead.
Triss: Would you abandon Vesemir? Eskel? Lambert? Leave them behind just to
save your own skin? I understand, you're worried about me, but I can't
just pack up and leave them all... I know what awaits those who fall
into the hunters' hands.
Triss: I should get all the mages to the docks as soon as possible, get them
on board the ship. But Berthold and Anisse have yet to show up at the
meeting point.
Berthold and Anisse? Who're they?
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Geralt: Berthold and Anisse? Who're they?
Triss: A young couple. He's an alchemist, had a practice in Gildorf. She
studied at Aretuza. I'm worried the people who hid them might've
turned them in. See. My hosts weren't all bad.
Could find getting to the port a problem.
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Geralt: Won't be easy getting to the port. Lots of guardsmen in the streets.
Triss: So we won't take the streets. In case of trouble, we were all supposed
to meet at the Kingfisher. There's a passage into the sewers from the
cellar, and apparently those can get you all the way to the docks.
Geralt: I know the Novigrad sewers. Won't run into any hunters there, but
that doesn't mean it'll be safe.
Triss: That's why I'm asking you. I need you to find the way to the docks,
clear a path for the others. And do it quickly. The hunters could
figure out our plan any minute.
Sorry, Triss. I can't help.
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Geralt: Triss, I can't do this, I can't help. Ciri's in danger and... I'm
sorry.
Triss: So am I. Sorry. Shouldn't have said that. I understand. I'm hurt...but
I understand. I hope you find her quickly. I hope we'll all meet again
someday.
Geralt: We will.
Triss: And if you change your mind, you'll find me at the Kingfisher. At
least for a little while longer.
Triss: Now you understand my predicament?
Geralt: Mhm. Help two and put the others at risk... Or go straight to the
Kingfisher, abandon the two to certain death.
Triss: What do I do, Geralt?
We should help Anisse and Berthold.
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Geralt: We should help Anisse and Berthold. To write them off like that...
it'd be cruel.
Triss: Fine. But then we need to go now. Clock's ticking.
Geralt: Lead the way.
Don't risk everything for two people.
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Geralt: Can't risk everything, everyone for two people. It's unwise...and
immoral.
Triss: I was afraid you'd say that. Fine. Let's go to the Kingfisher.
Need to manage on your own.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
(same as "Sorry, Triss. I can't help.")
==================== IF GERALT ADVISES SAVING THE COUPLE ======================
[They go down to street level. If the hunters're alive, they'll notice.]
Hunter: That's her!
Hunter: Seize the whore! Alive!
[After dealing with the guards, the get a move on.]
Geralt: Where's this hideout?
Triss: Not far, in the Bits. Now, quiet, Geralt. We'd rather not draw any
attention to ourselves. A patrol. We can't let them see us.
[If Geralt reveals himself anyway:]
Hunter: Hey you, witcher! Why are you here?
Just walking.
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Geralt: Just takin' a walk.
Hunter: With no destination? That's called loiterin'.
Hunter: And loiterin's banned by decree of Heirarch Hemmelfart. Take him in.
Looking for someone to fight.
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Geralt: Looking for a fight.
Hunter: Is that so? Got anything else to say?
Geralt: Yeah. This is your lucky day.
[They approach the destination.]
Triss: Dammit. Hear that? Something's going on.
[When they enter the slum apartment, arguing is upstairs.]
Landlord: This is them, just as I said. Foul sorcerer and his whore. She's into
the witchcraft, too.
Hunter: Good work. Take 'em!
Berthold: No, I beg you. We've done nothing wrong!
Hunter: Right. Hear that several times a day.
Landlord: What...what about my reward?
Hunter: Reward? Ah, right... Got to go to headquarters for that. We don't pay
out rewards.
[Triss and Geralt rush up.]
Hunter: Merigold. And the witcher.
[If the couple is slain:]
Triss: We tried. Let's go to the Kingfisher. This time we can't blow it.
[If Berthold and Anisse are saved:]
Geralt: You all right? Can you walk?
Anisse: Y-yeah... Yes.
Berthold: I'll not leave here. I'm no fool!
Anisse: Berthold...
Berthold: Have you seen what's happening out there?! They'll catch us before
we can reach the port... Catch us, and kill us!
[Axii Sign] We're going. Now.
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Geralt: We're going. Now.
Berthold: Go-going.
Triss: Thanks.
If you stay in Novigrad, you'll die.
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Geralt: I can't guarantee you'll be safe if you come with us. But if you stay
here, you will definitely die.
Anisse: He's right.
Berthold: We'll hide somewhere...wait it out.
Anisse: Darling...I beg you.
Berthold: Shut up! I told you last winter we should leave. But no, that
didn't suit you! Well, here's your comeuppance!
[Geralt can also chastise the frightened landlords.]
Geralt: How much they pay you for them?
Landlord: Please, sir... Mercy!
Geralt: How much? A bushel of grain? A barrel of herrings?
Landlady: Leave him by! I talked him into callin' the guard... They would've
found 'em anyways! Then they'd 'uve burned us all!
That's no excuse. Nothing is.
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Geralt: You have no possible excuse.
Landlord: Don't kill us...
Geralt: I'd never dull my blade on the likes of you.
[Geralt punches him.]
Landlady: Harber. Harber!
Geralt: Let's go.
Get out of here before the guards come.
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Geralt: Get out of here, or you'll burn anyway.
Landlord: But... How's that?
Geralt: Guardsmen'll decide this was an ambush. You know the penalty for
that.
Landlady: But this is our home. We can't just...
Geralt: Do what you want.
[They head for the rendezvous point, with or without the couple.]
Triss: We need to join the others a soon as possible. Stop. Hear it?
Hunter: There! Two more! Grab 'em!
Geralt: Have you checked the sewers beneath the Kingfisher?
Triss: No. Didn't think we'd have to take that route. To think, a year ago
guardsmen bowed to mages they passed in the street. Now we have to flee
the city like rats.
Geralt: You could stay. You'd manage it somehow.
Triss: The others will never make it without me.
[They reach the Kingfisher.]
Geralt: No guardsmen or hunters in sight. Everything seems in order.
Triss: Or we're too late...
Olivier: Aaaaargh!
[Inside, they find the barkeep slain and witch hunters standing around.]
Triss: Dammit. They're here already.
[They slay the hunters.]
Triss: Dammit... We took too long.
Geralt: Too long? We set out to rescue two people.
Triss: Yes. And lost one.
Knew what he signed up for.
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Geralt: Knew exactly what he signed up for.
Triss: Small comfort...
Good thing we got here before they found the others.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Good thing we got here before they found the hatch, grabbed the
others.
Triss: This is not about numbers, Geralt...
Triss: This is no time to mourn. Come with me. This way, Geralt.
[She opens a secret passage into the cellar.]
================= IF GERALT ADVISES IGNORING THE STRAGGLERS ===================
Geralt: Have you checked the sewers beneath the Kingfisher?
Triss: No. Didn't think we'd have to take that route. To think, a year ago
guardsmen bowed to mages they passed in the street. Now we have to flee
the city like rats.
Geralt: You could stay. You'd manage it somehow.
Triss: The others will never make it without me.
[They set out to reach the tavern.]
Triss: A patrol. We can't let them see us. All right. They're gone. Come on.
[They reach the Kingfisher.]
Geralt: No guardsmen or hunters in sight. Everything seems in order.
Triss: Or we're too late...
[They find the barkeep inside.]
Olivier: Triss! Thanks be to Melitele!
Triss: Anyone from the Silverton hideout make it?
Olivier: Odette, Caspar...Ditmer and Janne.
Triss: Hagen?
Olivier: He... He won't be coming.
[They go into the anteroom behind the bar. If Geralt initially told Triss he
wouldn't help, then came anyway, she'll say an extra line here:]
• Triss: Decided to join us after all. I'm glad.
Olivier: Quickly. Before someone comes in.
============================== PATHS MERGE HERE ===============================
[Triss and Geralt go into the hidden cellar where many mages're gathered.]
• Mage: Triss! What happened upstairs? Is everything all right?
Triss: No. Everything's not all right.
• Mage: Triss, we were so concerned.
Triss: Right to be. Hunters were on my trail.
Triss: Geralt, wait a minute. I need to see who made it.
[Sigi Reuven, a.k.a. Sigismund Dijkstra, is there as well.]
Reuven: Why the tears, my dear lady? You shouldn't worry yourself -- it
tarnishes your beauty.
Geralt: Guess you must've worried quite a bit.
Reuven: No. I was born ugly.
Geralt: You fleeing to Kovir, too?
Reuven: No, but I am helpin' the others set off. You know me...bleedin' heart
and all.
Yeah, I know you. You have no heart.
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Geralt: Yeah, I know you. Don't have a heart -- bleeding or otherwise.
Reuven: Frankly, I'm surprised at your insight into my anatomy. But on a
more serious note...
Heart only started bleeding now? Puzzling.
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Geralt: It only started bleeding now? They've been burning mages for months
around here.
Reuven: But only since recently on this scale. Besides...
Reuven: I look forward to having friends in Kovir. Especially among King
Tancred's entourage.
Mage: Shh. Triss is about to speak.
Reuven: We'll talk later.
[Triss addresses all mage refugees.]
Triss: We waited long to escape. Till we could make sure Kovir would take us,
till we could acquire enough coin to hire a ship, till we could find a
captain we could trust. We've waited too long. There's no more time for
hesitation. We must leave Novigrad today.
Mage: This is madness. Hunters stand on every corner.
Triss: So we'll get to the port through the sewers. Geralt will clear a safe
path for us.
Mage: They'll catch us anyway. You'll see. They'll catch us, and kill us.
Triss: Perhaps. In which case we'll die with dignity, weapons in hand... Not
tied to a stake, begging for mercy.
Going in the sewers.
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Geralt: Gonna enter the sewers now. I'll signal when the path's clear, you
follow my trail. And don't stray from it, no matter what.
Triss: I will go with Geralt. You, Dijkstra, go to the port and see that
everything's in order with the ship.
Reuven: On my way.
Triss: We'll meet there. I hope.
If anything happens, I'll defend you.
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Geralt: If the need arises, I'll defend you.
Reuven: You can also count on my help.
Mage: Yes...the help of a Redanian spy. Radovid's right-hand man.
Reuven: That was long ago, sir.
Mage: You raised that madman. You taught him to kill. You--
Triss: This is no time to settle past scores. End of discussion.
[Triss ends her speech.]
Geralt: Triss...really wanna go with me? No offense, but--
Triss: Offense taken. Stop talking and lead the way.
[Geralt leads the way into the sewers.]
Mage: Good luck.
Triss: Thanks for helping.
Geralt: No need to thank me. Really.
Triss: No, there is. You don't know how much it means...to have someone you can
rely on in this fucking city.
Geralt: It's all right. It'll be over soon.
Triss: Mhm. Soon.
[They find a cave-in's collapsed on the main route.]
Triss: Dammit! No way through! All is lost.
Geralt: Relax. Maybe there's another way.
Triss: Where? The passage is straight as an arrow -- not a single fork.
Geralt: But listen -- there's an echo behind the walls. And I can feel air
coming in through the cracks.
Triss: So...something on the other side?
Geralt: Mhm. Elven ruins or an old, forgotten cellar. Maybe we can get around
the blockage through there.
Triss: Can't hurt to try. Got nothing to lose at this point.
[Geralt uses Aard to blast through a wall in a different dead end, leading to
a massive hidden library.]
Geralt: A library...?
Triss: Look! Gonzalo de Verceo's poems... Jacob of Varazze's chronicles...
It's incredible. Rare first editions only.
Geralt: We'll come back for them later.
Triss: No, we won't. I leave Novigrad today, remember?
Geralt: I remember. Just having a hard time coming to grips with it.
Triss: Come on. We should hurry.
[Geralt blows away another false wall.]
Geralt: Triss! Found an exit.
Triss: Oof... For a minute, I actually thought we were doomed.
[As they spelunk in the sewers, they hear a distant chittering.]
Triss: Stop. Hear that? What is it?
Geralt: Rats.
Triss: Oh, my speciality, remember? You've got nothing to fear.
Geralt: Depends how many there are.
Triss: Dammit... That's a lot.
[They go down further, finding gnawed corpses.]
Geralt: Lovely. No wonder there were so many rats.
Triss: Who's tossing all these corpses down here?
Geralt: We're right under the main square. Next to Carlo "The Cleaver" Varese's
headquarters. Can't be a coincidence.
Triss: His debtors have tended to disappear without a trace.
[They eliminate the rat horde.]
Geralt: Everything all right?
Triss: A few bites on my feet and calves. Nothing, really.
Geralt: Need to clean your wounds. Infection'll set in otherwise.
Triss: Later, Geralt. Let's find the way to the port, first.
[Further in, Geralt can examine many weird, tell-tale signs.]
• Body's pale. Dried out.
• Wounds around the neck and shoulders.
• Claw marks... Long and sharp.
• Lantern's still lit...died recently. From bites to the neck.
Geralt: A lesser vampire. Stay close to me.
[They find the bloodsucker in a room nearby.]
Geralt: It's a katakan!
Triss: A what?!
Geralt: A vampire! Watch out for its venom!
[They fight and kill the invisibility-using skulk.]
Triss: The sewers always this exciting?
Geralt: Mhm. Luckily.
Triss: Luckily?
Geralt: Steady source of income. C'mon, let's go.
Triss: Seagulls! Hear them? We made it! C'mon. We need to ready the ship before
the hunters learn what's happening.
[They reach the port. Dijkstra and his henchmen are there.]
Reuven: Finally. You took bloody long enough...
Triss: Did you have time to look around? How's the ship?
Reuven: Creaky piece of junk. Wood's rotting, sails're prone to rip like an old
pair of knickers, and the--
Triss: Will we make it to Kovir?
Reuven: Provided you don't run into any storms.
Triss: I'll signal the others to come.
[They let Triss do her magical signaling.]
Reuven: Need any help? Can I play the violin for you, fetch some flowers or
bonbons?
What the hell're you talking about?
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Geralt: What the hell's that mean?
Reuven: What...don't tell me you don't plan to beg her to stay?
Stay out of other people's affairs.
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Geralt: Don't meddle in other people's lives.
Reuven: Sorry, I must. It's my profession. So...will you ask her to stay?
Geralt: Why do you even care?
Reuven: I adore love stories. Especially the ones that end happily ever after.
Triss: Hunters! Hunters approaching!
[Several of the Temple Guard approach the docks.]
Hunter: Board the ship! We want them alive!
[The handful of troops are no match for Geralt, Dijkstra, Triss and the other
assorted cronies who mob them, however.]
Triss: Dijkstra, I don't know how to--
Reuven: No time for courtesies, my dear. Get on board.
Triss: One last farewell.
[She turns to Geralt.]
Triss: Thank you. I'll never forget what you did for me... And what we had
together.
Farewell, Triss.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll remember you, too. Always with a smile.
Mage: Miss Merigold!
Triss: Coming! Take care...and give Ciri a kiss from me once you find her.
Stay with me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Stay with me.
Triss: Geralt...not this again. Especially not here, not now.
Mage: Miss Merigold! We gotta sail.
Geralt: Please.
Triss: We had our chance, but...let it go.
I love you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I...I love you.
Triss: Miss Merigold! We're castin' off!
Let's try again.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's try again.
Triss: I don't have the strength to try. If I was sure it would work...
Mage: Miss Merigold! We're castin' off!
Go. I'll miss you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll miss you. Terribly.
Triss: I know how you feel.
Mage: Miss Merigold! We're castin' off!
[If Triss leaves for Kovir, Dijkstra will chat with Geralt afterwards.]
• Reuven: You're an arse.
Geralt: What?
Reuven: An ass. An oaf. A twit. Didn't even try to stop her.
Had my reasons.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I had my reasons.
Reuven: Course you did. You're an ass, an oaf, a twit. But even an arse
can do the world a favor if one more enlightened tells him how.
What do you care?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll ask again -- got interrupted last time. Why the hell do you
care who I'm with?
Reuven: If I say it's because I like you, want what's best for you, would
you believe me?
Geralt: No.
Reuven: Wise. You should stay out of politics. I know it, you know it, and
Triss knows it -- which is not insignificant. Your other lover --
not so much. She's cuddled up to Nilfgaard, and you'll follow her,
as always. And one day we might find ourselves on opposite sides of
the barricade. It'd be a damn shame... But, that seems a distant
future to me. Right now we should talk about the more immediate.
• Reuven: Well mate, at least you tried. A sorceress turned me down once. Want
to hear the story?
Sure, why not.
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Geralt: Go for it. What's the harm.
Reuven: As you know my heart fluttered for Philippa Eilhart, back when we
both served Redania. One day, I doused myself in fragrances like a
whore in a heat wave, put on a pinstriped doublet -- they make you
look slimmer, you know... And I went to her, told her, Philippa,
we've so much in common, and so on. Know what she said?
Geralt: Pinstripes hadn't slimmed you down enough?
Reuven: No. She said she preferred women. So, I drank myself stupid and
went out whorin'.
Geralt: There a moral in that story for me?
Reuven: No. An instruction: just do what I did. Later. Once we've spoken.
Why do you care about my relationship with Triss?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Rather hear why the hell you care about my relationship with Triss.
Reuven: If I say it's because I like you, want what's best for you, would
you believe me?
Geralt: No.
Reuven: Wise. You should stay out of politics. I know it, you know it, and
Triss knows it -- which is not insignificant. Your other lover --
not so much. She's cuddled up to Nilfgaard, and you'll follow her,
as always. And one day we might find ourselves on opposite sides of
the barricade. It'd be a damn shame... But, that seems a distant
future to me. Right now we should talk about the more immediate.
What're you plotting now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Ugh, Dijkstra...what are you plotting this time?
Scheming? Not the best time.
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Geralt: Sure this is the right time, Sigi? Triss and I just--
Reuven: Spare me, Geralt. Witchers're stripped of feeling, not one emotion
in that body of yours. And I've an urgent matter to discuss.
Geralt: Mhm. And that is?
Reuven: What would you say -- how many mages did we save? All together.
Geralt: Dunno, didn't count... Thirty, maybe, give or take a few.
Reuven: And how many would you say remain in the North? How many alchemists,
healers, herbalists? Two thousand? Three?
Geralt: Doing a population count? Is that it?
Reuven: No, I'm concerned. In Novigrad, they had us, we were here... But who'll
save those in Rinbe? Ban Ard? Ard Carraigh? Gulet? You know damn well
that daft bastard Radovid won't rest till he's killed them all. Every
last one. Yennefer and Triss included.
Geralt: Moving as speeches go. Now get to the point. Why're you telling me
this?
Reuven: Because I want you to help me kill Radovid.
I don't kill kings.
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Geralt: I don't kill kings. Just not a regicide, rumors to the contrary be
damned.
Reuven: I know. I'm merely asking for your aid in organizing the
assassination. Someone else'll strike the blow.
Geralt: Ugh, Dijkstra...might not've heard this, though I'd find that hard to
believe, but witchers are neutral on principle, so--
Reuven: Oh, bollocks. That's a convenient excuse you lot try to hide behind
every time the temperature rises. It's grown hot, my friend, and it
grows hotter still. Pyres burn in every city. For mages great and
small -- your female friends included. For nonhumans. For witchers,
soon. Is that the North you espouse, the North you're prepared to
live in? Silence, cards close to your chest...I understand. To slay
a king -- it's not exactly some bloody nekker contract. You think on
this. Think on what I said. And if you conclude you'd rather change
the course of history instead of riding its current to hell, you come
find me. At the Passiflora, in the garret. I'll be waiting with my
mates.
Geralt: I'll think about it.
Reuven: So long, Geralt.
That concerned about the mages of the world?
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Geralt: You that concerned about the mages of the world? Expect me to believe
that?
Reuven: Actually, yes. But not because I'm sensitive or it gives me a
heartache, true. To my mind, this systematic persecution is foremost
a symptom of a far more serious problem: a madman rules Redania. I
served Vizimir, Radovid's father. Was his head of intelligence for
more than two decades. Together, we transformed Redania. Made it into
the North's most powerful realm. Any idea what made it strong?
Geralt: Its armies, I'd wager.
Reuven: And you'd bloody lose, you idiot. Mass mobilization, inciting
peasants to take up their scythes, straighten them -- where's the art
in that? Much harder to build a strong state with healthy commerce,
manufacturing, solid alliances, progressive science, and fair,
independent courts that hand down just judgments. Vizimir and I
managed to do just that -- through years of fucking hard work. I will
not sit on my hands while that little shit squanders that. Radovid
the Stern, my arse. Radovid the Witless, I'd say. Will you help me,
Geralt?
[If Geralt kissed Triss in the previous quest, and told her he loved her 'fore
she set sail, Dijkstra's ending conversation changes:]
Reuven: Well mate, at least you tried. A sorceress turned me down once. Want
to hear the story?
Sure, why not.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Go for it. What's the harm.
Reuven: As you know my heart fluttered for Philippa Eilhart, back when we
both served Redania. One day, I doused myself in fragrances like a
whore in a heat wave, put on a pinstriped doublet -- they make you
look slimmer, you know... And I went to her, told her, Philippa,
we've so much in common, and so on. Know what she said?
Geralt: Pinstripes hadn't slimmed you down enough?
Reuven: No. She said--
Why do you care about my relationship with Triss?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Rather hear why the hell you care about my relationship with Triss.
Reuven: If I say it's because I like you, want what's best for you, would
you believe me?
Geralt: No.
Reuven: Wise. You should stay out of politics. I know it, you know it, and
Triss knows it -- which is not insignificant. Your other lover --
not so much. She's cuddled up to Nilfgaard, and you'll follow her,
as always. And one day we might find ourselves on opposite sides of
the barricade. It'd be a damn shame... But, that seems a distant
future to me. Right now we should talk about the more immediate.
Reuven: Geralt, turn around.
Geralt: Not in the mood for jokes.
Reuven: No, I'm serious. Turn around.
[Triss will walk over, revealing she hadn't really departed for Kovir.]
Geralt: Triss?! I thought--
Triss: So did I. But I changed my mind.
Thank you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Thank you. I'm...grateful.
Good thing women can be changeable.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Good thing women can be changeable.
Triss: Dijkstra, no offense, but...
Reuven: Leaving. Already gone.
Triss: Let's go somewhere. I know a spot where we can watch the ships.
Geralt: Lead the way.
[Triss takes him to the top of the Novigrad lighthouse.]
Triss: They're safe now, right?
Geralt: Yes. You can stop worrying. Really.
Triss: Oh, you're right. Just...hard to believe it's over and done with. I've
dreamt of this moment for months.
This how you imagined this moment would be?
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Geralt: This how you imagined things?
Triss: No. I imagined I'd be on the ship with the rest of them. And you'd be
on the shore, waving a handkerchief, maybe.
Geralt: I hope you don't regret it...that things have gone differently...
Triss: Well, they say Kovir's lovely this time of year... But I prefer you.
Geralt: Haha, not surprised. I'm pretty lovely this time of year, too.
Triss: I won't disagree. We might still go there one day, when it's all over.
Really? Kovir -- seems like it's at the world's end.
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Geralt: I dunno. Kovir seems so far away, end of the world, really.
Triss: Hmm. Maybe you're right... So how do you envision our future?
Geralt: I'll be grandmaster of the Order of the Flaming Rose, you'll be High
Priestess of Melitele. We'll live happily ever after, a horde of
kids around us.
Triss: Oh no, won't get out of it that easy. I asked you a serious question.
Where do you see us in...say, five years?
I'd like us to keep moving, stay on the road.
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Geralt: I'd like us to keep moving, live on the road, wherever our legs
carry us. You know, a month here, a year there...
Triss: Yes. Forgot you're not the type to settle down.
Geralt: That's true. I don't get attached to places. Just people.
Life in a small town...
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Geralt: This is how I see it. We're living in a small town, where everybody
knows everybody else. You've got your practice...brewing potions,
that sort of thing.
Triss: And what're you doing? Running around swamps killing drowners?
Geralt: No, I'm sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, smoking my pipe...
listening to the clink of your vials as you work alone.
Triss: That simple?
Geralt: Mhm. That simple.
I don't know. Rather live for the moment.
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Geralt: Don't know. No idea, honestly.
Triss: Trying to weasel out of answering again. You rascal.
Geralt: No, it's just, instead of dwelling on the future, I'd rather live
in the moment. Like we are now.
Triss: I missed this Geralt, you know?
Geralt: Meaning?
Triss: The Geralt who's not afraid to open up to me. Tell me what he really
feels, what he wants.
Geralt: What I want? Hm, one more thing...
Triss: Shh. I know.
Could I still be a witcher in Kovir?
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Geralt: That would mean balls and banquets and other boring things starting
with a "b."
Triss: Mhm. But also baths, balms, body massages... You could make up for
all those years you slept in the bushes and bathed in mountain
streams.
Geralt: Sounds tempting. Would I have to give up being a witcher?
Triss: No. You'd take a monster contract from time to time, to stay sharp...
Nothing too dangerous, though, so I wouldn't have to worry. And I'd
be waiting for you...
Geralt: Let me guess...with a candlelit dinner.
Triss: Candles, sure. And a bed. Actually... We've never needed either.
Stop risking your life for others -- promise me.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Promise me one thing -- you'll stop risking your life for others.
Triss: No.
Geralt: No? Triss, not a mage left in Novigrad.
Triss: But you're here.
Geralt: I can defend myself.
Triss: Well, from kikimores, griffins, bruxae...but not from the Hunt. You
and Ciri'll need my help. And I'll be at your side.
[While the two lovebirds get it on in front of the lighthouse's flame, far at
sea, the Koviri-bound ship sees the random flickering caused by their forms.]
Mage: Look! They're signaling us! It's a message! "H...l...a...k...b...r..."
Hl... Hlakbr? It makes no sense.
Mage: It's code. What did you expect?
[The perplexed mages try to decipher the gibberish. Later, Geralt and Triss
are still hanging around the lighthouse's beacon.]
Triss: Thank you, Geralt. For this...and for what you said at the port.
Geralt: I should've said it long ago.
Triss: So...what happens now? Afraid it's a bit too early for "happily ever
after"...
I'll go find Ciri.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I've gotta find Ciri. I'm close... I will find her, or someone who
knows what happened to her.
Triss: Where will we meet?
Geralt: Can only think of one place where both witchers and sorceresses are
welcome.
Triss: Kaer Morhen. Haven't been there in a while. So, I guess I'll see you,
witcher. I'll miss you. A lot.
Geralt: I'll miss you, too.
The time for that will come.
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Geralt: We'll get our happy ending. One day.
Triss: Yes. Somewhere, over hill and dale... It's a cruel world we live in.
It's hard to make plans. Even harder to invest any faith in them,
though you might want to...badly.
Geralt: You were in an entirely different mood a moment ago.
Triss: "Hush. The spark expired." Don't worry about me, Geralt. And please,
be careful.
[Triss leaves for Kaer Morhen. Later, Geralt leaves the lighthouse, and picks
up a familiar scent.]
Geralt: Men's fragrance... Acrid sweat...and chestnut balm for aching joints.
Dijkstra.</pre><pre id="faqspan-27">
Reuven: Ah, those witcher senses. Can't hide a damn thing from you lot.
Geralt: Same seems to be true for you. Will you ever leave me alone?
Reuven: Someday, sure. Once I no longer need you.
[The conversation about Dijkstra's scheme -- written previously, starting with
"What're you plotting now?" and "Scheming? Not the best time." plays.]
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______________________________________________________/ VERNON ROCHE SUBPLOT |_
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AN EYE FOR AN EYE [VR01]
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[After Roche mentions a problem with Ves, Geralt returns to the Temerians'
hideout to speak about it.]
Geralt: Mentioned you have a problem.
Vernon: Mhm. It's Ves. She took a couple of the lads across the river. Plans
to hit the Black Ones at Mulbrydale.
Geralt: So? Sounds like what you guerilla fighters to.
Vernon: Yes, when they are ordered to. Whereas I forbade her from leaving camp.
Indefinitely.
What can I possibly do?
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Geralt: All right, so you've got a problem -- insubordination. What am I
supposed to do about it?
Vernon: I doubt Ves has entered the village. More likely she and the boys lie
in wait in the woods nearby. We must find her before she attacks. And
stop her. You're a good tracker. Help me.
Count on it.
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Geralt: Count me in.
Vernon: Thanks, Geralt. I'll owe you a favor. Meet me in Velen, beneath the
Hanged Man's Tree. It's just a short jaunt from there to Mulbrydale.
Rather not get involved.
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Geralt: Sorry, Roche. Rather not get involved. This is between you and Ves.
Vernon: Mhm. Hard luck. Don't let me keep you.
Why'd Ves go to that village?
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Geralt: Why Mulbrydale? Why'd Ves go there?
Vernon: The peasants from the village aided us earlier. The Nilfgaardians
learned of this. Word got out they're planning a punitive expedition.
Probably hang every fifth villager.
Geralt: Hm. Honestly, Ves' desire to save the villagers makes sense. What
doesn't is your opposition to the plan.
Vernon: War means death. Not only for soldiers, for common folk, as well. You
can't save them all. It's that simple.
Geralt: Funny. Had you for an idealist.
Vernon: You were right to, are right to. But I have one ideal -- a free
Temeria. And I'm prepared to sacrifice anything for it.
Don't trust Ves anymore?
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Geralt: Don't trust Ves anymore?
Vernon: Bollocks. She's prepared to die for me. That's not the problem. Know
what distinguishes a soldier from a common swashbuckler?
Geralt: The uniform?
Vernon: It's a serious question.
Geralt: A rhetorical one. So instead of waiting for an answer, just...
enlighten me.
Vernon: Soldiers think tactically. They know when to strike, when to fall
back. When to charge and when to hold. Ves finds this difficult.
