This is the city (of Vizima), this is the White Wolf -- THE WITCHER [SSLP]

The Something Awful Forums > Discussion > Video Games > Let's Play! > This is the city (of Vizima), this is the White Wolf -- THE WITCHER [SSLP]

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Woot. Hope you'll manage to break the LP curse on this game.

I forgot - what's your native language? Is the entire book series available in it? I'm pretty sure the English translation didn't get to the final few just yet.

# ¿ Sep 23, 2017 00:07

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ¿ Apr 28, 2024 17:30

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Doc Morbid posted:

Finnish, and all the books aside from Season of Storms have been translated. I hear the Finnish translation is supposed to be pretty good, but I've been reading the English editions because those (at least the e-books) are much cheaper.

I've read the books in Russian (though to be fair, Sapkowski speaks Russian, was friends with the Russian translator and endorses the translation quality).

What little I've seen of the English versions was... not good. I don't mean "the nuances of wordplay are lost in translation pfeh pfeh" levels of not good, but "would be laughed out of a creative writing workshop" not good.

I might do a read along of the short stories / books?

Doc Morbid posted:

As Geralt goes to check up on her, he fails to notice she still has her claws and gets seriously wounded.

Per the story, just nails. Filthy, broken, unkempt nails. Which is why Geralt managed to survive.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 00:55 on Sep 23, 2017

# ¿ Sep 23, 2017 00:17

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

You could try the combat rebalance mod:

http://www.moddb.com/mods/full-combat-rebalance1

# ¿ Sep 23, 2017 11:09

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Asehujiko posted:

Version 1.0 of the game was missing 20-25% of all dialogue for ??? reasons so conversations flowed real bad and often missed critical information. 1.4/EE added them all back.

JFC, that is amazing. 90% of conversations in this game already sound like two distinct monologues talking right past each other, so I can't even begin to imagine what the original game was like.

# ¿ Sep 23, 2017 17:21

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

OAquinas posted:

My favorite finisher was when you had a dagger as a secondary weapon. Geralt just whips the guy down to the ground and then quickly stabs all of his organs in alphabetical order. Rather funny to watch when it's done in a crowd of enemies, since you're invulnerable while doing a finisher so they just sit around watching you murder their buddy.

Yeah, the different finishers are one reason to at least check out all the normal weapons.

...

At some point during the potion brewing process, Eskel (or Lambert?) are supposed to teach you how to fist-fight. Incredibly easy to miss.

If you fight the Frightener, you can (with the right decisions) get a Red-Meteorite sword before you even enter Vizima proper.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 08:17 on Sep 27, 2017

# ¿ Sep 27, 2017 06:45

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

painedforever posted:

I think, if there's something I comprehensively disliked about The Witcher, it's that the dialog always felt stilted (which happens when the native language isn't English). Does it get any better later in the game, or later in the series?

Yeah, that's what I meant by "two people monologing past each other".

Doc Morbid posted:

Right now we just want to rest and maybe store some items, so we should talk to the innkeeper.

Your kind's not welcome here...

I said I wanted a beer.

We have no more.

...

Very well. I'll see what I have.

Good man.

Everyone drink up! We're closing.

Innkeeper, do that again and I'll get angry. Wouldn't want that, would you?

N...no.

All right. I'll just tend to my business and be on my way...

It looks a bit better on paper than it does in-game, but it's really clear that both actors were given a list of lines to recite, with no indication as to what they are actually responding to. It definitely gets a lot better in the later games.

...

Geralt refusing to draw his sword (even during fights he starts) is right up there with NPCs who have an elaborate getting up / sitting down animation, and will terminate a conversation of their own accord to go through it. Relatively minor, but goddamned consistent aggravations.

I wonder if there's anything more meaningful than a bronze talent / a few coins (in a game with endless cash) you can save by talking to NPCs like the old peasant women, anywhere in the game.

# ¿ Oct 4, 2017 12:19

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Rangpur posted:

I've only played & watched footage of Witcher III til now. They, uh, improved their character models something considerable, I see.

TW1 is basically a Neverwinter Nights mod.

# ¿ Oct 4, 2017 12:51

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkwtMjUBBcI

# ¿ Nov 12, 2017 20:27

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 1 - The Witcher

These reviews are generally going to be divided into two parts. The Last Wish has a framing story ("The Voice of Reason") about Geralt recovering from the injuries he sustains in "The Witcher". We get a bit of framing story before and after each short story proper.

The Voice of Reason - part 1 posted:

As Geralt lies sleeping, a hot naked girl comes in. They bang. Her eyes are huge and dark, like a Rusalka's.

Oh hey, that was easy enough. Later bits of the framing story will be longer and more complex.

Let's move on to The Witcher. Pan Sapkowski had no previous experience as a writer when he wrote this short story, though he did do some work as a translator of sci-fi and fantasy works (which is encouraging for all us translators who hope to become world famous writers some day). He intended to win a short story contest held by a Polish fantasy magazine, and then never write again, so the story doesn't necessarily mesh (nor was intended to) with the larger Witcher universe.

The Witcher posted:

Geralt of Rivia rides into Vizima, wisely avoiding spending any time in the outskirts. He chooses the worst tavern around, and picks a fight with some thugs, who really hate Rivians. He ~~outplays them in DDR~~ cuts them down, is arrested, and brought before Velerad, the burgomeister.

Velerad quickly intuits that the slaughter was a bit of demonstration of Geralt's abilities, and his real aim is to get paid for solving Vizima's monster problem. After a brief audience with the king, he goes through a series of interviews with court officials - Velerad, Segelin and Ostrit. Velerad is reasonable, Ostrit is an rear end in a top hat, Segelin has a beard. They all combine to spill the background exposition via a series of cynical noir-ish dialogues.

Approximately 15 years ago, prince Foltest demonstrated his overt brotherly love towards princess Adda. The child was born horribly deformed, and died quickly, along with its mother. Both were buried in the palace catacombs. Six years later, the deceased Adda junior, now a horrible monster called a Striga, came out and started eating people -every night within the palace walls, and venturing outside the palace during full moons.

Some Sage had told king Foltest that the curse may be broken by someone brave enough to spend the night in the tomb with the Striga. This was enough for him to forbid anyone from trying to kill it, and for a number of would-be rescuers (including one Witcher) to become Striga food. However, top men in the kingdom might pay a professional half the proposed reward if the monster were terminally dispatched.

Geralt asks to talk to any witnesses that survived the Striga attacks. The wounds they bear tell him more than their confused accounts. The Striga is big, lethal, with huge fangs and claws.

The last survivor is accompanied by a soldier who turns out to be Foltest in disguise. There's a back and forth about court intrigues, the possibility of breaking the curse, and possible rewards. Eventually, Foltest gives Gralt permission to kill the Striga if disenchanting her proves impossible - knowing that in the body of the monster hides Foltest's teenage daughter, suffering.

Geralt ventures into the palace ruins, and Ostrit follows him there. He wants the Striga left alive, to undermine Foltests' position. Furthermore, he was in love with Adda senior, and it's entirely possible that his own curse, spoken in a moment of anger, contributed to the Striga situation(there's a bit of ambiguity there - Ostrit wants to know for sure, but Geralt neither knows nor really cares). Geralt knocks him out and waits for nightfall.

What follows is fairly faithfully depicted in the intro cinematic.

Geralt uses Ostrit as bait, fights and intimidates the Striga, and manages to break the curse. As he checks on the transformed girl, he neglects to account for her Striga reflexes.

The resulting wound basically opens his throat from side to side. He bandages it, and passes out.

He wakes up to Velerad congratulating him. His reward, silver sword and reputation are intact.

My thoughts on the story, in fairly random order:

The DDR crack was more meaningful than you might have thought. Witcher combat, as described in the stories, is all about rhythm, pirouettes, movement. Whoever goes out of step and hesitates gets cut open. In some ways, the combat in Witcher 1 is actually more true to the stories than the other two games.

There are a lot of bits and pieces that don't really fit into the expanded Witcher universe - obviously enough, as the story was written with no expanded universe in mind. For instance, Velerad claims that Witchers have only come to prominence recently, thanks to the growth in the number of monsters - which is the exact opposite of how things are described everywhere else in the Witcher-verse.

Foltest is described as scrawny, and "too handsome".

In one of the later stories Geralt claims he actually adopted the cognomen "of Rivia" as well as a Rivian accent on purpose, to belong somewhere, despite (like all Witchers) coming to Kaer Morhen at a very early age, which.... um.

Geralt probably wouldn't intentionally provoke a bar fight just to show off his murder-skills, nor intentionally sacrifice a bound human who hasn't actually harmed him to a monster in any later media.

Something that the intro cinematic (and most later Witcher media, including the stories) ignores is Geralt reaching an empathic / telepathic union with the striga, intimidating it not only with martial prowess, but also by overwhelming it with a wave of negative emotions. The Witchers don't really display a lot of telepathic talent later in the series.

I have to give kudos to the noir dialog. It's sharp, funny, to the point, and doesn't really outstay its welcome. Geralt is (playing) the stoical monster hunter, professional and to the point, but his essential humanity shines through. Even within this first, unformed story, it's fairly obvious his witcher's code is an excuse to keep his distance and a mask of impartiality. The comparisons to Philip Marlowe are well warranted.

I've been told that Sapkowski's Polish is really quite brilliant, with a lot of worldpay, allusions, and references that would do Pratchett proud. Conversely, the English translation is apparently quite dull. That being said I'm reading the Russian translation - Pan Sapkowski speaks Russian, was friends with the Russian translator, and recommends its quality. So I have to assume that ending particularly poignant moments with "X knew the answer to this question. X knew." is one of Sapkowski's own quirks, and it annoys me to no end. It shows up over and over, and it's really bad.

