Nobody's Memories [KH SI/Multicross]

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 14 - Living up to others expectations​

Alright, all I had to think here. I was powerless, couldn't even move a cat at the moment, couldn't stop repeating myself, and luckily had nothing to distract me from maintaining the illusion of being asleep by maintaining a facade of sleep. I decided it was high time to drop the emotions as well, they wouldn't do me any good until I had to act human. Which I hopefully wouldn't, because if the universe acted around Geralt anything at all like it did around him in game, then he would leave after examining me and finding a few odd things, and then come back to try and confront me or something. I was clearly a side quest or something at most. " Contract: Man in Silver." Or something. For now I should just sit here.... and listen.

"And he hasn't moved?" Geralt finished asking the woman. I didn't hear anything, but I assume she nodded yes, because Geralt continued to speak. " You can leave now. It might be better if you do. Need to confirm something for myself."

What? No, Geralt, no! That's what the Government Agent says before he uses one of the aliens probes on it! Don't lock yourself in this room with me!

"O' course, Sir Witcher." The Woman said. No, curse you woman! I can hear you closing the door, don't you da- and it's closed. Of course. Brilliant.

Well, my breathing hasn't changed. Eyes are still closed. At the same time, I still can't feel or use any of my limbs. So I supposed the situation hadn't changed yet. I just had to see what he wanted with me or my cloak, and... ok, his footsteps made it sound like he was next to me. Scratch that, he actually was next to me, I could feel it. Was he looking at my face? Trying to figure out if I was awake or not? I wondered if-

"Silver Robes. Matches the descriptions...."

-oh my god he was talking out loud wasn't he. He was leaning over the bed now, towards my feet and where my clothing was.

"Feels like Silk, but not quite. Odd. Completely clean, can't even tell how it was made... but they say he fell into the mud. It certainly hasn't been cleaned..."

Feeling my Robes, apparently. I mean, really? That wasn't just a thing the game did? He actually talked out loud when investigating things?

"Definitely not a Wraith or a Ghost. Not some kind of Vampire either. I couldn't explain you otherwise." He said, and judging by the purring, petting the cat sitting on my chest. I would call him a traitor if he had ever been on my side. Anyway, I feel like the rule of three is going to apply here; some third reaction. Though whatever Geralt thought of me, it certainly sounded... odd. But not out of line for what I expected him to think of me.

"Oh. Well then."

That…. That didn't sound good. What had he seen? I hadn't felt him move or check anything.

"I don't quite think I know what you are anymore."

What did that even mean? C'mon Geralt, give me more than that before you leave.

"I know you're awake, by the way."

Or maybe don't and hurry up. I'll just continue as I was then.

The cat chooses this moment to stand up, walk up to me, and slap me with its paw. I unfortunately can't deny the physical movement of my eyes opening in response.

"Ow." I monotone. Let's see, throw my mask of emotions back on… 'Hope I didn't keep you holding your breath?" nope, that's far too sarcastic. And sounds like a pick up line. "Can't help it if I'm lazy, now can I?" Na, that... that was just bad. I needed to be intimidating and maybe a bit more confident and less narcissistic. I mean, I wanted to know what he had seen, but… oh wait, seen. He had viewed me with his Witcher Sense, hadn't he? Now I was legitimately concerned over what he had seen.

Now, back to figuring out what to say. He's just standing there, one eyebrow raised, the other on the hilt of his Silver sword – or at least I assume its silver. I didn't know what he thought I was and I certainly didn't remember which sword was which, though it was probably the one he had his hand on the hilt of. Speaking of, how did he remove it from his back? He pulled it up, and that meant it was actually physically impossible for him to take it out of its place on his back, or even to put it there. He couldnt do it easily, at least, and to do it in one smooth motion would end up cutting his neck or something. Even if he could do it because of reasons summarizable as "Magic" or "Magic Witcher Genetics", it didnt seem very practical -

Geralt just coughed awkwardly and the cat just walked next to my face. My time Dilation doesn't work right now, right. I'm not thinking in one-onehundreth the time I normally do but as a normal person, meaning I've been silent for several minutes. Ok, I can recover this.

"Hello Geralt of Rivia." Bad. Very Bad! Don't let him know I know him! " Can I ask how you knew I was awake?" Dammit no why was I saying these things I was saying?

"Only if I ask why you know my name." He said. I swear to god I could see his lips curling into a smile out of amusement, but regardless of that, I didn't want to do anything to make his opinion of me change from what it was now to "Kill it with Fire and Blade.".

"Your reputation precedes you. You've spent a very long time doing a great many good deeds for countless people, regardless of your price." I respond, slowly measuring each word. Nothing suspicious? Actually no shit that was super incriminating and made it sound like I was following him.

The Cat agreed by slowly shaking its head in shame.

"Fair enough." Geralt nods. "I knew you were awake the second you cracked one of your eyes open to see who was coming into the room, and left it open a bit too long."

Goddamnit sudden lack of and dependence upon time powers.

"…Fair enough." I say instead of that other thing that I definitely shouldn't say. Okay, nothing too bad so far. "So, was you speaking aloud just a show? Or a force of habit?" I instead say.

"Was you pretending to sleep when we came into the room just a show, or was it a force of habit?" He retorts. I forgot how badly and quickly the man could burn you... and it was both actually, for me at least, which applying that logic to him...