She's impulsive, hot-tempered. Yet in guerilla warfare, one false
step and you're fucked. I confined her to the camp because I feared
that sent out, she'd go rabid and make a mistake. I was right.
[Geralt agrees to help and visits the landmark outside Mulbrydale, where Roche
is waiting.]
Vernon: It's the village below. Black with Nilfgaardians already. They're
preparing to execute folk.
Geralt: No sign of Ves.
Vernon: She may be impetuous, but she's not stupid. She's waiting for her
moment. Probably attack after dusk, once--
Geralt: Shh.
Vernon: What now?
Geralt: A trio. Lightly equipped. Over there, near the--
[They can hear Ves' start her brazen daytime attack.]
Ves: Death to the Black Ones!
Soldier: (in Nilfgaardian) To me! They're attacking!
Geralt: Looks like we're too late.
Vernon: Idiot! Geralt, we have to help. Follow me!!
[They race into Mulbrydale to attack the Nilfgaardians. If Geralt and Roche
save the hot-headed woman:]
Vernon: Gods dammit, Ves! Have you gone completely mental?! You ignore my
orders. You go off on a suicide mission. And instead of donning a
breastplate, you dash into battle, shirt open, naval and whatnot
exposed!
Ves: You're not my father, Roche. You've no right to tell me what to wear.
Vernon: But I am your commander, and you will obey me! Guerilla warfare.
Warfare! It involves armies, for fuck's sake!
Ves: I could not abandon them. They helped us.
Vernon: It's a soldier's job to kill, Ves, not save, not rescue. If that is not
to your liking, join the Sisters of Melitele, study to be a healer.
Fucking hell... Give me your weapon. You'll get it back when you wise
up -- if you wise up. Move out!
[One of the soldiers is still on his deathbed.]
Soldier: Akh akh akh...ptooey...akh! Fuck...
One left.
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Geralt: One left.
Uh-oh, got a prisoner.
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Geralt: Uh-oh. Got yourselves a prisoner.
Ves: We don't take prisoners.
Ves: You took my weapon, Roche... So I must manage with my bare hands.
Vernon: Leave him alone. There are corpses enough here.
Ves: What?
Vernon: You heard me.
Ves: I did and I can't believe it! He came here to murder civilians. He's seen
us. Will you have him return to his camp and report?!
Vernon: Emhyr knows we can kill his men. Let him learn that we can also show
mercy.
Kill him, Roche. I don't want any trouble.
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Geralt: Roche... Noble of you and all, but occasionally, I work for
Nilfgaardians. Frankly, I don't want any trouble.
Vernon: I don't like this... But so be it, you certainly don't deserve to
suffer as a result.
Ves: Well said, Geralt. A good Black One's a dead Black One. I'll strangle
the bugger--
Vernon: Stand aside. I'll do this.
Soldier: (in Nilfgaardian) No... I beg you!
Hard to argue with that.
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Geralt: Roche is right. Besides, killing a defenseless--
Ves: What is it with you, Roche? Did the witcher take your stones? They're
sadists! He's the occupier!
Vernon: I will explain later. You, Nilfgaardian. Piss off.
Soldier: (in Nilfgaarian) Thank you. I shall not forget you d--
Vernon: Go, before I change my mind.
Vernon: Agh. We should go before a patrol comes along. Thank you, Geralt...
Ever need any help, you know where to find me.
[If Ves dies, the quest fails soon afterward:]
Vernon: Where the bloody hell did you go?! Berry picking?!
Geralt: Roche, I--
Vernon: I have no desire to talk to you, Geralt. Goodbye.
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________________________________________________/ SIGISMUND DIJKSTRA SUBPLOT |_
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A DEADLY PLOT [SG01]
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[After finishing Triss' subplot in "Now or Never," Dijkstra propositions the
witcher for help in assassinating Redania's mad king. Geralt goes to the
Passiflora whorehouse later for the meetup. The madame, Marquise Serenity,
greets Geralt in the back changing room.]
Madame: White Wolf! Welcome to the Passiflora! Oh -- no sign of recognition in
your eyes.
Geralt: Greetings, uh...
Madame: Don't fret, I'm sure I look quite different from when we last saw each
other.
Geralt: Er...which was...?
Madame: Oh, eons ago. You and Master Dandelion appeared, two halflings in tow.
What a smash they were, the little chaps. We recount that night to this
day.
Geralt: Yeah, sorry, but I'm here to...
Madame: Speak softly. I know very well why you're here. They await. This way,
please.
[She opens a false wall leading to a staircase.]
Madame: This way. Upstairs.
Bandit: Witcher Geralt? Up you go. Boss has been waitin'.
[Geralt finds Dijkstra in a 3F office.]
Reuven: Geralt. You're here. Good.
Geralt: Might've chosen a more secluded spot to plan an assassination.
Reuven: It's on everyone's mind, many'd like to do it, so there's nothing to
fear. Besides, this venue's got a tradition in this domain. Might even
consider it fabled. Falka planned her revolt here...by extension, King
Vridank's murder, too.
Geralt: Comparing yourself to Falka? Far as I can recall, no one in Redania's
annals has a bloodier reputation.
Reuven: Her rebellion changed the course of history -- that's what we have in
common. In terms of blood, we aim only to shed Radovid's. I'm pleased
you're willing to play a part. Must admit I wasn't certain you'd show.
Down to business.
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Geralt: Got your invitation, decided to come. That simple. Let's get down to
business.
Radovid's gotta die -- for Triss and Yen's good.
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Geralt: Thought about what you said...that Triss and Yen will never be safe
as long as Radovid was alive.
Reuven: You better believe it. Well, I'm pleased we've arrived at an
understanding. To the matter at hand.
Still don't know if I'll help.
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Geralt: Came by 'cause I'm curious.
Reuven: But you will help?
Geralt: We'll see. Need to know what you expect of me, first.
Reuven: I believe you know my associate.
[He sees the ex-Blue Stripes commander walk upstairs.]
Geralt: Roche? You, here?
Vernon: Retired intelligence operatives -- we've a club.
Geralt: Defended a king once... Ready to assassinate another, now?
Vernon: Not proud of it. Yet...I considered all the options and found none
better. Radovid's proven many times he only ever forwards his own
interests. When Kaedwen asked for help, he invaded. When I begged him
to support Vizima's defense, he showed me the door. The war nears its
end, we've come to a decisive phase. We must act quickly. I've no
illusions. Only a dead Radovid means a free Temeria.
What do you want from me?
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Geralt: All right, what do you want from me?
What do you mean?
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Geralt: How's that work? Seems to me Radovid is Temeria's ally.
Vernon: Only as long as my guerillas do what pleases him, support his troops.
Once he wins the war, he'll not acknowledge the previous borders nor
wish to restore them. He dreams of a northern empire. As long as he
lives, Temeria will never be free.
Reuven: But we didn't bring you here to bore you with politics. Radovid's a
threat to Triss and Yennefer. Remember that. That ought to interest
you most.
Vernon: One of our co-conspiritors ventured out to meet an informer. He's not
returned, yet the plan's success hinges on what he's learned. We've got
to find him. And you're the best tracker around.
Geralt: Tracker, huh? Really. Anything else you can tell me? Where this
associate was last seen, for instance?
Vernon: He's traveling as a journeyman. Itinerant cobbler -- that's his cover.
He was first to venture across the Pontar, most probably did so via
the Redanian checkpoint. We've a man there who should know more. Calls
himself Gregor.
I'll find your associate.
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Geralt: Fine. I'll talk to Gregor.
Vernon: Thank you. And try not to draw too much attention...if you can.
Remember, the future hinges on the success of this mission. The
future of Temeria, the future of the North.
Geralt: I know. I'll try not to fuck it up. See you.
Reuven: We're counting on you, Geralt.
Sorry, not interested.
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Geralt: Know what -- rather not get involved. Stinks of politics from miles
away.
Reuven: Geralt, give it some thought. If you change your mind, find Gregor.
Talk to him.
Geralt: I'll consider it. Promise you that much. But that's all.
Got informers in the Redanian army?
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Geralt: Let a Redanian soldier in on your plan to murder Redania's king?
Reuven: Ahh, you see? There are even some Redanians who cannot abide
Radovid's policies. And when simple soldiers notice something's not
quite right, well, then it's time to act.
[Geralt leaves as Roche and Dijkstra converse to themselves.]
Reuven: Anyone see you come in?
Vernon: No one apart from Madame Serenity and your lackey.
Reuven: Off the street, I mean.
Vernon: No one. Nerves getting the better of you?
Reuven: I'm not nervous -- just cautious. A trait you ought to nurture as well.
Vernon: I know, and I am. Wound about the streets for a time to lose any tails.
I've worked in intelligence as long as you have. I need no lessons in
spycraft.
[Geralt goes to meet the liaison outside a Redanian checkpoint in Velen.]
Geralt: Looking for Gregor.
Gregor: You've found him. Who're you?
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Dijkstra sent me.
Gregor: Been expectin' someone. Let's take a walk.
[They walk to the checkpoint's beach, passing underneath noosed corpses.]
Geralt: Nice job decorating your guard post.
Gregor: By orders of our gracious and merciful ruler, the good king...
Geralt: What was their crime?
Gregor: One on the right's a pellar from a village nearby. Gave some bloke the
wrong advice, bloke's mates informed on him. Neighbor held a grudge
against the one on the left. Accused him of witchcraft.
Geralt: Just humans at each others' throats. That's not Radovid's fault.
Gregor: Hm, who do you think set down the laws that mean folk hang for such
"offenses"?
Down to business.
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Geralt: Let's talk. Must know why I'm here.
Gregor: Take it's about our cobbler friend. Yeah, he came through here on his
way out. Didn't come back, though. Patrol went out yesterday,
reported an abandoned cart a ways off the road. Aimed to go out
there, see if it's his. Couldn't get away.
Geralt: Thanks. Good enough to start with. Farewell.
Gregor: Hold on. You got a pass? Won't get back through without one.
Geralt: Yeah, I got one.
Gregor: All right. Good luck.
Geralt: Thanks, see you.
Serve a king you despise?
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Geralt: Seem to have lost all respect for the king. Why serve him?
Gregor: What'm I to do? I was born a Redanian, I won't desert. Besides, I
enlisted when Vizimir was still on the throne. Now that was a good
king, wise and just. Radovid's somethin' else. He's got war on the
brain. And I don't want Redania to look anythin' like that.
[Geralt tracks down the roadside wagon, its owner nowhere in sight.]
Geralt: Hm... Cart doesn't look damaged. Strange. Need to look around. Might
find something.
• Signs of a scuffle. Somebody got knocked out, dragged off.
• Wonder where its wearer is...
• A shoe. Something tells me I'm on the right trail.
• What's he doing here?
[Geralt approaches the troll standing by a heap of mismatched shoes.]
Geralt: Greetings.
Troll: Away go witchygo. Shoeses pick me.
Geralt: I can see that. Just wondering how those shoeses wound up here.
Troll: Here shoeses grow. Like to mushroo.
Now, now. Shoes aren't mushrooms. Tell the truth.
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Geralt: Shoes don't sprout from the ground. You see who left them behind
here?
Troll: Hmm... Hmm... Speakno Rogg. Or angergets Ogg and Pogg.
Geralt: Ogg and Pogg -- those are your friends?
Troll: Finderingers great Ogg-Pogg! Human finder on bigshoes cart, shoes
biglike so!
Geralt: Mhm. What'd they do to this human?
Troll: Ogg Pogg mans cavetotake. Thereover.
Geralt: D'you eat him?
Troll: Naaaaayno, bonymans, stringymans. Blech... Oggmake mans shoesesmake.
For Ogg, Pogg and Rogg shoesesmakes.
What use does a troll have for shoes?
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Geralt: You even need shoes?
Troll: Shoeses on humanses, shoeses wants Ogg, Pogg and Rogg. Biglords
trollers be, like humanses.
Farewell.
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Geralt: So long.
Geralt: Troll cave must be nearby.
[Geralt enters the cave, and finds trolls talking with the captured cobbler.
The witcher recognizes the foul-mouthed man as Thaler, a Redanian spy he's met
in previous games.]
Troll: Ogg angergets and you diemake!
Thaler: When someone pisses you off, you needn't ploughin' kill him. It's not
your only arsebitin' recourse.
Troll: When but Ogg hitmake, humanses alltime die.
Thaler: So don't bloody hitmake. Yell at 'em, that's good enough.
Troll: Heeeeeh?
Thaler: You walk up to the bloke, bare your teeth, furl your brow and say,
"Fuck off, you miserable cunt." Understand? All right. Let's, uh, move
to some exercises. Repeat after me: "You thrice fucked¹ whore --
ploughed, buggered and blowin'." Take turns. Ogg?
Troll: Errr... You... Yooooo...
Thaler: Argh, all right. Pogg? Maybe you could give it a shot?
Troll: Errr...
Thaler: Agh, guess we should start with something simpler. Err, gimme a minute.
Right, got it. We'll start easy. "Fu-cking cunt." Repeat that.
Troll: Fu... Fu... Fuggy?
Thaler: Shite, no! "Fucking cunt!" Bugger me, you're a moron...
Troll: Ogg no morony! Ogg Tala finder! Ogg finderinger! And you cobbleringer,
shoesesmake! Notalky!
[Geralt approaches the group.]
Geralt: Thaler? Shoulda known. Who better to teach trolls how to cuss.
Thaler: Geralt?! My, my, been bloody years.
Troll: This who?!
Thaler: Relax, Ogg, this bugger's an old friend of mine.
Troll: Buggafrenold go! Or wes in soup throw!
Geralt: I'd make for an awfully veiny morsel.
Thaler: Right, true that. Just look at the ploughin' bastard -- naught but skin
and bones. Well, gentletrolls, high time I traveled on. You, uh,
practice what I taught you. Give you a fuckin' exam next time I come
through.
Troll: Tala no go! Tala sit...sit arsedown! Tala sockcuck shoeses make!
Time's short. Let him go or I'll kill you.
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Geralt: Got no time to negotiate with trolls. Step aside, Thaler.
Troll: Rooog! Here comes! Helps Rogg!
Troll: That do you why?! Shoeses pick Rogg, calmy kind, no ohn hurt! Rogg
crushmust now yous!
Troll: O yoooooo! Fu... Cu... Cuckfunt!
Thaler: Heheh, didn't I say you were a moron, Ogg? Told you a hundred times
-- "fucking cunt!" Not bloody "cuckfunt!"
Troll: Ogg angergets! Ogg hitmake! Diemake! Diekill... Cu... Cucky!
Thaler: Fuck me, Ogg. You're never gonna get it.
Troll: Ogg bigforce! Cobbleringer in gosoup!
I need this man. He's coming with me.
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Geralt: I can see you've made friends. But Thaler needs to come with me.
Troll: Blood nowhere Tala go! Tala shoeses makes!
Geralt: But I need him.
Troll: Tala here stay. You shoeses got! Ogg shoeses gotnot, Rogg gotnot,
Pogg gotnot. Tala shoeses make, Tala go.
Need him for a minute, no more. He'll be back.
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Geralt: Now let's all stay calm. Thaller'll¹ be back. He just...needs to
come with me...we'll, uh, get some leather for your shoes.
Troll: Heeeeeh?
Thaler: Listen to Geralt. He's tellin' the ploughin' truth.
Troll: Heeeeeh?
Thaler: Look at your feet -- they're fuckin' mammoth. Need a damn bale o'
leather to make shoes for 'em. Understand? Me and Geralt, we'll get
some cocksuckin' leather. Then I'll come back and make your blasted
shoes for you.
Troll: Shoeses Pogg for? And Rogg for?
Thaler: Two pairs, for each of you gnarled pricks.
Troll: Hmm... Tala go. But backcome must!
Thaler: Knew you buggers were good mates. Sit tight. Be back in a bit!
[Geralt deals with the trolls, one way or another, and leaves with Thaler.]
• Thaler: Got to admit, you have a way with trolls. Ever thought of having
children?
Geralt: Children aren't trolls and vice versa. Besides, witchers're sterile.
Thaler: Ugh, you've not changed a bit. Still tart as rotting rhubarb.
• Thaler: Infernal fuckin' mess. We should sod off. Truth be told, you didn't
have to kill 'em.
Geralt: Looking for apprentices?
Thaler: Fuckin' hell, them? Don't even think about it. I'd kill myself with
those idiots. But they were likeable as idiots go.
Geralt: Didn't have time for nonsense.
Thaler: Just happen to be passin' through, or did someone send you to find me?
Geralt: Roche and Dijkstra.
Thaler: Ah! Mean they've not forgotten me? That's nice. Though I am grateful
you came to get me, Geralt. Must have a lot on your mind, all those
monsters to kill...
Geralt: Heard you three are planning to do some killing of your own.
Thaler: Huh? They tell you? Clowns.
Geralt: Kinda. Didn't offer any details, though. Maybe you'd be willing?
Gesture of gratitude?
Thaler: Sorry, mate. If they were mum, I've got to be mum.
Geralt: Hm. Be that way. How'd you even wind up out here? Nilfgaard occupied¹
land now.
Thaler: You sayin' the Black Ones have no use for cobblers?
Geralt: Probably brought their own.
Thaler: Brought fuck all, as I see it. Amateurs in uniform. And you'll not find
a better cobbler than Thaler anywhere in the North!
Geralt: Yeah, right.
Thaler: You doubt me?
Geralt: You're a spy. And you're working with Roche and Dijkstra now. Doubt you
went out there to fix Nilfgaardian boots.
Thaler: Ah, I see you've thought about this. I admit it. Cobbler act's my
cover. Who takes an interest in cobblers? No one. You sit there, doin'
your work, hammerin' on that sole, and blokes beside you talk.
Bollocks, mostly. But sometimes they'll say somethin' interestin'.
Geralt: Like?
Thaler: That's all I'm willin' to say.
[Geralt escorts the "cobbler" back to his derelict vehicle.]
Thaler: Thanks again, Geralt. I'll take it from here. And I'll be sure to tell
Roche and Dijkstra how you
• sliced up those dimwitted cocksuckers.
• buggered Ogg and his mates sideways.
As I see it, they'll be so impressed they'll shit themselves.
What'll you do now?
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Geralt: So what'll you do now?
Thaler: What do you mean? Head back to Novigrad. Dijkstra, Roche and I've got
a master plan to set in motion.
Geralt: I'll ask again -- details?
Thaler: Forgive me, mate. I ploughin' can't. See, were it just up to me, I'd
spill it loud and proud. You're trustworthy, like no one else I know.
But I'm not on my own, so blooming unilateral decisions are out of
the question. Trap stays shut, I'm afraid.
Geralt: Right. Got you.
The cobbler thing -- how'd that come about?
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Geralt: Tell me, you were a fence in Vizima. How'd you become a cobbler?
Thaler: Picked the least suspicious profession. The fence thing -- shite
cover. Pissed too many folk off. I didn't need the attention. Thought
about bein' an innkeep. You meet a lot of folk, you know, tossers
mostly, but willin' to talk about all sorts of things. Problem is,
you're tied down like a mutt on a chain -- one and the same yard all
the time.
Geralt: Whereas a cobbler travels everywhere.
Thaler: Better believe it, heheh. Even cobbled together this fancy rollin'
stall.
Geralt: Lovely.
Thaler: Bloody bullseye -- I've made a small fortune out of it since the war
started. Those pricks in uniform are always marchin'. Know what
happens when their cocksuckin' boots disintegrate? Their feet bleed,
blister up. Not a soldier out there wouldn't sell his mother for a
comfy pair of combat boots.
See you.
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Geralt: So long, Thaler. And good luck.
Thaler: Oh, I can bloody use it. Radovid's one crafty whore with the clap.
But we'll figure a way round his twat. Soon the whole fucking
North'll be blatherin' about how he got fucked.
Geralt: Careful it's not also blathering about three assassins drawn and
quartered.
Thaler: Heheh. Fear not, Geralt. We know what we're doin'. Farewell.
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__________________________________________________________/ YENNEFER SUBPLOT |_
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A LAST WISH [YN01]
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[This quest occurs after doing "Nameless" while on Ciri's trail. After, Yen
asks Geralt to meet her at the Hindarsfjall town of Larvik. Upon arriving at
the tavern rendezvous point, he sees her being heckled by those who've heard
of her deeds in Freya's Garden.]
Man: Begone from the village, barren whore!
Yennefer: You'd best take that back.
Man: Ye defiled sacred ground! The gods'll never for you for this!
Man: Ye ain't welcome here, witch!
[She dazes him with a spell as Geralt walks over.]
Geralt: Always did know how to win friends.
Yennefer: I was provoked.
Geralt: Mhm, saw it happen. Wanted to talk to me about something?
Yennefer: Amos var Ypsis, a specialist on djinns -- heard of him? I found a
tome he'd penned in the emperor's library. Var Ypsis set off for
Skellige one day and was never heard from again. I asked some of the
local folk. Some here still remember him.
What happened to him?
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Geralt: They know what happened to him?
Yennefer: The locals say they last saw his ship off the coast of
Hindarsfjall. Then a once-in-an-eon storm broke.
Geralt: So he's probably fish food by now.
Yennefer: Not necessarily. I must learn what became of him.
Geralt: Why? D'you know him?
Yennefer: No. It's not the mage who interests me -- it's his djinn.
What do you want from me?
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Geralt: All right. So what exactly do you expect me to do?
Yennefer: You must help me find this djinn.
How do you know he had a djinn?
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Geralt: You sure this mage actually had a djinn?
Yennefer: His books strongly suggest he did. He describes taming one,
harnessing energy from its power.
Geralt: Storm wouldn't pose a threat if he'd had a djinn. He could just utter
a wish.
Yennefer: Perhaps he had none left. Or something unexpected happened...
Why are you even interested? / Why do you want a djinn?²
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Geralt: Why're you even interested? Djinns are dangerous sometimes, and
malicious all the time.
Yennefer: I remember. But the advantages outweigh the risks. If I can tame a
djinn, I shall gain incredible power. And that could be useful to
us one of these days.
Know where to look?
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Geralt: Know where to look -- for the mage and the djinn?
Yennefer: The locals say they last saw Amos' ship off the coast of
Hindarsfjall. Just before a once-in-an-eon storm broke.
Geralt: Doubt we'll find them, then. Mage is probably fish food, and the
djinn escaped.
Yennefer: Not necessarily. But even if it is so, I'll not give up without
seeing some evidence. Will you help me?
Know for a fact this mage had a djinn?
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Geralt: You sure this mage actually had a djinn?
Yennefer: His books strongly suggest he did. He describes taming one,
harnessing energy from its power.
Yennefer: I've no gold to offer in reward...but I shall be ever so grateful.
Fine. I'll help you.
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Geralt: Since you put it that way...fine, I'll help.
Yennefer: Thank you. A boat awaits in the harbor. Come.
Not about to help you with this.
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Geralt: Sorry, Yen. You wanna go djinn hunting, I'm afraid you're on your
own.
Yennefer: The most I can hope to accomplish on my own are a few chats with
angry Skelligers. If that's how you wish to be, I shall travel to
Vizima. Emperor must be wondering what progress we've made...
Geralt: Do what you gotta do. I'm going to see the baron. Collect Uma from
him, then ride for Kaer Morhen.
Yennefer: I shall join you as soon as I can.
[Refusing Yen fails the quest, while agreeing starts a short walk to the lower
harbor.]
Geralt: So you've managed to prepare everything already.
Yennefer: I have.
Geralt: How could you possibly know I'd agree?
Yennefer: I didn't. Decided to risk it...
Geralt: Lead the way.
Yennefer: Just once you might try to take the initiative.
Geralt: Would you even let me?
Yennefer: It would depend on the situation.
[They reach the modest vessel.]
Yennefer: The ship carrying the djinn sank somewhere in this area.
Geralt: Not too precise as leads go...
Yennefer: I'll cast a spell on our boat. We'll know if there are any wrecks on
the seafloor below us.
Geralt: All right, let's get to work.
Yennefer: Mind if I take the helm?
Geralt: Ugh. I got a choice?
Yennefer: No.
[Geralt takes a seat as Yen steers them out to sea.]
Geralt: Not sure this djinn thing's a good idea.
Yennefer: We managed to seize one before. Do you remember?
Geralt: Course. Dandelion almost lost his voice that time.
Yennefer: Haha. How lucky your "exorcism" saved it. It was poetic.
Geralt: Yeah. How was I supposed to know your incantation meant "Begone and
plough yourself?"
Yennefer: You should have studied foreign languages.
Geralt: Gonna keep bringing that up for the rest of my life?
Yennefer: Of course. Your last wish effectivey assured it.
Geralt: My wish was about us being together always, not about you mocking my
ever mistake.
Yennefer: "Careful what you wish for." And when your wish is granted, you must
accept it with all attendant circumstances.
Geralt: Yeah...
Yennefer: And as for your missteps -- I don't rightly see why I shouldn't laugh
if they're amusing.
[They reach the first point of interest.]
Yennefer: There's something here... On the bottom. It's too deep here. You
can't dive that long.
Geralt: You underestimate me.
Yennefer: On the contrary. After all, I asked you for help. I'll cast a spell.
It will slow your heart for a time, you can stay submerged longer.
Esad aich crydae rhythaun! Ready. Careful down there.
[Geralt jumps in.]
Yennefer: How's your bath? Water warm enough for you?
Geralt: Jump in, see for yourself.
Yennefer: Sea water wreaks havoc on my complexion. Just find the wreck.
[The witcher swims deep into the seafloor chasm. He hears Yen's voice.]
Yennefer: How's it going?
Geralt: Yen, you know I hate it when you read my mind.
Yennefer: Strictly speaking, I'm not reading your mind, but using telepathy.
Besides, you've nothing to hide, right?
Geralt: Wouldn't admit it if I did. Not the point.
Yennefer: See anything interesting?
Geralt: A shipwreck and a cavern. I'll look inside.
[There are objects to inspect at the bottom.]
Geralt: Snapped masts, busted planks, and a whole swarm of drowners. Probably
drawn by the corpses of the drowned crew. Then made their nest here.
There's also a Clan Drummond figurehead.
Yennefer: Not the right ship. Come back up.
[He returns topside.]
Geralt: Where to now?
Yennefer: Wherever the leads take us.
Geralt: Say we find the djinn, what'll you do? Ask for a beautiful house, then
a palace, then a queen's crown?
Yennefer: Are we still talking about the djinn, or have we moved on to a
talking fish?
Geralt: Doesn't much matter. Both make wishes come true. What would yours be?
Yennefer: You'll learn in due course.
[Yen stops the boat soon after.]
Yennefer: Something's here. Another wreck.
Geralt: Let's see if our djinn's down there.
[Geralt goes under.]
Geralt: Found a wreck. It's been here a while. Wood's rotted.
Yennefer: Look around, but be careful. Look for something that might indicate
it's the mage's ship.
[There are many things to investigate.
• Geralt: Arrows stuck in the side. The kind Faroe folk use.
• A man's skeleton... Somebody pinned his skull to the deck with an axe.
Yennefer: A death worthy of a Skelliger.
Geralt: Clan emblem indicates a Dimun man. So he was from Faroe. Men from
Faroe attacked this ship.
• Geralt: Beautiful craftsmanship...
Yennefer: What do you have?
Geralt: A war horn. Bearing Clan Heymaey symbols.
• Geralt: Got something. A Skelliger's buckler. Clan Heymaey symbols.
Yennefer: Donar's clan.
Geralt: Donar was a babe in swaddling clothes when this buckler landed here.
• Geralt: Got a chest. Really old. Must've fell off the wrecked longship.
Yennefer: Can you open it?
Geralt: Hoping for pirate treasuer?
Yennefer: I hope to find the djinn. Try to open it.
[He opens it.]
Geralt: Now that's what I call war booty...
Yennefer: Have you found the djinn?
Geralt: No. But I found something that could be just as valuable to me, as
the djinn is to you.
[Geralt finishes his undersea investigation.]
Geralt: Longship belonged to Clan Dimun. Yen, doubt any of these boats were
the mage's. These are old sunken longships.
Yennefer: Come back, then. We must search elsewhere.
[Back in the boat...]
Yennefer: You're getting better at this.
Geralt: Go even quicker if you helped me down there.
Yennefer: I prefer to observe matters from up here, most definitely.
Geralt: Yeah, like when we went looking for the dragon and an avalanche swept
us off the trail. Me clinging to the bridge for dear life, you gripping
my waist, admiring the view. Remember? Chasm below us was breathtaking
-- rustling trees, a lazily flowing stream...
Yennefer: I remember... Though I found myself admiring what I had right in
front of me.
[They reach Ingdaren Isle.]
Yennefer: Something strange about those rocks...
Geralt: And there's something on the bottom. I'll see what it is.
[Geralt swims under.]
Yennefer: See something?
Geralt: "Something" doesn't do it justice. A huge crater, as if a meteorite
landed here.
Yennefer: I must see it.
Geralt: Diving in after all?
Yennefer: No, I shall cast another spell. To see through your eyes. Now relax.
Eys'u failte beydem aen eich'te Ilyvaid. That is no meteorite
crater...
Geralt: What is it, then?
Yennefer: The effect of teleportation. A powerful force cut out a fragment of
the sea bed, rocks and everything lying within the teleportation
zone.
Geralt: Always claimed portals were dangerous.
Yennefer: I believe we're on the right track. Look for anything that might
contain a djinn.
Geralt: Fine, but get outta my eyes. Too cramped in here for us both.
Yennefer: Eys'u failte beydem aen eich'te Ilyvaid.
• Transverse cut through the pelvis. Surgical precision. No conventional
weapon could do this.
• Hmm... Something cut this basket exactly in half. Bet it was cut by the
same thing that cut the skeleton.