Less subjectively, the little "this isn't your grandpa's fairy tale, Geralt isn't going to be given half the kingdom and princess' hand in marriage" touches do get a bit much, here and in general.

This is going to be more relevant later on, but all the "Man, peasants are dumb, smelly and superstitious. OF COURSE a peasant lad isn't going to break the curse with guile and pluck" notes also get more overbearing as we go on, as they feature in pretty much every story.

Traditional fairy tales emphasized the possibility of the lowest-born members of society, such as swineherds and village fools, being heroes because they were subverting a social status that valued nobles and professional murderers (forgive me the tautology) above all. One might claim that the Witcher universe is an equal offender, insofar as everyone are equally poo poo, but all that poo poo-talking about peasants and craftsmen from a writer who (seriously-jokingly) refers to himself as a Polish nobleman in the 21st century starts to rankle a bit.

Witcher abilities:

* The Aard sign, doing pretty much what it does in the game.

* Two unknown potions, one greatly increasing reaction speed, the other probably Cat, helping Geralt see in the dark? The stories make a big deal out of Geralt's ability to widen or narrow his pupils to extremes, to deal with blinding sunlight or near darkness, but apparently potions help as well.

* Feeling the rhythm.

* Telepathy (doesn't get featured again)

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 09:22 on Apr 22, 2018

# ¿ Nov 29, 2017 13:28

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Frionnel posted:

Not to mention Geralt is a lot more ruthless in this story, later one he wouldn't he wouldn't have chosen to sacrifice a dude to a monster as his first option. Or kill random thugs in a bar just to show off.

Absolutely. I planned to mention that - must have gotten lost in the revisions.

gently caress it. It's now a canon part of the original post, and you can't prove otherwise.

# ¿ Nov 29, 2017 15:59

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Doc Morbid posted:

If it's okay with you, I'll update the second post of the thread to include links to your Let's Reads.

Sure.

# ¿ Nov 29, 2017 16:32

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 2 - A Grain of Truth

The Voice of Reason - part 2 posted:

Geralt is recuperating from the injuries he sustained during "The Witcher" in a temple of Melitele. Melitele is the great Mother, a goddess of fertility, childbirth, healing, nature, rejuvenation. In the games, she's more of an incarnation of the Triple Goddess. The temple is a center of healing and learning for novitiates who will go on to become priestesses, healers, midwives, druids and teachers.

Per Dandelion (Geralt's poet friend, known as Buttercup in the original, only briefly mentioned here), Melitele is popular less as a great goddess of nature and healing, and more because every woman giving birth has to scream to some goddess.

Even with his mutant regenerative powers and the healing prowess of abbess Nenneke, he will have to spend a while recuperating at the temple if he wants to retain the ability to move his head properly. At least enough time for seven stories worth of flashbacks.

Nenneke remarks that something is bothering Geralt, distracting him to the point that an ordinary Striga almost managed to kill him. Whatever could it be? Certainly not the fact that Iola (hot naked chick from the story intro, a silent sister of Melitele) is ginger and clumsy, instead of being black, regal, and smelling of lilac and gooseberries.

In any case, Geralt should refrain from fighting particularly agile oponnents, and make a living... somehow. Nenneke isn't here to mother him, except when she is. Also, priestesses of Melitele aren't required to be celibate, but Geralt should really spend more time on flashbacks and less on chasing weird mute girls, particularly since that weird mute girl is supposed to meditate with Geralt and figure out what's bothering him. Geralt believes no mutant psychic is capable of reaching into his head, while Nenneke contends that the Favored of Goddess will be able to figure out what Destiny is plotted for him.

And if Geralt doesn't believe in Melitele, Destiny, and pantheons in general? Will this counteract Iola's powers? Well, then this will be the first time in recorded history that lack of faith has worked miracles.

One of the first things to do when reintroducing Geralt as the protagonist of a proper series rather than a single genre-spoofing story, is to humanize him. To be fair, it's not that hard - even as Geralt was playing the role of the stoic hardened monster slayer, his humanity and determination to do what's right shone through.

Now we get to see Geralt as less of an outcast facing off against the world - there are people who care about him, and people that can good-naturedly boss him around. He's emotionally complex - the moment when Iola slips out of his bed as he wakes up, and he's both disappointed that she's not someone else and ashamed of that disappointment is really quite good. In general, the books take Geralt's emotional turmoil just the right amount of seriously.

If there's anything I can nitpick about in this story (and obviously I must nitpick something), it's that while the segues to and from "The Witcher" were fairly coherent, with Geralt dreaming / losing consciousness, the segue to the next story is hella abrupt.

A Grain of Truth posted:

Geralt and his mare, Roach (named after the fish) swerve off the beaten path to investigate a large number of circling carrion birds. The birds (and wolves) are dining on an impoverished merchant and a young woman. Whatever filth killed them didn't leave any footprints, but did leave plenty of flesh for the scavengers. The woman has a blue rose pinned to her dress, and her face is torn off. Geralt and Roach go deeper into the forest to investigate. Though this doesn't look like the work of a werewolf or the like, Geralt lets his Witcher medallion (a wolf's head) hang in the open, just in case.

As they come in sight of the fort hidden in the woods, Roach starts to get anxious. Geralt calms her with an Axii sign, just in time to notice a pale woman with huge dark eyes, in a tight white dress. She runs off. Geralt, finding absolutely nothing suspicious about this, enters the fort.

The fort is seemingly abandoned. The fountain no longer flows, the buildings are in a state of disrepair, blue roses bloom in the yard, and an odd monster rushes out to threaten Geralt. A humanoid in worn finery, with the head of a bear, but equipped with boar tasks. I can only envision him as the Beast Prince from King's Quest 6. Wary of the speed with which Geralt draws his blade, the beast stamps, snorts, and threatens him for a bit, but ends up acquiescing when the unfazed witcher claims to have gotten lost in the woods, and asks for guest right.

It's been a long time since Nivellen met anyone who wasn't scared shitless by his monstrous visage. Besides his own brute force, the house is enchanted to obey his wishes, so he isn't to worried about fellows with swords, no matter how fast. He invites Geralt inside, for a production of My Dinner with ~~Andre~~ Nivellen.

The house can summon pretty good dinner for two (not quite GRRRRR Martin caliber, but I still wouldn't recommend reading this chapter when it's been a while since your last meal) . Nivellen gets to examine the witcher medallion up close, but only figures out Geralt isn't human based on his ability to see in the dark. Geralt admits to being a witcher.

quote:
"Fine. Let's say you manage to draw that blade of yours before I leap across the table. Let's say you even manage to cut me. One blow won't be enough to stop me, and my weight will bring you down. Once that happens, we'll be nice and tight. Which one of us is better equipped to bite out the other's throat, do you think?"

Geralt topped off his wine, and leaned back against the chair. He smirked at the creature, an exceptionally ugly smirk.

"Welllllllll," said Nivellen slowly, digging at the corner of his jaws with his claw. "You have a way of answering questions without wasting words".

quote:
"I've heard about witchers - they abduct little children whom they stuff full of magic herbs. The ones who survive become witchers themselves, sorcerers with inhuman powers. They're taught to kill, and all human feelings and reactions are trained out of them. They're turned into monsters in order to kill other monsters. I've heard it said it's high time someone started hunting witchers, as there are fewer and fewer monsters and more and more witchers."

...

"Why don't you say anything?" he asked indistinctly, swallowing. 'Which of these rumors are true?"

"Practically nothing."

"And what's a lie?"

"That there are fewer and fewer monsters."

More to the point, Nivellen is no monster, otherwise he wouldn't be able to touch silverware, nor Geralt's medallion. His condition is the result of a curse - and to Geralt's surprise, not one he wants to dispel.

His family were robber barons for generations. He had to take over for his departed father as a callow youth, and lacking in authority, allowed his men to go on sprees of banditry the likes of which would never be tolerated by his ancestors. It all came to a (bear) head when his men encouraged him to rape the priestess of a temple illuminated with green flames, with bones and skulls scattered across the altar. A priestess of the Lionhead Spider cult. She cursed Nivellen to look like the monster that he is (and added something he didn't quite catch about love and blood), then killed herself. The next day, he woke up with a bear's head adorned with boar tusks, and went into a berserk fit. The bandits, servants and distant family members fled, and he was left alone in an enchanted home.

It was months and months later, when he was feeling less depressively suicidal, that some fat merchant stopped by to pluck his Nazair roses. Based on old folk tales, and the half-remembered "blood and love" lines from the curse, Nivellen demanded the company of his daughter. Who turned out to be eight years old. But once Nivellen shared some of the loot still stored from the old bandit days, the merchant apparently let all the impoverished knights and merchants in the land hear the good news.

Over the next few years, Nivellen was inundated with daughters, including some that were into his beastly face.

But their lovemaking did nothing to break the curse, which he found himself surprisingly fine with. Over time, he accepted that a virile, powerful, magical beast is more charming, healthy, and safe from old enemies than the pimply teenager he might turn back into. Nivellen is fairly convinced that the transactions were voluntary in every way, and that none of his companions walked away unhappy. Quite the opposite - formerly poor, beaten, hard worked daughters of impoverished nobility left his house pampered, and with a handsome dowry.

Oh, and he's recently gotten himself a constant companion - the reason why visitors now leave empty-handed. Vereena, who loves birds, has huge dark eyes, avoids human food, and speaks rarely, in a foreign tongue. Geralt assumes she might be a Rusalka. Nivellen is fine with that. What's more, Rusalki avoid humans, so breaking the curse would deprive him of the love of his life.