...No, it made sense. I mean, he probably didn't actually speak aloud to himself, and thought my sleeping was purely an act, but... eh.

"There were also questions in there. Addressed to you." Geralt adds.

"...I'll answer them, if you answer some of mine."

"Of course."

Alright, I could work with this.

" Who, and What, are you, for starters? Why did you come to Oxenfurt?" He began.

I could no longer work with this.

...Honesty was the best policy?

"To answer your second question first. I came here to finally leave the cave I live in and interact with people and sell crap, and maybe to find a few specific individuals."

...Too honest? Geralts brows had crossed. He looked quite concerned, but he was nodding now. "...I can accept that. My first question?"

I fidget a bit, unsure of how to answer this. It's... eh.

"I'm just another Nobody." I finally say. Yes, I can feel my mysteriousness and crypticism rising.

"I'm inclined to disagree."

"Oh really?"

"You certainly seem like a Somebody to me." Geralt says. "And I'm very curious in what you are."

"...There is no real answer beyond what I gave you. Just another Nobody who will live, die, and be forgotten. You can call me Solstice, if you wish." Because Etiquette.

"Well then, Solstice. Ask your question." Geralt says.

"Only one?"

"I'm not accepting 'Nobody' as an answer. That your question?"

"...Fair enough, and no, it isn't. Why are you so interested in me? I can think of several reasons, but..." I try to sound hesitant, human. I think I succeed. His reaction seems to indicate I have.

"I have been following your trail for quite some time. You pop up at a village, horrify them and make offers, and then leave. Several villages have been completely destroyed after you visit them. They call you a wraith, a demon, a hundred other things. I wouldn't be interested in you if it weren't for one thing." Geralt begins, pointing towards my clothes, which I really needed to work on referring to in a consistent manner. "They're made of something that I don't recognize, no matter how much it resembles an expensive import from some far off land, and when they move they glimmer like quicksilver and liquid. Frankly put, you match everything I'm looking for in a person - or, as you want to be known, a Nobody - who has set half of two kingdoms into a panic, in the War time. And you're very distinctly not human, because I found the carnage you left in your wake. Whatever you are, you are very dangerous, and apparently can't stop attracting monsters."

"And?"

"And you're not what I expected. You look like a concussed kid."

"Oh, why thank you. What, did you expect the Wild Hunt?"

"Yes."

"...Oh."

This exchange had grown to be uncomfortable, hadn't it?

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

"So, what does this mean for me?"

He draws his sword.

I think "Oh Shit" meaning I say oh shit. I try to move, but fail, instead flopping like a worm because apparently my spine works but nothing else does. And.... Geralt isnt attacking? Oh, he just drew his sword, and I missed my chance to over analyze how he draws it. Dang.

" It means, you can't be left alone, and certainly not in the city. You're a kid, meaning I can't feel justified or even reasonably kill you. Not without good reason."

Oh, Protagonists with strong moral grounds. How I love thee. Mainly for not killing me where I stand.

"So, I'm going to make a deal." He continues, apparently unconcerned by my flopping. The Cat is still next to me and very amused, to which I tell it Fuck You. As though it were psychic is slaps me with its paw again.

That or it's just a playful cat, but I have a Witcher to worry about here.

"You can come with me, until I figure out what to do with you, and how to do it safely for everyone involved. Most importantly, I care about getting you to leave the city, before more Monsters come to the gates. I get my answers, you get… Human Contact? A place to sell your wares? Whichever it is you prioritize."

"Or?"

"You die by my hands, for refusing to act in the greater good to save others when you otherwise couldn't." Geralt says, placing his sword against my throat. I stop trying to wiggle away. Well, while I would love to call his bluff - which he almost certainly is, and this seems incredibly out of character for him anyway - I would much rather go on living right now, and ... oh, I can move my Pinkie now! I don't know which Pinkie I can move. Great.

"....Well, you drive a hard bargain, but I clearly think we know what deal I'm going to take." I say. Hm, I wonder why I can speak when I can't feel the rest of m- no, worry about that later Solstice.

Sheaving his sword onto his back again, dammit I missed it again how is he so quick, he nods. "A reasonable decision." He holds out his hand. "Care to shake on it?"

I stare at the hand. I don't think he would mock me, but...

Does he not know?

"Geralt?"

"Yes?"

"I can't move my body right now."

"Oh."

A glorious beginning to a relationship based on violence. Clearly.

The Cat slapped me again, and I fell out of the bed, having wiggled too close to the edge.

My dignity is dead, isn't it?
​

 

[MasterDrakus]

Yay, this story is back

 

[Endfall]

Interesting premise, solid writing, what isn't to like? I'll be watching where you take this with interest.

 

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 15 - A Boring yet Exciting Timeskip [Kind Of]​

Geralt apparently wasn't willing to risk the city's safety longer than he needed to after I had agreed to come with him. Unfortunately for him, I still couldn't move my spine or use my powers, and I was unwilling to touch anything in my head until I wasn't struck down with miscellaneous ills and confined to a bed. At the end of the first day, I had finally regained the ability to move my fingers. We talked once more, and decided that we would give me a week to recover, and then ride out. I did not look forward to encountering more horses.