• Silver, pearl-encrusted cutlery... Ship belonged to someone awfully wealthy.
Yennefer: Amos was no pauper. It could very well be his ship.
• No djinn here, but there's something you oughta like.
Yennefer: what?
Geralt: Half a seal.
Yennefer: That'll do. Come back up.
[The witcher heads back up and proffers the relic.]
Geralt: Only found half. Can you do anything with this?
Yennefer: I can use it to locate the other half. To within a dozen yards.
Geralt: And once we find that, we should find the djinn.
Yennefer: Exactly. Ready? I'll take us there on the count of three.
Geralt: Argh, no, not another portal...
Yennefer: Stop whining. One, two...
[The portal delivers the couple to the peak of a mountain.]
Yennefer: ...Three.
Geralt: Said you were gonna go on three.
Yennefer: I did. Look. We must search the area.
Geralt: Yen, not so fast. Gotta tell me what this is about first. Why do you
want this djinn?
Yennefer: But you already know. A djinn's power is priceless to a mage.
Tell me or I leave.
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Geralt: Won't worm your way out of it, not this time. Tell me the truth, or
I'll leave.
Yennefer: You needn't resort to blackmail. You wouldn't learned, eventually.
Geralt: True. But after the fact. I want to know now.
Why do you want this power?
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Geralt: That I know, but I also want to know how you plan to use it. Wouldn't
go to these lengths if it wasn't something important.
Yennefer: You're right. It's important... Even very important.
Yennefer: Ahh... How long has this been going on, Geralt? This thing between
us? Fifteen, twenty years? We repeatedly split up, then return to one
another... Something draws us to each other. But I can never be
certain if it's a true feeling, or merely a bit of mischief by a
djinn.
Geralt: So that's it... This is about my last wish.
Yennefer: You asked that djinn to bind us together forever. I want to ask this
one to take that wish back.
Why?
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Geralt: Why would you want to do that?
Yennefer: To see what it's like without it. To see if we'll still matter to
one another, of if we'll be like two strangers.
I understand.
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Geralt: I get it. You wanna know what'll happen if magic no longer binds
us...
Yennefer: I want to know, if when the djinn's magic is gone, if we've any
magic left of our own.
[Then:]
Fine. Let's do it.
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Geralt: Hm... Wondered that myself many times...
Yennefer: You see? We're just a step away from learning the truth.
What if I don't want to?
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Geralt: What if I don't want to know?
Yennefer: I'm afraid you no longer have a choice.
Yennefer: Come, let's search the ship.
[Geralt turns around to see the missing part of the ship behind him.]
Geralt: Seems Amos was quite the eccentric, asking the djinn to lift half his
ship to a mountaintop?
Yennefer: He didn't necessarily. Djinns are inherently mischievous, this one
might've granted his wish and perverted it in doing so.
Geralt: In that case, I'd appreciate it if you didn't wish I'd disappear from
your life.
Yennefer: I've yet to decide how to word it.
[Geralt can inspect many things.]
• Nothing here.
• Nothing interesting.
• Wonder what this means...
• Mage must've slept here.
• Hm. Nothing interesting here.
• Nice shoes. Looks like the impact with the mountain was so powerful, it
popped the wearer right out of them.
• Blood... Someone was dragged across the deck or left this mark when the
ship suddenly tipped to one side.
[Geralt flips the overturned bookcase, finding a preserved corpse under it]
Geralt: Yen, think you should see this.
Yennefer: What do you have? It's Amos. Looks exactly like the etching in the
book. Except his head was intact there.
Need to search his body.
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Geralt: If he died while being teleported, seal might still be on him...
Think the djinn killed him?
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Geralt: Think the djinn did this to him?
Yennefer: No, it wouldn't attack its master. This looks rather like an
unfortunate accident. When the storm broke, Amos must've uttered
a wish like, "Take us away, anywhere, to a mountaintop, even." And
the djinn granted the wish literally. They had a hard landing. Amos
was thrown off his feet and against the wall. The bookcase did the
rest.
Geralt: Always knew too much studying could kill you.
[Gerald snoops for the seal and finds it.]
Geralt: Behold!
Yennefer: Bravo. Come to the deck, I've an idea.
[They go up near the ship's wheel.]
Yennefer: Step back a bit.
Geralt: What're you gonna do?
Yennefer: Summon and tame the djinn. It's not likely to be happy. Stand at the
ready. Cáemm d'jinn, vryff cais'te aem gyhar! Cais'te aet disgleir!
Gveryd me cassel!
[Her incantation fuses the seal's halves together. The djinn, appearing as a
ball of mist and electricity, appears from over the ship's side.]
Djinn: Grrr...
Geralt: Take it you have a plan?!
Yennefer: You must weaken him while I draw him into the sphere!
Geralt: Care to trade places?
Yennefer: Just a bit more! I can feel his strength waning!
[Geralt kicks the djinn's intangible ass, enough that Yen can trap it.]
Yennefer: Got you! Your master died before uttering his last wish! I cannot
capture you! We can struggle like this for eternity, or I can release
you! If you do one thing for me!
Djinn: Graaghh!
Yennefer: Do you see the spell that binds us?
Djinn: Graug!
Yennefer: Only a djinn can remove another djinn's spell! Remove this one, and
you'll be free!
Djinn: Auuutree neyyyvanaaath!
Yennefer: You are free!
[Her magical sphere explodes, along with the djinn.]
Geralt: Storm's over.
Yennefer: Yes. It's all over.
Geralt: Maybe we should sit? You look a bit dazed...
Yennefer: I'm not. But we can sit.
[They take a seat, legs dangling over the side of the ship.]
Bit better now?
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Geralt: Feel any better?
Yennefer: I told you, I'm fine.
Geralt: Don't need to play tough for me. That was a hard fight. Maybe not as
hard as the last time we tamed a djinn, but...
Yennefer: Hmph. No comparison, I'm afraid. Half of Rinde suffered then. Now
I'm merely a bit tired...
We beat the djinn.
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Geralt: We've improved. Last time we tamed a djinn we destroyed half of
Rinde.
Yennefer: Yes, we make a good team.
Yennefer: Thank you for coming, Geralt. I'd have had a much harder time of it
on my own.
Couldn't have refused.
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Geralt: Well, never could say no to you.
Yennefer: Mhm...perhaps that will change now.
Geralt: Feel anything? That anything's...different?
If I'd known what this was about, I'd have refused.
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Geralt: Not sure I'd have done it if I'd known what this was about from the
start.
Yennefer: Then we'd never have learned the truth... Whether anything would
change after the djinn removed the spell.
Geralt: Has it? Has anything changed?
Yennefer: Hmm... I expected... I don't know what I expected, actually. A bit
of vertigo, perhaps. I thought...you'd become a stranger to me...
That I'd look at you and not feel a thing... But it's not like that
at all. Nothing's changed.
I still love you, too.
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Geralt: Djinn mighta cheated us after all...
Yennefer: Why?
Geralt: Cause¹ I don't feel that anything's changed, either. I love you, Yen.
Yennefer: And I love you.
[They kiss.]
Geralt: Ow. What was that?
Yennefer: It can't all be sweetness and light.
Geralt: Strange... Done that so many times, but...it felt like our first kiss
to me.
Yennefer: It was, in a way. Besides...once you say "I love you," a kiss has
to taste differently.
Let's not end on a kiss.
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Geralt: Maybe we oughta test out a few other things? Amos' cabin looked
cozy...
Yennefer: Not so fast, Geralt. We'll have plenty of time for cozy cabins
later.
What now?
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Geralt: What's next? Got any plans?
Yennefer: That depends what you mean... We must find Ciri, and then defeat
the Hunt...
Yennefer: But...I doubt the world will end if we sit here a while. Ahh...
My, it's lovely.
Geralt: Mhm. Think the spirits of Skellige favor us.
Sorry, but I don't want to be with you anymore.
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Geralt: Sorry, Yen. But...magic's gone for me.
Yennefer: Truly? But...how is that possible? I still feel the same, you
should too. I don't understand... What does this mean?
Geralt: Means the djinn granted your wish...
Yennefer: Right. Fine. Good. Glad we've got that over with. We know where we
stand, at the least. Naught left for us here, let's go.
Geralt: Wait. Magic's gone, true, but that doesn't mean I don't like spending
time with you. Let's sit a while.
[Later, they teleport back to Yen's room at Kaer Trolde. The conversation'll
be brighter or chillier, depending on how the summit scene went.]
Geralt: Next time we go on horseback.
Yennefer: A horse would never make it down that mountain.
Geralt: What now?
Yennefer: Well, I'm due to appear in Vizima.
Let's talk before you leave.
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Geralt: Yen, what happened back there...
• Yennefer: Please, Geralt. There's nothing left to say.
• Yennefer: ...was very nice. Let's not ruin it by hashing out the details.
If you gotta go, go.
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Geralt: Fine... If you gotta go, go.
• Yennefer: It shan't take long.
Geralt: Better not.
[Next line:]
• Geralt: I'm going to see the baron. Collect Uma from him, then we'll ride for
Kaer Morhen.
• Yennefer: I'm off.
Geralt: Me too. We'll collect Uma from the baron, then we'll ride for Kaer
Morhen.
Yennefer: I shall join you as quickly as I can.
[Parting shot:]
• Geralt: See you, Yen. Take care of yourself.
• Yennefer: Farewell.
Geralt: So long, Yen.
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____________________________________________________/ SKELLIGE ISLES SUBPLOT |_
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POSSESSION [SK01]
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[This quest is doable after learning Cerys an Craite went to Spikeroog, but
before going to the Isle of Mists. Geralt goes to meet with Udalryk in the
village of Svorlag.]
Sentry: Welcome to the home of Jarl Udalryk of the honorable clan Brokvar.
Geralt: Greetings. Wanted to see the jarl.
Sentry: Enter. Jarl's still speakin' to his seer, but they should finish soon.
Sentry: One thing -- watch where you step.
Geralt: How come?
Sentry: Jarl's not too fond of light. Makes it easy to trip.
[Geralt enters the longhouse, seeing the jarl convening with his seer, Hjort.]
Udalryk: ...And then... Then a storm broke. Waves reachin' high as the boom.
Hjort: Go on.
Udalryk: All of a sudden, the wind raged stronger. Heard a tumult off the
starboard side. Looked to see half the crew swept o'erboard, out o'
reach...
[Geralt approaches.]
Hjort: We'll be done in a moment.
Udalryk: ...And then a giant sea snake swam up and bit my arm off... The gods
have spoken: a sacrifice is needed.
Hjort: To my mind it's about you defeating a snake, Jarl.
Udalryk: No. They demand a sacrifice. I'm sure of it. It's time.
Hjort: We must wait for a clearer sign. At least till your next dreaming.
Udalryk: I don't need no more signs.
[He bids for Geralt to come closer.]
Geralt: Looking for Cerys. Heard she stayed here.
Udalryk: An Craite's daughter? Aye, she was here.
Geralt: Where is she now?
Udalryk: Mmm... What?
Geralt: Cerys. Where's Cerys.¹
Udalryk: Dunno...dunno. Enough of the questions.
[The jarl retires to his chambers, but his seer remains.]
Know where Cerys is?
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Geralt: I'm looking for Cerys. Any idea where she might be?
Hjort: I hope she's gone to the village. It's been a time since she visited.
She wished to speak to our folk, but...
Geralt: But?
Hjort: I worry she might have gone to Jarl Udalryk's old family home. Though
I tried to dissuade her.
Geralt: Clan Brokvar have something to hide from the An Craite?
Hjort: No, it's not that... The house is a strange place. Many believe it
haunted.
Geralt: Great, I love haunted houses. Buy why would Cerys go there?
Hjort: Before she left, she had a long talk with the jarl. Seems she wanted
to help him.
Geralt: With what?
What happened to him?
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Geralt: I say something wrong?
Hjort: You must forgive the jarl. Hasn't been feeling well of late.
Geralt: Is he sick? He didn't seem quite right during Crach's feast, but...
Udalryk: Aaaaa!
Hjort: Forgive me, I must go to him.
• Geralt: A promising start...
• Geralt: Where's Cerys?! I've gotta find her!
Hjort: Err...I don't know. Ask around!
Geralt: Great.
[Geralt goes to the long-unused Udalryk home, built on the mountainside to
overlook Svorlag. Inside, he hears a weird roar, plus finds investigation
targets.]
Geralt: Damn, something's seriously wrong here...
• Geralt: Fresh footprints. Could be Cerys'.
</pre><pre id="faqspan-28">
[He finds Cerys passed sprawled on the floor towards the back.]
Geralt: Cerys. Passed out. Gotta get her outta here.
[He takes her outside.]
Cerys: Wha-- What happened? Where am I? Oooo... My head -- pain's just awful...
Geralt: Got hit, with something heavy.
Cerys: Geralt... Why're you here?
Geralt: Came to look for you. Crach's worried. Taking you home.
Cerys: I won't go until I help Udalryk. The sword! Where's the sword?! I've
gotta go back!
Geralt: You're not going anywhere. I carried you out of there a moment ago,
half dead.
Cerys: I have to--
Geralt: You have to tell me what's going on.
What's so important about this sword?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So what's this sword all about?
Cerys: It's Brokvar, the ancestral sword of Udalryk's clan. I need it to lift
the curse that holds Udalryk.
Why'd you go in the house?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Why'd you go in there?
Cerys: I wanted to help Udalryk...
Geralt: Sure, he was acting strangely, but I don't see how your stroll
through a haunted house will help him.
Cerys: It would've, if only I'd found the sword.
Geralt: A curse?
Cerys: Long story. Years ago Udalryk and his little brother butted heads over
the sword. As custom has it, the clan sword should go to the firstborn
son -- Udalryk. But his father gave Brokvar to his little brother --
Aki.
Geralt: Huh, serious insult in these lands.
Cerys: Serious enough for Udalryk to break a sacred law in Skellige -- he
openly questioned his father's decision.
Geralt: Guessing the old jarl couldn't let it pass?
Cerys: They chained Udalryk to a pike, up to his waist in the sea. Spent three
days like that. When his punishment ended, he and Aki sailed out to
fish.
They make friends?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Most likely their father thought some hard work at sea together would
fix things between them...
Cerys: We use sea outings as cures for many things... Sadly, this time it
didn't work.
Something happened on that trip.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Got a feeling this trip didn't end happily...
Cerys: Your feeling's right. There was an accident.
Cerys: A storm broke out and Aki fell overboard. Udalryk had his hands full
with the sails. Didn't hear his brother until it was too late.
Geralt: Didn't hear...or didn't want to hear...
Cerys: Some folk on the isle had the same doubt, but none would mention it
aloud.
What do you want the sword for?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What'd you plan to do with the sword?
Cerys: I thought Aki's ghost would want it back...
Geralt: The brother's ghost?
Think Udalryk killed his brother?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What do you think? Did Udalryk kill Aki?
Cerys: I don't want to jump to any conclusions. But I do think whatever
happened at sea that day, well, it's affecting Udalryk right now,
powerfully so. And it could have somethin' to do with that sword.
Cerys: Long as I remember, folk've said Udalryk's the chosen one, the one the
gods speak to. I believed it once, but now, considerin' certain things
...I think he's just haunted, and it's his dead brother that's hauntin'
him.
Think Aki wants revenge against Udalryk?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So you believe Aki's getting his revenge. 'Cause Udalryk let him die?
Cerys: I've talked to Hjort. He swears Udalryk didn't start hearin' voices
until after Aki's death. And I don't think Hjort's mistaken, he knew
both those boys from the cradle. I think we've to give Brokvar to Aki,
and he'll leave Udalryk alone.
Where'd you get that idea?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Daring theory... Not breaking any of your laws just by thinking it?
Cerys: Don't care. I don't believe it's the gods talkin'. Have you seen him?
He's covered in scars.
Geralt: Thought he earned those in battle.
Cerys: If you call the strife in his heart and head a battle... I asked him
about it. He said the voices command him to hurt himself -- for the
glory of the gods. I think not. It's not the gods, it's Aki.
Geralt: Not a bad idea -- on condition it's a ghost we're dealing with. But
something doesn't add up...
Cerys: What's that?
Geralt: Aki drowned at sea -- said so yourself. But the ghost haunts this
house.
Cerys: Aki and Udalryk both lived here. Maybe that's why. Thanks for your help,
Geralt, but I've gotta get the sword.
Geralt: Out of the question. I'll get it.
Cerys: Really? Thanks. So I can go see Udalryk.
Geralt: No chance. You're weak. Might pass out again along the way. Wait here,
we'll go together.
[Geralt enters the cellar and takes Brokvar. He sees a demon-shaped shadow on
the wall briefly, but it soon disappears.]
Geralt: What is this about?
[He returns to Cerys outside.]
Cerys: So? D'you find the sword?
Yeah, let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I found it. Let's go.
Cerys: After you, then.
No, wait here.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Not yet. Wait for me.
[Geralt walks the inquisitive redhead back to Svarlag.]
Cerys: You and my da -- you were mates once, right?
Geralt: Hope we still are.
Cerys: But... Well I heard you fell out over somethin'...or someone...
Geralt: Talking about that story with Yennefer? Long time ago, that. In fact,
that was before Crach met the woman who'd be your mother.
Cerys: But you and Yennefer'd already met?
Geralt: Err, things were never cut-and-dried with Yen.
Cerys: What is it about her? What is it that draws you?
Geralt: Dunno... Maybe, uh, it's 'cause I've never chosen comfort and ease,
the calm and the quiet...?
Cerys: Where's Yennefer?
Geralt: Hmm... Don't know... Why do you ask?
Cerys: I just wonder why she let you come to sea alone.
Geralt: What do you mean, "let me"?
Cerys: Nothin', not a thing... Just got the impression she doesn't like to let
you out of her sight. Look, there they are.
[They find the jarl and Hjort on the longhouse porch.]
Udalryk: Horridly bright out here. Stings the eyes.
Hjort: The fresh air will do you good.
Udalryk: The gods won't be pleased.
Geralt: Ahem.
Hjort: Jarl, our guests, remember?
About those voices...
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
• Geralt: Couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
Udalryk: No worries. It's no secret.
Cerys: All in the Isles know Jarl Udalryk hears the voices of the gods.
Geralt: These voices you hear...
Udalryk: The gods. Their voices.
They aren't the gods'.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It's not the gods.
Udalryk: Watch your words, foreigner. You're in Skellige, our land, and we
revere the gods here. If you weren't an Craite's guest...
Hjort: Jarl, the witcher surely meant no offense. Let us hear what he has
to say.
This is about your brother.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
What happened?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What happened to your hand?
Udalryk: I sacrificed it to the gods.
Cerys: Forgive him, Jarl. Geralt's got more to learn about our customs.
We're close to the gods in Skellige. And the chummier y'are, the
greater the offerin' you make. It's our belief that the greatest
thing a man can offer is his pain, his suffering -- the pure
sacrifice.
Udalryk: To hear the gods is a gift, not a sacrifice.
Geralt: More likely this is somehow related to your dead brother.
Cerys: I told Geralt of Aki. We concluded that--
Geralt: That the gods are angry at you, yet he's the reason. That's why you
have to apologize -- to Aki himself.
Udalryk: I... I didn't want to... Aki fell in the water... I...the gods will be
angry.
The gods are that cruel?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Angry you want to make peace with your brother? Are the gods of
Skellige that cruel?
Udalryk: They are that just.
Hjort: Justice demands you return to the dead what is rightly theirs.
Don't be afraid.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Lemme help you. And I promise to do everything I can to keep from
angering the gods.
Hjort: Heed the witcher, Jarl. Make amends to Aki and you'll surely please
the gods.
Udalryk: What would you have me do?
Geralt: Remember where Aki fell in the water?
Udalryk: Near the isle's east end, by the mouth of the bay. Current had swept
us toward Ulula's Needle.
Hjort: It's a dangerous spot. Treacherous eddies swallow a handful of sailors
each year.
Geralt: We need to sail there. Aki's ghost won't rest until Brokvar's returned
to his remains.
Udalryk: No, no, no, no! The gods. They'll be angry... I feel it.
Hjort: Fear not, Jarl. The gods love you, and they loved Aki. Surely they want
this.
Geralt: Well, maybe I can sail there. The sword should be returned -- that's
what matters. Makes no difference by whose hand. What do I look for?
Did Aki have anything that'll help me recognize him? Something he was
wearing that could survive all this time under water?
Udalryk: Aye... Our clan ring.
Geralt: That oughta be enough. I'm off.
[Geralt sails out to the mouth of the bay and dives, looking for Aki's body.
When he spots the seabed skeleton, he returns the sword and surfaces.]
Geralt: Can't help wondering what that accomplished, if anything. Time to see
Udalryk.
[Returning back to the longhouse, he hears a painful scream. Geralt rushes in
to find an upset Cerys.]
Cerys: But why? Why'd you do it?!
Udalryk: I...I had to. The gods commanded it.
Cerys: No gods command men to do such things!
Geralt: What is this?
Cerys: Udalryk... The gods commanded him to poke out his eye.
Geralt: What? Why'd you do it?
Udalryk: Such was...the will of the gods. A sacrifice...for Aki.
What did the gods say? Exactly?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What did the gods want? Exactly. Do you remember? What'd they tell
you?
Udalryk: They were angry. A voice said, "You vile wretch. You didn't help
Aki, and now you failed to sail out to beg his forgiveness. Poke
out your eye. Suffer, and regret the evil you've wrought."
When'd the gods talk to you?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: When'd the gods speak to you? Right after I left?
Udalryk: Shortly after. Sleep came over me, so I lay down. 'Twas then they
revealed their will to me.
Geralt: You always asleep when they speak to you?
Udalryk: Always.
Geralt: What do you see then? Do they try to summon you somewhere specific?
Udalryk: My old home. They command me to light torches, then speak from the
shadows.
[Then:]
The gods don't like light?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The gods speak from the shadows, you said. Is that why you don't
allow any lights in here?
Udalryk: In my dreams. Atimes I see their form. When the torches burn bright.
Geralt: To see the gods is a great honor. Maybe, with more light in your
house, you'd see them when you're awake as well.
Udalryk: Lesser men are unworthy, they cannot gaze upon their faces.
Do they always demand an offering of pain?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The gods always demand you offer them your suffering?
Udalryk: Only that pleases them, so they ask for more and more.
Have you ever seen them?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The gods ever show you their form? Or are they always just a shadow?
Udalryk: Once, I steeled myself, gathered my courage, and in my dream made my
torch burn bright. I saw a hazy figure sitting in shadow then.
Cerys, we need to talk.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
---
[Geralt sees the fireplace casting Udalryk's shadow, in the same weird form as
he saw at the ancestral home. He addresses Cerys while Udalryk's in a reverie
of sorts.]
Geralt: I returned the sword, but nothing's changed. It's not his brother's
ghost that haunts him, tortures him.
Cerys: What's wrong with him?
Geralt: Can we talk somewhere in private?
Cerys: The guest room. Come.
[They go away from prying eyes and ears.]
Cerys: Well? Know what it is?
Geralt: It's a hym. A post-Conjunction creature, very rare and very dangerous.
It latches onto men who commit vile deeds. It feeds on their pain for
years, fueling their guilty conscience. In the end, hyms force their
victims to mutilate themselves.
Cerys: Sounds unpleasant. Any way to defeat it?
Geralt: Hmm...two methods that work. In theory.
There's the witchers' way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Witchers' bestiaries say you have to spend a night in the hym's
lair. With the affected individual.
Cerys: The haunted house, you mean? It's hardly cozy, but I wager you've
slept in worse conditions.
Geralt: It's not about sleeping. You've gotta draw the hym out. It has to
emerge from the shadows, show itself. Can't hurt it otherwise.
Cerys: And it's sure to give as good as it gets.
Geralt: You've seen Udalryk. It won't be an easy fight.
• Cerys: What's this other way?
You can try to trick it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: They say a hym can be tricked. You have to pretend to do something
horrible. Then it'll move on to you as its new victim. When it
realizes it's been tricked, it'll be forced to leave.
Cerys: Geralt! Let's try it!
Geralt: Don't know anyone who's pulled it off.
Cerys: Well maybe no one's thought up a trick that was good enough.
• Cerys: What's this other way?
Cerys: I know you're doubtful, but we should at least try to find a way to
trick the hym.
Geralt: Might not be as simple as it seems. Besides, neither method's perfect.
Cerys: What d'you mean?
[Then:]
Udalryk might not survive
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Udalryk might not survive an entire night in the hym's lair.
Cerys: You think the hym...would it try to kill Udalryk?
Geralt: No. That would mean losing its host. But Udalryk could just...expire.
He's weak, and the house will summon painful memories. Whereas to the
hym, that'll be an opportunity. The more pain the hym causes Udalryk,
the stronger it'll grow.
Cerys: And the more dangerous it will be to you.
• Cerys: Hmm... And what about the other method?
It's very hard to trick a hym.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The hym's a demon, and demons are notoriously hard to fool. Plus,
the trickster can't know it's a trick.
Cerys: What?
Geralt: The hym attacks those who have a guilty conscience, truly believe
they committed a foul deed. The hym strengthens their regret and
feeds on it. Meaning...if the new host doesn't feel true sorrow, the
hym'll sense that.
Cerys: Yes. So for this to work, if either of us has an idea, we can't tell
the other one about it.
Geralt: Exactly.
• Cerys: Hmm... And what about the other method?
Cerys: Both methods seem risky... But I still think we should try the trick.
Geralt: Don't know that I'm convinced.
Cerys: Just please don't tell me you have to consult Yennefer on such things
as well. If we fail to think of anythin', we can always try the
witchers' way.
Fine, let's try tricking it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hmm... Trying the trick it can't hurt.
What was that about Yennefer?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What is it with you and Yennefer? Mentioned her several times
already.
Cerys: Nothin'. I've just noticed that...you're often of one mind.
Geralt: Saying I'm hen-pecked?
Cerys: Not that you're especially different... Seems to happen to all men...
Take a rowdy Skelliger, a brave knight or a tough witcher -- you all
end up wrapped around some woman's finger.
Guess you're right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What can I say...you've seen through it all.
Cerys: So. Shall we try trickin' it first?
Geralt: Yeah. Let's.
You're wrong.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Uh-huh. So to prove you wrong, I gotta do what you say now?
Cerys: As long as my name's not Yennefer, no one would call you hen-pecked
for that. And remember, if we can't think of a good trick, we can
still do it your way.
Geralt: Fine. Let's try to trick the hym.
Cerys: Good decision.
Geralt: Haunted house, the hym's lair -- the only place where anything like
this could work.
Cerys: After you, then.
Let's go now.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No reason to delay.
We'll meet there.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Meet you there. Got something to tend to on the way.
Cerys: Fine. See you.
[They go to the Udalryk family home.]
Cerys: Let's look around.
[There are several things to inspect.]
• Solid craftsmanship. Fitter must've been from the Continent.
• Somebody could break their leg...or their neck.
• An old cradle... Must've belonged to Udalryk or Aki.
• Shattered... Udalryk must've been scared off seeing the creature just
behind him.
[Geralt enters a side room and sees Ciri sleeping.]
Geralt: Ciri! No, it's impossible! Dammit!
["Ciri" melts away.]
Geralt: Looking to discourage me? Good. Means you're scared.
[He hears Cerys nearby.]
Cerys: Geralt! Come! Think I've an idea!
[He meets her outside.]
Geralt: Come up with anything?
Cerys: Yes, I've a plan -- one that just might work.
Geralt: Can I get any details?
Cerys: You've got to wait for me here. I won't be long.
Geralt: Uhhh, anything else...?
Cerys: Said yourself -- you can't know the details. So no, nothing else. You
simply gotta trust me.
I trust you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Hope you know what you're doing...
Cerys: So do I... So? Can we start?
Let's start.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'm ready.
Cerys: All right. I'll be back soon. In a meantime, get a fire goin' in the
oven.
No, I need to get ready.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I don't know what you have in store for me. Gotta prepare, at least
a little.
Cerys: All right. Let me know when you're ready.
No way.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're asking me to put my life at risk, Udalryk's life at risk. I
can't do that. I prefer witchers' methods -- tried and true.
Cerys: I see. If something were to go wrong, it's true... So be it. Let's
get Udalryk. But you'll have to tell him what this witchers' method's
about.
Let's go now.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: No reason to wait.
I'll join you later.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wanna look around some more. Meet you there.
==================== IF GERALT CHOOSES TO TRICK THE HYM =======================
[A few hours later, Geralt is in the front room, tending to a roaring fire.
Voice: O'er there! She's runnin' to the old house!
[Cerys bursts in with Udalryk's infant.]
Voice: Grab her!
Cerys: Take him! You must put him in the oven! Trust me.
[Udalryk and his warriors enter.]
Udalryk: Take care not to hurt the child! Give me the babe.
Cerys: In the oven! Throw him in the oven!
[Give the baby to Udalryk.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Cerys had a plan. But we'll do it my way.
[He punches Geralt and glowers at Cerys.]
Udalryk: I'll deal with you later. Let's go.
Cerys: The hym won't leave on its own. This isn't over.
Geralt: Just made yourself an enemy.
Cerys: I'd 'ave made no such thing if you'd only trusted me.
Geralt: And tossed an infant in the oven? I don't think so.
Cerys: The babe would've been fine. Round back the oven there's another door.
I'd 'ave pulled the child out before the flames could even warm him.
The hym would've thought you'd killed the tyke, it would've abandoned
Udalryk. I'd 'ave showed it the babe then, safe and sound. It would've
had to go.
Geralt: Hmm... Not a bad scheme. Just...risky. I'd rather do it the witchers'
way. Lemme talk to Udalryk. I'll explain what you wanted, what
happened here.
[Put the baby in the oven.]
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[Geralt throws the baby in and shuts the door, preventing intervention.]