Nivellen is less ok with the monstrous nightmares he's been having recently. Shame Geralt can't help, but Nivellen got used to it, and can get used to worse. If he ever truly becomes a monster and a danger to humans, Geralt should come back and kill him.

Geralt leaves, and wanders the woods for a while, but finds no answers. Then he belatedly figures out that "wait a moment, Rusalka's don't spook horses. And they're not fond of birds. And they don't drink blood and kill people!"

So he goes back to confront Vereena. Perched on the fountain, she's ~~singing~~ emitting a mesmerizing and terrifying song. Geralt gives the Pouirot summary - she's a vampiress (specifically, a Bruxa) who is trying to dominate and corrupt Nivellen - a vampire and a monster ruling an abandoned fort in the forest, murdering anyone who strays nearby. She just bit Nivellen, her plan coming to fruition.

She attacks him, shifting into her monster form when charms and sonic blasts don't work. She's so fast that Geralt misses her over and over, losing his rhythm and getting smashed around. The drained Nivellen stumbles outside - Vereena sonic blasts him and Geralt both, but just as she's about to finish the witcher, Nivellen stakes her with a broken scaffolding pole. She starts to drag herself forward along the pole, aiming for Nivellen's throat. "Mine, or no one's. I love you. Love you." Geralt shakes off the stun and decapitates her with a few practiced, inevitable moves.

Geralt has a brief existential crisis. Once he's over it, he notices that Nivellen is now a handsome human. Every fairy tale has a grain of truth in it. Love and blood have a lot of power - as long as it's true love.

A few summaries refer to the short story collections as dark (or better yet, Grimdark) interpretations of fairy tales. I'd say that most stories draw some inspiration from Slavic or European folk tales, but this (and the next) story are the only ones that can be properly described as "a dark version of fairy tale X". (Cinderella and Rumpelstiltskin respectively, obviously).

You can see how these stories can be straight-forwardly translated into a CRPG - wander into a town, have a random encounter in a tavern, talk to a few NPCs, identify a problem, prepare a list of inventory items accordingly and solve it.

Or, as is probably more typical, run into a point of interest, use your witcher senses to follow the tracks, have a long conversation with a notable NPC, then turn away when you've exhausted the dialog options - only to turn right back when you realize the quest marker hasn't moved. There are a lot of quests that work just like a short story in the Witcher trilogy.

Geralt is humanized some more - he gets things wrong, he has an unexplained crisis after killing the Bruxa (I guess you could argue the black and white motive and the two misfits in love reminds him of something but... eh), he doesn't kill sapient monsters if they don't pose a threat, but he does investigate threats to humans even if he's unlikely to get paid.

The entire long conversation with Nivellen was good enough that I felt compelled to make a few direct quotes (a combo version of the Russian and English translations).

A good story doesn't necessarily spell everything out, but I do feel as though some relevant elements are elided way too much. A basic explanation of how Geralt found the fort (hell, I'm only guessing it's a fort based on contextual clues. Could be a castle or a walled mansion), exactly what kind of dreams Nivellen was having under Bruxa influence, and how Geralt came to his conclusions about Vereena's plans. The reader can come up with a plausible explanation, but the story really should do a bit more work there.

Witcher powers:

* A horse called Roach. Geralt always names his horses Roach, and prefers mares.

* A witcher medallion. No mention of it being sensitive to the presence of magic, but it is supposed to repel monsters.

* Signs:
Axii, used to calm and befuddle Roach.

Heliotrop, which acts as a defense Vereena's sonic attacks.

Quen. No details are given, but it seems to have been aimed at the vampire.

* Tracking, presumably? Geralt and Roach make it to the mansion without the narrative ever indicating what led them there.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 09:25 on Apr 22, 2018

# ¿ Dec 8, 2017 11:31

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 3 - The Lesser Evil

Voice of Reason Part 3 posted:

Falwick and Tallies, knights of the order of the White Rose (which I think is the same thing as the order of the Flaming Rose?), arrive to evict Geralt from the temple, on behalf of Prince Hereward. "Duke Hereward", Nenneke corrects them, as Hereward isn't of royal blood. He has no power here. The temple is sovereign grounds, and they wouldn't dare harm a priestess.

The whiny and borderline hysterical Tallies challenges Geralt to a duel.

Geralt appeals to the older Falwick, only to be struck by the waves of hatred emanating from him and realize that it's the White Rose rather than Hereward who want "the Butcher of Blaviken" gone. Nenneke and Geralt more or less unilaterally declare that Geralt ~~only has three more stories left to reminisce about~~ will leave the temple once three days have passed.

This story is mostly setting up plot beats that will pay off later.

I guess you could read a bit into Geralt feeling Falwick's emotions and claim that the witcher empathy / telepathy powers did not disappear entirely after the first story, but scene reads more as regular deduction than anything related to witcher skills.

When talking about Duke/Prince Hereward, the Russian translation actually uses the Latin-ish "duke" in the first instance and the exact Russian equivalent in the second. Confusing. Same thing applies to the following story, using "Duchess" for "Princess", which is definitely a mistake.

We start to establish witchers as outright outcasts, rather than mere mercenaries. A theme that will be developed further in the following story:

The Lesser Evil posted:

Geralt rides into Blaviken with a monster carcass in-tow. He brings it to Caldemeyne, the alderman, just in case there's a reward. Clademeyne is a decent and friendly fellow, as far as Witcher officials go. While no one knew there was a kikimore to offer a reward for (people disappearing into the swamps is not that rare an occurrence), maybe "Master Irion" will have a use for its corpse. Irion has recently reconstructed a nearby tower, apparently wishing to make the town his permanent residence. He's helpful, but not very outgoing.

Irioh has no use for the offal, but would dearly love to have a word with Geralt inside his tower of illusions.

quote:
He entered the orchard, walking through the trees. He noticed a movement to his left and looked round. A fair-haired girl, entirely naked, was walking along a row of shrubs carrying a basket full of apples. The witcher solemnly promised himself that nothing would surprise him anymore.

'At last. Greetings, witcher.'

'Stregobor!' - Geralt was surprised.

During his life, the witcher had met thieves who looked like town councillors, councillors who looked like beggars, harlots who looked like princesses, princesses who looked like calving cows and kings who acted like bandits. But Stregobor always looked as, according to every rule and notion, a wizard should look. He was tall, thin and stooping, with enormous bushy grey eyebrows and a long, crooked nose. To top it off, he wore a black, trailing robe with improbably wide sleeves, and wielded a long staff capped with a crystal knob. None of the wizards Geralt knew looked like Stregobor. Most surprising of all was that Stregobor was, indeed, a wizard.

~~Irioh~~ Stregobor needs Geralt's help. Sure, the last time they've met, Stregobor helped kicked Geralt out of Kovir (a wealthy and civilized kingdom, by Nordling standards), referring to witchers as scavengers and murder machines annihilating endangered species, but let bygones be bygones. Stregobor is currently being hunted by the most dangerous ~~of the species~~ monster of all - a Princess.

A bit of backstory: Born on the day of the Black Sun, noble girls and princesses are supposed to be the harbingers of Lilit's return, prophesied to rule mankind and spill rivers of blood. Internally mutated into outright inhuman creatures, with heightened aggression, they had to be contained.

Geralt, conversely, believes that Mad Eltibald's prophecy was just an attempt by the mages to tighten their grip upon their royal puppets. Plenty of kings born on a clear spring morning drown their kingdoms in blood, and no one finds it necessary to "contain" them.

Besides, even if some of the princesses born during the eclipse were mutated, the wizard's hunts and vivisections occasionally targeted perfectly healthy girls. Which is why locking suspect maidens in a tower became the norm - only for a bunch of knights errant to start rescuing them. Per Stregobor, every rescued princess turned into a homicidal maniac, while those who remained imprisoned died after descending into a clairvoyant trance.

One of these princesses, Renfri of Creyden, is now hunting Stregobor - he examined her at the behest of her step-mother, who was warned by a magic mirror, and determined the girl to be a mutant. So her step-mother sent her into the forest with the royal huntsman, who didn't have a chance to return with any kind of heart, found in the forest with his pants around his ankles and a brooch pin stuck through his ear-canal.

Renfri dodged hired assassins for years. She became the leader of a band of seven dwarves, an expert fencer, and a fan of executing her victims by impalement - hence her nickname, Shirke. Eventually, she met Stregobor by chance, and he managed to encase her in crystal before she could gut him. Unfortunately, some idiot prince found her, fell in love, managed to find a counterspell, and brought her home to his backwater kingdom, which Shrike quickly took over.

Her dwarves killed each other in some homicidal dispute, and her entire family in Creyden had met a series of accidents, so now she's no longer an outlaw being hunted by a royal mage - she's a noblewoman in good standing hunting down a rogue sorcerer. Even worse - her mutations rendered her immune to sorcery. Geralt is his last and only hope. The local guards are no match for Shirke and her band, so Stregobor can either remain in his impregnable tower until the end of times, or get someone to slay the monster.

quote:
'Geralt,' said Stregobor, 'when we were listening to Eltibald, many of us had doubts. But we decided to accept the lesser evil. Now I ask you to make a similar choice.'

'Evil is evil, Stregobor,' said the witcher seriously as he got up. 'Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit, I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all. Time for me to go.'

However, Geralt does end up meeting Shirke's band at the Golden Court tavern. Though Geralt doesn't respond to their insults, they're about to draw him into a fight regardless when Renfri herself shows up, and shuts the whole bunch of assholes with a few words. They'd hate to disturb the town's peace before the tomorrow's big fair, wouldn't they?