He watched me closely for that week, of course. Except for when he didn't, and went off with some contract to fulfill, and new wounds and scratches on his body that would heal within the day. Irregardless, as my body recovered from the apparent flagrant overuse of my powers, he questioned me. He was curious, of course, about why I had collapsed; the best explanation I could offer was an attempt on my life. He asked much more obvious questions as well, the kind I expected him to have asked during our first conversation - Where had I gotten my 'merchandise', what could I do, could I fight, did I have any enemies, why did monsters follow me - anything he needed to better evaluate me as a threat or as a person. I was mostly honest, even when he brought up my interests and I had to try to explain as best I could my hobbies in context. And, of course, the question of exactly what I was. Whatever it was Geralt could see me as, or see around me, or however his Witcher Sense worked, he was totally convinced that I wasn't entirely human. He had his theories, but wanted me to tell him.

My answer never changed. "Just another nobody." I would say.

I asked my own questions too, of course. Not many, but just enough about him that I could be justified in the use of my meta knowledge on his life and to seem as though I was validating wild stories and rumors, or flagrant exaggerations from whichever history book he had made his way into that definitely existed. I also asked enough to figure out what had happened to my stuff. My wagon, cart, whatever – I didn't even pretend to care about its actual name – had been taken by the city, and aside from a "small" tax fee taken from my stock due to keeping it somewhere out of the way and where it wouldn't be stolen, and also due to my stay here, even if I hadn't actually taken up any resources other than a bed. My horse was being kept in an Inns stable, which was… joy. Yay. At least this one was cooperative, and hopefully wouldn't cause another local mass extinction of horses by refusing to cooperate when the week was up.

Sometime near the end of the week, when I could move around but not so much as stop a cat from beating me in a contest of strength – something which happened far too frequently for my tastes – I asked him what he had done to my journal. He tossed it to me, which then knocked me over and onto my ass because yes, I was that much of a pushover right now. He couldn't read it, something I was glad for but yet oddly confused by. After all, they wrote in English, and I wrote in large, blocky text to avoid the issue I usually provoked when writing of no one being able to read whatever it was I had wrote, including me. When I tentatively preached the subject, Geralt looked at my for a moment before pulling a book from the shelf, showing it to me.

I then realized it was another language. Same alphabet, different language being perceived as English. I hoped there wasn't a limitation there.

This, of course, prompted more questions from Geralt concerning my native tongue, and alphabet. I couldn't give him a reasonable explanation, because as one might expect, I wasn't willing to open the can of worms that the cosmic truths I could dish out about the world would bring. We did, however, finally address the issue of the monsters which followed me and apparently would repeatedly raze villages to the ground. To be fair, I was surprised by this fact. I had never revisited the villages or towns I had gone to after leaving behind offerings and the day I would return, and what with the lack of constant monster attacks after the first day, I had assumed it wouldn't be so large a problem as it had apparently become. I had even slowed time down and gone hunting for anything that might be stalking me at a distance several times, only finding your usually monster population doing fuck all besides providing free body horror shows.

Speaking of, Horror. An emotion I was glad I couldn't feel on this world, and should probably be concerned by how I can barrel muster any fake empathy for those who evoke it.

On the final day, I could finally move every limb without issue, and pick up t he cat by the scruff of its neck rather than have it shove me off the bed despite my feeble protests yet again. I swear it stood on its hind legs and crossed its arms for a moment after I dropped it though… ah well. I wasn't at the peak of my strength, but it was enough. My Time Dilation hadn't returned either, though I did swear that on occasion things seemed to slow down around me. I still hadn't touched any of the other building or stable pools of energy. I could also still make Gateways to the Corridors of Darkness, so I had an escape if need be. I didn't plan on it.

It was right after I had gotten dressed, finally pulling on my cloak once more, that Geralt walked into the room, boots bloodied and sporting fresh wounds. I decided to cover up the fact I had basically just been acting like a moron because the robes felt like a part of me by asking him exactly how many contracts and job offers he had been getting to be going out almost every day and coming back twelve hours later.

He said none, and that he had been dealing with larger monsters that were apparently drawn to me and brave or uncaring enough to come closer to the city's gates.

I said oh.

He said we were moving out today, and I nodded before thinking back in retrospect to the past week. Geralt just asked me when I was going to stop standing here, and I think I'm just going to keep doing this for the moment.

-0-0-0-
​

" ...And you rode here on that?" Geralt asked, watching me attempt to get my horse too cooperate. It was refusing, apparently feeling a bit vengeful over the whole many beatings thing, which I didn't feel like repeating in Geralts presence. He was currently gently stroking Roach, his truly intimidating Horse's snout. Roach was looking at me rudely. I was convinced this would ultimately only end well.

"...Yep." I say, finally succeeding in getting the saddle on the horse. I suspected Geralt would step in if I took too long.

"....Does she have a name? He asked, having just fed Roach an apple.

"He's a She?" I look at him, 'surprised'. I didn't know, so that makes it easier. I do wonder if my view on life is negatively affecting my progress to becoming a person, what with how I've recently been viewing emotion. "Nah, no name, I stopped after horse 50 or so, and by then they were getting pretty forgettable anyway."

Geralt stares. He had apparently forgotten to ask about my past horses.

"Not long till I'm ready to go." I say. "Shouldn't take that much longer."

-0-0-0-
​

It then took 7 hours.