Udalryk: Arrrgghh!
[Geralt slays the warriors.]
Udalryk: Ugh! Ugggh!
[As he beats helplessly on the fireplace, the hym moves to Geralt.]
Udalryk: Why...?
[Cerys appears smiling; Hjort follows after, with the infant.]
Udalryk: Aki!
Cerys: The witcher committed no crime! You'll find neither despair nor guilt
here. Only shock and relief. You've been tricked. You must go.
[The hym collapses in pain and melts away.]
Geralt: It's over.
Udalryk: Over?
Geralt: We tricked the hym. It thought I'd killed your child, abandoned you
to haunt me, feed on my conscience.
Cerys: But when it saw the babe was whole, unharmed, it had to go. You're
free, Jarl!
Udalryk: Free...
Geralt: The hym's gone. So are the voices that tortured you. Let's get out of
here.
[If Geralt screws up Cerys' plan, he'll have to talk to the jarl outside.]
Geralt: What Cerys did -- don't hold it against her. She wanted to help, banish
the voices that haunt you.
Udalryk: Help? Casting my babe in an oven?!
Geralt: Things'll calm down, you'll talk, figure it out. She had the best
intentions. Important you know that.
Udalryk: Yet she did not win your trust.
Geralt: Cause¹ I decided to solve this the witchers' way.
================= IF GERALT CHOOSES THE WITCHERS' METHODS =====================
[This route occurs if Geralt chooses to do it straight off, or if he's forced
to do it after screwing up Cerys' plan. Parts that don't always occur will be
marked with a • for good measure.]
• Udalryk: No, no, no, no... It'll never end...
Geralt: I know what haunts you, whispers in your ear, commands you to hurt
yourself. It's neither the gods nor your brother.
Udalryk: But I hear it, clear as a bell. The voice speaks.
Geralt: The voice is that of a hym. The creature feeds on the guilt you feel
for not helping Aki. Good news is we can defeat it.
Hjort: And the bad?
Geralt: We gotta survive a night in the hym's lair -- your old house.
Udalryk: No. No, no! That'll end badly. It can't end well, I can feel it.
Don't panic.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Get yourself together. If we're to stand a chance, you need to be
strong. You need to be a Skelliger.
Udalryk: I am a Skelliger.
Easy, it'll be all right.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: There's no sense in going if you don't stay calm.
Hjort: Jarl, the witcher is right. He specializes in such matters, he's your
only chance.
Geralt: We need to prepare the house first. Light some torches in the main
room -- make sure they illuminate every nook and cranny.
Udalryk: And then?
Geralt: • Then you just need to wait for it to show up.
• Then you just need to show up.
I'll take care of the rest.
Hjort: Fear not, Jarl, we'll tend to everything. You should rest in the
interim.
• Wait here a moment. I'll fetch some torches.
• Witcher, there's an old shed beside the house. It was used for storing
tools and such. You might find torches there.
Geralt: Thanks.
[He soon returns.]
Hjort: Will that suit you?
Geralt: Should do. Thanks.
[Geralt journeys up the mountain and can hear Cerys keeping Udalryk company.
The conversation they hold will be different, depending on whether Geralt had
bungled Cerys' plan.]
• Cerys: Udalryk...
Udalryk: Begone, lass.
Cerys: I'd never let your babe be hurt. You know that.
Udalryk: Yet you almost killed 'im!
Cerys: It was a trick. Wanted to cheat the creature that haunts you. Not a
hair on the tyke's head would've been harmed. There's a door the other
side -- I'd 'ave pulled the little one from the oven right away, no
flames would've touched 'im. The hym would've thought Geralt killed
the child. He'd 'ave abandoned you for the witcher. But when he saw
your son safe and sound, he'd 'ave had to go.
Udalryk: Argh... What you did... It's hard to believe any good could've come
from it. On the other hand, I've known you since you were a child...
You're Crach's daughter. I know you'd never have harmed another
mindfully... Argh, let's leave it be, leave it be.
• Cerys: All will be fine, you'll see...
Udalryk: He... He shan't forgive me...
Cerys: The witcher will be with you. You'll manage, I know it.
Udalryk: Hope you're right.
[Geralt places the torches in the living room.]
Geralt: So? Ready?
Udalryk: A Skelliger's always ready. To defeat his foes or fall in battle
tryin'.
Geralt: Only one to fall today'll be the hym.
Udalryk: Need I prepare? What will happen?
Better if you don't know.
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Geralt: Ignorance is bliss, trust me. Just make sure you stay vigilant,
listen to what I say.
Udalryk: Fine. So... What now? Shall we begin?
I'll explain.
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Geralt: I'll light the torches in the main room. That and your presence'll
enrage the hym eventually. It'll show. That'll be my chance to hurt
it.
Udalryk: And me? What am I to do?
Geralt: Just hold out. It'll whisper to you, tell you to do things. Could be
more intense than usual. Definitely won't try to kill you, though.
Udalryk: I'll keep it together. I'll try.
Geralt: That's great, but if it's not enough, if the hym starts to get to
you, I'll use a Sign that'll calm you down.
Udalryk: So be it. Shall we start?
[Then:]
Let's start.
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Geralt: Let's start. Think pleasant thoughts, don't let the hym drag you
into guilt. And pray to your gods I'm not wrong.
Not yet.
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Geralt: Not yet. Gotta check one last time if everything's in place.
[Geralt and the jarl go inside. When Geralt lights the torches, the hym shows
up, enraged as expected. Udalryk starts freaking out.]
Geralt: Calm down. You can do this. Now get back behind the torches.
[When the hym's almost defeated, the jarl kneels in pain.]
Udalryk: Aaaarrrgggghhhh!
Geralt: The hym's gone! I can't see it!
Udalryk: I saw...saw it sink into the ground.
Geralt: Into the ground? Must've weakened it enough so it hid deep within its
lair, in the guts of the house. Listen carefully: I gotta go
downstairs, finish off the hym before it regenerates. Don't move.
[Geralt slays the demon in the basement, then returns.]
Geralt: It's over.
Udalryk: Over?
Geralt: I killed the hym. You're free. Let's get out of here.
[The two exit the house.]
Cerys: Well?!
Geralt: It worked.
============================ PATH SPLIT ENDS HERE =============================
[They go outside.]
Udalryk: What's happening? My head's spinning... I'm spinning in a maelstrom...
Cerys: Geralt, you said it was over.
Geralt: That's just fatigue. In time his mind'll return to normal.
Udalryk: What...what will I do now?
You'll be fine.
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Geralt: You'll be fine. Key is to not give in to self-pity.
Don't worry, it'll pass.
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Geralt: You're disoriented, but don't worry, it'll pass.
Udalryk: I feel...as if someone's torn something from me.
Geralt: That's normal. The hym was a parasite. Bonds between parasites and
hosts can be strong. That's why you feel empty now. Give it a few days,
weeks, you'll be fine.
Udalryk: Thank you...I think. Farewell.
[He and Hjort leave.]
Cerys: I'll go with him. He seems confused.
What will you do?
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Geralt: Good idea. Then what? What're your plans?
Cerys: I'll stay a few days, make sure he's healthy. And you? Gonna stay on
Spikeroog?
Geralt: Don't know yet. Gotta gather my thoughts.
Cerys: I'm sure Yennefer must be growin' impatient...
Farewell.
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Geralt: Good idea. Take care of yourself.
Yen -- why're you even interested?
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Geralt: What is it with you and Yennefer? Mentioned her several times
already.
Cerys: Nothin'. I've just noticed that...you're often of one mind.
Geralt: Saying I'm hen-pecked?
Cerys: Not that you're especially different... Seems to happen to all men...
Take a rowdy Skelliger, a brave knight or a tough witcher -- you all
end up wrapped around some woman's finger.
• Cerys: Though I will admit you're not all bad. You trusted me -- a complete
stranger nearly. Few would've had the courage.
Geralt: Appreciate it if you didn't tell everybody in the Isles. They'll
think I enjoy being dominated...
Cerys: Haha. Farewell, Geralt.
Geralt: See you, Cerys.
• Geralt: Generalize much? I'd say when someone's got a good idea, there's
no reason to deny it -- and whether they're man, woman or dwarf
doesn't come into play.
Cerys: Is that why you wouldn't trust me with the hym? It was just a bad
idea?
Geralt: No. Just opted to do it my way.
Cerys: Worked out in the end. That's important. Thanks for your help.
Geralt: Don't mention it. Farewell.
________________________
____________________________________________________/ SKELLIGE ISLES SUBPLOT |_
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THE LORD OF UNDVIK [SK02]
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[Geralt goes to collect info on Hjalmar's expedition at the Kaer Trolde town
tavern.]
Geralt: Heard Hjalmar came here to gather men for his expedition.
Jonas: Aye, he did. Such spirit! Stormed in, swept the bowls off the tables,
jumped atop of it, and cried: "I'm sailin' off to seek glory, who's with
me? Who wants to cut off that bloody giant's head?!"
Geralt: Guess that was enough to recruit a longboat full of men.
Jonas: Beh, they carried 'im out on their shoulders! Yellin' all the while,
"We'll win back the forge! String that giant up by his gizzards!"
Shoulda seen it, witcher. Brought tears to my eyes...
Seems Hjalmar's popular around here.
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Geralt: Hjalmar seems popular around here.
Man: He's Crach's son.
Jonas: Clever lad, put together a fine crew: hearty drinkers and warriors
both. Why, the times I've had to piece together tables and benches
after hostin' them... The Undvik lads he took on -- no spring minnows
either. In fact, 'twas a Clan Tordarroch man gave Hjalmar the idea for
the expedition. The shipwright, what's his name...
Man: Vigi.
Jonas: That's him. Hoped to earn a new byname -- "The Fearless." Till now
they call him "the Loon."
Mentioned a forge. What's that about?
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Geralt: They wanted to take back a forge? What's that about?
Jonas: Never heard the Undvikkers forged the best armor in these isles? Their
swordsmiths're nothin' to sneeze at, either.
Man: Cause¹ we made our blades like the dwarves forged their sihils.
Geralt: Soft, layered core fitted with a hard steel coating.
Man: How d'you know? That's a Clan Tordarroch secret.
Geralt: Got some friends who're dwarves.
Man: Mayhaps you do, but the ore from the mines of Undvik, why not even...
well, no one's got it. That's that.
Hjalmar's plans -- tell me about them.
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Geralt: Hjalmar must've had a plan. Tell me about it.
Jonas: Plans?! Hah! They didn't even know where to look for this giant. As I
recall, Vigi wanted to cross a frozen lake and scale the mountains.
Man: They say the giant came from over there, awoken by the frost that
gripped the land around the tower.
Man: Twas¹ a harsh winter, suited that man-eater perfectly! And it can only
get worse! Even the gods...well...hm.
Geralt: Mhm.
Man: Another one don't believe Ragh nar Roog is nigh? You'll see... All o'
youse!
So long.
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Geralt: So long.
Jonas: Glad to be of service. If you need to know more about Undvik or the
giant, ask Axel, or that 'un over there, Rante.
[If Geralt question Axel:]
Axel: Whaddaya want?
Geralt: I'm looking for people from Undvik.
Axel: They're dead.
Geralt: See, now, I heard many survived.
Axel: Stubborn git, you are... Whaddaya wanna know?
Geralt: You there when the giant attacked?
Axel: Aye, I was. One of the jarl's personal guards. Egh. I failed him. Lent no
credence to what the priestesses said -- that'd we be punished. For
robbin' the earth of iron, forgin' it into blades that men kill one
another with. That Freya would punish us. Mayhaps they spoke the truth...
Jarl of Undvik -- how did he die?
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Geralt: Jarl of Undvik -- tell me about his death.
Axel: Jarl Harold Houndsnout... His whole crew died that night. Wilmar,
Wilfred, and Wilhelm... I reached them too late. Saw the giant dash
Wilmar against a rock. He fell right beside me, all his bones broke,
wrigglin' like a salmon on the sand.
Geralt: Harold was dead by then?
Axel: What? No, jarl fought like a bear! Slicin', and dodgin', and hollerin',
then slicin' again. Couldn't save himself though.
How'd you manage to survive?
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Geralt: How did you manage to survive?
Axel: First I heard the giant growl to those flying sirens. Damn me if he
weren't givin' 'em orders!
Geralt: Under stress, men see all kinds of things...
Axel: I know what I saw! Rushed to help the jarl, but one of the cunts sunk
her talons in me, liftin' me up. Tried to take me to their nest, peck
me apart, I reckon. But I broke loose of her grip, plummeted from
quite a height. Crashed hard, couldn't stand. Last thing I saw --
swarm of sirens swooping down on the jarl, thrashing 'round him. He
yipped, he yelped, he screamed, he hollered. Then silence. The men
escortin' the women and children to the ships took my unconscious
flesh away and brought me to Ard Skellig.
Time I was on my way.
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Geralt: I should go.
Axel: Yeah...
[If Geralt talks to the old salt:]
Geralt: I'm looking for men from Undvik.
Rante: Javor's from the isle. And I once cut those waters with nary a rest.
Could trace you the shoreline in me sleep. A lovely excursion, if not
for the bloody sirens...
Javor: I'm the one to ask! Me or Axel an Tordarroch. He's over there. What can
a bloke from Ard Skellig know about Undvik?
Rante: Heard you trillin' a different tune when Hjalmar was gatherin' his
crew. Your love for the an Craite fade that quick?
Javor: Bahumum...
Gotta get to Undvik.
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Geralt: Need to get to Undvik.
Rante: Another thrill seeker. Well, then listen close, lest you end in a
watery grave. Sail out of port and head southwest. Watch for rocks
protrudin' like pricks out the water -- you'll have to do some tricky
tackin' to get past them. Some of them's shorter, just below the
surface, so careful not to scrape right over them. They breech your
hull, you're done for, 'cause just a few minutes in that icy water
makes a corpse. One time I remember--
Geralt: Stick to the point.
Rante: Err, um, fine. Watch for the currents, 'cause they can drag you off
course, dash you 'gainst the rocks, even. With a bit of luck, you'll
land on the same beach where Hjalmar landed.
Why didn't you go with Hjalmar?
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Geralt: Javor's from there, or so he claims, and you seem to know these
waters. Why didn't you sail with Hjalmar?
Rante: Cause¹ that kind of expedition needs a true leader. And a whelp
lookin' to collect bumps on his skull can only be its doom. Once I--
Javor: ...you'd rather sit on your arse, nose in the air, you Zerrikanian
princess?! Brave lad comes along, you sail with 'im! I'd 'ave sailed
with Hjalmar if only those sea-whores hadn't banjaxed my knee. Woulda
sailed 'stead of sharin' a table with a grumpy barnacle like you.
Rante: You'd sail with anyone who'd let you aboard -- Crach's daughter
included.
You mentioned sirens...
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Geralt: You mentioned sirens. Many on Undvik?
Javor: So, soo¹ many. More'n on other isles.
Rante: Bollocks...
Javor: Once, they attacked Lars and me when we was fishin'. 'Fore we could
drive 'em off, they pulled Lars in the water and scratched him up so
bad that...oi!
Geralt: Drive away the sirens? How's that work?
Rante: Hah! Plain to see you're no islander! With a hornwall's horn. One toot
and they ploughin' scurry off so quick the waves rock your boat.
Need to go.
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Geralt: Nice talking to you, but time I was on my way. So long.
Rante: Fair winds to you!
[Geralt sails for Undvik, disembarking on the northern shore Hjalmar would've
used. Along the mountain road, he finds some chilling signs of what befell
the Skelligers' group.]
• "Sea graves." How islanders bury their fallen.
• Clan an Craite.
• Wonder what caused the avalanche.
• Someone dragged a litter through here...
[In the mountains, he finds a huge ship being dry-docked for repairs. There,
he sees a huge giant feeding its pet sirens. By the time he comes out from
hiding, the creatures are gone. He can hear a man singing from inside the
ship. Inside is a slightly deranged man surrounded by skulls.]
Geralt: I know that song. What're you doing here?
Octo: Look, men, another one. And so many times I've told 'em... What's that
you say, Wilfred? Aye, right y'are, they never learn. Least this one
heard a song 'fore he died.
I'm looking for Hjalmar an Craite.
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Geralt: I'm looking for Hjalmar an Craite. Word is he came to this isle with
a crew. Aimed to defeat the giant.
Octo: Aye, saw him. As did Wilmar.
Geralt: Sure it was him?
Octo: Wilmar's got eyes like a hawk! They stood where you stand now. Poor
shape they were in. Leif the Red, Folan, Vigi... Just 'tween you and
me, that boy is not quite right in the head. Oh, and the young an
Craite was here, too.
Where'd they go?
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Geralt: They say where they were headed?
Octo: Did they, Wilmar? Oh, aye. Aimed to make camp in the old guard tower.
Easy enough to find. Stands in the middle of the valley, guardin'
absolutely nothin'.
When was this?
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Geralt: Remember when this was?
Octo: When what was?
Geralt: When Hjalmar an Craite was here with his men.
Octo: Oh, that! No, I don't remember. Ya might ask Wilhelm, though.
Try to come back for you, later.
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Geralt: Try to come back for you, once I've found Hjalmar.
Octo: Hahaha! Sound awfully sure you'll find him. Maybe you can kill the
giant while you're at it? All on your own. They're the same to a man,
aren't they, Wilhelm? All think themselves immortal.
Geralt: Gotta go. So long.
Octo: Ey, if you really aim to return, mind bringin' me some solid twine?
You're like to find it in the village. And nails! We're short on
nails. Can you remember that? Nails and twine.
Geralt: I'll remember.
The skulls -- where'd they come from?
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Geralt: Who were these men?
Octo: My crew. They swore never to leave me. Kept their word. Tall one's
Wilmar. Wilfred's to his right. And the lad with the stutter's Wilhelm.
Geralt: Why'd you...and your crew...stay?
Octo: We cannot leave. If we ventured it again, the giant would kill us all.
Like he did the others.
Why'd the giant spare you?
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Geralt: Why'd the giant spare you?
Octo: Me and me crew and the sirens -- we're helpin' him build a longship.
I sew the sails and run away atimes, and then the sirens fly out and
bring me back.
Geralt: Why does he need a ship? Where's he want to go?
Octo: Promise not to tell no one? I trust my men to take the secret to their
graves, but you?
Geralt: Promise. Won't tell anyone.
Octo: Fine then. Giant's gonna sail her out to defeat the gods come Ragh nar
Roog -- the Final Battle 'Fore the World's End. She'll soon be ready.
What's the giant feed you?
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Geralt: Not much game here, but I saw the giant give you food. Where's he
get it?
Octo: Don't know, don't ask. Food suits me, suits me crew...
Geralt: Over there, on the ground. Hand's got bite marks on it...
Octo: Wha? Where? Wilmar, dammit, you're supposed to clean up! Couldn't keep
a secret if yer life depended on it. We had a choice -- that or starve
to death... But I didn't force anyone, you know. Whole crew voted in
favor.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Thanks for your help. Take care. I should go.
Octo: Fare ye well.
[Geralt goes to investigate at the guard tower camp up the road.]
• Giant tracks.
• Hjalmar's encampment. They were attacked.
• Broken back. As if he fell from a height.
• Many wounds, must've fought for a long time.
• Throat torn open by claws. Sirens...
• Severed artery, bled to death in seconds...
• Didn't even manage to draw his sword...
• Scavengers got to this one.
• Fought barefoot -- sirens caught them by surprise.
• Several men... Dragged a boat north.
• Taken by surprise, but they fought off the attack... I need more clues.
Search the perimeter?
• Two people came through here... Separately. These tracks're older. Somebody
left the camp before the attack...
[If Geralt follows the escapees' prints.]
• Landed smack in a nekker nest and cut the beast down. Hardy folk, these
Skelligers.
• Another track.
• One arrow in each... Good eye.
• Hm... Definitely came through here.
• Someone used this as cover.
• Went this way.
• Got hit here first, but kept going.
• Kept going...though he could barely walk.
• Another track.
• Lost a lot of blood, couldn't have gone much further.
• Took a second arrow here. Got him good this time. Now where'd that archer go?
• Trolls dragged him into the cave. Wonder if he's still alive.
• Archer was wounded, too.
• Hmm... Something cooking over there.
[Deep in the cave system, Geralt finds two ice trolls with a huge cauldron.]
Geralt: Cookin' something?
Troll: Aye, cooking.
Voice: Hey! You there! Help me! Water's gettin' hot! Ah! Argh!
Troll: Shut it!
Geralt: I need that man.
Troll: No! We win human from Myrhyff!
Troll: I figure riddle.
All right, let's play for him -- you and me!
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Geralt: Play me for the man, then. If I win, I take him with me. If I lose,
I'll jump in the pot, too.
Troll: Good, good! Hehehe.
Voice: What?! Ploughin' riddles? Now?!
Troll: No bubble!
Had enough!
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Geralt: Forget it. I don't feel like negotiating.
[If Geralt does the riddling session:]
Troll: First riddle: "Lots eats, lots drinks."
Troll: "Big he be, steps big he, big he bash."
A clock.
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Geralt: It's a clock.
Troll: Clock? This what...? Bad! To pot!
Geralt: Hang on. It's my turn.
A whale.
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Geralt: Answer's a whale.
Troll: Bad! It troll! Whale no step, idgit! Him in pot!
Geralt: Hang on a minute. It's my turn.
A troll.
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Geralt: A troll, of course.
Troll: Grr... Good, troll. Now you asks.
Changed my mind, no time for riddles. / I don't wanna guess anymore.²
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Geralt: I don't have time for riddles.
Troll: You in pot!
Geralt: "I'm light as a feather, but even a troll can't hold me for long."
Troll: Eee... Err...
Troll: Hmmmm... Eee... Piss?
• Geralt: The answer is "your breath." All right, your turn. But make it quick
or my guy'll boil to a pulp.
Voice: Hurry up, dammit!
Troll: Cold and splashes... Umm, a rhyme, rhyme... "Cold and splashes, wave
crashes."
A corpse.
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Geralt: A corpse.
Troll: Bad!
A rock.
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Geralt: A rock.
Snow.
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Geralt: Snow?
[If Geralt misses twice in a row:]
Troll: Bad!
Geralt: In that case...
Troll: Soup break!
Geralt: Dammit. That took too long.
[After Geralt wins:]
Troll: Riddle hard! Human cheat!
Geralt: I won fair and square.
Troll: Grr... Stupid riddle. Feather, troll not hold, not piss...
[If Geralt rescues the man:]
Geralt: Can you walk?
Man: Argh. Aye, I'll manage.
Geralt: Let's get out of here. You all right?
Man: Never go in a sauna again, long as I live. Other than that, I think I'm
fine. Ye saved me life. How can I thank you?
• Geralt: Thank me with a story. What're you doing on Undvik?
Man: Sailed here with Hjalmar an Craite aimin' to kill the ice giant. We
were to take its head, take back the isle, then bask in the glory,
but...
Geralt: Things not go according to plan?
Man: I've no notion where the others are. Those that survived, that is...
• Geralt: I'm looking for Hjalmar.
Man: Hjalmar? Curious where he is meself -- him and the whole crew.
Somethin' must've happened. Otherwise he'd 'ave come lookin' for me
after I went missin' that night. I know he would've. Wait now... Why're
you lookin' for Hjalmar?
Where'd Hjalmar think the ice giant was?
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Geralt: Any idea where Hjalmar thought he might find the giant?
Man: We learned where it has its lair -- in the caves above the village.
Hjalmar decided the best way there'd be to cross the lake. Vigi the Loon
insisted he knew a better way -- through the mines. But none of us
fancied strollin' into a monster pit.
How'd you and the others get separated?
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Geralt: How'd you get separated from the others?
Man: Had the watch for the night. Saw Egnar of Faroe steal Hjalmar's hornwall
horn, one he uses to drive away sirens. Bugger snuck outta camp. I
followed him. No idea what got into that ginger head of his. Told
Hjalmar not to take him with us -- a thousand times, at least.
Geralt: And? You catch up to him?
Man: Aye, in these caves. Bastard screeched so loud he drew the trolls.
Thought the buggers'd eat me right then. Dropped me in a marinade,
instead. Decided I was ready to cook today... Woulda been the end of me
if not for you.
Tell me about the expedition.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: The expedition -- tell me about it.
Man: Started like the best ballads -- with a hearty storm. Sail whipped about
like a rag! Finally caught sight of shore, but then sirens attacked. As
if they'd just been bidin' their time! But we'd 'ave come through
somehow, I know it...if not for the bloody helmsman.
What did your helmsman do?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Helmsman made a mistake?
Man: I'd say his ma made the mistake -- birthed him arseways or somethin'.
Dim, that one. Heard tales and was so afeared of the sirens he stuffed
wax in his ears. Failed to hear our warnin' calls. Steered us right
into the rocks.
What happened on the island?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You smashed into the rocks. What then?
Man: Lost a few men, had to drag the wounded on litters. And the sirens
pestered us the whole while. Hjalmar kept blowin' his horn, but we'd
come too close to the hillside and he brought an avalanche down on us.
Geralt: Not your lucky day, it seems. What happened next?
Man: We found that daft bugger in the ship, then pitched camp near the guard
tower. Things seemed to calm.
Crach sent me to help Hjalmar.²
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Geralt: Crach sent me here to find Hjalmar. New king'll soon be chosen on
Ard Skellig. Everybody's waiting for the young an Craite's return.
Man: So it's started already. Hjalmar, ruler of all Skellige...
Geralt: Doubt he's cut out for it?
Man: Hjalmar's irresponsible, stubborn and heeds no counsel. But he's a born
leader. Been mates since we were lads. With him and Cerys.
Geralt: Cerys has put forth her claim to the throne as well.
Man: Cerys?! But she's-- Well, she's...
She's just like her father, Crach.
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Geralt: Like father, like daughter.
Man: What about Crach? He support her? He let her sail off on some daft
quest?
Everyone was shocked.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: It was pretty much a shock to everyone.
Man: Crach, too? Or did he encourage her? Tell her to set off on some mad
quest?
Geralt: Wasn't thrilled. Especially since Cerys set out without telling him.
Man: Nor did she tell me. Where'd she go? Who'd she take with her?
Geralt: Spikeroog. And no one.
Man: She went alone! Damn the dogs! If Hjalmar'd only... Has she come back?
D'you know?
• Geralt: Hadn't returned when I left Ard Skellig.
• Geralt: Yeah, she's back. Did what she set out to do, too.
Man: Thank the gods.
I know enough.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think I know enough. So long.
Man: Wait, I'll go with you. Luckily the trolls didn't use my bow for
kindling.</pre><pre id="faqspan-29">
Geralt: Good. Let's go.
[Geralt, and Folan if he's rescued, can investigate the boat trail as well.]
• Hjalmar's men. Bled to death while trying to escape. Wonder what happened to
his cohorts...
• Hm, probably planned to repair it.
[They enter the deserted village of Urskar.]
• Signs of a battle.
• Giant chased them...
• They ran towards the caves...
• Someone tripped and fell -- but managed to get away.
• Hm... Definitely came through here.
• Blood. Lots of it.
• Need to find another way.
• Giant tried to get inside... Looks like he gave up.
[The conspicuous trail leads into harpy-infested caverns.]
• Went this way.
• Hmm, it's deep enough. Shouldn't hit bottom.
• Fought to the bitter end.
Folan: Thorsten...
• Clean cut. Head probably went flying.
• Sliced her up... Two men, looks like. Rest of the crew went on... Wonder how
many are left.
• Hjalmar lost a lot of men here.
Folan: Arvid an Tordarroch. He was dead set on comin' with us...
• Tunnel caved in...
• Shot half a quiver into her.
• Split her in two.
[If Geralt enters the Clan Tordarroch forge, he'll find a bloodbath. All manner
of Hjalmar's raiders are butchered, hanging from hooks, or dead on the floor.]
Folan: Oh gods -- near twenty of 'em... But no Hjalmar.
[They get back on the trail.]
• Show me a pantry, and I'll show you the mice.
• Lots of old tracks. Giant must've come through here often...
• Another track.
[They follow the track to the ruined town of Dorve
• Giant came down the mountain, barged into the village...then kicked the gate
down from the inside.
[In Dorve, they save Hjalmar, fighting all by his lonesome. The conversation's
different if Geralt came by himself or started "Possession".]
• Hjalmar: Folan! Thought you died! What happened? Where'd you go?
Folan: What happened's you mighta listened to me when I told you not to take
Egnar! But you don't listen to anyone! Know what he did? Stole the
hornwall horn, put the whole crew at risk! I followed him...
Hjalmar: Alone... Should've woke me. I'd 'ave listened to you then, but
instead... Wait! Still need to thank you, Geralt of Rivia. I'll
never forget you came to my aid.
• Hjalmar: Folan! I was sure you'd died! Where've you been?
Folan: Cerys has gone to Spikeroog! Alone! Couldn't wait, no, had to sneak
off, as if you were afeared someone'd steal the giant out from under
you!
Hjalmar: Cerys? She staked a claim to the throne then? And you'd 'ave rather
gone with her?
Folan: I'd 'ave liked to have the choice!
Hjalmar: Wait. Still need to thank you, Geralt of Rivia. I'll never forget
you came to my aid.
• Hjalmar: Hehe. Thanks, White One. If not for you that mighta taken me much
longer. And I need to see t' Leif. The bitches nearly ripped his
innards out. And we two are all that's left of my crew. Oh, right.
You might not've heard. I'm Hjalmar an Craite. And I'll never forget
you helpin' me in my time o' need.
Geralt: Geralt of Rivia.
Hjalmar: The Geralt of Rivia? Like in the ballad about the sorceress and the
witcher? You're still alive?
Geralt: Looks like it.
Hjalmar: Right, well, forgive me. Just thought that all happened long ago.