She shows Geralt and Claymden a parchment proclaiming her band to be in the service of king Audoen. So the alderman doesn't get to kick her out of town or imprison her until and unless she actually starts murdering people.

Someone is waiting in Geralt's room that night.

quote:
The room was dark. But not for a witcher.

He was deliberately slow in crossing the threshold; he closed the door behind him carefully. The next second he dived at the person sitting on his bed, crushed them into the linen, forced his forearm under their chin and reached for his dagger. He didn't pull it out. Something wasn't right.

'Not a bad start,' she said in a muffled voice, lying motionless beneath him. 'I expected something like this, but I didn't think we'd both be in bed so quickly. Take your hand from my throat please.'

'It's you.'

'It's me. Now there are two possibilities. The first: you get off me and we talk. The second: we stay in this position, in which case I'd like to take my boots off at least.'
Renfri is here to convince Geralt that killing Stregobor would be the "lesser evil". He has it coming, and doing so will avoid unnecessary bystander deaths. Or witcher deaths. The local guard have neither the skills nor the courage to take on her band, and one man can't handle all seven, no matter how good he is.

She's been hounded, beaten, raped and generally had a bit of a bad time just because her step-mother preferred to have her children inherit the throne. In her version, she didn't leave nearly so many bodies behind, and most of the accidents that befell her family were in fact accidents. But more to the point, she's just a touch miffed, and won't be convinced to back to down. She doesn't know if she is in fact just a monster, and won't take the chance to demonstrate that she's not. Walking away is just not in her nature. If Stregobor won't leave his tower, she'll present him with the Tridam ultimatum.

quote:
'Geralt,' she said, 'did Stregobor ask you to kill me?'

Yes. He believed it was the lesser evil.'

'Can I believe you refused him, as you have me?'

You can.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't believe in a lesser evil.'

Renfri smiled faintly, an ugly grimace in the yellow candlelight.

'You don't believe in it, you say. Well you're right, in a way. Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes True Evil seizes you by the throat and demands that you choose between it and another, slightly lesser, Evil.'

...

Renfri's eyes glistened in the candlelight, reflecting the flame, the pearls glowed in the slit of her jacket, the wolf medallion spinning round on its chain sparkled.

'I pity you,' she said slowly, gazing at the medallion. 'You claim a lesser evil doesn't exist. You're standing on a flagstone running with blood, all alone in the world, because you can't choose, but you had to. And you'll never know, you'll never be sure, if you were right . . . And your reward will be a a hail of stones and curses. I pity you . . .'

...

She tossed her head as if waking up, and blinked several times, surprised. For a very brief moment she looked frightened.

'You've won,' she said sharply. 'You win, witcher. Tomorrow morning I'll leave Blaviken and never return to this rotten town. Never. Now pass me the wine-skin.'

Her usual derisive smile returned as she put her empty tumbler back on the table. 'Geralt?'

'I'm here.'

'That bloody roof is steep. I'd prefer to leave at dawn than fall and hurt myself in the dark. I'm a princess and my body's delicate. I can feel a pea under a mattress - as long as it's not well- stuffed with straw, obviously. How about it?'

'Renfri,' Geralt smiled despite himself, 'is that really befitting of a princess?'

'What do you know about princesses, dammit? I've lived as one and the joy of it is being able to do what you like. Do I have to tell you straight out what I want?'
Come morning, Claymden is very happy to hear Shirke's band is going to leave peacefully. He probably wouldn't dare stand against them no matter what they did. A bunch of nasty characters - the half-elf, Civril, had something to do with the massacre at Tridam.

quote:
'Tridam. Didn't you hear of it? Everyone was talking about it three . . . Yes, three years ago. The Baron of Tridam was holding some brigands in the dungeons. Their comrades - one of whom was that half-blood Civril - seized a river ferry full of pilgrims during the Feast of Nis. They demanded the baron set those others free. The baron refused, so they began murdering pilgrims, one after another. By the time the baron released his prisoners they'd thrown a dozen pilgrims overboard to drift with the current - and following the deaths the baron was in danger of exile, or even of execution. Some blamed him for waiting so long to give in, and others claimed he'd committed a great evil in releasing the men, in setting a pre- precedent or something. The gang should have been shot from the banks, together with the hostages, or attacked on the boats; he shouldn't have given an inch. At the tribunal the baron argued he'd had no choice, he'd chosen the lesser evil to save more than twenty-five people - women and children - on the ferry.'

That's the Tridam ultimatum. Once the fair is full of people, the gang will have so many hostages that any attempt to attack them will end with innocent deaths. The path of lesser evil is to take them out now, even if they haven't actually done anything yet. Geralt rushes to the marketplace, over the alderman's objections.

The gang is waiting for him. Renfri is at the tower, giving the ultimatum. She left two messages for Geralt.

quote:
'"I am what I am. Choose. Either me, or the lesser." You're supposed to know what it means.'

The witcher nodded, raised his hand above his right shoulder, and drew his sword. The blade traced a glistening arc above his head. Walking slowly, he made his way towards the group.

Civril laughed nastily, ominously.

'Renfri said this would happen, witcher, and left us something special to give you. Right between the eyes.'

The witcher kept walking, and the half-elf raised the crossbow to his cheek. It grew very quiet.

The bowstring hummed, the witcher's sword flashed and the bolt flew upwards with a metallic whine, spinning in the air until it clattered against the roof and rumbled into the gutter.

'He deflected it . . .' groaned Fifteen. 'Deflected it in flight-'

'As one,' ordered Civril. Blades hissed as they were drawn from sheathes, the group pressed shoulder to shoulder, bristling with blades.

The witcher came on faster; his fluid walk became a run - not straight at the group quivering with swords, but circling it in a tightening spiral.

Geralt moves between the stalls, disappearing from sight, separating the group and cutting them down, one or two at a time. The leaders, Civril and Nohorn, are the only ones who manage to stay together and attack in concert. It's not enough.

Renfri enters the market square just as Geralt ends them. He's made his choice, as has Stregobor - he won't leave his tower even if Renfri's band butchers the population of a dozen small towns and piles their heads at his doorstep. The whole thing was for naught. But Renfri is not in the habit of walking away.

She attacks him. Renfri is an exceptional swordfighter, but more to the point, most of Geralt's moves are meant to be automatic and reflexive. Trying to stop himself from dealing a killing blow, trying to disarm a dangerous opponent, goes against everything he was taught. He hesitates and gets cut. His training takes over.

As Renfri falls, she begs him to hold her. He stands back; as she bleeds out, she drops the dagger she was hiding.

Stregobor was watching the fight, and comes to the markeplace to arrange an autopsy.

quote:
Someone the witcher didn't know found the hilt of his sword and drew it. 'Touch a single hair on her head,' said the person the witcher didn't know, 'touch her head and yours will go flying to the flagstones.'

'Have you gone mad? You're wounded, in shock! An autopsy's the only way we can confirm-'

'Don't touch her!'

Stregobor, seeing the raised blade, jumped aside and waved his staff. 'All right!' he shouted. 'As you wish! But you'll never know! You'll never be sure! Never, do you hear, witcher?'

'Be gone.'

'As you wish.' The wizard turned away, his staff hitting the flagstones. 'I'm returning to Kovir. I'm not staying in this hole another day. Come with me rather than rot here. These people don't know anything, they've only seen you killing. And the way you kill is ugly, Geralt. Well, are you coming?'

Geralt didn't reply; he wasn't looking at him. He put his sword away. Stregobor shrugged and walked away, his staff tapping rhythmically against the ground.

A stone came flying from the crowd and clattered against the flagstones. A second followed, whizzing past Geralt's shoulder. The witcher, holding himself straight, raised both hands and made a swift gesture with them. The crowd heaved; the stones came flying more thickly but the Sign, protecting him behind an invisible oval shield, pushed them aside.

'Enough!' yelled Caldemeyn. 'Bloody hell, enough of that!'

The crowd roared like a tidal wave, but the stones stopped flying. The witcher stood, motionless.

The alderman approached him.

'Is this,' he said, with a broad gesture indicating the motionless bodies strewn across the square, 'how your lesser evil looks? Is this what you believed necessary?'

'Yes,' replied Geralt slowly, with an effort.

'Is your wound serious?'

'No.'

'In that case, get out of here.'

'Yes,' said the witcher. He stood a moment longer, avoiding the alderman's eyes. Then he turned away slowly, very slowly.

'Geralt.'

The witcher looked round.

'Don't come back,' said Caldemeyn. 'Never come back.'

The subject of choosing the lesser evil - of choosing appropriate action in an imperfect world - is a constant theme in the Witcher narrative. Geralt is the prototypical ronin, a drifter whose skills with the blade often force him to become involved in conflicts where the right side is unclear, if it even exists. His "witcher code", as hinted throughout the short story collection, is just an attempt to appeal to a made-up impartial authority to stop himself from getting involved. Interestingly, his character evolution throughout the saga does solve some of his ethical concerns re:acting to change the world, but not by evolving some sort of complex moral code.

A kikimore in proper Slavic mythology is a hag of some sort, not an insectoid. It's definitely NOT a social monster in the story, and Geralt isn't worried about a hive nearby.

Stregebor and Renfri both present the same argument - a Kikimore kills because it's a mindless hungry monster. The other side, the human or supposed mutant, is the true monster, having the capacity to choose to do evil. A less complex stories would have their motivations mirror each other's entirely, but that's not the case here. We'll never be sure how much Stregebor is motivated by greed and ambition, and how much by genuine concern for possible consequences. Conversely, while we'll never know just how bloodthirsty and murderous Renfri really is, there's no question that her motivations are self-preservation and revenge.