-0-0-0-
​

Three days later, we rode over the top of the hill, I resisting my horses efforts to kick me off of it and Geralt riding a bit further ahead before stopping. It was a pleasant, very tense three days in which I had nearly figured out his exact plan, and I had decided to blame the Crones for all my monster issues. Because Fuck the crones, and we were quickly growing close to them anyway. But I digress.

"You know the drill." Geralt murmured. I looked up from where I was fiddling with my saddle to see a village in the distance, obscured by woods and mist. I nod and reluctantly pull my hood off. It felt right when it was up and unnatural when it was off, but we had - in a startling burst of common sense - went and said no, it was not smart to ride into civilized places with my magical and unsettling face obscuring hood up.

"You ride ahead and see if it is safe for me to follow, or if we even need to visit, yes." I say. He nods, and like that, rides off towards the village on Roach.

Now... how to settle my bor-

This is when my horse bucked me off. Yes, my dignity was very dead, my time dilation was expressing itself in the bare minimum, but I was still forevermore going to be bored.

 

[MasterDrakus]

What about the cats?

 

[Solsticegelan]

What about the cats?

Click to shrink...

No one knows.

 

[MasterDrakus]

Nobody knows.

Click to shrink...

Ftfy

 

[Vaalintine]

All we know is that somewhere out there is a group of cats capable of operating crossbows.

 

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 16 - Being Stalked​

I'll be honest, I didn't have it in me to move after the horse kicked me off of it and just stood there, lost in some sort of smug horse-based self satisfaction. One might even say I lacked the heart to. Regardless, I was just fine laying there on the dirt road either way, tampering with my mind, figuring how far I could tighten that feeling in the back of my mind before everything hurt again, or I risked breaking it.

The answer was not very far. Time barely slowed before I needed to stop slowing things down, and I could only hold it for 10 minutes – 10 minutes to myself that was. But again, it was much better than being powerless. I wasn't anywhere near my full strength, being only roughly human and far less impressive than Geralt, and while I was still stupidly durable – I had forced Geralt to test exactly how much force it took to hurt me without any time dilation to make things hurt less, and the answer was "A lot of force falling from a great height, a very heavy rock, and a crapton of magic".

That had been an interesting morning.

I also didn't remove myself from the ground because pondering didn't require me to exert any physical effort and I was a procrastinator.

For the past 10 days, I had been trying to figure out why my Time Dilation had been broken so spectacularly. I had tested it before, after all, and broken it by simply overexerting it. The effects then had just been disturbingly similar to if I was a boss who had been stunned, so that the player would stand a fair chance against him. The Symptoms had been the same, too - muscle fatigue, a loss of feeling in my limbs, disorientation, ringing in my ears, black spots... the fact I knew my breaking point was why I had known to push that far in the first place. Had it been how I disengaged it? The time I spent pushing myself that far? Because several hours spent slowing down time to the point where I couldn't tell if it had stopped or not while constantly moving had probably put a hellish amount of strain on my body.

But regardless, I was just retreading old ground now aaaaaaand bored. I couldn't shuffle through my cart, I had put it back into the loot cave... no cats to abuse me.... well then. I finally sit up, ignoring the horse still silently gloating next to me, and instead look towards the village. It looks oddly.... Victorian, especially considering what these places were normally like. Might be a town, now that I think about it. Whichever one was bigger, that's what this place was - wooden shacks, log cabins, even a few brick buildings, a wooden wall with a gate thatched roofs of course, but also tiled roofs. Vines crawled up and down the walls and the roofs of almost all the buildings, and all of this was built partially hidden by the woods, which grew thicker and thicker the further back they went. It was also, unfortunately, quite foggy. It provided a creepy, chilling atmosphere, the kind one would expect from any horror movie building suspense. Ordinarily, such connections and observations might be ignored, especially since I could no longer be bothered by such things.

But this was the kind of world where that atmosphere meant "Super-Murder-Monster is HERE", and was a direct result of it trying to eat your face off. So... y'know. Sure, it could just be a foggy day - it was, the entire field was fogged up for miles, and there was a river close by - but was I willing to take that chance? Nope.

It just meant I had to be incredibly vigilante, therefore staving off my boredom. For example, I can see Geralt a few minutes ride ahead of me now, almost at the village's entrance. He was mostly a big, black blob, but...

...he was moving awfully slow compared to Roach's normal canter. And the mist.... it was oddly runny, wispy, advancing much more slowly than it had been earlier. My horse... no, I just couldn't tell, she was standing there with the dumbest, goofiest face imaginable on a horse. Regardless, it appeared my passive Time Dilation was working again. The question here was why; what danger had it judged me to be in? Lets see here...

... nothing hiding in the village to ambush Geralt, at least not blatantly; nothing behind or above and about to pounce; no vibrations beneath my feet... The woods? Right to left, let's see here...

...Aaaaand that's a big blurry vaguely human shape watching me from the woods. It looks at me, as though it somehow noticed it had caught by attention, and its gone in a moment, so fast I can't even see it move, or even where it went. Whatever it was, it was very, very fast... and very dangerous. I take note that the fog is moving normally again and looks towards Geralt, who has ridden into town by now, hopping off of roach and guiding him towards what is probably an Inn. I look back at where whatever had been watching us had been, and measure waiting for Geralt to return against following whatever it had been now.