My da used to tell me stories of your adventures. So...what're you
doin' on Undvik?
Visiting the isle.²
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Geralt: Visiting the isle.
Hjalmar: Very amusing, Geralt of Rivia. Everyone knows a true brute's taken
over Undvik -- the Ice Giant, whom I've come here to defeat.
Won't get in your way.
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Geralt: Not about to stop you.
Hjalmar: Then perhaps you'd like to join me? With my crew gone, I could use
a body at my side. And poor Leif...
Geralt: Leif's dead.
Lemme help you.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I can help.
Hjalmar: Hm... Agreed! With my crew gone, I could use a body at my side.
And poor Leif...
Geralt: Leif's dead.
Your father sent me.²
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Geralt: Your father sent me. He needs you on Ard Skellig.
Hjalmar: Impossible. Da knows I'll not return till I kill the giant.
Geralt: Situation's changed. The fate of all Skellige will be decided on Ard
Skellig. They're getting ready to choose a new king.
Hjalmar: The fate of Skellige's bein' decided here. If I accomplish this
deed, it'll mean the gods have chosen me to rule.
Geralt: The other claimants are already waiting at Kaer Trolde.
Hjalmar: Hm, seems I must hurry then. Time to face the giant. Comin' with?
Your friend needs help.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We should see to your friend.
Hjalmar: Right. His wounds need tendin'.
Geralt: Not what I meant. He's dead.
Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Take it you're gonna fight the giant whether I help you or not.
Hjalmar: Of course. But first, I need to patch up Leif, move him where he
won't be bothered.
Geralt: Leif's dead.
Where's the rest of your crew?²
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Geralt: Where's the rest of your crew?
Hjalmar: Fought our way through a swarm of sirens to get here. Only a handful
of us left after that battle. Now we're but three. The sirens tore
Leif up good. We should see to his wounds.
Geralt: He's dead.
What happened to your crew?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your crew -- what happened to them?
Hjalmar: Ah, it all started with a storm -- you see, then came the blasted
sirens. I had a hornwall horn to drive them off, but one night it
just disappeared. Next morn the giant ambushed us, crushed half my
men. Hurled Arvid against the rocks, tucked Vigi under his arm...
Just four made it here. But I suppose if it had all gone smoothly,
t' woulda made for a dreadfully short ballad about our heroic
adventures.
Geralt: Seems more doomed than heroic to me.
Hjalmar: No, that's just the gods lookin' to see what mettle we're made of.
They'll soon get their answer.
Know me?²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You know me?
Hjalmar: Our bards sing ballads about you. And my father told me of your
adventures when I was a lad. I remember it well -- you needn't be a
witcher to be a hero. Cold water and a salty breeze -- those are a
Skellige lad's potions!
Folan: So that ballad 'bout the witcher and the sorceress...that's you?
Geralt: Yeah...
[Either way:]
Hjalmar: What? Nah, he's just unconscious. Lost a bit of blood, you know?
Geralt: He's dead. Trust me.
Hjalmar: Swore he'd sink his blade into the giant's heart -- swore it on the
bones of his ancestors. Comin' with me?
• Hjalmar: Let's go.
• Hjalmar: Comin' with me?
Folan: Stupid question.
Hjalmar: Join us, Geralt.
[Geralt can investigate Leif:]
• Bled to death...
Folan: Was to be his last voyage...
[They continue toward the lair.]
Hjalmar: Hurry now! Pick up the pace!
• Geralt: Just like Crach...
• Folan: See you're rarin' to go.
Hjalmar: I'm tellin' you, ploughin' enormous whoreson he is!
• Folan: Wonderful.
• Geralt: So I heard.
Hjalmar: Can't believe I finally got the bastard.
• Folan: Ehh...
• Geralt: Haven't gotten him yet.
[They reach a cave-in site.]
Hjalmar: Geralt, help me smash that. We're sure to reach the giant's cave this
way!
• Folan: I'll cover you. Position myself so as to keep the giant in sight.
[They remove part of the rubble and enter the huge cave]
Geralt: Getting colder... Gotta be close...
Hjalmar: Careful, now... One odd step and you could wake him.
[They find the titular Loon locked in a cage made from boat planks.]
Vigi: Hey, quick! Let me out 'fore he wakes!
Geralt: Key should be around here somewhere...
Hjalmar: Wait. Know what they call Vigi? The Loon. For good reason, too. Best
he stay in there till we finish the giant.
Vigi: What? You out of your bloody mind, an Craite?
Geralt: I thought he was your comrade.
Vigi: He is, which is how I know what he's like to do.
Let's free him.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's free him. Giant's pretty big, looks pretty mean. We could use
an extra blade.
Hjalmar: Even one swung by a madman?
Vigi: I heard that, an Craite! Let me out right now!
Geralt: Wait here, I'll look for the key.
All right. Let him stay there.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: All right, guess he should stay in the cage, then.
Vigi: Whaa? I'll not forget this, an Craite! You want all the glory to
yerself?! Lemme out right now!
[If Geralt obtains the key:]
Vigi: Hey, let me out! Quick!
• Folan: Shut your trap! I sat in a bloody troll cauldron with nary a murmur.
[If Geralt unlocks the cell, Vigi will leave and immediately run to the giant,
kicking it in the head to enrage it.]
Vigi: Thanks, brother. I'll remember that.
Geralt: Let's get out of here.
Vigi: Right. Just as soon as I kill him.
[If Geralt approaches the giant stealthily while Vigi's imprisoned:]
Vigi: Don't even! No closer! He's mine! Get out of here! The whoreson's mine!
Geralt: Shut up, you idiot...
[Part way through the giant fight, Geralt is knocked aside. The giant grabs an
anchor stuck in the makeshift cage, using it like a mace. If Vigi was still
incarcerated, he'll die when it's pulled out. The fight continues. When the
giant's on death's door, it grabs Hjalmar, and almost rips him apart, if it
weren't for Geralt's distraction. Using the opening, Hjalmar disembowels the
behemoth, ending the fight.]
• Vigi: Hah! I knew we'd best him!
• Folan: Vigi...you daft bastard.
• Hjalmar: Vigi...you daft bastard.
Hjalmar: Hahahaha!
• Folan: Hahahaha!
Vigi: Hahahaha! Heeheheh aahhh... But where are the others?
• Hjalmar: Vigi. Poor bugger.
Geralt: Should've let him out.
Folan: Shouldn't blame yourself. We never knew with Vigi. Might've rushed
at the giant bare-fisted soon as he was out.
Hjalmar: And that might've spelled death for us all.
• Hjalmar: Vigi. Poor bugger.
Geralt: Should've let him out.
Hjalmar: Don't blame yourself. Vigi wasn't exactly the predictable type. Soon
as he was out, he could've run at the giant brandishing naught but
his fists and his prick. No tellin' what would've happened. Fight
mighta not gone our way.
Hjalmar: Thanks for your help, White Wolf. Geralt the Giantslayer -- I'll make
sure the skalds set it in song.
Thanks. So be it.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Sure sounds better than the Butcher of Blaviken. So be it.
Any glory stemming from the giant's death should be yours.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: "Hjalmar the Giantslayer" sounds better. It was your venture, you
deserve the glory.
Hjalmar: Hm. Believe you're right.
Hjalmar: Let's get outta here.
Let's go.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Let's go.
Wanna look around.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Wanna look around some more.
Hjalmar: In that case, I'll meet you on the beach, near the port.
[They go down to the Marlin Coast port. If Geralt hasn't been asked to help
Hjalmar by Crach:]
Geralt: Gonna head back to Ard Skellig?
• Hjalmar: Aye, need to make it known, tell how bravely my boys fought. Make
their families proud. A great many true warriors perished, but
victory was ours. The folk of Undvik can go home.
Think everyone'll see it that way?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Think everyone'll see it that way?
Hjalmar: I'm prepared to take responsibility for their deaths. I was in
charge of the expedition. And they all believed in me, laid their
trust in me.
Farewell.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Farewell, an Craite.
Hjalmar: Thanks for your help, witcher. I've a distinct sensation, won't
say where, that we'll meet again.
[If Geralt's already finished "The King is Dead -- Long Live the King," but
hasn't helped Cerys:]
Geralt: Gonna head back to Ard Skellig?
Hjalmar: Aye, after all, I'm to be crowned. I killed the giant, I won back
Undvik...and lost my entire crew. Mayhaps should've set out alone --
like Cerys.
Regret ever setting out?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Regret ever setting out on this expedition?
Hjalmar: What's that matter now? Giant's dead. And the folk of Undvik can
go home. And Cerys...she back yet?
Geralt: Hadn't returned when I left Ard Skellig.
Hjalmar: Went to Spikeroog, you say... Venture she aims to face whatever's
slowly killin' Udalryk.
Geralt: Some say Udalryk's the gods' chosen one.
Hjalmar: They also say the gods are merciful. Witcher, uh, I'm certain
Cerys would be glad to see me, but... You wouldn't happen to be
headin' to Spikeroog?
[Leads to Yes/Don't Know Yet/No options below]
Everyone'll call it a great victory.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Islanders will see it as a great victory.
Hjalmar: Cause¹ Skellige is the victor, whereas I've lost me friends. I've
them to thank for makin' me a leader. They believed in me.
[The conversation's can also start this way, perhaps if Vigi and Folan didn't
survive the quest:]
• Hjalmar: Aye, after all, I'm to be crowned. I killed the giant, I won back
Undvik...and lost my entire crew. Who else has put forth a claim?
Blueboy Lugos, surely, and Otrygg, Svanrige...
Geralt: And Cerys.
Hjalmar: Cerys? Me sis? But she's...
She sailed off for Spikeroog.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: She sailed off to Spikeroog. Alone.
Hjalmar: Alone? What on earth is was thinking?
• Hjalmar: Someone oughta sail after her, stop this foolishness...
Geralt: She's back already. What's more, she was successful.
Hjalmar: Oh... She always liked competin' with me. I've always won in the
end so far, though. Well, time I was on me way. So long, Geralt.
And thanks for your help.
Geralt: So long, an Craite.
• Geralt: Set out to help Udalryk. Don't think she can do it?
Hjalmar: Oh, gods, Cerys... Uh, witcher -- you wouldn't happen to be
headin' to Spikeroog by chance?
Yes.
¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Yeah, I planned to go there.
Hjalmar: Good. Thanks, Geralt. I hope we meet again.
Geralt: Farewell, an Craite.
Don't know yet.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't know yet. Your father asked me to, but...what if I help her,
and she wins, and they crown her queen of Skellige?
Hjalmar: Hahah! Hahaha! You helped me, too. Let's call it evenin' the
odds, and leave the rest for the gods to decide.
Geralt: Thought you didn't fully trust them.
Hjalmar: Willin' to give them one last chance. So long, witcher.
Geralt: Mm. So long, an Craite.
No.
¯¯¯
Geralt: Probably not.
Hjalmar: Probably? So you may still change your mind? If you happen to be
sailin' that way, perhaps you'd...
Geralt: Of course.
Hjalmar: Thanks, Geralt. I hope we meet again.
Geralt: Farewell, an Craite.
Surprised everyone.²
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Surprised everyone.
Hjalmar: And da? Did he support her? Let her set off on some mad expedition?
Geralt: Wasn't pleased. Especially since Cerys didn't mention it to him
beforehand.
Hjalmar: Nor to me.
[Either way, Geralt leaves.]
________________________
____________________________________________________/ SKELLIGE ISLES SUBPLOT |_
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
KING'S GAMBIT [SK03]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[After helping both Hjalmar and Cerys with their quests, Geralt returns to the
Kaer Trolde keep.]
Arnvald: Master Geralt! A guard spotted you from the tower. They sent me to
open the gate. Hehe.
Geralt: Why was it closed? This that famous Skellige hospitality?
Arnvald: Nay, 'tis tradition. After the feast, the jarls'll choose the king,
so the doors must remain closed. Only the sons and daughters of
Skellige may stay in the castle.
Maybe I'll stop by some other time.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So maybe I oughta stop by another time.
Crach make an exception for me?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Crach make an exception just for me?
Arnvald: All know what you did for Cerys and Hjalmar. Today, you're one of us.
Come, Crach awaits.
Geralt: How's the mood in there?
Arnvald: Calm. Too calm!
Geralt: How's that?
Arnvald: We've an adage here in Skellige... At a good feast, mead and blood
flow in equal measure. Surely you'd consider this barbaric on the
Continent, no?
Geralt: Not sure. Sounds preferable to dull banquets garnished with court
intrigue.
[Arnvald leads Geralt back to the keep's banquet hall, where Skellige's main
players are all in attendance. Cerys is having a familial fued nearby.]
Cerys: I've as much right to it as you do!
Hjalmar: And I'd expect you to support me, not pinch my allies! If an an
Craite's to wear the crown, it--
Cerys: Should be you? 'Cause you got fur growin' on your chin, that it?
Hjalmar: Show some of your own, and the jarls just might listen to you!
Cerys: Want your mug smacked? Remember! I was left standin' last time we
crossed fists.
Hjalmar: Yeah? So you'll fight the Vildkaarls with me? Wonder who'll do
better... You...or Hjalmar the Giant Slayer!
Cerys: Ugh! Stop your shite boastin'!
[She storms off.]
Hjalmar: Cerys! Hey! Ah, dammit!
Where's Crach?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Don't see Crach. He talking to the jarls?
Arnvald: No, went to his chambers. To prepare your promised reward, no doubt.
Didn't play that well.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Bad way to play it out.
Hjalmar: Think I don't know that? But you saw her, she's so...so...
Arnvald: Stubborn? Fierce? Mule-headed? Refuses to listen to anyone?
Hjalmar: Exactly!
Arnvald: Ahem...
Hjalmar: Hahaha! True, Arnvald, me and Cerys -- we're near twins in that
regard.
Hjalmar: If you've a spell, witcher, perhaps you'd fancy some fisticuffs with
the Vildkaarls? Loosen up your joints after your journey?
Geralt: Maybe later.
[If Geralt speaks with Cerys outside:]
Geralt: Cerys.
Cerys: Heard us, didn't you.
Geralt: So did everyone in that room who's not completely deaf.
Cerys: Hjalmar wastes his time arguin' with me, and I really don't know why...
Everyone says I've no chance against him when it comes to the crown.
It's natural -- you're his sister.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're his sister. It's natural.
Cerys: We've always argued, but I thought somethin' like this... Thought he'd
show some respect. But he's just attackin' me.
Geralt: Would you prefer he ignored you, refused to see you as a rival?
Cerys: Perhaps you're right.
You think you got no chance?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You think you stand a chance?
Cerys: I don't know. That doesn't mean I'm givin' up. I'd never do that.
Geralt: Course you wouldn't.
Cerys: It's just, after Udalryk, solvin' his grief, I thought I'd gained some
respect. Thought they were takin' me serious. But no. Every step of
the way I have to prove I'm fit to be queen.
Geralt: Better get back to your guests. Won't gain any votes talking to me.
Cerys: You're right... Till later, Geralt.
[If Geralt goes over to Hjalmar, he'll be fighting the Vildkaarls. Interrupting
distracts him and he gets punched in the face.]
Geralt: Hjalmar? Can you...?
Hjalmar: Ugh. Seal shit. Take a look. Still got all my teeth?
Geralt: Most of 'em. Did quite a number on you.
Hjalmar: Why're you laughin'? They'd 'ave trashed you, too.
Geralt: Huh, doubt it.
Hjalmar: That so? Care to wager on it? Drop any one of the Vildkaarls, and I'll
give you my sword. End up like me...you part with yours.
You're on.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: You're on. Start wrapping that sword for me.
Hjalmar: Don't sell your fish till they're in the boat, Wolf.
Geralt: Heard you're taking on challengers in fistfights.
Vildkaarl: Challengers? Argh, nay. Ain't none a challenge to us.
Vildkaarl: We're here to hit. Hit till our fists're red with blood.
Geralt: Let's do this.
Vildkaarl: Gladly.
Vildkaarls? Who're they?
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Geralt: Vildkaarls? Who're they?
Hjalmar: Ehh, these wild men, live in the hills.
Geralt: Shepherds, then?
Hjalmar: Aye. Without the sheep. They live off killin', eat only what they
hunt, and they fight like no one else!
No, thanks.
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Geralt: Thanks. Got scars enough.
Hjalmar: See your bollocks've shriveled.
[If Geralt challenges and loses:]
Vildkaarl: A witcher, eh? Ye fight more like a little bitch. Get outta my
sight, drifter.
Hjalmar: Heheh, not so tough without your blade. Which is too bad, 'cause you
just lost it!
Here.
¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Here. May it serve you well.
Hjalmar: Hah! Can't wait to test a witcher's blade in battle!
(350 coins) Rather give you the equivalent in coin.
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Geralt: Listen, how about I give you the equivalent in coin instead of my
sword? After all, can't really earn a living without it.
Hjalmar: Shouldn't 'ave bet it then! But...fine. Owe you that much, for old
time's sake. Pay up, and keep it!
[If Geralt challenges and wins:]
Vildkaarl: Argh, pth! You hit good. Hard.
Hjalmar: Oh! What a fight! Smacked his gob so hard it's a wonder his brain
didn't fly out o' his ears! Well, lost the wager. But that were such
a spectacle I don't even mind! Here, my it serve you well!
[As he approaches Crach's chambers, he sees former queen Birna Bran exit.]
Geralt: Greetings, Birna. Feast not to your liking?
Birna: This is no feast. It's a farmers' market where where votes are bought
and sold like sheepskins.
Leaving Kaer Trolde?
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Geralt: Leaving Kaer Trolde?
Birna: Tomorrow at daybreak. Enjoy yourself, Master Geralt.
Svanrige's not vying for support?
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Geralt: Svanrige's not gonna vie for support?
Birna: Bran's son will not haggle for a crown that is his by right.
Geralt: Far as I know, crown goes to the claimant who gains the most votes.
Birna: That is the tradition. But not all traditions are good. The Isles'
care should be entrusted to a single family.
What's wrong with voting for the king?
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Geralt: What's wrong with voting for your king?
Birna: Take a walk, listen, and you'll understand. The claimants already
hand out land, promise privileges, titles, favorable judgments...
They behave like whores lifting their skirts for every passer-by. A
king by the grace of votes is no ruler, but a debtor. This must end.
We must start by placing Bran's first-born son on the throne. I hope
the jarls will see the wisdom of it.
Got a specific family in mind?
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Geralt: Take it you have a specific family in mind.
Birna: Of course. Bran was the best king Skellige's seen in centuries. The
throne should pass on to Svanrige, his true born son, and then on to
his sons.
[After, Geralt goes in to see his own friend.]
Geralt: May I?
Crach: You must, even! Come, I've been waiting for you. So, feast to your
liking? Any better than your Continental "balls"?
Geralt: Definitely more to drink.
Crach: Aye, there is. Rolled all of it out of my cellars! Double meads, triple,
Cintrian plum brandy, Mahakaman spirit that burns the mouth like boiling
water. Clan an Craite knows the meaning of hospitality!
About that reward...
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Geralt: Promised me a reward for helping your children.
Crach: And I aim to keep my word. Here. This bauble's been in the family for
generations. I give it to you for helping ensure the line endures.
Geralt: Beautiful craftsmanship. Thanks.
Crach: Heh, I'm the one--
Guessing there's an ulterior motive to your hospitality.
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Geralt: Something tells me there's a purpose to your hospitality.
Crach: Aye, there is. In the Isles, mead and meat stand to gain you as much
support as feats accomplished blade in hand.
Geralt: If that's true, you can rest easy about how the vote'll turn out.
Crach: I'll rest easy on the morrow. When the crown rests on one of my
children's heads.
Not torn between Hjalmar and Cerys?
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Geralt: Feeling torn between Hjalmar and Cerys?
Crach: You mean, do I have a favorite? Nay. They're as different as fire and
water. But an Craite blood flows in both.
Hjalmar isn't too hot-tempered to be king?
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Geralt: Between you and me...Hjalmar's not too hot-headed to be king?
Crach: Depends on the kind of king you have in mind. Want one who'll send
emissaries, move figurines about a map, calculate the most profitable
option.¹ Then, yes, he's too hot-headed. But Skellige wants a
different ruler. The kind who'll drown Nilfgaard in blood, sooner
jump in a fire than surrender. And that is Hjalmar.
Geralt: If you escalate your attacks, you stand to infuriate Emhyr. Could
regret it someday.
Crach: In Skellige we spit on the notion of peace at any cost.
Think Skellige will listen to a woman?
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Geralt: Think the council of jarls will dare to put a woman on the throne?
Crach: If you'd asked me some months ago, I'd 'ave laughed in your face.
But today I see, and I'm not alone, that Cerys has something as rare
in the Isles as a hot summer -- patience. Others act, then think.
She's different. She thinks things through -- the for, the against.
But once she takes action, not a force in the world could stop her.
You and Birna talked. What about?
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Geralt: Saw you talking to Birna. What about?
Crach: Politics. After all, naught else interests her. Wench tried to
convince me that we must honor Bran's memory. And to that aim, I'm to
command my offspring to withdraw from the race for the crown...support
Svanrige, instead.
Geralt: Why do I think you turned her down?
Crach: You put it mildly. I showed her the door!
[They can hear a loud chanting and crashing from the feast hall.]
Chant: Lu-gos! Lu-gos! Lu-gos!
Crach: Hear that? Dammit, Hjalmar's probably started another row.
Geralt: That's not Hjalmar. Let's go.
[They rush to the nearby room to find the attendees being viciously attacked
by bears. Geralt helps slay the beasts, but it's already too late for a wide
portion of the guests. Holger Blackhand stands over his boy's body.]
Holger: Cloth! Gimme some cloth! Gotta stop the bleedin'! Quick!
Halbjorn: Da... Da...
Madman: Take my cloak.
Holger: Hold on, son, you'll pull through. A shark grabbed my leg once...
Halbjorn?
[His son's already dead.]
Hjort: He's dead.
Holger: Raaaaaaaaaaah!
Madman: Crach! Where'd those bears come from?! Heh?! Answer! Now!
Hjalmar: Careful how you speak to my da!
Madman: Stow your blade, pup! Or Crach'll lose a son, too!
Crach: You insult me, Lugos. And now you threaten my son. I will not stand for
this.
Madman: Then come here! C'mon! Put you down like a rabid dog!
Donar: Calm down! Calm down! Enough blood's been spilt! Someone brought these
beasts here to murder our sons and brothers. We cannot restore their
lives. But we can, we must, avenge them. This burden falls upon the host
-- and his offspring.
Udalryk: Find the guilty, an Craite. Find and kill them. Else your clan will be
cursed for a hundred generations to come.
[The upset jarls leave the scene of the bloodbath.]
Damn. Got ourselves a right mess.
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Geralt: Dammit! Things've sure gotten messy.
Cerys: That's putting it mildly. We've clues to examine, things to consider.
We must find out how this came to be, elsewise we--
Hjalmar: We've no time for that. I know where to find the guilty.
Anybody see how the bears got in?
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Geralt: Anybody see how the bears got in?
Hjalmar: Don't matter. I know where to find the guilty already.
Cerys: Wait! Are you mad? You're gonna kill folk before we've learned what
happened?
Hjalmar: Learn all you want. Meantime, I'll go wash the shame off our clan.
Cerys: Hey! The jarls ain't listenin' anymore! Stop playin' the hero and think
for a second!
Hjalmar: Our honor's at stake, sis. That can't wait.
Cerys: Are you listening to me? Someone let those bears in. We must know who,
and the answer lies somewhere in this room!
I'll help you, Cerys.
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Geralt: You're right, Cerys. I'll help you.
Cerys: Thanks.
Hjalmar: Fine. See you when I return with the traitors' heads.
Going with Hjalmar.
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Geralt: I'm going with Hjalmar. Don't know where, but I'm going.
Hjalmar: Knew you'd not turn down an adventure!
You two can handle this fine without me.
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Geralt: Pretty sure you can handle this fine without me.
Crach: Aye, we will. So long, Wolf.
Crach: I'll stay here. Someone must see to everything -- summon the healer,
hand the fallen over to their families. Wolf...I thank you.
========================== IF GERALT AIDS HJALMAR =============================
[The two ride out of Kaer Trolde.]
Hjalmar: We ride for Fornhala. At a gallop!
[Several hours later, they reach the quaint mountain village.]
Hjalmar: Right, we're here.
Geralt: Meaning? Gonna explain what we're doing or not?
Hjalmar: Remember the wild men I sparred with? The ones we call Vildkaarls?
Geralt: You might've mentioned them when I walked in...
Hjalmar: This is Fornhala. Their village. They were the ones who changed into
bears. Just like in the legends about berserkers. I saw it with my
own eyes -- might've been alone in that. Everyone else was starin' at
young Lugos. He claimed he could down a barrel of beer in one go.
Almost did it, too.
So what now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: So what now?
Hjalmar: Simple. We welcomed the Vildkaarls under our roof, gave them food,
drink... And they spilled our blood. So now they must pay. In blood.
Simple plan. Kind I like.
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Geralt: Nice and simple. Kind of plan I like.
Hjalmar: And that's why I like you. Come on, Wolf. The skalds'll sing of
our vengeance on the bears.
Need to take at least one alive.
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Geralt: Should at least take one alive, make him testify before--
Hjalmar: This ain't the Continent, witcher. Don't need no court to see
justice done.
Geralt: Stopped to consider that somebody might've duped them, used them?
Hjalmar: Then they'll die for bein' idiots. Enough jabberin', already. Let's
go.
Vildkaarls -- what do you know about them?
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Geralt: Vildkaarls -- what else do you know about 'em?
Hjalmar: They're not part of any clan. They've no wives nor children.
Geralt: So how do they reproduce? By budding?
Hjalmar: No. Those wishin' to devote their lives to battle come here to join
them. In the summertime they hunt, go on raids. Come winter they
sleep in their caves...with the bears. Least that's what folk say.
Geralt: Got a feeling it's more than gossip.
Why didn't you speak up right away?
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Geralt: Why not speak up right away? Back there, in front of everyone?
Hjalmar: Cause¹ they'd 'ave started talkin'. Questionin', quarrelin'. Words
won't wipe the shame from my clan. Only deeds will.
[They enter the village.]
Hjalmar: No one here. Ran away, knew I'd come for them.
Geralt: Odd. From what you said, they don't sound like the type to lack
courage. Let's look around. Could be nearby.
[There are places to investigate:]
• Spiked gloves...black with dried blood.
• No women's clothing, items... No toys.
Hjalmar: Vildkaarls don't have families. Won't be anyone to mourn them.
• Fell to his death.
[Back outside, an Craite spots a rooftop body.]
Hjalmar: Look! Up there... A corpse, by my reckonin'.
Geralt: Mhm. Needs examining.
[They go up, finding the body near a bunch of clothing piles.]
Geralt: A Skellige custom I don't know about?
Hjalmar: If it is, it's new to me as well.
• Clothing... From six men. Just one body, though.
• Body covered in bruises... Knuckles chafed raw.
Hjalmar: Fought bare-fisted. To the death. Some kind of trial?
Geralt: Probably. Or a very bloody sport. This one here... Doesn't look like
a Vildkaarl to me.
Hjalmar: Aye, true. More slender in the shoulders, no tattoos... Interestin'.
Geralt: An old shrine...covered in runes.
Hjalmar: I know the signs. Language of our forefathers. "Svalblod." Dammit...
Geralt: What is it? That a name?
Hjalmar: Aye. A deity whose worship is banned. All altars to him were razed
years ago... Priests extollin' him were bound, tossed into sailless
longboats that were pushed out to sea.
No need to fear the gods.
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Geralt: Doesn't make sense to fear the gods. Only ever dangerous in stories.
Hjalmar: The gods don't concern me... Their followers do.
Why'd you turn against Svalblod?
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Geralt: What'd this deity do to earn condemnation?
Hjalmar: Him? Nothin'. But those who promised him almost drowned Skellige in
blood.
Hjalmar: You see...Svalblod demands sacrifices. Human sacrifices. Sword at the
ready, witcher.
Geralt: *Sniff* Strange smell. Bit like incense... Bit like a bait we witchers
use.
Hjalmar: For what?
Geralt: Bears.
Hjalmar: Crikey, you've a sniffer like a hound's.
Geralt: Better. Follow me.
[Geralt follows the incense trail further into town.]
• Follow the thread...
• Wounds covering the body... But he didn't bleed to death. Someone broke his
neck. Finished him. What the hell's going on here?
Hjalmar: Don't matter. Body's still warm, they're close. Come on.
• Dried mushrooms... Psilocybe, I think.
Hjalmar: Geralt, finish up your ferretin' already.
• Blood...mixed with bile.
Hjalmar: Look. Someone walked through it.
Geralt: Tracks lead uphill.
• Human scalps... Unusual as decorations go.
• Ochre, coal dust, woade. Tattoo dyes.
Hjalmar: I'll bloody give 'em tattoos...
[The trail leads them into a house where the footprints stop at a suspicious
floor segment.]
Geralt: Trapdoor under a bearskin rug... Classic.
Hjalmar: C'mon. Open it.
[The two descend into a hidden cave system.]
Geralt: Air's thick with incense.
Hjalmar: I'm gonna puke. It's as though--
Geralt: Shh. Hear that? Noise from below.
Hjalmar: Ah, finally.
[Further in, they find a lone berserker.]
Halgrim: Lookin' for death?
Hjalmar: Nay. Vengeance.
Geralt: And answers. Why'd you attack Kaer Trolde?
Halgrim: We didn't come to the feast to kill. But we've no regrets about what
happened there. There are weaklings in every herd. They must die to
make room for those of strong blood.
Strong blood? What're you talking about?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Strong blood? What're you talking about?
Halgrim: I speak of the she-bear and her cub.