Translation differences - depending what language you're reading the book in, you'll be unsure whether Renfri's prophecy meant to be supposition, true clairvoyance about the future, or a present-tense vision - hence "you're standing" in the English translation.

While the fight against the striga in the witcher focused a fair bit on Geralt's preparations and gadgets, and the fight against the bruxa had a major emotional component, butchering Renfri's band is all about the rhythm. The combatants dance across the marketplace, and whoever stumbles or oversteps gets slaughtered. (I can't believe there isn't a single decent tune literally called "feel the rhythm" out there)

Witcher skills:
A shield sign (presumably not Quen).

Incredible sexual charisma.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 09:35 on Apr 22, 2018

# ¿ Dec 24, 2017 17:39

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 4 - A Question of Price

This part of Voice of Reason consists of Geralt monologue at Iola (the mute novitiate). I'm going to quote it extensively, as this is the most (and most reliable) insight we had into Geralt's backstory and motivations thus far.

Voice of Reason part 4 posted:

'Let's talk, lola.

'I need this conversation. They say silence is golden. Maybe it is, although I'm not sure it's worth that much. It has its price certainly; you have to pay for it.

'It's easier for you. Yes it is, don't deny it. You're silent through choice; you've made it a sacrifice to your goddess. I don't believe in Melitele, don't believe in the existence of other gods either, but I respect your choice, your sacrifice. Your belief. Because your faith and sacrifice, the price you're paying for your silence, will make you a better, a greater being. Or, at least, it could. But my faithlessness can do nothing. It's powerless.

'You ask what I believe in, in that case.

'I believe in the sword.

'As you can see, I carry two. Every witcher does. It's said, spitefully, the silver one is for monsters and the iron for humans. A lie, of course. As there are monsters which can be struck down only with a silver blade, so there are those for whom iron is lethal. And lola, not just any iron, it must come from a meteorite. What is a meteorite, you ask? It's a falling star. You must have seen them - short, luminous streaks in the night. You've probably made a wish on one. Perhaps it was one more reason for you to believe in the gods. For me, a meteorite is nothing more than a bit of metal, primed by the sun and its fall, metal to make swords.

...

'You don't know me at all, do you?

'I'm called Geralt. Geralt of- No. Only Geralt. Geralt of nowhere. I'm a witcher.

'My home is Kaer Morhen, the Witcher's Abode. It's ... It was a fortress. Not much remains of it.

'Kaer Morhen . . . That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore, no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be to be properly immunized - that's a fancy scholarly term - and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side-effect, as they say. A trifle.

'Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I'd earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and . . . faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.

'My first monster, Iola, was bald and had exceptionally rotten teeth. I came across him on the highway where, with some fellow monsters, deserters, he'd stopped a peasant's cart and pulled out a little girl, maybe thirteen years old. His companions held her father while the bald man tore off her dress, yelling it was time for her to meet a real man. I rode up and said the time had come for him, too - I thought I was very witty. The bald monster released the girl and threw himself at me with an axe. He was slow but tough. I hit him twice - not clean cuts, but spectacular, and only then did he fall. His gang ran away when they saw what a witcher's sword could do to a man . . .

'Am I boring you, Iola?

'I need this. I really do need it.

'Where was I? My first noble deed. You see, they'd told me again and again in Kaer Morhen not to get involved in such incidents, not to play at being knight errant or uphold the law. Not to show off, but to work for money. And I got into this fight, like an idiot, not fifty miles from the mountains. And do you know why? I wanted the girl, sobbing with gratitude, to kiss her saviour on the hands, and her father to thank me on his knees. In reality her father fled with his attackers, and the girl, drenched in the bald man's blood, threw up, became hysterical and fainted in fear when I approached her. Since then, I've only very rarely interfered in such matters.

'I did my job. I quickly learnt how. I'd ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I'd carry it out.

...

'Mistakes? Of course I've made them. But I keep to my principles. No, not the code. Although I have at times hidden behind a code. People like that. Those who follow a code are often respected and held in high esteem. But no one's ever compiled a witcher's code. I invented mine. Just like that. And keep to it. Always-

'Well, almost always.

'There have been situations where it seemed there wasn't any room for doubt. When I should say to myself "What do I care? It's nothing to do with me, I'm a witcher". When I should listen to the voice of reason. To listen to my instinct, even if it's fear, if not to what my experience dictates.

'I should have listened to the voice of reason that time . . .

'I didn't.

'I thought I was choosing the lesser evil. I chose the lesser evil. Lesser evil! I'm Geralt of Rivia. . . I'm the Butcher of Blaviken-

'Don't touch me! It might make you . . . You might see . . . and I don't want you to. I don't want to know. I know my fate whirls about me like water in a weir. It's hard on my heels, following my tracks, but I never look back.

A loop? Yes, that's what Nenneke sensed. What tempted me, I wonder, in Cintra? How could I have taken such a risk so foolishly-?

'No, no, no. I never look back. I'll never return to Cintra. I'll avoid it like the plague. I'll never go back there.

Narrator: He ended up going back there.

This is a fairly straightforward (on-the-nose, really) look at what Geralt wants to be and why. The world gives him very little incentive to be the knight in shining armor he might have been under other circumstances, and in the hands of a different author.

This is probably the one section of Voice of Reason most directly connected to the following short story. In fact, I'd rather recommend re-reading it the moment you're done with the short story for some interesting insights into what makes Geralt tick in both sections.

I've omitted a few sentences worth of foreshadowing that make the conclusion of the story overtly clear - because, obviously, I know better than Pan Sapkowski just how much the reader should know in advance.

Note how everyone, including CD Projekt, basically dropped "both swords are for monsters".

A Question of Price posted:

Geralt is shaved, washed and dressed for his appearance at the Cintra court, in a scene that the first meeting with Emhyr ~~rips off wholesale~~ homages extensively. He is going to be introduced as Ravix of Fourhorn, and seated besides the queen, who has need of his services. What services, exactly? The Castellan would rather not specify.

quote:
'Your job isn't to be surprised. And I strongly advise you, witcher, that if the queen orders you to strip naked, paint your arse blue and hang yourself upside down in the entrance hall like a chandelier, you do it without surprise or hesitation. Otherwise you might meet with a fair amount of unpleasantness. Have you got that?'

Calanthe, the dowager queen of Cintra, hosts a banquet for suitors for the hand of Pavetta, her daughter. 15 and of age to wed, the Cintrians are hoping to arrange her marriage with the ~~Vikings~~ Skelligans, on the basis that:

quote:
'Those they're allied with aren't attacked as often as others.

The Skelligans are represented by Crach an Craite (the proposed husband to Pavetta - very young, and making it quite clear where Hjalmar gets his personality from) Eist Tuirseach (Crach's uncle, and a total silver fox) Mousesack (a druid) and Draig Bon-Dhu (a Celtic bard, with bagpipes in hand). But other suitors will also be present, to maintain appearances: the pubescent Prince Windhalm of Attre, his bodyguard / nanny Rainfarn, and also Tinglant, Fodcat and Wieldhill, who don't actually matter in the slightest.

Baron Eylembert of Tigg (also known as Coodcoodak, which I supposed ought to have been translated into English as Cockadoodledoo, or something along those lines) assures Calanthe that his wife's health would deteriorate in a hurry, should he be considered an acceptable match. This murderous remark is taken in the same humorous fashion it was apparently intended, and he's permitted to attend the feast, entertaining the guests with his animal impressions (hence his nickname).

As the guests get drunk, Calanthe finally deigns to enlighten Geralt as to his purpose (kinda, but not really). She considers witchers to be mere swords for hire, and feels no need to specify where said sword will strike before the moment comes. Geralt, feeling quite confident (if not outright suicidal), corrects her. Witchers may be hired swords, but not hired assassins. And just as a queen may have ways of "influencing" witchers, witchers have ways of influencing even the highest personages.

Calanthe warns him against ever contradicting royals, and asserts that anyone may be bought. It is only a question of price - a witcher volunteering to solve a problem may name his, a witcher forced to solve a problem will have to settle for whatever price she sees fit to name.

As Draig Bon-Dhu unleashes his bagpipes, and everyone does the obvious "oh noes, ~~Scottish~~ Skellige music" jokes, Mousesack covertly exchanges information with Geralt by animating leftovers into runes. (I think the first question he asks is whether Geralt is in fact a witcher, but it's hard to be sure). Pavetta enters the hall. She's, like, totally banging and poo poo.

quote:
'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.'

'I have to ensure that? Isn't your will alone sufficient for it to happen?'

'Events might take such a turn that it won't be sufficient.'

'What can be stronger than your will?'

'Destiny.'

The captain of the guard approaches Calanthe, and she gives him some orders. An unknown knight, clad in spiky helm and plate mail, enters the hall. He introduces himself as Urcheon of Erlenwald, and explains that he has made a chivalrous vow forbidding him from revealing his face before midnight.

He banters with Calanthe, as she keeps interrupting him during what is obviously a long-prepared speech, finally coming to a point:

quote:
Your words, your Majesty,' called Urcheon, 'are calculated to frighten me, to kindle the anger of the honourable gentlemen gathered here, and the contempt of your pretty daughter, Pavetta. But above all, your words are untrue. And you know it!'

'You accuse me of lying like a dog.' An ugly grimace crept across Calanthe's lips.