I'm at the edge of the woods where it was a minute later.

This was so, so very stupid and I knew it. But I wouldn't engage whatever this thing was, not yet. I just wanted to pick up its trail before it went cold. I could at least point Geralt in the right direction with his Witcher Sense later, because god knew that it was infinitely more effective at tracking people than I was. Magic Gene Therapy bullshit, it was.

Lets start with obvious things. First off, footprints, or at least some sign of bushes and other plants being crushed under foot or shoved aside. Whatever I had seen, it was large, and had to leave behind some sign it had been here. Second off, torn branches that indicate where whatever it might've been broke limbs off trees by sheer virtue of size; third off, realize that I don't know what I'm doing and that neither of those things were here. No imprints of any degree in the fresh dirt, no brambles crushed or depressed, no signs in the trees that whatever it had been was ever here.

Clearly a good sign. A large, intelligent, humanoid creature that moved fast enough I couldn't follow it with my currently meager time dilation, so stealthy I couldn't find any sign that it had been standing here, and dangerous enough that it set off my passive time dilation simply by watching me.

A leaf chose this moment to very delicately, and much more slowly than it should have, fall into my path of vision. I did not know why, nor did I care why it had fallen. A very gentle breach, lighter than it should have been and lasting longer as well, kicked up. It felt as though something was breathing down my neck. There are Crows, sitting in the trees, suddenly cawing, the noise prolonged and drawn out.

And the mist was once more wispy, advancing at a rate just slow enough to let me know something was wrong once more.

I looked, and found nothing.

I ran.
​

 

[Krazyfan1]

a hidebehind?

 

[Solsticegelan]

a hidebehind?

Click to shrink...

Hahaha, as fun an idea as that may be, no. This is a monster from in-setting.

 

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 17 - Watchers in the Mist​

There were things, moving in the mist. Dark, blurry shapes, visible out of the corner of my eyes, moving barely fast enough for me to notice, but just fast enough. Fading in and out of my vision, as far ahead as I could see. Or perhaps they were just shapes in the fog, a mind trying to find anything it could. Ill defined, I had no idea how many there might be, how far they truly were.

The branches in the trees would rustle. Leaves might fall. A twig may break. A Bush may rustle. And the feeling of being watched may fall upon me. But I saw nothing, and could never dismiss the noises as simple flora and fauna. After all, there were Crows in the trees, silently watching and taking flight to places unknown.

Yet so far, nothing had slowed. Not my pace, not time, and certainly not whatever might be following me. I was not disturbed, not perturbed, not placed off guard by anything that tried to mess with my mind; I would have my warning, and I would have a weapon to fight with. But despite that, my breath was heavy, my body not yet recovered from when I had been struck down; the Fog seeping into my lungs, feeling much heavier than it should, seeming to weigh me down as I moved.

I was not yet jumping at shadows, expecting them to be whatever played with me, finally revealing itself; and it might be a long while yet. I could exhibit paranoid behavior, but not be driven to true paranoia; but I expected myself to have some limit. And I was truly being played with here.

I had no idea exactly how long I had been running. My internal clock was reliable, but only good if I attempted to pay attention to it; if the timer I set ticking in myself wasn't shoved aside, thrown to the floor and off the table of my mind, Because when I was being watched by something hiding behind every shadow, and expecting it to come any moment, it could not be trusted. But even still, I had been fleeing for a half hour now, and came no closer to the village. Its gate rose in the distance, roofs poking out from beyond that, hidden by the pearly white fog and obscured by distance, sitting exactly as far away as it had before I tried to abscond from the mist.

Changing my course to head out of the woods and to my horse didn't change a thing, either; I could walk and run for as long as I wanted, but the hills would grow no closer, the mist no deeper. Any way I walked, no matter what I tried – no matter how many trees marked, how loud I called for help, to be noticed by Geralt – nothing changed, and yet everything seemed to change.

My mind was being played with.

And I did not like that one bit. It meant I couldn't trust my senses, couldn't trust where I put my feet in front of me, and couldn't know if the next noise I heard from out in the mist was real or not. I could have run a mile by now and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. It meant that, when I could no longer run, NO longer keep moving as I had, my body tired... I stopped. And looked behind me. There was nothing, just more briefly seen shadows and shapes at the tiniest edge of my vision, so indistinct and non descriptive that I almost didn't believe they were there before they were gone.. I should've expected it , really. Like whatever was going on here would simply allow me to confront it directly. I couldn't be that lucky, to actually get into a fight after so long, even if I had to do so weaponless and almost powerless. And so I set my internal clock ticking, a steady beat in the back of my mind, ever present as events proceed around me.

So instead, I sat. The Crows began to caw again, calling for more of them to come and sit in the branches. I waited, the fog moving normally, and the breeze that felt as though something were breathing down my neck picking up again, gently blowing the leaves. A few of the crows fly off their spots on the branches, to land around me. Their heads are turns and hung so that they may stare at me, their eyes red and beady, some well kept and some mangier than a mutt left to die. They make odd noises with their beaks, a rasping instead of a crowing that sounds like an old woman trying to recall how to speak, because she forgot how to long ago. Their numbers grow as more and more leave the trees, and as they do the cawing grows quieter and the rasping louder, less like an old woman and more like some ancient thing trying to speak because it has long forgotten how. Eventually those on the ground outnumber those in the trees, their rasping seeming less and less distinctive, their eyes odd red tint all staring at me. The shapes at the edge of my vision grow closer, the shapes that I now realize the creatures must not realize I can see darting across my field of vision growing faster and more frequent; and yet still nothing comes to try and claim my head from my shoulders, my flesh from my bone, my heart from where it should be but is not.