Like the men whose corpses we found?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Like the men whose corpses we found?
Halgrim: Aye. Those who wish to join us enter the Ursine Circle in groups of
six... We take only three. The weak give their lives in sacrifice.
The strong start their lives anew.
Hjalmar: We've talked enough.
Halgrim: Good. Talkin' tires me.
[The two beat on Halgrim for awhile, who then changes into a bear before their
very eyes. Doesn't stop them from slaying him, however.]
Geralt: Well, won't get anything else out of him.
Hjalmar: We don't need to. Everything's clear, blood for blood.
Your vengeance, your rules.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Your vengeance, your rules.
Could be they were working with someone.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Realize they might've acted at someone's behest? Might've just been
part of a plot?
Hjalmar: We an Craite have always had foes. Let them plot, let them strike.
They'll end like the Vildkaarls.
Geralt: Voices... More of 'em further on.
Hjalmar: I'm countin on it. Let's go!
[Descending further, the two get a bird's-eye view of some Vildkaarls around a
bear shrine in the depths. The three petitioners are given mushrooms to eat.]
Druid: Svalblod! Svalblod! We summon thy power!
[Huge cave bears emerge from the shadows, wasting no time in devouring the
three petitioners, while leaving the druid alone. Soon after, the bear spirits
disappear, and the three Vildkaarls awaken to their true power. Geralt and
Hjalmar go down to speak to the druid who remains.]
Hjalmar: Our forebears forbade all from worshippin' Svalblod. On pain of death.
Artis: What?! Where'd you--
Geralt: From Kaer Trolde. Bet you know why we're here.
Artis: Aye. On a matter that's naught to you, mutant. A matter of pride and
honor.
All yours, Hjalmar.
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Geralt: True, not my concern. Hjalmar, he's all yours.
Hjalmar: I could just butcher you like a swine...but I'll let you die with
honor. Defend yourself!
Nothing honorable in that massacre.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Didn't see any honor in what happened at Crach's castle. That was a
massacre, plain and simple.
Artis: You see in darkness, yet are still blind.
Artis: We spilled that blood for Skellige. For a king we can be proud of.
Geralt: Don't give a damn about your motivations. Gimme a name.
Artis: I'd sooner die than tell you.
[They fight.]
Artis: Arise! Arise! And drink of the blood!
[They defeat the druid and the bears he summons.]
Hjalmar: Not afraid to die. Gotta give 'em that.
Geralt: A letter... Turns out the Vildkaarls -- unwitting tools. This druid,
Artis, was to be the new king's advisor... Cheap reward for siccing
the Vildkaarls on your guests, causing all that bloodshed.
Hjalmar: Who signed it?
Geralt: Nobody. Anonymous.
Hjalmar: You were right... There's someone else behind it all, all the mayhem.
What now?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What now?
Hjalmar: I'll tell the jarls what we found here. Hope it's enough to clear
the clan's name. C'mon. We're done here.
Any suspects?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Suspect anyone?
Hjalmar: I know many who crave the crown... But none who'd stoop so low to
get it.
Geralt: Whoever it is, they could strike again.
Hjalmar: And I'll be on my guard.
[They return to Kaer Trolde with a severed bear's head.]
Hjalmar: It was them attacked us. The Vildkaarls.
Donar: Will you claim they turned into bears? That they're the berserkers our
nanny's¹ scared us with as children? Is that it?
Hjalmar: I saw them transform. With my own eyes.
Madman: Did you see Freya ride astride a wild boar as well? You discovered as
much as your sister. That's to say, nothin'.
I vouch for what Hjalmar said.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I'll vouch for Hjalmar.
Madman: Why would we believe you, eh? You're a lackey to an Craite.
Donar: And a witcher. He knows beasts, including those that take on human
form.
Send men to Fornhala, then you'll believe.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Send men to Fornhala, then you'll believe.
Madman: Been there. A shabby village, a few huts. What's there of interest?
Hjalmar: A temple: to Svarblod.
Udalryk: Go on, Hjalmar.
Hjalmar: What about? I found the traitors, wrought vengeance on them. That's
everything.
Geralt: No, not everything. The Vildkaarls conspired with someone. Found a
letter on one of their corpses.
Brina: Vague. This does not identify the guilty party.
Donar: That's not why we've gathered. You washed away disgrace with the blood
of our foes, Hjalmar. I, eldest among the jarls, cleanse your clan's
shame. We part in peace.
[The jarls leave. Later, Crach and Geralt are on the balcony.]
Crach: So 'tis true... Warriors who become bears...
Geralt: I'd say it's the opposite. I saw their transformative ritual... Our
Trial of the Grasses -- pure pleasure by comparison.
Crach: The Vildkaarls have been punished. You and Hjalmar saw to that. But our
true foe continues to prowl about. I sense hard times ahead for
Skellige. Hm, but enough. Whatever comes, we must endure. I thank you,
Geralt. Again.
Geralt: No need. Again.
Crach: I'll not take any more of this modesty. This is a land of heroes! Let
this remind you of that. And now...I must ride for Geddyneith¹, for the
jarls' council. Time to pick a king.
Geralt: What do you think -- who'll get the nod?
Crach: Come with me, see for yourself. All may listen to our deliberations.
Gladly.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: I do have a horse in the race. Can't refuse, to be honest.
Crach: As I thought. Well, let's go.
Might join you later.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Might join you later.
Crach: Countin' on it. As are my children.
=========================== IF GERALT AIDS CERYS ==============================
[Hjalmar leaves to find the traitors, while Geralt/Cerys remain in the hall.]
Cerys: Ever see anythin' like that?
Geralt: No. And I hope I never will again.
Cerys: Where'd the bears come from? We were all laughin', eatin', drinkin'...
Then suddenly -- a massacre. Torrents of blood on the walls.
Let's look around.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: We've talked enough. Let's look around.
Cerys: Lemme know what you find. I'll speak to the others. Maybe someone saw
something more than I did.
What happened before the massacre? Be precise.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: What happened before the massacre? Be precise.
Cerys: Yo-young Lugos bet he could empty a barrel of beer in one go. He
climbed on a table, grabbed a pony keg of Cintrian wheat and started
chuggin'. Err, his throat bulged like a blowfish, face went red...but
he kept drinkin'. Folk started bangin' their tankards on the table,
shouting "Lu-gos, Lu-gos!" Then, from the other side of the room, we
heard this roar! We turned in unison as if a coxswain had called! They
were there. They were already there! Folks closest to the bears didn't
even manage to draw their weapons. They...they were ripped to shreds.
Geralt: We'll avenge them. I promise.
Who died?
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Geralt: Know who died?
Cerys: Drogodar, Draig Bon-Dhu, Blueboy Lugos, Halbjorn, Otrygg... Take some
time mention them all.
Geralt: But you could name the claimants to the throne who survived in one
breath -- you, Hjalmar, and Svanrige.
Cerys: What're you sayin'?
Geralt: Nothing -- just yet.
[Cerys will go around questioning clan NPCs:]
Cerys: Pull yourself together, Sinna. How'd they get in?
Sinna: Dunno... The gates were shut!
Warrior: Looked away a moment... Turned back around, saw a bear standin' by
the bench. Tis¹ the gods' doin'. Maybe they're punishin' us.
Cerys: For what? You're talkin' rubbish.
Warrior: So the tales are true... Warriors in battle frenzy transformed into
wild beasts.
Cerys: Berserkers... But how'd they come to be here?
[Geralt can investigate the area's corpses.]
• Otrygg... Shit, no more'n a kid.
• Drogodar... Skald's played his last.
• So many wounds... No wonder Halbjorn bled to death.
• Body's massacred. Hard to tell who it is... Steingrim, maybe?
• Fang marks, claw marks, broken bones... Hard to say what exactly killed him.
• Young Lugos... Bears took him by surprise. Didn't have a chance to defend
himself.
[Geralt can also do a bear autopsy of sorts:]
Geralt: All right, what do we have here...?
[Examine head.]
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Geralt: Bear's head, but the tongue's short, like a human's. Mouth smells of
honey liqueur, mead...and something else...something...earthy. Bears
like honey...before it's fermented. Strange.
[Examine torso.]
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Geralt: Something under the fur...a tattoo? Shape of a bear paw.
[Examine limbs.]
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Geralt: Old scar... Looks like it was sutured.
[Step away.]
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Geralt: Half-man, half-bear. Something like a lycanthrope. No full moon, so
something else caused the transformation. Maybe something he ate...
or drank. Mead... Mead with an earthy aroma. Need to check the horns,
tankards and bowls.
[Geralt inspects drinking vessels.]
• All the horns're empty.
• Bowl at each table. Mead in this one... Mff. And only mead.
[Geralt inspects the bowl near a corpse.]
Geralt: *Sniff* Earthy scent from the bear's maw. Something towards...
mushroom? Bowl's empty...but the scent's in the air, coming from...
mff...somewhere else in this room.
[He follows the scent to a horn near the entrance.]
Geralt: Mff. Here. Mead spiked with some kind of mushroom...and...human blood?
Cerys! Come here.
Cerys: A guard saw what happened. Those weren't bears. They were--
Geralt: ...men who transform into bears.
Cerys: Uh-huh. Berserkers.
Got a good idea what causes the transformation.
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Geralt: Think I know what caused them to transform -- the mead they drank.
Smell this. Mead spiked with blood...and something else. Thinking it
could be a mushroom, but I don't recognize the type.
Cerys: Hjort might help us. Few druids know herbs better.
Geralt: Can't hurt to try.
Berserkers?
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Geralt: Berserkers?
Cerys: The skalds' name for warriors who change into animals in the midst of
battle. The stuff of fairy tales, legends... But it seems to make
sense, right?
Geralt: Mhm. Almost. We were at a feast, not on a battlefield.
[They go to the outer courtyard where the jarls are; Hjort's off to one side.]
Hjort: Freya, our mother, may the sea swallow the traitors. Freya, our lady...
Geralt: Mind if I interrupt?
Hjort: Already have. What is it?
Geralt: Someone spiked one of the mead barrels. With blood and something else,
an herb or a mushroom. Cerys said--
Hjort: Give me the horn. I know the smell... A mushroom -- mardroeme.
Mardroeme? Never heard of it.
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Geralt: Mardroeme. Never heard of it.
Hjort: You've another name for it on the Continent. Psilocybe, I believe?
Geralt: All right. Peasants eat it to soothe pain.
Hjort: Udalryk tried it, too...but only a few times. In larger doses, the
mushroom causes visions, nightmares.
Cerys: Yes, the last thing Udalryk needed more of. Thanks for your help.
Mardroeme have anything to do with berserkers?
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Geralt: Mardroeme related in any way to berserkers?
Hjort: Aye... But only in the tales told to children as they're put to sleep
on cold winter nights. Warriors who ate mardroeme were said to
transform into beasts when consumed by battle rage. But as I said,
it's only...
Geralt: Only a legend, I know. Still, I find it easier to believe than some
story about bears appearing out of nowhere.
Cerys wasn't lying...you know your plants.
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Geralt: Cerys wasn't lying. You know your fungi.
Hjort: I do. Especially those which affect the mind, soothe it, summon waking
dreams. Udalryk suffered for years. I tried to help him in various
ways. Initially with prayer, then with poppy milk.
Cerys: But he's done with that now, right?
Hjort: It's not that simple... But we'll wean him off it yet.
Cerys: Blood and mardroeme. The taste of human flesh and a substance that
triggers visions. That well could've caused the rage, maybe even the
transformation.
Geralt: Maybe. Hard to believe someone spiked the mead here in the hall,
though, in front of all those witnesses.
Cerys: You're right. I helped prepare for the feast...I'd 'ave noticed. It
might've happened before they brought the drink upstairs. In the
cellars, maybe? C'mon. We could find some clues there.
[They head toward the cellar.]
Cerys: We must find the traitors quickly. Elsewise the warriors will take
matters into their own hands. Castle's abuzz already.
Geralt: Think they'd attack Crach openly?
Cerys: My father or each other. All in the finest Skellige tradition. Haven't
had a good civil war in ages. Knew there'd be trouble. It was all too
calm.
Geralt: Funny. Arnvald said the same. For a feast to be any good, mead's gotta
flow, but so does blood.</pre><pre id="faqspan-30">
Cerys: Might say he got his wish. I really hope Hjalmar's doin' something
useful, not just lookin' for a fight.
Geralt: Relax. Your brother's impetuous, not stupid.
[They enter the mead cellar.]
Cerys: We keep the poison at the cellar's other end, down below. Come, I'll
show you. Ugh... The stench. Is that vodka?
Geralt: Mahakaman spirit. Someone ruined several barrels of the finest...
Cerys: Good thing da's got other worries on his mind.
[She lets Geralt go into the booze-soaked lower part first.]
Cerys: Right behind you.
Geralt: That's a relief.
[Geralt sniffs some open kegs.]
• This mead's clean.
• Nothing here either.
• Blood and mushrooms... Think we can find out where this barrel came from?
Looks different. What the--?
[Geralt looks up to see a flaming torch flying in the air towards them.]
Geralt: Shit...!
Cerys: The spirit!
Geralt: Akh akh akh...
Cerys: There's another exit behind the barrels. But they're too heavy, we'll
never move them!
Geralt: Don't intend to. Quick!
[Geralt destroys the heavy kegs with an Aard spell, revealing a passage into
the castle's cavern bowels. They escape the smoky room.]
Cerys: Gods... We might've been burned alive!
Geralt: Somebody's damn desperate to bring our investigation to a quick end.
This a secret passage?
Cerys: One rarely used, more like. When Hjalmar and I were little, we'd play
here. Once-- Argh, bygone days.
[They get through the passage and enter a new cellar.]
Geralt: When I get my hands on that pyromaniac--
Cerys: Let's think... They had to use the entrance we used... Maybe they left
some prints behind?
Geralt: Maybe. When the door slammed shut and the fire broke out, did you hear
a bottle shatter, too?
Cerys: No, but I've no witcher senses at my disposal. You must hear the hair
growin' on my head.
Geralt: Huh, I try not to eavesdrop. Anyway, entrance is worth checking. Come
on.
[They returned to the crime scene. Geralt investigates a smashed jar.]
• Huh. Someone walked through the mead.
• Huh. Could you ask for clearer prints? Sticky from the mead.
• Trail breaks off. Need to find another clue nearby, something else to follow.
[They see ripped fabric on a torch holder.]
Geralt: Must've felt his clothing rip, but was in a hurry...
Cerys: What's this?
Geralt: Piece of cloth.
Cerys: No... It can't be!
Geralt: What is it?
Cerys: Arnvald's tunic! Only he wears this kind!
Geralt: Sure about that?
Cerys: Saw him in the main hall with the servants. Let's go!
[They soon see Arnvald fleeing the castle on horseback.]
Cerys: Look! It's him!
Geralt: Grab a horse. We'll chase him down.
[They chase him through the Kaer Trolde tunnels and onto the lower roads.]
Cerys: Arnvald! Stop, dammit!
Geralt: Doubt he'll listen...
Cerys: When I get my hands on him...
Geralt: You don't stand a chance!
Arnvald: We'll see about that!
[If Arnvald manages to reach the wilderness.]
Geralt: Shit... He's fast.
[If Arnvald manages to reach the shore, there's a longship waiting for him.]
Arnvald: Quick, they're after me.
Warrior: No time to lose, then. Kill him.
Arnvald: Huh? Are you mad? I'm on your side!
Warrior: Not anymore.
Cerys: Geralt, we need him alive.
Geralt: Figured as much. Help me.
[If Arnvald is saved from the bandits or forcibly dismounted:]
• Cerys: Hah! Got him!
Geralt: Why'd you betray them? Talk. Or I'll finish what I started.
• Arnvald: Why did you help me?
Cerys: Because I want to hear why you betrayed my father, my brother and our
clan! Say it to my face!
Arnvald: No an Craite should ever sit on Skellige's throne. I know you better
than others do -- you're hot-headed, irresponsible... Skellige needs
stability, a strong king. Not the kind a band of drunken jarls will
choose.
Cerys: Curious. Never heard you voice that idea. But I do know one who never
stops saying it. And I know the colors those men wore. That was the
Clan Tuirseach tartan. It's her. She's behind all this, isn't she?
Arnvald: Yes. Birna Bran.
Let's take him to Kaer Trolde.
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Geralt: Everyone needs to hear this. Let's get back to Kaer Trolde.
Cerys: Will you tell the council of jarls of the plot?
Arnvald: I will. I was ready to die for Birna... But not like this!
Cerys: The Thing will need to convene. Let's go!
What was Birna's motive?
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Geralt: What was her motive?
Cerys: It's obvious. She schemed this up to get rid of the other claimants,
slander our clan in the process. If she'd succeeded, Svanrige would've
been left the only claimant to Skellige's throne.
[If Arnvald avoids immediate capture, Geralt finds his corpse on the beach and
can search it.]
Geralt: So, didn't get away after all. A small key...to a drawer or small
chest. Time to head back to Kaer Trolde.
[When Geralt returns to Kaer Trolde after finding Arnvald's corpse:]
Cerys: So? Find anythin'?
Geralt: Mhm. Arnvald's body... And this key. Had it on him.
Cerys: We've gotta search his room.
Geralt: Lead the way.
Cerys: Still can't believe Arnvald played a part in it.
Geralt: Know him well?
Cerys: Since childhood. He was always tight-lipped, secretive, but never hurt
a fly.
[In the servants' chambers:]
Cerys: Let's get to work. Search every nook, turn things upside-down if need
be.
Geralt: Think he'd be dumb enough to leave any evidence behind?
Cerys: He didn't expect to be pursued... Might not've managed to take
everything. Here's his room. Arnvald slept there, by the wall.
• Geralt: "The Song of Bran the Conqueror."
Cerys: Bran the Conqueror's a hero to Clan Tuirseach. He took Skellige's
crown by force, was killed soon after.
Geralt: Interesting, but it's hardly proof.
• Geralt: Clothes all over the place. Think Arnvald might've been in a hurry.
Cerys: And a lone shoe. Unlike him -- he paid attention to how he looked.
Geralt: Wonder where the other one is.
Cerys: Think that important?
Geralt: Was wearing both on the beach. Remember that clearly 'cause he
didn't have much else on. Now where could it be?
• Geralt: An empty envelope... Hm... Scene's familiar.
Cerys: Must say I envy you that.
Geralt: Ambergris. Means a user of perfume. That's the scene to follow.
[The perfume trail leads to a loose brick.]
Geralt: A hidden compartment...? Hm, might oughta try Arnvald's key?
Cerys: A letter. I told you!
Geralt: Smell it? Birna's perfume...
Cerys: Never liked it, horribly suffocating. Might've guessed it was her.
Let's read the letter already.
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Geralt: Read that letter already.
Cerys: Instructions on how to spike the mead... Some promises. But it's
neither signed nor sealed.
Geralt: Think it's enough?
Cerys: It's got to be. We shouldn't delay any longer. Time to gather the
jarls.
Any apparent motive?
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Geralt: What was her motive?
Cerys: It's obvious. She schemed this up to get rid of the other claimants,
slander our clan in the process. If she'd succeeded, Svanrige would've
been left the only claimant to Skellige's throne.
[Later, Geralt and Cerys visit the council of jarls.]
Donar: I've assembled the jarls in council as you demanded, Cerys an Craite.
You claim to know who's behind the slaughter at Kaer Trolde. Speak,
then! The blood of Skellige's sons and daughters -- whose hands does it
stain?
Cerys: Birna Bran's.
Birna: The lass is mad. Do you think anyone will believe you?
Cerys: You had them serve poisoned mead to the berserkers.
Birna: I beg your pardon! The servants at Kaer Trolde are not mine to command!
'Twas your father who called for the feast, who assembled the guests!
Holger: There's reason in these words...
• Donar: Have you any proof to confirm your accusation?
Cerys: I've better. I've a witness. Arnvald!
Arnvald: Cerys speaks true. Birna commanded me to poison the mead. When
Cerys and the witcher descended into the cellars--
Crach: You betrayed us? The clan that took you in?!
Birna: Good men! He's a servant to an Craite, a lackey! He will say what
they command him to say! He would lie for them even if he were to pay
for it with his head!
Lugos: Birna speaks true. Arnvald has served at Kaer Trolde ever since I
remember. Loyally, like a dog.
• Cerys: Twas¹ my father's cupbearer Arnvald who helped him. Birna bribed
Arnvald. He tried to kill me and the witcher.
Crach: What?! Arnvald?!
Lugos: Aww, shite. Arnvald is Crach's loyal dog.
Birna: I thank you, Lugos... But so be it -- let us hear what slander
you've commanded him to repeat. Bring him in.
Cerys: He's dead. And I wager it was you who silenced him.
Birna: I am not surprised to see you lie, Cerys... After all, like father,
like daughter. But your lie is clumsy, and that does surprise me.
Donar: Silence, Birna! And you, Cerys... How do you aim to prove your
accusation?
There's one other piece of evidence.
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Geralt: Got one more piece of evidence.
• Geralt: Arnvald fled Kaer Trolde, rode to an agreed meeting point. The
warriors who awaited him there tried to kill him.
Holger: What's that to do with Birna?
Arnvald: Those men wore Clan Tuirseach colors.
Birna: This is no proof. It is inconclusive. Anyone might have donned our
tartans.
• Cerys: A letter from Birna to Arnvald -- instructing him on how to spike
the mead.
Birna: It lacks my signature. It lacks my seal.
Cerys: But the hand is that of a woman, and you--
Birna: Hahahaha! Is this your proof, lass? Is this what you call evidence
of my supposed treason? Don't make me laugh.
Donar: Birna's right, Cerys. 'Tis all precious little proof of her
wrongdoin'. Alas, your brother Hjalmar also has not presented anythin'
that could clear your family's name... We've but one path left to us.
I can vouch for what Cerys says.
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Geralt: I can vouch for Cerys. She's telling the truth.
Birna: You? Yet another an Craite lackey? Did Cerys entice you to cooperate?
I can imagine how. Or has Crach paid you to smear my name?
Crach: What did you say?!
Donar: Calm yourselves!
Udalryk: After what I saw on Spikeroog, I trust the witcher. More than I do
you.
Birna: You've that right. But it's no proof of my guilt.
Donar: Holger! Lugos! It's time we quit this damn castle. Come, we must decide
what punishment Clan an Craite will face.
I'm sorry, Cerys.
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Geralt: I'm sorry, Cerys.
Making a big mistake.
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Geralt: You're making a big mistake.
Birna: Silence, wanderer.
Svanrige: Wait! Mother... You bade me to leave the hall before the feast. Why?!
Birna: Son... Not now.
Svanrige: Why did you do it?! How did you know?! How?! You stand silent. You
gave Cerys no credence. Gave the witcher no credence. But you must
give credence to a son who accuses his own mother. The massacre was
her doing. She's shamed herself, me, the family...the clan!
Birna: Svanrige...I did it for you! Only for you!
Donar: You admit to this deed. As the eldest of the jarls I cleanse the name of
Clan an Craite...and you, Birna Bran, I sentence to death. You will be
chained to a rock to perish of hunger and thirst, and sea fowl will peck
apart your remains.
========================== PATH SPLIT REJOINS HERE ============================
[After the meeting, Crach meets Geralt on the balcony.]
• Crach: Birna had a lust for power, I knew this... But so strong as to commit
such a crime?!
Geralt: What about Svanrige? What's his fate?
Crach: He'll lose his home, his name, his honor. He'll choose exile...or
death.
• Crach: So 'tis true... Warriors who become bears...
Geralt: I'd say it's the opposite. I saw their transformative ritual... Our
Trial of the Grasses -- pure pleasure by comparison.
Crach: The Vildkaarls have been punished. You and Hjalmar saw to that. But
our true foe continues to prowl about. I sense hard times ahead for
Skellige.
Crach: Hm, but enough. Whatever comes, we must endure. I thank you, Geralt.
Again.
Geralt: No need. Again.
Crach: I'll not take any more of this modesty. This is a land of heroes! Let
this remind you of that. And now...I must ride for Geddyneith¹, for the
jarls' council. Time to pick a king.
Geralt: What do you think -- who'll get the nod?
Crach: Come with me, see for yourself. All may listen to our deliberations.
Gladly.
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Geralt: I do have a horse in the race. Can't refuse, to be honest.
Crach: As I thought. Well, let's go.
Might join you later.
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Geralt: Might join you later.
Crach: Countin' on it. As are my children.
________________________
____________________________________________________/ SKELLIGE ISLES SUBPLOT |_
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CORONATION [SK04]
_______________________________________________________________________________
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[Geralt goes to Gedyneith, the sacred tree tended by Ermion's druids, and the
spot for special ceremonies and coronations. The area is now full of visitors
waiting to hear of the new king.]
Crach: We're just in time.
Geralt: They've already started.
[Donar is addressing the throngs.]
Donar: Weren't long ago we gave King Bran back to the sea. Today our mourning
ends. Today, by the grace of the gods and the clans, a new ruler takes
the crown.
• Let us swear her fealty.
• Let us swear him fealty.
Crowd: Skellige has chosen!
Crowd: An Craite! An Craite! An Craite!
• Hjalmar: I know you've long awaited this day. We strike at Nilfgaard!
• Cerys: I know some would see another in my place. I thank those who stood
at my side. Here, beneath the Sacred Oak, I pledge to be a good queen
to the ones and the others. I want peace and prosperity to reign in
Skellige. And I count on you to help me fulfill that dream.
• Crowd: Cerys! Cerys! Cerys! Cerys!
• Crowd: Hjalmar! Hjalmar! Hjalmar! Hjalmar!
[Madman Lugos leaves the ceremony in a huff. Afterwards, Geralt can overhear a
conversation between the new king/queen and the runner-up:]
• Cerys: You're an idiot as a brother, but you'll make a good king...
Hjalmar: I will. And I'm countin on you bein' at my side when we set out
against Nilfgaard.
Cerys: Won't you feel silly? Goin' into battle arm in arm with a woman?
Hjalmar: With my sis, of clan an Craite. Bravest lass the Isles ever made.
• Hjalmar: You did well.
Cerys: Thought you'd be sulkin'
Hjalmar: Why would I? Showed 'em that even the lasses of Clan an Craite are
fit to take the throne.
Cerys: But I beat you.
Hjalmar: If it had to be so, I'm glad it were you and not someone else.
[If Cerys became queen:]
Geralt: Congratulations. You'll make a great queen.
Cerys: Thank you. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.
The Wild Hunt -- need your help fighting it.
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Geralt: Got a delicate matter I wanted to bring up. Need your help.
Cerys: What is it?
Geralt: Crach's mentioned Ciri to you -- he must've.
Cerys: Have you found her?!
Geralt: Not yet, but I'm close. Problem is, soon as I get her, the Wild
Hunt'll probably be able to locate us...quickly. So I'll want to take
her to Kaer Morhen. Battle the Hunt there. I'm looking for allies.
Cerys: Hmm... I can't leave the Isles now, it's impossible. What I can do is
give you my best warrior. Hjalmar.
Geralt: Think he'll be willing?
Cerys: I'm sure of it... In fact, I think he'll be overjoyed! Come on, you
know him.
Geralt: Yeah, guess I do. Thanks.
Cerys: No doubt he'll be valiant. I hope he¹ proves useful, too. Good luck.
What'll you do?
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Geralt: What's the new queen of Skellige planning?
Cerys: Umm... To listen, learn and listen again. Then we'll see.
Geralt: Good plan.
Cerys: I must unite the clans. I'd rather avoid war, but if Nilfgaard aims
to attack, we must repel them together.
Geralt: Drummond folk might be a problem. I saw Lugos during the ceremony --
furious, to say the least.
Cerys: There's always been strife between our clans... But I must try and
talk to him, just might bring him around.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Keep my fingers crossed. Farewell.
[If Hjalmar became king:]
Geralt: You earned this.
Hjalmar: Didn't I, now? Though truth be told, I'd rather 'ave beat a bugger
like Blueboy Lugos. But fuck it -- a win's a win. Thanks, mate.
Need help defending Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: The Wild Hunt's preparing to attack Kaer Morhen. Could use your help.
Hjalmar: Wraiths at the gate of your witchers' stronghold? You're a friend of
the clan -- I cannot refuse you. What's more, no an Craite's ever
stood and battled such a foe. I'll leave at once.
Geralt: Thanks. Won't forget this.
Gonna take on Nilfgaard now?
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Geralt: What now? Call up the crews, hit Nilfgaard?
Hjalmar: We go back to the Black Ones now. Come out of the sea at them, we'll
grind them to dust. Any who remain'll limp fast as they can back to
their bloody south.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Take care, Hjalmar.
[If Hjalmar is the runner-up:]
Geralt: You all right?
Hjalmar: So so... Any way you cut it, I was bested by a wench.
Geralt: Not just any wench.
Hjalmar: Aye, true. Suppose if it had to be so, I'm glad it was Cerys.
Need help defending Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: The Wild Hunt's preparing to attack Kaer Morhen. Could use your help.
Hjalmar: Wraiths at the gate of your witchers' stronghold? You're a friend of
the clan -- I cannot refuse you. What's more, no an Craite's ever
stood and battled such a foe. I'll leave at once.
Geralt: Thanks. Won't forget this.
Oughta be proud of her.
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Geralt: Not even a little proud of her? Come on, admit it.
Hjalmar: A bit, aye. She is the blood of me blood, bone of me bone. But don't
tell her I said so. Liable to puff out her chest -- which'd do her
good, now that I think of it. We showed Lugos -- that's most
important. D'you see that rage grip 'im? I thought he'd burst!
Geralt: Yeah. Surprised to see him in that much of a huff, actually.
Hjalmar: Our clans've been buttin' heads, chests, bellies forever. It's the
lay o' the land.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Take care, Hjalmar.
