The room is quiet. There is no fog seeping through the cracks, no Ravens staring through the window; and no listeners to spy upon us and listen in upon me and Geralt. Partly because both I and Geralt have keen ears, mine simply sharpened and his superhuman; but also because the Inn was empty, and its rooms dusty. Even ours was, and its beds were made and had gone without use in for a period of time long yet unknown.
There was also the fact that the Innkeeper, a dusty-haired man with a well-trimmed beard, wasn't in any better a state of mind than the rest of the town. He simply stood by his bar, nodding every now and then, cleaning the same exact spotless glass with a worn down rag. He wasn't moving anytime soon.
The trip to the room had been equally as uneventful as our current stay in this room after I had been shown the shrine; it had not disturbed me, which was perhaps the worst part of the entire experience. It hadn't occurred to me until now, but all I had taken it as was a sign that Yes, a Leshen or something similar was involved. As par for the course in this world, an inevitable part of existing here and not moving on to the next world yet. Which, yes, it was inevitable that I would encounter something as fucked up as that; because in retrospect, I already had. I essentially was one of those very fucked up things, considering how gruesomely and emotionlessly I had effortlessly butchered hundreds of bandits by this point. It was the lack of feeling in my heart, that coldness that I had chosen to acknowledge once more, that was … well, not disturbing. It would imply I had felt something. Just… distinctly… something, that made my emptiness yearn.
But here I was, complaining to myself when I couldn't be annoyed, splayed out across a bed and thinking about non-relevant things instead of the town, its inhabitants, and how their reactions might be useful and might imply about the Leshen. I didn't suppose I had anything better to do, though, considering Geralt was sitting cross-legged on his bed and meditating, trying to come up with some sort of combat plan.
He had been taking so long I was almost tempted to try and speed up time rather than slow it, if it weren't for how most of my experiments with Time Dilation had ended recently. Hint, it involved personal pain and crippling my combat capabilities. Ah, how I missed you acknowledgement that I was a nobody and Denial of the fact via a mask of emotions I was slowly getting better at upholding. I could even do sentimental now! And excitement! Back on the Mask that was only halfway off goes.
Is Geralt still siting there? He is? Well, time to break the silence.
"Geralt, I posses a few concerns." And thus is the silence of 3 hours broken.
"Yes?" Geralt cracks an eye open to look at me.
"Well, beyond the fact that you're concerned over whatever we're dealing with here, and that it clearly posses abnormal powers or desires regardless of whatever it may be, I must express concern over my weapon. Namely, the fact that I don't have a weapon on my person right now, and that it isn't silver." I tell him. It wasnt exactly my fault that no merchant or bandits I ran across had a Silver Sword on them. He opens both eyes, and stares at me. He is clearly contemplating something, and I feel like he realized something about me, but I don't know what. That, however, is in between his contemplation. Eventually, he comes to a decision, reaching towards a bag at the foot of the bed and shuffling through it. Oh, really? What was he going to give me, a dagg-
...He just pulled a sword out of a bag that literally couldn't physically hold it. I... WHAT? How did h- That's outright not a thing in setting! I mean, sure, I could fit way too many swords in my inventory before being overburdened -
My train of though it interrupted by said impossible being thrown into my face while my brain failed to compute. What a nice sheave I note.
"That should do. Not the best, but solid and reliable." He said. I nodded to him, mentally putting the bag aside, and pull out the blade. It gleams from the meager light shining into the room, creating a reflection that covers most of the ceiling; I turn it to inspect its shape, and find it to be almost identical to Geralts Silver sword. I turn to him, and find him cleaning a much larger, nastier blade than the one I had seen him wearing earlier, which appeared identical to the one I now held. The much nastier blade he was cleaning was almost certainly Silver.
Well then. Ignoring that.
I hold my new blade gently, and bend it; letting go, it flexes back and forth. That's... good, though I have no real idea how good. Final test...
Thrak!
My sword is now lodged into the bed frame. Yay. I mean, it didn't break, so I know I can use it without it breaking now! So that's good enough. Takes a bit of effort to remove it, but whatever. It wasn't like the Inn's owner would mind, or even notice, the new very deep slash in his bed's frame.
"So Geralt, what now?" I ask, sheaving the blade and trying to figure out
"We wait. I hope you weren't bored, because we're going to be waiting here a while. I have a plan." I note Geralt has put away his other sword somewhere I can't see and is polishing another. It isn't the one he was wearing earlier either, but instead a much large, nastier sword; a green cleaver adorned with a skull on its hilt that looks like it was made to cut you in two. His Steel Sword, I hope.
"How long?" I ask, walking to look out the window. The Sun isn't visible, but its light is, tinging the sky Orange and Yellow as it sets.