A few of the Crows land on me, now; on my shoulders or my legs. I am almost willing to give up, to finally open a Gateway to the Corridors of Darkness to seek escape, no longer concern myself with what might come next. I can feel the Crows ancient voice drone on, the silent thrumming of my mind move slowly onward, and the shapes move but do nothing; yet they grow closer, grow louder, grow more coherent...

And so I am just almost willing.

The noises in the mist stopped some time ago, or so I note. Before I set my clock to beat, but after I had stopped moving. The little detail seemed relevant, considering everything move now, yet save for the intentionally made noises the forest was deathly still. Once more the wind began, warm and soft on my neck,much warmer than before; as though some creature was bearing down on me, ready to finally pounce. I felt as though the voice of the crows, older than I could ever hope to be and born in some place where the eldest living things had long since been preserved in stone, and the primordial spirit of nature itself lived on, finally had a message to give me. A question.

The voices seemed to slow, their words chosen slowly and carefully. The wind seems no less warm, simply less fierce in its intensity. And the shapes growing ever closer had grown ever harder to find, almost upon me.

Tick

Why are you here? The voice whispered into the deepest recess of my mind. Why have you come?

Tock.

I had no answer to give.

Tick.

Help me It murmurs into the space where my heart once was. An interloper is upon you.

Tock.

I did not understand. The voices did.

Tick

We are tired, child. The voice utters, and my body trembles We cannot deal with the Thing in our woods.

Tock

I listened, and so too did I listen to the noise in my head. And so I understood, but perhaps not what was intended to be learned. I had finally understood the crows whispering for the past 24 seconds.

6 had passed

Tick.

There were no more shapes darting around in front of me, or hiding just at the edge of my vision. The fog was moving much slower than it had moments earlier, when I had thought the rasping had slowed.

Ti-

Claws, too many of them for me to count, tore at me from the fog; pale and greasy, unhealthy and lean; they swiped with long, dirty, nails. Fists swung down at my head as though they intended to hammer me, and the ravens sat and stared. I fell, a Gateway finally opened underneath my feet; and so all of the attacks missed as I sunk into the edges of the Realm of Darkness, Ravens accompanying me as fog slowly seeped through into a realm where light was never meant to touch; I could see naught but blurry shapes already vanishing through the still opened gate. The noise of the chant-like rasp still echoed around me, but were muffled; as though I was listening to it while submerged.

The fog recoiled, as though it were alive; taking the shape of grasping hands and open palms, of tendrils and screaming faces, retreating back to where it came. The Ravens followed, slowly cawing, no longer rasping; some of the ravens that had fallen through, or been sitting on me, also dissolved into a fine mist which shriveled and burst, dispersing into a very thin pea-like sheen. The Gateway closed itself, leaving me submerged in the darkness, surrounded by a thin yet all encompassing fog, free to finally see what shape that the Corridors had shaped themselves into.

An endless, twisted, leafless forest stretched before me, both above and below; the ground both where it should be and sitting where the sky should exist. The branches are twisted and gnarled, reaching as far and wide as they can, intertwining with the branches of trees that hung opposite of them; and etched onto every free surface were symbols and runes, written languages dead, alive, and yet to be made. Every trees roots were uprooted, standing free and naked to air and still written; and from whichever floor they sprung there grew not one single blade of grass.

As I sunk further, fast now that I was no longer in any sort of danger from attackers still unknown, the roots below sprung up, revealing a patch of very, very dark space; a void as empty as I could ever know. The roots rose like they had minds of their own, seizing me; I did not struggle, and so they quickly lower themselves back into place, putting me into the hole that they once more covered.

-ck.

And so I emerged from a Gateway back into the world in the same second that I entered it, spat out by a glowing black vortex at the same speed I had fallen into it.

I took a moment to gain my bearings, and saw that I was now standing before the front gates of the village, its gate as open and ever and the fog thankfully much lower. A glance towards the hills revealed Geralt had not yet returned, and that my horse was still just standing there. Judging by the lack of screaming and panicked voices, none of the townsfolk had noticed me; though this seemed like a sleepy place.

I hoped it wasn't a dead place as I set off to find Geralt.

-0-0-0-
​

I had gained two Catty followers. Both of them were Tabbies, and currently sitting on the table me and Geralt were sitting at, located just outside an Inn Geralt had lodged rooms in. Confirmation of many different things; that he thought it was safe for us to stay in town, that he believed something was wrong enough for him to be here, or that my presence didn't matter. I considered myself lucky to have found him so quickly, though I had yet to brief him on my encounter. We sat in the shade one of many large trees in this place, of which this town possessed many; enough that it was covered in a perpetual shade, both day and night. Luckily, the fog here was almost nonexistent; and where it was, it barely rose to ones foot. I sipped a cup of tea, though calling it such was generous, and listened to Geralt speak.