[If Cerys is the runner-up:]
Geralt: I was afraid you'd never talk to each other again. After that contest
for the crown?
Cerys: Who? Me and Hjalmar? You must be mad.
Geralt: Rivalry certainly seemed serious.
Cerys: Our rivalry's one thing, but we share the same blood -- that's what
really counts.
The Wild Hunt -- need your help fighting it.
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Geralt: Got a delicate matter I wanted to bring up. Need your help.
Cerys: What is it?
Geralt: Crach's mentioned Ciri to you -- he must've.
Cerys: Have you found her?!
Geralt: Not yet, but I'm close. Problem is, soon as I get her, the Wild
Hunt'll probably be able to locate us...quickly. So I'll want to take
her to Kaer Morhen. Battle the Hunt there. I'm looking for allies.
Cerys: I can't go...but do forgive me. Hjalmar's given me tasks, important
ones. He's my king, now -- I can't just abandon him.
Geralt: I understand. I should go -- gotta keep looking.
Cerys: Good luck, Geralt.
Not mad you lost?
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Geralt: So, not mad you lost?
Cerys: Naturally I'd rather be standin' where he is now, but...my brother's
strong, and he's got charisma. I believe folk'll follow him. And if
he grows too high and mighty, father'll cut him down to size, you can
be sure o' that.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Farewell.
[If Geralt talks to Crach:]
Geralt: Looks to me you're near bursting with pride.
Crach: Hah! If only you knew, Wolf! Tell me -- what other jarl can boast
children like mine? Shame their mother didn't live to see this...
• Geralt: Cerys'll make a good queen. Maybe she can finally unite the clans.
Crach: Let's hope. And if not, she'll always have me and Hjalmar. If the
need arises, we'll take up arms for her.
• Geralt: Hjalmar'll make a good king, provided you help him rein in his
temper a bit.
Crach: It'll depend on the matter. His brawlin' days are over, granted. But
if he decides to sail against Nilfgaard, he can count on my blade.
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CIRI'S ROOM [CRRM]
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[This quest begins after meeting the Bloody Baron and beginning his "Family
Matters" mission. Geralt can enter the guest room she stayed at and look for
clues.]
Geralt: So, Ciri was here...
• A spinning top. Gretka's toy.
• Ciri must've used these. Looks like she left in a hurry.
• "The Natural Obscurity of Curses" by Lydia van Bredevoort. Where'd Ciri get
this?
[The witcher browses the curse-related book.]
Geralt: Hm... A dedication to the baron and his wife. Seems they had friends
in high places in Vizima.
[Later, Geralt finds Gretka, the girl Ciri saved, in the kitchen.]
Geralt: So you're Gretka...
Gretka: I am. And you're Geralt.
Geralt: How'd you know?
Gretka: Because you've white hair and a medallion shaped like a wolf. Ciri told
me about you.
What else did Ciri say?
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Geralt: You and Ciri talked a bit, didn't you?
Gretka: We did.
Geralt: Did she say where she was going? Or what she came here to look for?
Gretka: She said she was looking for you and a sorceress. But you're here, so
I guess she didn't find you. I wonder if she helped that friend of
hers...
What friend?
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Geralt: Ciri wanted to help a friend? Any idea who it was?
Gretka: What do you mean who? Her friend. She said he was in trouble and
that she had to save him.
Do you know where Ciri is?
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Geralt: Do you know where Ciri is?
Gretka: No. One day I brought her breakfast, and she was already gone. The
baron told me she'd left.
Geralt: Didn't ask where she'd gone?
Gretka: I did, but he said I was too little and I wouldn't understand. But
Ciri left me a gift.
Geralt: A gift?
Gretka: Yes, this. A green stone.
Geralt: Beautiful as gifts go. Hide it well, don't show it to anyone. It's
worth a lot.
Found this toy in Ciri's room.
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Geralt: Look familiar?
Gretka: My top! Where'd you find it?
Geralt: Ciri's room.
Gretka: We'd play in her room sometimes. I was sad one day, and Ciri carved
it for me. Such a shame she had to leave.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Thanks, Gretka. Have fun.
Gretka: But I'm not playin'. I'm helpin'.
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GHOSTS FROM THE PAST [GHST]
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[This quest can only be started before entering the Isle of Mists, and only if
Geralt told Morvran in Vizima (during interrogation) that Letho of Gulet was
spared. To begin, Geralt approaches Reardon Manor, a deserted farmstead in
southern Velen.]
Geralt: Hmm... A tripwire. Never known a monster to set a trap. Someone's here.
[He hears scuffling in the barn.]
Geralt: Movement... Oughta keep my ears open. Rustling...over there.
[Geralt enters, hearing complete silence.]
Geralt: Something's not right... Hmm... A sort of attic... Gotta get up there
somehow... Might just be long enough to reach the upper level... Let's
see what's up there.
[He does, and finds a skulking figure by the loft's opening. It's revealed to
be Letho of Gulet, a witcher antagonist from Witcher 2.]
• Letho: Bravo, Geralt. Avoided all my traps.
• Letho: Your reflexes have slowed. Hope you're not hurt. Those were my traps.
Geralt: Letho?!
Letho: Yeah, didn't expect to see you, either. You one of them?
What're you talking about?
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Geralt: Who's "them"?
Letho: To the emperor -- mercenaries. To themselves -- bounty hunters. To me
-- ordinary sons of bitches.
Why're you here?
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Geralt: "Them"? You know I work alone. Question is, what're you doing here?
Letho: Waiting for them. The ones trying to kill me.
Geralt: Well, got nothing to fear from me.
• Took a job from an old woman. Supposed to get rid of the monsters here.
Letho: Did that already. Count on you remembering that when you collect
your pay.
• Came here by accident, actually.
Letho: Accidents sure send you to strange places. Till recently this place
was full of ghouls.
[If Geralt came at Dolores' behest in "The Fall of the House of Reardon":]
Geralt:
Great place to hide.
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Geralt: Hiding in a place overrun by monsters -- good idea.
Letho: Means people don't wander in by accident. And the ones who come on
purpose, well, I'm prepared for them.
Geralt: Assassins?
Who's after you?
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Geralt: Who'd you piss off this time?
Letho: Emperor just decided to get rid of me -- I'm an inconvenient witness,
after all. I've run into loads of men out to kill me ever since I left
Loc Muinne.
Geralt: Now I understand all the traps.
Letho: Gotten real careful.
Geralt: For good reason.
[Outside, a gathering of mercenaries can be seen.]
Geralt: Don't look a bit like lost travelers.
Letho: They're not. Means Louis sold me out.
Geralt: Louis?
Letho: Old friend, kinda. Did a few jobs together once, a while past. Louis
recommended this place to me.
Yeah, you got duped.
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Geralt: You've grown careless. Let yourself be drawn into a trap.
Letho: Nah. Only traps here are the ones I set.
You sure he betrayed you?
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Geralt: So maybe those men down below wound up here by accident.
Letho: Eat my own boot before I believe that.
Letho: Gotta get rid of them. Coming?
Course, I'll help you.
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Geralt: Lead the way.
This is between you and them.
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Geralt: This is between you and them. Not my problem, rather not get
involved.
Letho: You got involved when you came here. We'll get rid of them quicker
together.
Geralt: Hrgh. Knew I shouldn't have come here...
Geralt: We got a plan of attack?
Letho: Yeah. Improvise.
[The two witchers take care of the headhunters.]
Letho: Goddamn fools.
Geralt: Shoddily armed for assassins.
Letho: They're just scouts. Came to see if Louis was telling the truth. Rest
must be waiting nearby.
Geralt: And your old pal probably knows where.
Letho: He was the only one knew I'd be here. Must've told them. Think me and
him are due for a little chat...
Love to see that.
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Geralt: Hmm, could be interesting. Love to see it.
Letho: Come along. Sight of two witchers should loosen his tongue that much
quicker.
Good luck.
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Geralt: In that case -- good luck.
Letho: Wanna come with? Sight of two witchers might loosen his tongue
quicker. Besides, we haven't seen each other in ages. You could tell
me what's new in the world...
Why not. All right, I'll go with you.
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Geralt: Put it that way... All right, I'd love to come.
Some other time, maybe. See you.
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Geralt: Maybe next time, Letho. Got something else to take care of now.
Letho: Sure. So long, Wolf. Nice seeing you.
Geralt: Same. Don't get killed.
[If Geralt agrees to accompany Letho:]
Letho: Stay close to me. It's one of those places that's hard to find if you
don't know where to look.
[They ride out.]
Geralt: This Louis -- somehow doubt he's one of your best friends.
Letho: You know how it is in this trade. Drink with someone in the evening,
check if he's robbed you in the morning.
Geralt: How'd you meet?
Letho: Was before Foltest kissed this world goodbye. Louis was a wanted man in
Aedirn. Hefty bounty on his head, and normal contracts were hard to come
by. So I decided to catch the bastard, make some coin. Tracking him down
proved easier than killing a drowner. He was, uh, merrymaking at the
Golden Hanged Man, smack in the middle of Hagge. Nabbed him, tied him
up, but the guard post didn't open till dawn...so we had a few hours.
Started talking, killing time. Chat was so nice that once dawn came I
let him go.
Geralt: And that's why you trusted him...? Felt he owed you one?
Letho: I was stupid. Stupidity can cost you. But betrayal costs even more.
[They approach a camp on a small hilltop.]
Voice: Weapons, men. We got company.
Voice: Who's that comin'?
Voice: The giant with the scarred forehead. And some gray-haired bloke...
Voice: Louis won't be happy.
[The witchers enter the camp.]
Louis: Leeethooo, greetings! Good to see you alive and well.
Letho: Oh yeah?
Louis: Course! We're old mates, ain't we...? Who's your friend?
Geralt of Rivia.
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Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Witcher.
Louis: Another one? What's this -- prime contract available in the area?
Sit down, care for a drink?
Letho: I don't drink with traitors and rats.
None of your business.
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Geralt: Doesn't matter. And don't change the subject.
Louis: Subject? What subject? You just arrived. Sit down, care for a drink?
Letho: I don't drink with traitors and rats.
Someone who knows you're a traitor.
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Geralt: A new mate. Who knows you're a fink.
Louis: Who-ho! Let's be civil, now. Remember, you're on my turf.
Letho: Arnout Vester's men showed up at the manor. You were the only knew I
was there.
Louis: They been nippin' at your heels for a while -- said so yourself. Perhaps
they finally caught a whiff.
Letho: Mhm. With your help.
Louis: You've not been here five minutes and already you've offended me twice.
Letho: No insult worthy of scum like you.
[They start fighting.]
Louis: Careful, men! They're witchers!
Bandit: Witchers don't attack humans!
Letho: Make an exception for you.
[They slay Louis' henchmen in simple fashion.]
Letho: Lie still or you'll bleed to death. Tell me where Vester's men are. I'll
give you something to stanch the bleeding.
Louis: Th-they're north of here. In Lindenvale.
You're a traitor. Makes you a liar, too.
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Geralt: Don't believe you, somehow.
Louis: Why would I lie? Letho, you gotta forgive me. It weren't nothin'
personal.
How much they pay you to double-cross him?
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Geralt: I'm curious -- how much does the life of an "old mate" get you these
days?
Louis: Things... Things been shite of late... And we fell afoul o' the Black
Ones... Vester showed up one day. Offered half the bounty on your head
and a letter of absolution from the emperor. You gotta understand --
you don't say no to an offer like that.
Letho: I understand.
Louis: Hey! My medicine!
Letho: Gotta understand, Louis. You don't betray men like me. Time to see
Vester.
Geralt: Going with you.
[They leave Louis to lie with his bleeding belly.]
Louis: Damn you! Whoresons!
[They ride for Lindenvale.]
Geralt: Arnout Vester...Nilfgaardian name.
Letho: From Metinna, I think. But he's hunted and killed everywhere from the
far south to the Dragon Mountains.
Geralt: Why have I never heard of him?
Letho: Goon goes by different names -- Brenden Vilfe, Appo Saxon, Manfred
Whimplebottoms...
Geralt: Manfred Whimplebottoms? Good name for a clown.
Letho: Ones he's done in sure weren't laughing. Preferred method -- rip the
teeth out, one by one, then cut the mouth open ear to ear. It's how they
punish deadbeat debtors in the Nilfgaardian underworld.
Geralt: Quite the career. Underworld to serving the emperor and his court.
Letho: Yeah... Scum does usually float to the top.
[They enter the modest village.]
Letho: Keep your eyes open.
Geralt: Think they're really here?
Letho: Don't know. But like I said, I've grown real careful.
[Several nice horses are parked outside a poor farmhouse.]
Letho: Nice mounts...
Geralt: Gotta be worth more than the entire village.
[They see a kid sitting on a fence.]
Letho: What's in the barn?
Boy: H-h-hay.
Letho: Got company?
[The boy nods.]
Letho: Run and find your parents. Tell them to grab whatever's valuable, take
you and flee. Got it? Good. Give this to your mother. Now run.
[The kid runs off with Letho's coin.]
Geralt: What was that?
Letho: Compensation. Stay here. And don't interfere -- no matter what happens.
Plug your ears.
[He tosses a bomb into the chicken coop, drawing out Vester and his men.]
Bandit: What in the blazes?
Bandit: A bolt o' lightning or somethin'?
Vester: Shut up, all of you!
[He sees Letho and brings out his remaining men.]
Vester: Letho of Gulet... Good to see you alive and well.
Letho: Funny. Second time today I've heard that lie.
Vester: It is no lie. You will certainly fetch a higher bounty alive.
Letho: Really. How much?
Vester: Enough to buy me an estate in Kovir, where I will lie about eating
fruit till the rest of my days.
Letho: Not bad. Not every man gets to know the price on his head.
Vester: Most men would prefer not to have one. But why have you come? To make
my life easier?
Letho: We were passing by... Decided it was time to finally meet the famous
Arnout Vester in person.
Vester: I am flattered. Shame we'll not get to know one another better.
Letho: Why? Going somewhere?
Vester: No. Simply because I will kill you in a moment.
Letho: Wanna kill me, but you don't even know me. Not nice. Think I have to
punish you for that. But I won't kill you. I'll just cut off your hands.
Cut off all your hands. One man after the other. Till the end of your
days, those stumps'll remind you of the mistake you made.
[One of the skittish crossbowmen shoots him in the shoulder with a bolt.]
Vester: Bloody hell! You fucking dimwit! I hadn't time to exchange two words
with the man!
Bandit: He provoked me!
[Geralt sees Letho slaughter many of the guard, before passing out in front of
Arnaut and his remaining men.]
Vester: We have no quarrel with you, but one false move and--
Geralt: And what?
Vester: You will end like him. What say you to that?
You're as good as dead.
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Geralt: What do I say? Simple -- you're good as dead.
Don't want trouble.
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Geralt: You go your way, I'll go mine.
Vester: Wise choice. Take his head. And we leave this gods forsaken¹ place.
Changed my mind -- you gotta die.
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Geralt: His head stays where it is. Instead, I'll take yours.
His medallion's all you need.
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Geralt: You're not taking anything. Need proof? Take his medallion.
Vester: We will take his head. You are one, we are three.
Geralt: Mhm, but in the time it took me to run up, Letho dropped six of
yours, with a bolt in his chest. How long'll it take me to kill
you, whaddaya think?
Vester: Ben, take the medallion. The head could rot before we arrived at our
destination. Saddle the horses! We ride!
[After dealing with Vester, Geralt stoops over Letho's body. He can smell what
the arrow's tipped with.]
Geralt: Mff-mff. Hm, Zanguebarian venom. Something's fishy...
[He takes Letho into the unused house. Awhile later, the paralysis wears off
and Letho comes to.]
Letho: Akh akh akh... You still here?
Geralt: Huh. They'd 'ave cut your head off if I hadn't been here.
Letho: Hm, so you proved useful after all.
Geralt: Coulda told me.
Letho: Heh, no fun in that.
You amused?
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Geralt: Find this amusing?
Letho: Not so loud, Geralt. I just rose from the dead.
Geralt: Zanguebarian venom could still kill you, you know.
You all right?
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Geralt: You all right? You're conscious, but that Zanguebarian venom could
still kill you.
Geralt: Got the antidote?
Letho: Mhm, saddlebag. Take it in a minute. Couple of days, I'll be like new.
Geralt: What was it for? That whole farce.
Letho: Told you, I'd been on the run since Loc Muinne. Loads of pursuers... Got
ambushed once, almost died. So I decided it was time to end it. Once and
for all. Found Vester's gang and paid off his arbalist. You just
witnessed the rest of the story.
Weren't afraid he'd cross you?
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Geralt: What if he'd crossed you? Like Louis?
Letho: I had to risk it.
Louis a part of this plan?
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Geralt: What about Louis? Was he part of this plan?
Letho: Nah, a minor complication. Ah-ahh, though his betrayal, it did get me
thinking. But I had to risk it.
• Letho: Gotta say it's paid off. Letho of Gulet's dead as a doornail -- word
of that'll spread like wildfire, far and wide. All I gotta do now is
disappear.
• Letho: If you hadn't cut down every last witness, I'd be a free man. Letho of
Gulet is dead -- word of that woulda spread across the Continent in
days.
Geralt: Wouldn't 'ave done it if you'd let me in on your plan.
Letho: Told you not to get involved. Well, my plans¹ in shambles. I should
really disappear.
You could go to Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: Hmm... You could wait things out at Kaer Morhen.
Letho: With your friends from the School of the Wolf? Hah. No, thanks, could
end badly.
Geralt: Tell 'em I sent you. They'll understand, give you space.
Letho: Kaer Morhen, you say... Hmm, why not? Got some loose ends to tie up,
but then I'll head there.
Need anything else?
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Geralt: Help you somehow? Need anything?
Letho: No, thanks. I'll be fine.
Farewell.
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---
Geralt: So, see you at Kaer Morhen.
Letho: See you, Wolf.
You'll find a place to hide.
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Geralt: Gotta be a cozy haunted house nearby. You can lay low, and no one'll
bother you.
Letho: Nah, had it with these swamps. Need a chance of scenery. Zerrikania,
maybe?
Geralt: I've heard they have striped horses there.
Letho: So have I. And apparently it's a matriarchy. I mean, been a deep
belief of mine always that it's women who should rule the world. Heh.
Thanks for your help, Geralt.
Geralt: Don't mention it. See you on the Path, Letho.
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REDANIA'S MOST WANTED [RDNS]
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[After dealing with Whoreson Junior, Radovid, King of Redania, orders Geralt to
find Philippa Eilhart for him. He believes she's hiding in a magically locked
ruin east of Oxenfurt. If Geralt chooses to assist, he rides to Est Tayiar.]
Hunter: March back in there!
Hunter: But, commander! It's full of monsters and traps! We've dragged out
four wounded, and there's near a dozen corpses still down there!
Hunter: I don't give a shit! We've orders to search this cave and that's what
we'll do!
[Geralt approaches the witch hunters standing near the corpses.]
Geralt: Having trouble?
Hunter: Nothing fucking but! One ploughing trouble after the other!
Hunter: But what's it to you? Who are you?
A witcher.
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Geralt: Geralt of Rivia. Witcher.
A trouble solver.
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Geralt: A means to solve your troubles.
Geralt: Radovid sent me.
Hunter: Ah, it's you... Been waiting for you.
You sound enthused.
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Geralt: Don't exactly sound delighted.
Hunter: Would you expect us to? We've done half the work, now you show up to
take all the glory?
What've you learned so far?
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---
Geralt: Word was you hadn't been able to get inside.
Hunter: Till yesterday. When we found this.
[He points to a soldier holding up a tile.]
Hunter: Doesn't look like much, but it's got power of some sort. Opens the
entrance.
Good work.
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Geralt: Good work. Saved me some time.
Hunter: We're thrilled.
Gimme that.
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Geralt: Great. I'll take that now if you don't mind.
Hunter: Here. Choke on it, you twit.
[They give him the magical key.]
How do you know Philippa is down there?
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Geralt: Think Philippa's still inside?
Hunter: That we don't know. Only certain thing is she was there at some
point.
Geralt: Certain? How's that?
Hunter: We've been after her since Loc Muinne. Pokin' out her eyes weren't
enough. Radovid should've gutted her there and then. As it is, she
turned into an owl and fled. Flew across Kaedwen and Redania, then
tucked herself away here.
Anything else I should know?
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Geralt: What can I expect to find inside?
Hunter: Everything. Anything. It's an old elven temple. The witch Eilhart
turned into her hideout. Look at 'em. Fell into some magic trap,
then monsters attacked 'em. Barely got out alive.
Geralt: Any of your men still down there?
Hunter: Dozen or so went in, they's all that came out. Rest're probably dead.
Bye.
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Geralt: Time I saw if Philippa's still in there...
Hunter: Don't count on anyone goin' in to retrieve your corpse.
[Down in the elven ruins, Geralt sees a stairway portal.]
Geralt: Gotta be some mechanism that opens this door.
[He finds a weird wall object.]
Geralt: Missing one tile.
[With the barrier deactivated, he can find the next part of the ruins -- all
broken up with huge chasms and gaps.]
Geralt: Perfect hideout -- for an owl... Be a bit harder for me to move around.
Portals, great. And the witch hunters probably messed with them. Works.
Who woulda thunk.
[He goes through the portal, landing near more corpses.]
Geralt: Hate portals. Make my stomach turn.
• A remex...its edge frayed. This is an owl feather.
[Further on, he can hear skittering noises.]
Geralt: Mhm. Nekkers -- might've expected as much. The¹ love places like this.
[There's a closed portal nearby.]
Geralt: Damn -- inactive. Maybe I can start it up... Should work now... Did it.
Activated the portal.
[There's a witch hunter trying to get warm on the portal's other side.]
Hunter: Stay back! Not one step closer!
Geralt: Sheathe that before you hurt yourself.
Hunter: Wait... You... You that witcher the king was supposed to send?
Geralt: Guessed it. Think you know by now how dangerous this place is. Oughta
wait up above with the others.
Hunter: Not a chance! Those cowards ran at the first whiff of monsters. I'm
made of stiffer stuff. Besides, something big's set to happen here, I
just know it... I learn what it is, Radovid'll appreciate it... King'll
promote me, maybe even give me a medal.
I'll guide you out of here.
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Geralt: All right, let's get you out of here.
Hunter: Told you already -- no chance. Besides... The teleport's power cell
-- I broke it off. We've to wait till they come for us, got no
choice.
Geralt: Nobody's gonna come for us. Gimme the crystal, I'll get us out of
here.
Hunter: But the monsters...
Geralt: I'll defend you.
Hunter: What if you can't?
[Axii Sign] Behave and gimme the crystal.
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Geralt: Be a good little hunter and give me the crystal.
Hunter: I am a good little hunter. There you go.
Gimme the crystal or you're in for a world of hurt.
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Geralt: No time to argue. Gimme the crystal.
Hunter: Over my dead body!
Geralt: Have it your way...
[Geralt beats him in fisticuffs.]
Hunter: Right! Enough! I'll give you the damned crystal.
Geralt: Outta my way.
Whaddaya think's set to happen here?
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Geralt: What's the big event that's supposed to happen?
Hunter: Uhhh... Don't know the details, but I came across Philippa Eilhart's
notes. Mentioned Ida Emean, Margarita Laux-Antille, Francesca
Findabair and Fringilla Vigo. As I see it, they aim to meet...here!
Philippa still here?
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Geralt: Think Philippa's still here?
Hunter: Can't rightly know. Sure, we searched a few caverns, but hidden nooks
abound. If someone wanted to hide in here, they could, easily. Even
if they weren't an owl.
Geralt: Right, now to activate it...
[He teleports down further, landing in a nekker fight.]
Geralt: Must've been her laboratory... Another inactive portal. Missing its
power cell...maybe the nekkers took a liking to it. Hm, a tunnel.
Wonder where it leads...
[He finds the crystal in the hands of some creatures.]
Geralt: Power cell. Got it.
[Geralt continues on.]
Geralt: Gotta be the lowest level.
[He soon finds the cause of the burnt corpses: an Ifrit, a fire elemental.]
Geralt: Oh yeah, gotta have a sentry, of course...
• Another feather. Doubt Philippa had an aviary -- these are signs of
polymorphy.
[Soon he enters the deepest sanctum: a ruined laboratory.]
Geralt: Bed, table, a few chairs... Modest, but a home nonetheless.
• Notes... Charred, almost completely. Can't read a thing.
• Blood-stained surgical instruments... Philippa operated on someone here.
• A megascope...scorched, covered in soot... Maybe one of the crystals
survived.
• Crystal from a megascope...heavily chipped. Triss'll know what to do with
this.
• Agates. Kind Philippa always wore around her neck. Except...why're these
covered in blood? She either fought someone...or used them in her
experiments.
[Geralt backtracks to the ruin's opening, overhearing the witch hunters.]
Hunter: And then he opened the portal and pranced through.
Hunter: You shoulda gone after him!
Hunter: Straight into the monster's jaws? Preferred to come up, inform you.
Besides, he'll come back this way, he's gotta. Oh, there he is now.
[Geralt walks over.]
Hunter: You're alive...? Find anything?
Not a thing.
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Geralt: Cremated notes, a nekker nest, rats... Nothing interesting.
Hunter: Why don't I believe you?
Your problem.
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Geralt: Dunno. Your problem, I guess.
Hunter: Oh, you're wrong there...
It's the truth.
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Geralt: Tellin' you the truth. Awfully prone to suspicion, you hunters...
Hunter: Not without reason...
Yeah, a megascope crystal.
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Geralt: Dust, dirt...and a megascope crystal.
Hunter: Whatever the hell that is... But...good chance it's important. Hand
it here. We'll see the king gets it.
None of your business.
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Geralt: Not your concern.
Hunter: Wrong there, friend. I serve the king. Everything that concerns him's
my concern as well.
Hunter: Hand it over, whatever you found. We'll see the king gets it.
Not gonna happen.
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Geralt: Forgetting yourself. Save your orders for your men.
Hunter: As you wish... Grab him!
Fine.
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Geralt: So be it... But to the king directly. Straight into his hands.
Hunter: You can be sure o' that...
Hunter: Let's go!
[If Geralt brings Triss the crystal before the conniving king:]
Geralt: Spoke with Radovid... Offered me a contract -- to find Philippa.
Triss: The bastard...wasn't enough he poked her eyes out? Probably wants to
torture her some more. You turned him down, of course.
Geralt: No.
Triss: Geralt, you know what he did to her...
Geralt: Relax. See, I figured if I agreed, I could look for her without his men
getting in my way. Fact is, I'm curious to know what happened to her.</pre><pre id="faqspan-31">
Triss: So? Learn anything?
Found this crystal.
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Geralt: Even better. Found this.
A few things.
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Geralt: A bit. Seems she hid in some elven ruins outside Novigrad after she
fled Loc Muinne. Conducted some experiments there. This might tell
us more.
Triss: A megascope crystal. Hm, it's damaged...but it could still work.
[Using Triss' magic, they see the info stored in the crystal. Philippa's having
a megascope conversation with Margarita Laux-Antille
Rita: ...and Francesca's equally hesitant. Neither she nor Ida wishes to decide
blindly.
Philippa: They'll stop hesitating as soon we convince Keira and Fringilla.
Rita: Fringilla's on our side. She'll join us as soon as she's finished some
business in Nilfgaard.
Philippa: Wonderful, that leaves Keira. The problem is, I've still no notion
where she could be.
Rita: What about Yennefer and Triss?
Philippa: Yennefer's never belonged to the lodge, and Triss... Well, we shall
see. I must regain my vision. I can go to Novigrad then to see Arthur
de Vleester. The word is Triss is also carousing about the city.
Rita: You still insist? Phil, pardon my saying so, but you will never
regenerate your eyes on your own.
Philippa: Vilgefortz did it. I'm employing the same method -- cultivating
tissues on precious stones.
Rita: It's madness... ...need... ...ower... ...ut your... ...reat dange...
[The conversation crackles off.]
Triss: That's it. That's all I could recover.
Bet Radovid would love to get this crystal.
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Geralt: Hm, guessing Radovid would love to get his hands on this...
What did they talk about?
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Geralt: I get that right? Philippa say she wants to restore her vision?
Triss: Seems she was planning to grow tissue on precious stones.
Geralt: Makes sense. Found agates covered in blood in her hideout.
Triss: If she pulled it off, she'd only be the second person in the world to
do so. But the bit about the Lodge -- that's what I found interesting.
What was so interesting about it?
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Geralt: Meaning what, exactly?
Triss: The names they mentioned -- all the most powerful sorceresses. Former
members of the Lodge. They clearly mean to revive it.
Geralt: That good or bad?
Triss: Depends for who. Philippa's always said that "if magic perishes, so
shall this world." And the Lodge was to protect the mages and their
interests. Radovid and the emperor, on the other hand, would not be
pleased. Both would have to respect our opinions, and neither likes
to share power.
Do you want to join the Lodge?
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Geralt: "Our" opinions? You'd join them really?
Triss: No, I've got other plans. So, what will you do with the crystal?
Geralt: Haven't decided... Bet Radovid would be very interested in it...
Triss: You're not gonna give it to him, are you?
You should keep the crystal.
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Geralt: Probably better if you keep it.
Triss: Much better. It'll be safe with me. I'll try to cast a diagnostic
spell, maybe learn something more.
Geralt: Good luck.
Don't see why I shouldn't give it to Radovid.
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Geralt: Don't see why not. I was supposed to bring him Philippa, true, but
he might be happy with this.
Triss: I sincerely hope you're not serious. Radovid hates mages, Philippa
especially! If she falls into his hands, she won't make it out alive
this time.
You're overreacting.
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Geralt: It's not like they said anything specific.