'You know very well, your Majesty,' the newcomer continued adamantly, 'what happened then in Erlenwald. You know Roegner, once saved, vowed of his own will to give me whatever I asked for. I call upon every one to witness my words! When the king, rescued from his misadventure, reached his retinue, he asked me what I demanded and I answered. I asked him to promise me whatever he had left at home without knowing or expecting it. The king swore it would be so, and on his return to the castle he found you, Calanthe, in labour. Yes, your Majesty, I waited for fifteen years and the interest on my reward has grown. Today I look at the beautiful Pavetta and see that the wait has been worth it! Gentlemen and knights! Some of you have come to Cintra to ask for the princess's hand. You have come in vain. From the day of her birth, by the power of the royal oath, the beautiful Pavetta has belonged to me!'

Mousesack and Geralt can feel a concentration of magic in the hall. The queen gives whispered instructions to a servant, while the guests get into a major argument:

quote:
'If what he says is true,' Eist frowned, 'then the promise will have to be kept.'

'Is that so?'

'Or am I to understand,' the islander asked grimly, 'that you treat all promises this lightly, including those which have etched themselves so deeply in my memory?'

Geralt, who had never expected to see Calanthe blush deeply, with tears in her eyes and trembling lips, was surprised.

'Eist,' whispered the queen, 'this is different-'

'Is it, really?'

'Oh, you son-of-a-bitch!' Crach an Craite yelled unexpectedly, jumping up. 'The last fool who said I'd acted in vain was pinched apart by crabs at the bottom of Allenker bay! I didn't sail here from Skellige to return empty-handed! A husband-to-be, you son of a whore! Someone bring me a sword and give that idiot some iron! We'll soon see who-'

'Maybe you could just shut up, Crach?' Eist snapped scathingly, resting both fists on the table. 'Draig Bon-Dhu! I render you responsible for his future behaviour!'

'And are you going to silence me, too, Tuirseach?' shouted Rainfarn of Attre, standing up. 'Who is going to stop me from washing the insult thrown at my prince away with blood? And his son, Windhalm, the only man worthy of Pavetta's hand and bed! Bring the swords! I'll show that Urcheon, or whatever he's called, how we of Attre take revenge for such abuse! I wonder whether anybody or anything can hold me back?'

...

'A great many people, I see,' said Calanthe in a drawling voice, 'have an opinion on this problem and are offering it even without my permission. Strange that you aren't interested in mine? And in my opinion, this bloody castle will sooner collapse on my head than I give my Pavetta to this... freak. I haven't the least intention-'

'Roegner's oath-' Urcheon began, but the queen silenced him, banging her golden goblet on the table.

'Roegner's oath means about as much to me as last year's snows! And as for you, Urcheon, I haven't decided whether to allow Crach or Rainfarn to meet you outside, or to simply hang you. You're greatly influencing my decision with your interruptions!'

...

'Sirs! Have you not heard of children marked out by destiny? Was not the legendary hero, Zatret Voruta, given to the dwarves as a child because he was the first person his father met on his return? And Mad Dei, who demanded a traveller give him what he left at home without knowing it? That surprise was the famous Supree, who later liberated Mad Dei from the curse which weighed him down. Remember Zivelena, who became the Queen of Metinna with the help of the gnome Rumplestelt, and in return promised him her first-born? Zivelena didn't keep her promise when Rumplestelt came for his reward and, by using spells, she forced him to run away. Not long after that, both she and the child died of the plague. You do not dice with Destiny with impunity!'

'Don't threaten me, Coodcoodak,' Calanthe grimaced. 'Midnight is close, the time for ghosts. Can you remember any more legends from your undoubtedly difficult childhood? If not, then sit down.'

'I ask your Grace,' the baron turned up his long whiskers, 'to allow me to remain standing. I'd like to remind everybody of another legend. It's an old, forgotten legend - we've all probably heard it in our difficult childhoods. In this legend, the kings kept their promises. And we, poor vassals, are only bound to kings by the royal word: treaties, alliances, our privileges and fiefs all rely on it. And now? Are we to doubt all this? Doubt the inviolability of the king's word? Wait to see the day when it's worth as much as yesteryear's snow? If this is how things are to be then a difficult old age awaits us after our difficult childhoods!'

Calanthe has no choice but to agree that Coodcoodak is right - a king's word is his bond. So Pavetta will be surrendered to a kinless vagabond, and the suitors will just have to go back empty handed.

quote:
Amidst the hum of voices which rumbled through the guests, the witcher managed to pick out Eist Tuirseach's whisper.

'On all the gods of the sea,' sighed the islander. 'This isn't right. This is open incitement to bloodshed. Calanthe, you're simply setting them against each other-'

'Be quiet, Eist,' hissed the queen furiously, 'because I'll get angry.'

But before any of the guests can properly process the implication, and issue a formal challenge (or just get to stabbing), Geralt intervenes.

quote:
'Everyone heard,' spoke Geralt, 'Baron Tigg tell us about the famous heroes taken from their parents on the strength of the same oath that Urcheon received from King Roegner. But why should anyone want such an oath? You know the answer, Urcheon of Erlenwald. It creates a powerful, indissoluble tie of destiny between the person demanding the oath and its object, the child-surprise. Such a child, marked by blind fate, can be destined for extraordinary things. It can play an incredibly important role in the life of the person to whom fate has tied it. That is why, Urcheon, you demanded the prize you claim today. You don't want the throne of Cintra. You want the princess.'

...

'Roegner knew the power of the Law of Surprise and the gravity of the oath he took. And he took it because he knew law and custom have a power which protects such oaths, ensuring they are only fulfilled when the force of destiny confirms them. I declare, Urcheon, that you have no right to the princess as yet. You will win her only when-'

'When what?'

'When the princess herself agrees to leave with you. This is what the Law of Surprise states. It is the child's, not the parent's, consent which confirms the oath, which proves that the child was born under the shadow of destiny. That's why you returned after fifteen years, Urcheon, and that's the condition King Roegner stipulated in his oath.'

...

Who are you, Geralt of Rivia, to claim to be an oracle in matters of laws and customs?'

'He knows this law better than anyone else,' Mousesack said in a hoarse voice, 'because it applied to him once. He was taken from his home because he was what his father hadn't expected to find on his return. Because he was destined for other things. And by the power of destiny he became what he is.'

'And what is he?'

'A witcher.'

The bells ring midnight, and the Urcheon takes off his helm. I kinda have to post this:

(From the terrible "The Hexxer" tv series. As described in the text, the snout is more bestial than adorable)

quote:
'This is how I look,' spoke the creature, 'which you well knew, Calanthe. Roegner, in telling you of his oath, wouldn't have omitted describing me. Urcheon of Erlenwald to whom - despite my appearance - Roegner swore his oath. You prepared well for my arrival, queen. Your own vassals have pointed out your haughty and contemptuous refusal to keep Roegner's word. When your attempt to set the other suitors on me didn't succeed, you still had a killer witcher in reserve, ready at your right-hand. And finally, common, low deceit. You wanted to humiliate me, Calanthe. Know that it is yourself you have humiliated.'

'Enough,' Calanthe stood up and rested her clenched fist on her hip. 'Let's put an end to this. Pavetta! You see who, or rather what, is standing in front of you, claiming you for himself. In accordance with the Law of Surprise and eternal custom, the decision is yours. Answer. One word from you is enough. Yes, and you become the property, the conquest, of this monster. No, and you will never have to see him again.'

The Force pulsating in the hall was squeezing Geralt's temples like an iron vice, buzzing in his ears, making the hair on his neck stand on end. The witcher looked at Mousesack's whitening knuckles, clenched at the edge of the table. At the trickle of sweat running down the queen's cheek. At the breadcrumbs on the table, moving like insects, forming runes, dispersing and again gathering into one word: CAREFUL!

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?'

Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.'
The Urcheon commands Calanthe to come on down and place her daughter's hand in his. The guests take a moment to process this, then spring into action.

Rainfarn draws a dagger and jumps the Urcheon, trying to find a vulnerable spot in his armor. Crach an Craite jumps to Rainfarn's help, but is knocked out from behind by his bard. Guards swarm the room, holding the Urcheon down for a good stabbing. Geralt, Eist and Coodcoodak try to oppose them, but are about to be overwhelmed, when Pavetta screams.

Apparently she was the Source of magic energy in the room, and just the untutored manifestation of raw power is enough to send everyone flying. Calanthe is thrown across the room, where Eist shelters her in his arms.

quote:
Geralt crawled to Mousesack and they hid behind the heap formed by Fodcat of Strept, a barrel of beer, Drogodar, a chair and Drogodar's lute, in that order.

'It's pure, primordial Force!' the druid yelled over the racket and clatter. 'She's got no control over it!'

'I know!' Geralt yelled back. A roast pheasant with a few striped feathers still stuck in its rump, fell from nowhere and thumped him in the back.

'She has to be restrained! The walls are starting to crack!'

'I can see!'

'Ready?'

'Yes!'

'One! Two! Now!'

They both hit her simultaneously, Geralt with the Sign of Aard and Mousesack with a terrible, three-staged curse powerful enough to make the floor melt. The chair on which the princess was standing disintegrated into splinters. Pavetta barely noticed - she hung in the air within a transparent green sphere. Without ceasing to shout, she turned her head towards them and her petite face shrunk into a sinister grimace.

'Gods-damned-' roared Mousesack.

'Careful!' shouted the witcher, curling up. 'Block her, Mousesack! Block her or it's the end of us!'

The table thudded heavily to the ground, shattering its trestle and everything beneath it. Crach an Craite, who was lying on the table, was thrown into the air. A heavy rain of plates and remnants of food fell; crystal carafes exploded as they hit the ground. The cornice broke away from the wall, rumbling like thunder, making the floors of the castle quake.

'Everything's letting go!' Mousesack shouted, aiming his wand at the princess. 'The whole Force is going to fall on us!'

Geralt, with a blow of his sword, deflected a huge double-pronged fork which was flying straight at the druid.