"This town... Solstice, does it feel wrong to you? Off, in the slightest of ways?" Geralt asked. Ah, so he was testing me. Seeing what I could gleam of the situation. I took a moment to sit the cup of tea down, and to watch the townsfolk go about their business. People talking and gossiping, a man driving a wagon towards his store, children playing in the streets. The shade that covered the whole town, the fog silently seeping into the roads, a Crow watching us and perched upon a low hanging branch.

"...Definitely." I respond, turning back to face him. He nods.

"Tell me, what can you tell about the people? How they act?" Geralt murmurs, quiet so as to not be overheard. Yes, what can I tell him? The people seemed quite normal to me. I can't see or sense any degree of fear or weariness, of excitement over some new piece of gossip involving some persons death, can't spot them doing or feeling much of anything, to be honest. In fact, everybody within my pitiful range of heart-sensing abilities felt... dull. Muted. Their actions seemed pointless, as though they were going through the motions; and I had a distinct feeling that if I were to look one of them in the eyes, they would be glassy and glazed.

"They're acting like they were just that... Actors on some stage. Going through their day step by step, not even paying us any attention, because we aren't part of that play. We aren't even a part of the audience, sitting in the seats." I murmur back just as quietly, keeping an eye on the Crow. It hadn't blinked once, nor made a noise, since I had watched it land on its branch.

"I think I know what we're dealing with." Geralt whispers. He moves to stand, but I motion for him to sit back down. "Geralt. I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but I was attacked earlier. It's why I followed you in." I tell him. I speak up, but not loud enough to be overhead. No reaction from the crow. A look of concern comes over Geralts face at this news, and he sits himself back down.

"Tell me everything." He says. And so I do, in a low, hushed tone, occasionally answering his questions. Of the fog that seemed to be alive, of the whispers from the Crows, of the claws, of the things just outside my vision, and of how no matter how far I ran or how fast I moved, the town never drew any nearer. He frowns as I speak, and it only deepens as I answer his questions. Eventually, as quietly and subtly as I could, I gestured towards the Crow that has been watching us. His eyes follow, and he nods in understanding.

A person walks by, and we grow quiet. I pick up one of the cats and begin to stroke it, and yet all of us watch the woman until she turns a corner.

"...What are we dealing with, Geralt?" I ask.

"It sounds like you had an encounter with a Foglet." Geralt says, taping a finger as he thinks. It is almost certainly a trick of my eyes, but I swear the fog moves in response to the name. And it is one I recognize; I had encountered them when playing the game. I had only encountered them once; however...

"Are Foglets capable of that much? I thought they weren't nearly so deadly, just Necrophages who could become fog, and generate it. Not much more, not much else." I say. It certainly fits, but...

"Some are." Geralt says. "The oldest, the wisest, the cleverest... they can make illusions, and not just tricks of the mind. Solid, tangible things. Things that can hurt.But certainly not as much as you say you dealt with, not like you encountered..." He trails off.

"What are we dealing with, then?" I want to beg, but don't. He'll tell me with time, and nothing was adding up.

"A Leshen." Geralt utters. The Crow caws for the first time, startling Geralt, and we both stare at it. I take a moment to examine what I know of Leshens. Tall, Shaman-esque figures... skulls masks... wolves.... and...

Ah.

"I don't quite understand." I inquire, stealing Geralt's attention away from the crow. "I understand maybe believing so due to the Crows. And their voice. But is it enough to discount that a particularly old Foglet is involved?"

Geralt takes one look at me, his expression contemplative. He glances at the crow one, at the streets, and then back to me one last time. "Did you ever go to the center of town?" He asks. I shake my head no. "It's better to show you." He mutters, standing up. I put the cat down, and follow him as he leads me through town. Behind us we hear the Caw of a crow and the rustling of branches, and don't need to look behind us to know that the bird is gone.

I take the time as I follow Geralt towards the towns center to examine the people. To note that they're moving like puppets, limp and emotionless or stiff and mechanical; confirmed that when I gazed into a mans eyes, I found they were glazed over. That people would, on occasion, do odd things and just keep repeating actions regardless of if they served a purpose or if their task was done. Such as the woman carrying empty water pails as she walked back and forth.

I hear rustling in the trees ahead, and Geralt has slowed; I turn my attention upward, towards the trees, and watch three crows flutter down to perch themselves on a piece of wood, laying in a particularly shadowy spot of town and surroudned by massive trees.

"This is why I believe its a Leshen." Geralt says. And then I realize what the three crows have landed on, occasionally cawing at us and staring with an unwavering gaze.

A bloody shrine, taking the form of a scarecrow like body wearing a deer's skull strapped to a wooden cross, covered in guts and vines, lays at the towns center; and at its feet are skulls and flowers, belonging to every species local to the area, and some that were not. The smell of blood and rot hit me, and I realized the blood was recent; dripping down off the shrine. I follow its gaze and realize where the smell of Rot is coming from as I see the freshly kill mans carcass.

"Oh." I say.

-------
I apologize for not posting this yesterday; for those who didn't read my above post, I fell asleep while finishing it up. And for those starved for action... it's coming. Next Chapter. Any comments on how decent or horribly I botched trying to write horror are thanked.

 

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 18 - "WHY AM I THE BAIT?!"​

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.

-0-0-0-​

"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....