"Midnight." I stop putting the sword into my cloak and turn to look at him. He looks like he wants to add something.
I am already slamming my head against the door.
"Geralt." I say as we walk into the forest. "This doesn't seem like the smartest of plans, especially considering you haven't informed me of the plan, and that we have followers." I say, gesturing to the Crows in the trees around us. In fact, it seemed less than intelligent, all things considered. He had asked me to show him where I had seen the large, human figure watching us, and so I had agreed; the moon bright and full above us in a dark and cloudy night's sky and shining through the trees, we waded through the mist as it grew thicker and higher than it had earlier.
"I know." Geralt said, examining the ground. "Footprints... a day old, very light. Large and clawed..." He trails off under his breath, sniffing the air a bit. The Fog grows a bit thicker, the light illuminating it, making it shine a bright white, as though it were chalk dust under a spotlight. The trees are barely visible after a certain distance, turning into dark outlines and eventually fading from view altogether. A horribly croaking that sounds more like scratching comes from the trees, where I last heard the Ravens land. Apparently smelling something, Geralt sets off at a rapid pace deeper into the woods.
The clouds in the sky, never a good sign, move to cover the Moon; there is a crack, and rain begins to fall. It is quick, unnatural, and yet light.
"Nothing you say will convince me that walking into this is a good idea, Geralt." I follow him, keeping quiet. Though I'm not sure if I truly saw it, I could have sworn I saw something moving in the distance, just beyond what I could normally see. "So just try me." I pull my hood up now, the rain growing heavier, thunder in the distance crackling louder.
"We need to know what we're facing." Geralt says, walking further and deeper into the woods. Past where I had presumably reached earlier. "If it is a Leshen, one old as we may think, then our job here will be very difficult. I don't believe that most of my usual methods are valid here. Finding the center of the woods, its deepest, darkest grove, may go a long way to helping us. And if it is a Foglet, then we simply need to make it come to us instead of have us come to it. We won't find it, and if we do, it will not be in favorable conditions." He tries to explain his reasoning, and I nod, though the number of shapes at the barest edge of my vision have grown in number. Geralt stops for a moment, and I hear him sniff the air once more.
"The trail's gone cold." He says, turning to face me.
"So Geralt, how do we draw... whatever it is, out?" I say, making an opened-armed sweeping gesture with my hands. "This is a big forest. I doubt we can find this things grove,or however a Leshen works, if a Witcher hasn't killed it by now. And though whatever it is may be stalking us, or watching us, I don't think it'll come so openly with two of us clearly armed." I say. I doubt it within my mind, however, because of the things I can see just beyond my sight once more, dashing from tree to tree and drawing nearer much faster than before.
"One of us." Geralt corrects, and I acknowledge that as truth. I had placed my new sword within my Coat's folds, and out of sight. "Even then, Geralt. There are two of us, and you are a Witcher." I glance up, and peak at the moon, very few slivers of light shining through the trees, though their canopy is lighter here, a sort of clearing in the woods. I had to squint, in some poor effort to keep water from getting into my eyes, but even I could tell this wouldn't be the kind of weather that tipped a battlefield to our favor.
"Perhaps we should…" I begin to say as I look back to Geralt, only to realize Geralt isn't there, and that I am now alone. I then realized he had been answering all of my questions at once by telling me "One of us.".
"Real funny, Geralt! Ha ha ha!" I mock-laughed, staring at the shapes. They had grown… much, much closer. Far faster than earlier. I heard rustling in the trees, and looked up to see a Crow flutter down, to land in front of me. It appeared it wasn't being waterlogged, but still puffed up, smelling rancid now that it was soaked. It sat there, staring at me with its head cocked and one eye facing me. More and more fluttered down from the trees and through the canopy, surrounding me. Within moments, they were of the same number as they had been when last I was lost in the woods.
Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, illuminating the woods and creating shadows and silhouettes.
The Ravens remained silent. All I could hear was their wings fluttering, thunder crackling, and the rain dropping.
"Seriously though, Geralt!" I say, raising my voice. "WHY AM I THE BAIT?!?" I yell, knowing why. They knew me. They thought I was vulnerable. And I had escaped them before. I couldn't quite describe what I was as unhappy, but it was what I was.
The shapes drew nearer, and the crows began to rasp. I heard them, and they began to sound like a voice that wasn't truly a voice, sleepy and old and ragged; but it seemed as though it had finally remembered how to speak without a struggle.
The Interloper and it's kin The voices etch into my mind as one.
Dispose of them.
That was… concerning.
We will not be deposed. My body tells me, a message from it.
They are already upon you.