Coodcoodak strains his imitation power to the limit in order to distract Pavetta, a distraction which Geralt and Mousesack use to knock her out. If this is meant to be a humorous moment in the story, then the humor is extremely dry / doesn't translate well.

Everyone takes a moment to catch their breath. The Urcheon (Duny) turns back into a handsome human, now that midnight has truly come. Eist and Calanthe, coming out of her swoon, declare their feelings for one another.

quote:
'The youth of today,' snorted Mousesack, looking in their direction. 'They start early! They've only got one thing on their minds.'

'What's that?'

'Didn't you know, witcher, that a virgin, that is, one who's untouched, wouldn't be able to use the Force?'

Calanthe invites the relevant parties into her chambers, for an explanation. Duny was (obviously) cursed with the face of a beast. He wandered the world in search of a cure, until coming up with the whole "child of destiny" thing as a last resort. Apparently it failed, as he and Pavetta have been at it for a year, and he's still cursed. Duny is welcome to Pavetta's hand though, as long as he's willing to wait for the crown - Calanthe and Eist are going to be the new royal couple.

quote:
'The youth of today,' muttered Mousesack. 'The apple doesn't fall far-'

'What are you mumbling, sorcerer?'

'Nothing, ma'am.'

Dawn comes, yet Duny remains in human form. Apparently Destiny has some serious hangups about lawfully sanctioned unions, as Duny's involvement with Pavetta didn't count until she was given to him with the proper pomp and circumstance.

quote:
'And so,' sighed Calanthe, looking at Geralt with tired eyes, 'all's well that ends well. Don't you agree, witcher? The curse has been lifted, two weddings are on their way, it'll take about a month to repair the throne-room, there are four dead, countless wounded and Rainfarn of Attre is half-dead. Let's celebrate. Do you know, witcher, that there was a moment when I wanted to have you-'

'I know.'

'But now I have to do you justice. I demanded a result and got one. Cintra is allied to Skellige. My daughter's marrying the right man. For a moment I thought all this would have been fulfilled according to destiny anyway, even if I hadn't had you brought in for the feast and sat you next to me. But I was wrong. Rainfam's dagger could have changed destiny. And Rainfarn was stopped by a sword held by a witcher. You've done an honest job, Geralt. Now it's a question of price. Tell me what you want.'

'Hold on,' said Duny, fingering his bandaged side. 'A question of price, you say. It is I who am in debt, it's up to me-'

...

'I still say I am in your debt, witcher. It is my life that Rainfam's dagger endangered. I would have been beaten to death by the guards without you. If there's talk of a price then I should be the one to pay. I assure you I can afford it. What do you ask, Geralt?'

'Duny,' said Geralt slowly, 'a witcher who is asked such a question has to ask to have it repeated.'

'I repeat, therefore. Because, you see, I am in your debt for still another reason. When I found out who you were, there in the hall, I hated you and thought very badly of you. I took you for a blind, bloodthirsty tool, for someone who kills coldly and without question, who wipes his blade clean of blood and counts the cash. But I've become convinced that the witcher's profession is worthy of respect. You protect us not only from the evil lurking in the darkness, but also from that which lies within ourselves. It's a shame there are so few of you.'

...

'Duny,' said Geralt seriously, 'Calanthe, Pavetta. And you, righteous knight Tuirseach, future king of Cintra. In order to become a witcher, you have to be born in the shadow of destiny, and very few are born like that. That's why there are so few of us. We're growing old, dying, without anyone to pass our knowledge, our gifts, on to. We lack successors. And this world is full of Evil which waits for the day none of us are left.'

'Geralt,' whispered Calanthe.

'Yes, you're not wrong, queen. Duny! You will give me that which you already have but do not know. I'll return to Cintra in six years to see if destiny has been kind to me.'

'Pavetta,' Duny opened his eyes wide. 'Surely you're not-'

'Pavetta!' exclaimed Calanthe. 'Are you . . . are you-?'

The princess lowered her eyes and blushed. Then replied.

For a collection of disparate short stories, the first book really fits in well with the "epic Witcher saga". With the sole exception of A Grain of Truth, which strongly reinforces themes raised elsewhere, but isn't terribly relevant in and of itself, most everything we've reviewed so far will be fundamentally important to Geralt. But this story is the main crux from which most further plot developments in the sage proper stem. Unfortunate, then, then this is probably the weakest story in the first book, as it revolves mostly around uncharacteristically poorly written banter and intrigue. The workings of Destiny are going to be immensely important for the plot to come (which is why I quoted so much of that exposition) but are still both vague and ploddingly boring.

On the one hand, it's nice to see banter that involves someone besides Geralt - it allows for some diversity of styles of argument. It's also interesting to see that not every random noble in the witcher universe is a complete dickbag. On the other hand, both Calanthe and Duny are hella stupid here.

Calanthe REALLY should have settled on a concrete plan to which the witcher would agree before settings things in motion. Obviously, there's suspense in not knowing the details, but the artifice is a bit too naked. Duny is at least moderately more willing to get to the point, but he also rises to every single piece of bait thrown his way, no matter how obvious, and basically dares everyone involved murder him, repeatedly.

And apparently Destiny works by turning everyone involved into a drooling moron / outright puppeteering people? Geralt ~~isn't into, like, a relationship right now, man~~ doesn't WANT to have a child. None of the Cintrian royals ostensibly wants to hand him the child. So what the hell?

There's a repetitive... joke?... about a voivode with a hard to remember name. Absolutely no idea what that is about - a question for some more into inside jokes than I.

When I was first recapping the story, I concluded that Mousesack healed all the injuries, and this is the first witcher story that ends with everyone in one piece. And then I got to Calenthe's summary of the feast - four deaths, though thankfully none are a named character. I feel like this story struggles with it's mostly comedic tone, and fails to balance it with weighty intrigues and matters of destiny. The next story we'll go over maintains its comi-tragic tone much better.

Last and most certainly least, I still deeply loathe Sapkowski's written tick of "And answered". I think it's meant to evoke fairy tale diction, but if so, it doesn't translate at all.

Witcher Skills:

Umm... basic literacy?

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 08:31 on Feb 11, 2018

# ¿ Jan 13, 2018 16:09

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

OAquinas posted:

He used the Aard sign too.

Yeah, but that was mentioned in previous recaps.

# ¿ Jan 14, 2018 09:03

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

My Witcher recaps will get to Eyck in a few stories.

I wonder what happens if you actually let the fatty beat you in a fistfight.

People who aren't privy to Warsaw pact culture - does "I'm an honest thief, don't jail me side by side with politicals" make any sort of sense to you?

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 13:41 on Feb 3, 2018

# ¿ Feb 3, 2018 13:37

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Aumanor posted:

Which is good, because the one that follows it is bar none the worst, and I don't much care for the one after that, either.

For a moment I misremembered the story order, and thought you meant "A Little Sacrifice". Was about to fight you IRL.

# ¿ Feb 3, 2018 22:14

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

The second and third stories in Sword of Destiny are "Shard of Ice" and "Eternal Flame", respectively. "A Little Sacrifice" is the 4th, so not only does your taste suck, but you can't count :P

I will leave any ranking for when I'm done with the first two books, at the very least. "A Little Sacrifice" is ranked pretty high though. Obviously.

# ¿ Feb 3, 2018 23:16

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 6 - The Edge of the World

The Voice of Reason part 5 posted:

Geralt got so angsty in his previous talk with Iola, that the universe spontaneously summoned Dandelion to visit him. Nenneke is not terribly pleased.

quote:
'It's Dandelion this time, your friend. That idler, parasite and good-for-nothing, that priest of art, the bright-shining star of the ballad and love doggerel. As usual he's radiant with fame, puffed up like a pig's bladder and stinking of beer. Do you want to see him?'

'Of course. He's my friend, after all.'

Nenneke, peeved, shrugged her shoulders. 'I can't understand that friendship. He's your absolute opposite.'

'Opposites attract.'

'Obviously. There, he's coming,' she indicated with her head. 'Your great poet.'

'He really is a talented poet, Nenneke. Surely you're not going to claim you've never heard his ballads.'

'I've heard them.' The priestess winced. 'Yes, indeed. Well, I'm not an expert, so maybe the ability to jump from touching lyricism to obscenities in an instant is the very definition of talent. Never mind. Forgive me, but I won't keep you company. I'm not in the mood for either his poetry or his vulgar jokes.'

A peal of laughter and the strumming of a lute resounded in the corridor and there, on the threshold of the library, stood Dandelion in a lilac jerkin with lace cuffs, his hat askew. The troubadour bowed exaggeratedly at the sight of Nenneke, the heron feather pinned to his hat sweeping the floor.

'My deepest respects, venerable mother,' he whined clownishly. 'Praise be the Great Melitele and her priestesses, the springs of virtue and wisdom-'

'Stop playing the fool,' snorted Nenneke. 'And don't call me mother. The very idea that you could be my son fills me with horror.'

She turned on her heel and left, her trailing robe rustling. Dandelion, aping her, sketched a parody bow.

Dandelion (Buttercup in the original Polish, but obviously that is far too girly a name for this paragon of manliness) might look like this:

I'm not much impressed, but pretty much every other fan-artist simply reproduces the in-game portrait (spoiler alert - Dandelion is a character we'll get to meet eventually).