 

[Solsticegelan]

Nobody's Memories
Chapter 19 - On the road once more​

My Heart is beating. Frantic eyes surveying the land, ignited with fear, a message from elsewhere and perhaps elsewhen reverberating from antenna to tail blade, and deep into it's very being, to the heart swallowed in darkness and succumbed to the most intense of emotions, a base being of primordial hunger and little else.

And right now, it is panicking. It's panic is not a pretty panic, within the valley's walls; The river gnashes and churns, ruined and interrupted by the deep routes now carved into the ground by its body; claw marks adorn the walls as boulders fall and long standing geological formations crumble. The remains of a nice little hamlet built near the base of the river and in a wide clearing are destroyed and utterly wiped from the face of the earth as My Heart clutches its head and tries to climb its way upward, out of this valley, out of this world and to the comforting darkness; it does not care for the hamlet that had flourished, now forever wiped from the face of that world. It cares for its dly rooted anger, as it tries to howl in confusion, but only a silent hissing permeates the air for miles.

It does not know what this message was, what it's contents were; it only cares that it is being attacked, touched in the deepest of ways, and it will not stop.

After a moment, it finally stops writhing and turning, having noticed me. It no longer resembles an eldritch horror of indescribable shape, bur rather a sleeping one. The valley no longer resembles what it once was moments before as it stares at. My Heart stares at my Body. My Heart lash-

"-lstice!" Geralts voice calls from above me. It stirs me from my slumber, and I awake. My head hurts, my body feels like I had spent several hours running and being beaten to a pulp, and I had just had some weird dream. Something about Cthulu?

Except all of those things had actually happened. And… there had been a Leshen? That was secretly a Crow? I groan as I open my eyes, the sunlight hurting my eyes. Not the best of wake up calls.

"C'mon Geralt, can't I get my much needed beauty sleep? It's hard to look this average waking up y;know." I complain. I had spent a long few days learning Sarcasm was enough of a easily produce trait I could use it to replace the personality I didn't have. When in doubt, complain and make stupid jokes.

"…Solstice, what do you remember?" Geralt asks, and I squint, able to finally make out blurry shapes. I look in the direction I think Geralt is, his size indicating that he's crouched onto his knees to look at me, and think for a moment.

"Let's see. You used me as bait, I got beaten up, you killed some Foglets, I got my ass saved by a Leshen, we both decided we needed some sleep…." I say, omitting a few choice details involving what I was. "…Why do I feel wet?" I ask. Looking down I discover that I had apparently been sitting in a puddle of mud for who knows how long, asleep.

"Is that it?" Geralt asks. All things considered, yes, yes it was.
"Yep." I say, finally looking around. Sure, my neck hurt, but what was a little pain when I could figure out where I was? "Care to fill the gaps?"

"Sure, why not." He says. "Let's see. After you were hit hard and far enough that I lost sight of you, I was left to fight off the two Foglets."

"I saw three."

"There were two after I entered the fight. So, after two became one, and one became none, I went looking for you. Must've spent the whole night tracking your scent and following your trail of destruction. In the end, I never found you. Forest kept rearranging itself, trying to dilute your scent, repairing any signs of where you might've gone. Sun was rising by the time I came back to the town." Geralt explains.

"So, how did you find me, and then take me back here, to the hills?" I ask, realizing where we are. The landscape truly looked different without Fog covering its every inch, and dark clouds in the sky above.

"Getting to that. When I got to the town, everything was back to normal, for what passes as normal around here. No more dead eyes, no watchers in the trees,and the Innkeeper was as right as rain. He remembered me paying for the room and to stable Roach, but not much else. I went around the town, talking to people, and none of them had a very sharp recollection of what had happened for the past few months. When I went to the center of town, there was no shrine. It had vanished into thin air."

"Disturbing. But it makes sense." I said. And considering the Leshen's age and motives? Setting up shop to get rid of the Foglets and then packing up when they were gone did make sense, but implied many things. Such as this analogy not fitting at all.

"For a given definition of sense. I eventually retired to the room, and slept. When I came to, I figured you were long gone - either having run from me, or because you were dead. So I packed up, and road out of town on Roach, ready to my prior quest in full. And then, as I saw you horse, I slowed down... and found you sitting where you are now, asleep." Geralt finished

"...Huh." I say.

"Yep." He replies, hopping onto Roach. I look and see my horse is still standing there, eating grass and ignoring me.

"So either way, business as normal?" I ask, hopping onto the Horse. Oddly enough, despite my body aching, I feel better than I have since I went to Oxenfurt. The Horse even goes along with me for once.

"Seems like it." Geralt answers. So the plan was still to ask the Bloody Baron about Ciri and find Yennifer in Skellige to talk about Cirir and my "Issues". Good enough for me. "Not so sure about leaving now that we know about the Leshen, but we're off schedule as is..." He adds.

We're already riding, turning right and with the intent of going around the forest instead of through this time, when I shrug. "We wouldn't find it anyway."

"I know."

And so, we ride.

--------
Something shorter to cool down. We aren't going back to just comedy just yet folks, so buckle down.

 

[Dogsigh]

Interesting that he doesn't remember the Leshen talking to him. Wonder how many other things in the world know of the Darkness?

 

[MasterDrakus]

So...He broke another weapon, he should probably just try getting a huge stone shaped like a sword a la fan Berzeker and use it instead.