And with that, the Murder of Crows takes off as one, shrieking. I check the corner of my eye, and see that they are right. Shapes, blurry and undefined, prowl towards me; there are three of them, no longer hiding, no longer just outside of my visions range. They move slowly, crawling towards me on all fours and possessing an arched back, like canines. It appears I, in fact, make excellent bait, and that there was indeed Foglets, or at least simple Necrophages, involved.
I reach towards the folds of my Coat, where I placed the silver sword; prepared to draw it as they draw near. I must wonder why they, whatever they actually are, are acting so straightforward; are they frustrated with my escape from our last encounter? Where was Geralt? And why were they moving so sl-
My thoughts are interrupted when a burst of lightning illuminates the forest, for a brief moment, but a moment longer than it should have. There is a very, very large shadow of a bony, hunched over creature behind me. The realization that my Time Dilation had activated hit me.
"Son of a-"
And like that, I am punched very,
very hard and far, tumbling and rolling as dirt is kicked up around me, eventually coming to a stop after crashing into a tree, splinters flying like shrapnel and the tree probably being ruined. I have barely a moment to remove the sword from my Coat before whatever had attacked me was upon me again, appearing in front of me with its fists clenched together as it swung down to attempt to crush me. I clench down in the back of my mind as I jump away from its claws and the ruined tree, now able to view whatever had been attacking me as though it was moving normally and simply very fast, rather than too fast for me to see.
It is indeed a Foglet; a very, very big Foglet, that towered over me. Its flesh was greener than the leaves on the trees, its face was shrunken and shriveled, resembling a goblin hags; and its bones were exposed to the world, as were its tiny guts and organs, pulsing and beating away in whatever type of Exoskeleton it had developed. I adopt a ready stance as it glares at me, sword held ready. I glance behind it, and can see the silhouettes of three other Foglets, as large as I am with bones sticking from their flesh, as they turned towards us. And above one of them was Geralt's outline, falling towards the Foglet below him with his sword ready to pierce one of its skull as he landed upon it.
Good to see I hadn't been abandoned. I could trust Geralt with those three very large and nasty Foglets while I fought this one off for now. I turned my gaze back to it, aaaaaaaand where did it go?
The Moon is no longer covered by the clouds, illuminating the thick fog; the raindrops are falling ever so slowly yet thickly, almost making a sort of curtain. I back away, searching the woods for my foe, but find nothing; I try to speed up my time dilation, but cannot; anything more pains me. It seems that this is the best I can manage right now. At the edge of my vision, to my left and my right, are two shapes; they leap at me, and I jump backwards, allowing the two Foglets to crash into each other, collapsing into... mist? Illusions, then. Geralt had mentioned them.
It appeared this would be a very defensive battle. This thought was confirmed by the Foglet that reared up behind me, claws ready to slash as me.
I slashed at it first, cleaving it in half. Where I cut the body turned to wisp-like tendrils and then dissolved into fog, leaving me open for the actual Foglet now attacking me from what had been my front moments ago, its claws restricting me as it bore into me with its full strength, attempting to pull me apart and slice me in two at the same time; I didn't cry out, too busy attempting to keep the mental hold on my time dilation from snapping. I could feel the claws digging into me, actually hurting me, as were the fists; the sheer brute force was more than enough to hurt me. I gripped my sword tighter, feeling it warp and twist; but with all the strength I had to offer. I jabbed it into the hand of the Foglet holding me, causing it to shriek in pain and toss me away. I crashed through tree after tree, breaking most of them in half and simply uprooting others with the force I had been thrown with.
Standing up from the small pile of trees I had created, bloodied and battered, soaked and splintered, I decide that this is indeed a very, very old Foglet. It was nothing like its in-game counterpart, and I had rarely seen anything that massive in game either. And to make everything so much easier for it, the fog had grown thicker and deeper yet again, and I can no longer see further than five feet in front of me. It showed no signs of stopping, either. This situation just kept getting worse and worse, didn't it?
A claw swipes out at me from the mist; I swing at it, and sparks fly as they meet. So does another claw, and another, and another; faster, and faster, and faster. I try to meet each of them, sparks flying and illuminating that they come from nowhere, but my blade is bent now; I duck the next claw to come and kick at the next, swinging in a wide arc, trying to hit the Foglet, if it could be hit at all. Nothing connects, and instead of the kick aimed at the latest claw simply being deflected off and serving to stall for time; I feel the claw grasp around my leg; The Foglet is there now, a hideous grin on its face as it holds me up like a rag doll before smashing me into the ground. It smashes me repeatedly as I struggle to escape, mud flying past my face as I make a deeper and deeper hole in the ground. I have to struggle to keep my focus from snapping, because if I do, there will be no saving me. I make a desperate swipe at its hand as it holds me, the only part of it close enough to hit; I see blood fly as it drops me into a hole that hadn't been there a moment before.