Triss: Radovid is holding mages captive. He'll force them to extract more
from the crystal.
Geralt: You're overreacting. Besides, Philippa's not one to make the same
mistake twice.
Triss: Geralt, think this through...
Geralt: I will. Thanks for your help.
[Eventually, Geralt has to visit the HMS Oxenfurt-Tretogor.]
Sentry: This is the ship of His Majesty Radovid V of Redania. State your
business.
Wanna see the king...about Philippa Eilhart.
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Geralt: I wanna see the king. It's about Philippa Eilhart.
Sentry: If that's the case, come with me. But no sudden moves -- got my eye
on you.
Farewell.
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Geralt: Farewell.
[Geralt goes before the king.
Radovid: Witcher. Any progress? Have you found Eilhart?
No, but I found this crystal.²
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Geralt: No, wasn't in her hideout. But I found this crystal there.
Radovid: If I'd wanted a shiny bauble I would have gone to a jeweler. You
were to bring me Eilhart.
Geralt: This is a megascope crystal. The mages you keep imprisoned should be
able to extract something from it.
Radovid: Yes... At last, they might prove useful. Not exactly what I
expected, but... Very well, you've earned your pay. Now forgive me
-- I've affairs to which I must attend.
No. Think she's dead.
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Geralt: She definitely hid where your men said, but I arrived too late.
Fortunately or not -- can't really say. There'd been a fire in the
hideout. Philippa died in the flames, most likely.
Radovid: A fitting end for a witch.
I know she's trying to restore her eyesight.
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Geralt: Wasn't where your men said, but I did find signs of someone doing
medical experiments there.
Radovid: Oh, that's something.
Geralt: Think Philippa tried to restore her eyesight.
Radovid: Verily? Empty eye sockets suit her so much better.
[If Geralt didn't show the crystal immediately:]
Radovid: So. Have you any proof?
I have this crystal.²
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Geralt: Got this crystal.
(Radovid's "If I'd wanted a shiny bauble..." line continues from here.)
No, sadly.²
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Geralt: No. But you have my word.
Radovid: Hahah, your word? You give me your word? Sorry, but Eilhart herself
taught me to doubt everyone, especially their word. So we've naught
to talk about. Farewell.
[If Geralt gave the crystal to the hunters, the options above are replaced:]
Geralt: Crystal from her megascope. I gave it to your men.
Radovid: How curious. They claimed to have found it themselves. And to have
saved your life when you became trapped.
Your men lied.
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Geralt: They lied. They'd lost over a dozen men by the time I arrived. I gave
the crystal to their commander -- thought he'd get it to you quicker.
Radovid: Your word against theirs. And you've no proof.
Might've expected this.
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Geralt: Yeah, should've expected as much... What else did they claim? They
mention the golden dragon they slew so heroically?
Radovid: Envy speaks through you, nothing more.
Radovid: You disappoint me, witcher. Apparently, I thought too highly of you.
Get out of my sight.
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BROTHERS IN ARMS: VELEN [BIA1]
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[Searching for allies in Velen is a short trip -- only Keira Metz. If Geralt's
not finished her questline:]
Geralt: Finally know where Ciri is. I wanna take her to Kaer Morhen.
Keira: Is that so? Nice to hear. But...is there any particular reason you're
telling me this?
Geralt: Well, the Wild Hunt'll know I've found her when I do. They'll attack.
Want you to help me repel them.
Keira: Ah...this is awkward. I mean, I'd gladly help, but I have a few more
things to tend to in this charming dung hole. Perhaps...if you were to
help me first...
Geralt: Huh... Lemme think about it.
Keira: You know where to find me.
[If the questline's done propery, Keira will go Kaer Morhen; there isn't a
follow-up conversation like some other NPCs have.]
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BROTHERS IN ARMS: NOVIGRAD [BIA2]
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[There are four targets to find in Novigrad. Zoltan will agree no matter what
how his card-collecting debt quest is:]
Geralt: I know where Ciri is.
Zoltan: Then why are we here? Let's go get the lassie!
Geralt: I'll do that, but I have another job for you. You need to set out for
Kaer Morhen. That's where I'll take Ciri. The Wild Hunt will attack
soon afterwards. Could use you at our side.
Zoltan: You'll have me, and my axe.
Geralt: Thanks. See you at Kaer Morhen. Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert are already
there.
[If Geralt goes to Dijkstra/Sigi Reuven:]
Geralt: Wasn't sure I should even ask you. Still not. But what the hell -- I
could honestly use some help.
Reuven: Ooh, my help? Very interesting. Do tell.
Geralt: Wild Hunt's going to attack Kaer Morhen soon. It's a sure thing.
Looking for people, resources, anything that'll help me repel them.
Reuven: The Wild Hunt? Don't tell me you believe that nonsense.
Geralt: Hardly nonsense. Got a taste of it, a painful taste, on my own skin.
• Reuven: Hmm...sorry, Geralt, but I've me own pile of problems just now. I've
not recovered my lost property. Your help, you might remember, left
much to be desired. So I don't owe you shit.
• Reuven: Hmm... I'm about as good a warrior as you are a dancing girl. And
Kaer Morhen's beyond my sphere of influence... On the other hand,
I'd not 'ave recovered my pile if not for you... Listen, here's what
we'll do: I'll give you a fat purse, meh, a bit on top -- and we'll
call it even. Agreed?
Geralt: Agreed. Thanks.
[If Geralt goes to Roche without having helped in "An Eye for an Eye":]
Geralt: Could use your help at Kaer Morhen. Aim to take Ciri there. Wild Hunt's
bound to appear soon after.
Vernon: Geralt, we've known each other for a while. You know I'd never turn you
down normally. But right now I've some troubles -- a hideout that is no
more, a weapons shipment that failed to make its destination, and Ves
drilling a hole in my gut. I'll go nowhere until I resolve at least the
last.
[If Geralt helped, but failed, "An Eye For an Eye:]
Geralt: Could use your help at Kaer Morhen. Aim to take Ciri there. Wild Hunt's
bound to appear soon after.
Vernon: Forgive me, Geralt, but I can't. Not after losing Ves. I've no one left
who could stand in for me here, yet we've still got a war to win.
Geralt: I understand, Roche. Good luck to you.
[If Geralt helped completed "An Eye for an Eye"]
Geralt: Could use your help at Kaer Morhen. Aim to take Ciri there. Wild Hunt's
bound to appear soon after.
Vernon: You didn't turn your back on me when I was in need. It's only fair I
do the same.
Geralt: Thanks. Venture to say your skills might prove invaluable.
Vernon: I'll consider whether to bring Ves. Either way, I'll see you at Kaer
Morhen.
[If Geralt asks Triss before completing "Now or Never":]
Geralt: Finally know where Ciri is.
Triss: Really? That's...wonderful! Wait, why haven't you brought her here? Is
she in danger?
Geralt: Guessed it. As soon as I reach her, the Wild Hunt'll know. I need you
to go to Kaer Morhen. As soon as I have Ciri, I'll take here¹ there --
we'll face the Wild Hunt together.
Triss: Geralt... You know I'd do anything for Ciri... But we'll need to
evacuate the mages from the city any day now. They're counting on me, I
can't leave them.
Geralt: I understand...
Triss: Maybe we can make this work. If you helped me, we'd speed things up,
considerably... Think about it and let me know.
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BROTHERS IN ARMS: NILFGAARD [BIA3]
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[This quest only has one target: Emhyr var Emreis himself. He can be found at
the commandeered palace in Vizima, like usual.]
Geralt: Your Imperial Majesty.
Emhyr: Witcher. Why have you come?
Geralt: I've managed to find out where Ciri is.
Emhyr: Finally. I had begun to doubt the wisdom of enlisting you. Bring her
here at once.
Geralt: The Wild Hunt's pursuing her. Kaer Morhen's the only place she'll be
safe.
Emhyr: That was not a suggestion. I can defend my own daughter.
Don't doubt it.
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Geralt: I don't doubt it -- against conventional foes. The Wild Hunt's
different.
Rather see to it myself.
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Geralt: I doubt that. Can't compare the Wild Hunt to Temerian shield bearers
or Lyrian archers.
Geralt: Facing it here would put Vizima at risk. Hundreds of innocents could
die. Kaer Morhen is in a wilderness. And your army stands to be far
more helpful there.
Emhyr: Hmm... Agreed. I shall send a banner with you. On one condition --
General Voorhis will lead it.
Geralt: Can't agree to that.
Emhyr: And I cannot agree to witchers commanding my troops.
Geralt: Well, I'm not about to give in -- you don't look it, either. Sorry to
take up your time, Your Majesty.
Emhyr: Bring me Ciri.
Geralt: I will. If that's what she wants.
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BROTHERS IN ARMS: SKELLIGE [BIA4]
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[If Geralt meets with Ermion:]
Geralt: Wild Hunt'll attack Kaer Morhen soon. Gonna need your help.
Ermion: The Wild Hunt? Are you certain? So...you've found Ciri?
Geralt: I know where she is. And the Wild Hunt'll also learn that as soon as I
find her.
Ermion: I see. I shall pack immediately, leave tomorrow at the latest.
Geralt: Thank you.
Ermion: No need. I raised the girl and I've still a duty to her. I shall see
you at Kaer Morhen.
[Geralt meets with Crach an Craite at Kaer Trolde.]
Geralt: This isn't easy, but I wanted to ask you a favor. A big one.
Crach: Tell me, friend.
Geralt: Ciri -- I know where she is. But I also know as soon as I reach her,
the Wild Hunt will know I did. They'll come after us, attack, and we'll
need to respond with strength. Can I count on you?
Crach: The Black Ones first, now wraiths... Such is life. Bring her here, and
we'll face them in battle!
We can only fight them at Kaer Morhen.
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Geralt: Can't risk your men's lives. Kaer Morhen -- we fight them there,
nowhere else.
Crach: Kaer Morhen is hundreds of miles away. To move an army there would
take weeks, not to mention I'd expose the Isles to Nilfgaard's
blows... Geralt, forgive me, but I cannot do it.
Geralt: I understand... Won't take up any more of your time. Farewell.
You mentioned Nilfgaard?
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Geralt: What's this about Nilfgaardians?
Crach: Of late, look seaward and you'll see their sun on a sail, starin'
right back. We've yet to capture any of their crew, but only a fool
wouldn't know they're planning something. But fear not, we'll banish
the Black Ones and the Wild Hunt. Two birds with one Skelligan axe,
heh heh. Ciri will be safe at Kaer Trolde.
Crach: Wait. Won't let you leave empty-handed. I'll help as I can. Come with
me.
[He brings Geralt to a sword hanging on a wall plaque.]
Geralt: Beautiful craftsmanship. Got a talented smith.
Crach: Not I. King Erlend an Craite did.
Geralt: Erlend Stonefist? So this is...Winter's Blade? Thought it was a
legend...
Crach: Forged in Mahakam, tempered in dragon fire... Been in the an Craite
family for centuries... And now it's yours.
Thank you.
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Geralt: Thank you... This can't be easy for you. I appreciate it all the
more.
I can't accept this.
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Geralt: I can't take this.
Crach: You can, you must. Let me do this much, at least.
Geralt: If you insist... Thank you.
Crach: May it serve you well. Send those specters back where they came from.
Geralt: That's my intention. Farewell.
[If Geralt asks Cerys without finishing the Skellige king subplot:]
Geralt: Got a delicate matter I wanted to bring up. Need your help.
Cerys: What is it?
Geralt: Crach's mentioned Ciri to you -- he must've.
Cerys: Have you found her?!
Geralt: Not yet, but I'm close. Problem is, soon as I get her, the Wild Hunt'll
probably be able to locate us...quickly. So I'll want to take her to
Kaer Morhen. Battle the Hunt there. I'm looking for allies.
Cerys: You can count on me, Geralt. Soon as the race for the crown's settled.
Geralt: I understand.
[If Geralt asks Hjalmar without finishing the Skellige king subplot:]
Geralt: The Wild Hunt's preparing to attack Kaer Morhen. Could use your help.
Hjalmar: Wraiths at the gate of your witchers' stronghold? You're a friend of
the clan -- I cannot refuse you. What's more, no an Craite's ever
stood and battled such a foe. Just as soon as I secure the crown, I'll
set out and fight there at your side.
Geralt: Kinda hoping you'd come with me now.
Hjalmar: I must consider what befits a king. If I leave now, the clan will see
it as flight, think me a coward. I've got to win the crown first.
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________________________________________________/ SIGISMUND DIJKSTRA SUBPLOT |_
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REASON OF STATE [SG02]
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[This quest can occur after doing Dijkstra's first quest, "A Deadly Plot," and
then completing "Blindingly Obvious" through nonviolence. Geralt will get an
invite to join Dijktra, Roche and Thaler in a dockside warehouse as their
plan for Radovid's demise continues. He knocks on the door.]
Henchman: Who's there?
Geralt: Witcher Geralt.
Henchman: Get in here. Boss awaits upstairs.
[The main players are at a planning table nearby.]
Vernon: Will you bloody tell us what this is about?
Reuven: Just as soon as Geralt arrives. Should he arrive.
Thaler: If you won't ploughin' talk, least you can do is pour a round. Bloody
suspense has made my throat dry.
Geralt: Witcher! At last. Now, we're all present...
Vernon: Mhm. And up the fucking creek. Why've you summoned us? Radovid's on
his ship. We'll not get him there, I've told you.
Reuven: Stop it. I've an idea how to draw him onto dry land. But all in due
course. Let's start by confessing our sins. I let Philippa Eilhart in
on our plan. Mea culpa.
Thaler: Bravo. Bloody braaavo.
Reuven: Now, now. It's not a disaster. The lady sorceress is highly unlikely to
warn the brat. What's more, she's willing to help us kill him.
Naturally, it's nothing I'll ever agree to... But Phil, she's inspired
me. Call her my muse.
Vernon: Inspired you to do what?
Reuven: Patience. We've yet to get to the substance of the matter. Geralt...do
I recall correctly that Radovid's hired you to find Philippa?
Sounds about right. What's your point?
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Geralt: Mhm. Only thing I've found is her hideout. What's your point?
Reuven: We can use Philippa without involving her, provided you help.
You're nosy. It pisses me off.
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Geralt: You're nosy. Starting to piss me off, you know?
Reuven: I know. Forgive me, it comes with the job.
Geralt: No. You're not a spy anymore, remember? Chose the life of a criminal.
Reuven: No, that choice was made for me. Philippa forced me to flee Redania.
Radovid prevented me from returning.
Thaler: Dijkstra, infernally sad story, really fuckin' tugs at the
heartstrings, but do you mind getting back to the matter at hand?
Reuven: Yes, right. Geralt, be so kind as to answer the question. He give you
the contract or not?
Reuven: Radovid expects you to report to him, bring him information about her.
All you need do is mention her name, intimate that you've a lead,
you're on her trail...
Thaler: Oh, he'll swallow that. Hook, line, sinker and a good bit of the rod
as well!
Let's say Radovid bites. What then?
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Geralt: Let's say Radovid bites, believes me, and none of that is a given...
What then?
Reuven: You'll tell him you've found Philippa's hideout. Somewhere where we
can easily set a trap, and ambush... Suggestions?
Thaler: Bridge to Temple Isle. Built up, both sides. Lots of nooks, gates.
Easy to block off from the rest of the city.
Vernon: Good idea. I'll divide my men, post half on one end, other half on
the other, by the gate. And in the middle, Ves with a well-oiled
crossbow.
Reuven: You see, Geralt. All we ask is you invite Radovid out for a stroll,
bring him to the bridge. We'll take care of the rest. So what'll it
be?
I'm in.
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Geralt: I'm in... But once it's done. What then? There'll be an uproar in
the city, panic maybe. Need a place where we can wait it out.
Reuven: Thought of that already. Remember Madame Irina's theater? Abandoned
now, not a soul looks in there. Thaler and I will await you there.
Geralt: Await us? Unwilling to risk your own necks?
Thaler: Not the point. Dijkstra and I've many cocksuckin' virtues, but
fightin' ability's just not one of them. About as fit for that as
we are for a bleedin' beauty pageant.
Vernon: Don't worry, Geralt. My people're battle hardened. They'll manage.
You just bring them the king.
Geralt: Do what I can. Where's his ship moored these days?
Reuven: Just round the corner, in Novigrad's port. And for your sake, I hope
he's in a good mood when you look in on him.
Not for me.
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Geralt: You know, it's just not something I'm willing to do.
Vernon: What? Geralt, what're you saying?
Geralt: Your plan -- pretty damn risky. And I've got somebody to live for,
I've got Ciri to find.
Reuven: Ciri's not the whole damn world.
Geralt: Speak for yourself.
No way. I'm out.
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Geralt: No. Out of the question. If that's how you want to do it, I'm out.
Reuven: Geralt... Are you yellow?
Geralt: Gave it a thought, saw the light. Never should've gotten involved...
Farewell, kingslayers.
[If the quest fails because Geralt bails:]
Thaler: Ugh, well, the prick just popped our pumpkin.
Reuven: Ploughing neutrality.
[If Geralt agrees to help, he leaves the others to discuss.]
Vernon: The bridge must be cleared.
Reuven: My lads'll make sure of that.
Thaler: Guards round the temple -- what about them? Won't they bloody
congregate when they see the fightin'?
Reuven: If they're paid a tidy sum, they won't.
[Outside the warehouse, Geralt finds the blind sorceress waiting for him.]
Geralt: Philippa? What the hell're you doing here?
Philippa: Geralt... Don't ask questions you know the answers to. It makes you
look stupid. Eavesdropping on your conversation, naturally. With a
good deal of interest...and a measure of wonder.
Geralt: Mind telling me what you found puzzling?
Philippa: Your naiveté. Do you honestly believe Radovid will fall for such a
crude ruse?
Radovid's crazy. Doesn't think rationally anymore.
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Geralt: Radovid's lost his mind. Doesn't think rationally anymore. That's
why--
Philippa: That is why he may very well choose to torture you, even if you
brought me to him in change. Just because.
Maybe not easily...but I think I'll manage.
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Geralt: Might be tough to trick...but I think I'll manage.
Philippa: Hm. I hope you will take a more serious approach to confronting the
Wild Hunt...provided, of course, you survive long enough to
undertake it.
Geralt: Philippa... Why even tell me this? Concerned about me that much?
Philippa: Not at all. It's because I think it vital that Radovid die. You don't
want my help -- more's the pity. But I shall do what I can to make
certain you don't fuck it up. Here. Take this.
Geralt: A ring... Redanian eagle etched in the ruby.
Philippa: It belonged to Vizimir, Radovid's father. Hand him that, and he may
believe you captured me. He might even choose to trust you.
Thanks for your help.
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Geralt: Helpful. Thanks.
Philippa: Don't mention it. Believe me, I'm prepared to do much more to be
rid of Radovid.
What's the catch?
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Geralt: What's the catch?
Philippa: There is none.
Geralt: Philippaaa...I know you too damn well. Always got a plan, always got
at least two irons in the fire.
Philippa: This time I shall be content with one -- Radovid's head planted at
its end.
Philippa: Good luck, Geralt. You'll need it.
[She morphs and flies away. Later, Geralt visits the HMS Oxenfurt-Tretogor,
Radovid's own ship.]
Sentry: Witcher Geralt... What do you want?
An audience.
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Geralt: An audience. Got new information about Philippa Eilhart.
Sentry: I'll need your weapons. Now follow me.
Nothing just now.
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Geralt: Nothing just yet. Farewell.
[Geralt's brought before the king.]
Sentry: Your Majesty... The witcher. With news of Philippa Eilhart.
Radovid: I hope you've brought something better than magic crystals this time.
Geralt: I know where she is.
Radovid: Perhaps... Or perhaps you seek to trick me. Like the others.
I'm a professional. You can trust me.
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Geralt: I'm a professional, got a reputation to uphold. Be stupid of me to
come to you empty-handed.
What others?
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Geralt: What others?
Radovid: Ah, you see, a rumor went around that I would generously reward any
who bring information about Eilhart. There's no shortage of the
greedy and the stupid, so a queue quickly formed on the gangway to
the ship. The first to board was a hunter. Brought me a dead owl
with no eyes. He thought I'd believe it, shower him with gold. I had
him blinded, then thrown overboard with a stone tied round his neck.
The second was the postmaster from Oxenfurt. Claimed to have a
letter she'd penned. It was forged, of course. I had his fingers cut
off -- he'll never write again. Oh, and I took his tongue -- the
spoken lie is just as reprehensible. Needless to say the rest of the
queue dispersed quickly.
[Geralt passes the ring to a sentry, who passes it to Radovid.]
Radovid: My father's ring... Philippa used it to stamp her decrees, then
distribute them as the word of the king. Where is she?
Geralt: Under your nose, Sire. In Novigrad. In a house on the bridge leading to
Temple Isle.
Radovid: Why haven't you brought her to me?
Geralt: Gotta capture someone to take them anywhere. All I did was track her
down...then stole this ring as proof that I had.
Radovid: Do you fear her?
Geralt: No. You want to kill her yourself. With your own hands. I know this.
Radovid: You shall come with me. Hubrecht! Gather the men.
Sentry: How many, Sire?
Radovid: All of them.
[Geralt accompanies the king as they head to St. Gregory's bridge, the road
connecting the Gildorf district to Temple Isle itself.
Radovid: Well? Where is she? Where is Philippa?
Geralt: Like I said. House on the bridge. Closer to the other end.
Radovid: Close off this end, we need no guests, no innocent bystanders. Or
witnesses. Damiaan, Jouke, Egbert, Freek, Caspar! You shall stay here,
secure the rear... And kill the witcher.
This is how you thank those who serve you?
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Geralt: This how you reward those who serve you?
Radovid: It is how I punish those who irritate me.
You don't know where Philippa is exactly.
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Geralt: You don't know where Philippa's hiding. Not exactly. Without me--
Radovid: Fret not. We will manage. Naturally, it would be easier with your
help, but...you irritate me.
Radovid: You know too much. You impede me too often. And I find your arrogance
an annoyance. I've had men killed for less. Follow me!
[The king takes the remaining men down the road.]
Sentry: Any last words?
[A single arrow drop the brute.]
Sentry: Fuck...
Vernon: Free the witcher! Then Radovid! Hang on, Geralt! On our way!
[They kill the executioners Radovid left behind.]
Vernon: All right?
Geralt: Mhm. Thanks for your help.
Vernon: Plan's gone to hell... So be it, we'll improvise. Follow me, Geralt!
We must get to Radovid before reinforcements arrive!
[Geralt, Vernon and Ves battle their way up the Redanian-clogged street.]
Sentry: Your Majesty, there are too many! You must hide, Sire!
Radovid: Reinforcements! Summon reinforcements!
[They kill the last of the king's men. Having shut the street earlier, Radovid
is trapped and frantically bangs on a nearby door.]
Radovid: Open up! I command you to open the door!
[He opens it, coming face to face with Philippa.]
Philippa: You needed merely to ask.
[She blows a magical dust into his face, blinding him painfully.]
Radovid: Aaaaaaargh! Aaaaaargh!
Philippa: That settles the score...
[As he clings to the portcullis, Philippa knifes him in the back.]
Philippa: And that was from the heart.
[She walk over to Roche's group.]
Philippa: Forgive me... I could not deny myself the pleasure.
[She transforms into an owl and leaves.]
Vernon: How did she--? Where?! Why?! How the fuck--?!
Geralt: Eavesdropped on us. Back at the warehouse.
Vernon: What?! And you didn't think it worth mentioning?!
Ves: Lads... The time to discuss this is later. Radovid is dead. It matters not
by whose hand. Mission accomplished. Now let's get the hell away. Place'll
be thick with Redanians in minutes.
Geralt: Let's go.
[They all head to the rendezvous point: Madame Irina's stage area.]
Thaler: Well? What? Is it done?
Vernon: It's done. Though all did not go according to plan. More on that
later... First, a stiff drink. And a toast. The North! Temeria!
Ves: Temeria!
Thaler: Bloody Temeria!
Temeria!
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Geralt: Temeria! Ugh... What now, Roche? A new guerilla campaign against the
Black Ones?
Vernon: No. The war just ended.
Geralt: How's that? There something I don't know about?
Thaler: I'd say so. You see...
Not too early to celebrate?
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Geralt: Sure this isn't premature? Radovid's dead, but it's a long way from
that to a free Temeria. War's not over, not even close.
Thaler: You're mistaken.
Thaler: Tomorrow at noon, the commander of Army Group "Center" will sign a
truce in Emhyr's name... A truce whose wordin' we agreed with Dijkstra.
Geralt: So back there in Velen, when the trolls nabbed you...
Thaler: Yes, I was returnin' from the last round of talks. Emhyr will keep
Aedirn and Lyria... But in exchange for Radovid's head and a stop to
guerilla activities, he will withdraw from Temeria--
Vernon: Which will become the empire's vassal state.
Thaler: Self-ruled, internally! With its own courts, administrative structures
and army! The Silver Lilies will bloom 'neath the rays of the Great
Sun. So I'd say were I a poet. But I'm not, so all I'll say is there
was no other fuckin' way.
I want the whole truth.
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Geralt: Haven't told me the whole truth.
Thaler: You're right on that account... We know you're bloody allergic to
politics, decided to emphasize mages and whatnot...
Roche... You? And Nilfgaard?
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Geralt: Roche... You? In league with Nilfgaard?
Vernon: I'm prepared to do anything for Temeria. Even whore myself out.
You're gonna get bilked. Emhyr'll get his way.
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Geralt: You don't know Emhyr. He'll outwit you. Take your toys as if you were
children.
Thaler: Oh, don't you fret. We've heads on our shoulders, eyes all around.
Take Dijkstra, for instance...
[Dijkstra walks onto the stage.]
Reuven: If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.
That but this blow might be the be-all and end-all here.
Ves: What's that?
Reuven: Vakmeth, act one, scene seven. Always wanted to play that...never cast
as anything but a halberdier. Geralt, what Thaler told you -- put it
out of your mind. There will be no truce with Nilfgaard. Redania, under
my enlightened rule, will fight on until it wins. And when it does it
will unite all the North. Including Temeria.
Thaler: Wha... How? This is not what we ploughin' agreed!
Reuven: True. Instead, we insisted on one realm's questionable sovereignty. And
to recover it, we gave Emhyr virtually all the north's other kingdoms.
It was not a wise arrangement. So, no deal.
Vernon: You two-faced whoreson... I will not allow this.
Reuven: Actually, you, Roche, should be the first to understand I've no choice.
Vernon: Why the hell would I understand?
Reuven: Because you too are a patriot. Geralt -- this doesn't concern you. You
may go... Fare thee well on your Path or whatnot.
Won't let you kill them.
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Geralt: Can't let you kill them, Dijkstra.
Reuven: Aww, hard luck. Then you'll die with them. Kill them all.
[They slay the henchmen.]
Reuven: Fuck! Gotta do everything myself!
Do what you will.
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Geralt: It's not my concern, so I should let you do what you will... But
you're a real son of a bitch, you know that?
Reuven: It's why I'll make an excellent chancellor. Farewell, White Wolf.
[If Geralt parts on neutral grounds, Dijkstra's forces will kill Thaler, Ves,
and Roche off screen. If Geralt decides to help his conspirators, they end up
slaying Dijkstra. Afterwards, the survivors stand amongst the carnage...]
Thaler: Bloody hell, bugger me sideways...
Ves: That was close. Very close.
Vernon: It's hardly over. The envoy due to meet the Nilfgaardians tomorrow --
no doubt Dijkstra ordered him killed. We'll need to protect him.
Geralt: Sorry, you're on your own. I've--
Vernon: You've had your fill of politics. I understand. Once it's over, come
to Vizima. You'll be received with honors. Farewell, Wolf.
[They all part ways.]
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V. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS [FAQZ]
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[Q] - Will you do a script for Hearts of Stone?
[A] - There's one already in the works. Whether it'll be put in this document
or on the DLC's separate page, I haven't decided yet.
[Q] - Will you do a script for Blood & Wine?
[A] - Haven't decided yet. Maybe if there's a sudden outpouring of support. ;)
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VI. UPDATES & CONTRIBUTORS [UPDT]
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1-31-16 -------------------------+ Started script
4-03-16 -------------------------+ Finished script
THANKS TO...
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• Sailor/Ceej, for hosting my stuff.
• The Ursine School, for inventing armor that didn't look like visual schlock
NOTES TO SELF/THINGS I NEED
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• Redania's Most Wanted: "give crystal to Yen" dialogue
• A Deadly Plot: Gregor line/convo if Geralt doesn't have a pass
• The Great Escape: dialogue for Zoltan's involvement (requires not doing
Triss' mage-saving subplot)
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VII. LEGALITY [LGLT]
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This document is intended for private home use ONLY, and may not be reproduced
through electronic or commercial means without the expressed consent of the
author (P. Summers). It cannot be hosted, edited, or distributed for profit,
and may not be given away as an add-in/gift to bought items. All rights are
reserved to respective parties, even those not explicitly stated herein. Those
who find this document on sites not listed below should e-mail the author (me).
Thanks for reading this, and thanks for respectin' FAQ authors.
Allowed Sites: Disallowed Sites:
• Gametalk.com • cheatcc.com
• GameFAQs.com • gamershell.com
• MyCheats.com
• Neoseeker.com
• Gamesradar.com
• Supercheats.com
• Cheathappens.com
• Honestgamers.com
• Chaptercheats.com E-mail me for permissions ~
• Cavesofnarshe.com shotgunnova (a+) gmail (d0t) com.
_______________________________________________________________________________
HE'S GOT SOME NERVE Document © Shotgunnova, 1997-2016 (and countin'!)
ASKING THIS LOLITA The Witcher namesake © respective owners
NATION TO BOW AND SERVE E N D O F D O C U M E N T