It walks backwards, fading into the fog, as I stand; one of my legs trembles a bit, and I cry out in pain as I collapse, struggling to sit myself upright using my one good leg. I eventually find the strength to stand up, using the already ruined sword as a crutch and support. Not like it could get any more ruined.
A Crow it sitting on the branch of the tree I was sitting under, and had been slammed into the roots of several times.
Are you truly so weak, Child? It asks. It sounds like every time my father disapproved of my actions, drilled into my soul.
If you cannot defeat the Interloper yourself, follow me.
And like that, the raven hops off its branch, flying away and out of sight. I look for the Foglet, and seeing nothing, follow the Crow. Though I have lost sight of it, there is nothing to stop me from running in its general direction; and just when I believe it to be gone, my chance at whatever was being offered lost, it let out a cry. I am still headed this way, it wanted to say. Come, child.
Unfortunately, I feel a presence behind me, and am already swinging at the Foglet; as it jabs at my chest with its massive hand; my already crumpled sword folds up breaks in half as the two connect, igniting in sparks once more, and illuminating its face. Its eyes are like cold, bottomless coals, large and unblinking.
I swing at it with my horrendously bent out of shape half of a sword before it can move again, making it grab for my hands; I respond by poking it in its eyes. It hisses at me and stumbles backwards as the Crow lets out another noise, and I begin to run. I ignore the pain in my legs and just
focus on keeping my time dilation from breaking. That's how the next long, long period of time progresses; the Foglet chasing me, trying to kill me or get some sort of petty vengeance on me, attacking me from as many directions as possible as often as possible as it tried to disorient me, followed by me barely repelling it and sending it back into the fog, ignoring how it felt like my leg had been slowly gnawed off by lions as I my Time Dilation refused to break. I undoubtedly got lost and backtracked numerous times, but the Crow would soon set me back on track.
Regardless, I knew one thing changed. Several, really. The trees were getting older, large, thicker; and not just that, they were growing more densely packed. The air itself felt older, the scent of the woods more primordial, the lightning fiercer and rain harder. Eventually, the fog began to lessen; and eventually, it faded enough that I could see. It did not help, not when my foe could materialize from the fog itself, but I could now see in front of me; and ahead, the trees were thicker than ever before. The Foglet rose out of the mist once more, ready to attack, to try and end this once and for all. It's breath was run ragged, its small lungs beating and beating more and more. I lashed out at its lungs, intending to ruin them, to break them; it swipes at me, and I have finally lost my sword, whatever was left of it after the chase now stuck in the palm of the Foglet.
The Foglet no longer cares, and tries to take my head off. I am launched forward, closer to the raven, impacting against a tree with an ear shattering boom. It creaks, and begins to fall, The Crow flying away and I following it. The Foglet is slower now, its newfound injury hindering it and yet the Foglet is unwilling to stop to remove it.
The trees that were larger than ever before were in front of me, with little to no space between them. The largest of the gaps was barely large enough for me to slide myself into, and so, I did; falling into a hollow where the fog barely rose to my feet. It appeared that i was in a hollow, choked full of weeds and vines and overgrown plants I didn't recognize, protected by the ring of trees. The differences in the woods I had noticed earlier weren't just more noticeable here, but tangible; the air felt as old as time itself, charged with ozone as though Lightning had struck the spot I now stood; the air was quit literately Primordial in appearance, an experience that failed words.
The Crow was standing on the ground in front of me. Staring.
The Foglet was suddenly in front of me, hatred in its eyes as it lashed out at me, ready to finally end everything once and for all.
The second it appeared, it was as thought every plant came to life, lashing out at it like an eldritch horror, pulling it away from me and holding it in place as it roared and cried out in pain. I attempted to fade away, to transform into fog and escape, but solidified the moment it tried. A hand as large as my body grabbed it by the head, plucking it from its prison and crushing it into a fine red mist, before the plants leaped up and began to devour every single drop of blood,bone, and flesh that wasn't being held tight within the hand.. I followed the hand to the arm, to the body, and finally to the head.
I saw a gigantic deer's skull.
It was standing where the Crow had moments before, feeding the rest of the Foglet's remains to the plants in the clearing.
Your companion finished his fight long ago, and is searching for you. The Leshen told me. There wasn't one part or aspect of me that didn't feel it, and the void in my heart felt colder than ever before as I realized how empty I truly was, regardless of how I acted.
You have much to learn, little Nobody. You will go unharmed. Now sleep again as I will shortly, for you will be returned to him. Visit me again one day, if you would; you kind always made for excellent company.
I listened. I understood. And
So, I let go... and drifted.... away....