Geralt angsts a bit at Dandelion, but unwilling to confide the true cause of his depression, settles on the old "waah, nobody has work for us Witchers, we're a dying breed, what is even the point of it all?" "Something ends" - a line so great it was reworked into an ongoing theme and a short story title.

quote:
I ride on, and I'm getting hungrier and hungrier. I ask around for work. Certainly it's there, but what work? To catch a rusalka for one man, a nymph for another, a dryad for a third . . . They've gone completely mad - the villages are teeming with girls but they want humanoids. Another asks me to kill a mecopteran and bring him a bone from its hand because, crushed and poured into a soup, it cures impotence-'

'That's rubbish,' interrupted Dandilion. 'I've tried it. It doesn't strengthen anything and it makes the soup taste of old socks. But if people believe it and are inclined to pay-'

'I'm not going to kill mecopterans. Nor any other harmless creatures.'

In any case, Dandelion is there to tell Geralt to stop moping. Yes, the civilized world has less and less need for witchers - they were created centuries ago, in the dark times when monsters were literally as frequent as they are in the games, and a step outside the walls without an armed escort invited certain death. But the witchers have cut a path of destruction through local monster population, often at the cost of their own lives, and now the major kindgoms rarely need a witcher's services. But there are always the far frontiers, which are nit nearly as civilized or safe. Dandelion and Geralt could travel there - or better yet, reminisce about the last time they've done so, when they went to the Edge of the World.

* This is the first story where the geography of the action is actually relevant, so here's a map of the Northern Kingdoms.

I couldn't find a decent sized image that covers the whole thing, so I stole the map in the Witcher 1 artbook (which has a lot of neat stuff I should use). Pretty sure the forums won't allow you to watch them side by side, so if anyone has a better map, feel free to contribute. In any case, Dol Blathanna, the valley of flowers, is on the south-east corner of the map, the border of civilization circumscribed not just by the mountains, but by the elves, who do not encourage human explorers.

* This is the first time the text confirms everything the thread speculated about / assumed based on osmosis from the game re: witchers and civilization. Fewer monsters, and more things regular soldiers / mages can deal with.

* Dandelion is a deconstruction of the comical sidekick archetype, insofar as the characters in-universe are aware that he's a useless gently caress who exists to make "comical" remarks and get everyone into trouble. Figuring out why Geralt tolerates him is one of the keys to figuring out Geralt's personality and self-image in general.

* Sapkowski actually makes some abortive attempts to transform Dandelion from poet to troubadour, which is ostensibly an official title of sorts with certain privileges, but that doesn't actually go anywhere. So I'll freely refer to him as poet / bard / troubadour / twerp, as the mood strikes me.

* I've been forced to actually discuss the framing story, instead of going with the low effort joke of "Dandelion and Geralt could travel there - or better yet, reminisce about the last time they've done so, when they went to the Edge of the World" (end quote for Voice of Reason) "So they do" (Open quote for "The Edge of the World" recap). An attempt at said joke is preserved for posterity regardless.

The Edge of the World posted:

The story proper opens with Geralt and Dandelion negotiating with some stoooooopid peasants.

(Really, Dandelion shouldn't be classically handsome, or even archetypically "roguishly handsome", but he shouldn't be quite this unfortunate looking either. A second-rate comic desperately wishing he was a comedy lead - that's Dandelion)

quote:
The next few minutes passed in a recital of the monsters which plagued the local peasants with their malevolent doings, or their simple existence. Geralt and Dandelion learnt of misguids and mamunes, which prevent an honest peasant from finding his way home in a drunken stupour, of the flying drake which, d'you see, flies around and, just-a-so, drinks milk from cows, of the head on spider's legs which runses abouts in the forest, of hobolds which wear red hats and about a dangerous pike which, d'you hear, tears linen from gossips' hands as they wash it - and just you wait and it'll be at the gossips them-own-selves. They weren't spared hearing that old Nan the Hag flies on a broom at night and performs abortions in the day, that the miller tampers with the flour by mixing it with powdered acorns and that a certain Duda impudently called the royal steward "a thief and scoundrel".

Geralt listened to all this calmly, nodding with feigned interest, and asked a few questions about the roads and layout of the land, after which he rose and nodded to Dandilion.

'Well, take care, my good people,' he said. 'I'll be back soon, then we'll see what can be done.'

They rode away in silence alongside the cottages and fences, accompanied by yapping dogs and screaming children.

'Geralt,' said Dandilion, standing in the stirrups to pick a fine apple from a branch which stretched over the orchard fence, 'all the way you've been complaining about it being harder and harder to find work. Yet from what I just heard, it looks as if you could work here without break until winter. You'd make a penny or two, and I'd have some beautiful subjects for my ballads. So explain why we're riding on.'

'I wouldn't make a penny, Dandelion.'

'Why?'

'Because there wasn't a word of truth in what they said.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'None of the creatures they mentioned exist.'
But why would people who live in a world where monsters are actually quite real invent new monsters to be frightened of?

quote:
People,' Geralt turned his head, like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they butcher a trapped fox with their axes or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.
Thanks for that insight, Pan Sapkowski. Really makes you think.

Even if they don't have any business here, the land is fertile and quite beautiful. Just the sort of pastoral diversion needed to find poetic inspiration and a cure for witcher-mopes.

Nettly, a settler from Lower Posada, catches up to the duo and asks them to visit and have a chat about a real work offer. Since they're headed to LP anyways, they agree. Along the way, we get some more botanical observations. Thankfully, neither I nor Pan Sapkowski are actually pastoral poets, so the description doesn't drag on.

The point is made - this is a fertile frontier, and now that the humans have pushed the elves out, they will thrive there. They even still call it Dol Blathanna, the Vale of Flowers, rather than than an elven grave.

Once they get there, elder Dhun asks them to hunt down a deovel.

The deovel is a sapient trickster, sometimes helpful, sometimes mischievous. Recently, he's been up to a lot of mischief, stealing and spoiling crops, and should therefore be chased off - without any permanent harm coming to it, though. Geralt goes out into the fields to confront it, trailed by (the now arbitrarily skeptical) Dandelion. The devil makes its lair in a hemp field, which nullifies Geralt's spells.

In the middle of the field there's a clearing and an altar-stone of sorts, piled with offerings and leftovers. Grain in particular, which is an odd things for a goat-devil to eat. The devil confronts the two, ~~bleating~~ uk-uking threats and demands that they leave. Dandelion can't stop himself from ~~being Dandelion~~ taunting the devil

quote:
'Stop it, drat you,' hissed Geralt. 'Keep your stupid jokes to yourself-'

'Jokes!' roared the goathorn loudly and leapt up. 'Jokes? New jokers have come, have they? They've brought iron balls, have they? I'll give you iron balls, you scoundrels, you. Uk! Uk! Uk! You want to joke, do you? Here are some jokes for you! Here are your balls!'

The creature sprang up and gave a sudden swipe with his hand. Dandelion howled and sat down hard on the path, clasping his forehead. The creature bleated and aimed again. Something whizzed past Geralt's ear.

'Here are your balls!' Brrreee!'

An iron ball, an inch in diameter, thwacked the witcher in the shoulder and the next hit Dandelion in the knee. The poet cursed foully and scrambled away, Geralt running after him as balls whizzed above his head.

'Uk! Uk! ' screamed the goathorn, leaping up and down. 'I'll give you balls! You lousy jokers!'

...

'Well, well, Geralt.' Dandelion held a horseshoe he'd cooled in a bucket to his forehead. 'That's not what I expected. A horned freak with a goatee like a billy-goat, a shaggy moron, and he chased you away like some whelp. And I took this blow. Look at that bump!'

'That's the sixth time you've shown it to me. And it's no more interesting now than it was the first time.'

'Thank you for the sympathy. And I thought I'd be safe with you!'

'I didn't ask you to traipse after me into the hemp, but I did ask you to keep that foul tongue of yours on a leash. You didn't listen, so now you can suffer. In silence, please, because they're just coming.'

Nettly and Dhun walked into the dayroom. Behind them hobbled a grey-haired old woman, twisted as a pretzel, led by a fair-haired and painfully thin teenage girl.

'Honourable Dhun, honourable Nettly,' the witcher began without introduction. 'I asked you, before I left, whether you had already tried to do something with that devil of yours on your own. You told me that you 'hadn't done nothing'. I've grounds to think otherwise. I await your explanation.'

The village has a "great booke", written in Elder Runes. The wise women of the village memorize the contents without being able to read it, and pass on advice on how to deal with various monsters to their apprentices. Dandelion has to make sure the hag can recite some "random" pages (this is the one comic bit of this story that really works for me, so I'll quote it in full:

quote:
The etching showed a dishevelled monstrosity with enormous eyes and utterly ludicrous teeth, riding a horse. In its right hand, the monstrous being wielded a substantial sword, in its left, a bag of money.

'A witchman,' mumbled the woman. 'Called by some a witcher. To summon him is most dangerous, albeit one must; for when against the monster and the vermin there be no aid, the witchman can contrive. But careful one must be-'

'Enough,' muttered Geralt. 'Enough, Grandma. Thank you.'

'No, no,' protested Dandilion with a malicious smile. 'How does it go on? What a greatly interesting book-e! Go on, Granny, go on.'

'Eeee . . . But careful one must be to touch not the witchman, for thus the mange can one acquire. And lasses do from him hide away, for lustful the witchman is above all measure-'

'Absolutely spot on,' laughed the poet, and Lille, so it seemed to Geralt, smiled almost imperceptibly.

'-though the witchman greatly covetous and greedy for gold be,' mumbled the old woman, half-closing her eyes, 'giveth ye not such a one more than: for a drowner, one silver penny or three halves; for a werecat, silver pennies two; for a plumard, silver pennies-'

'Those were the days,' muttered the witcher. 'Thank you, Grandma. And now show us where it speaks of the devil and what the book says about devils. This time 'tis grateful I'd be to heareth more, for to learn the ways and meanes ye did use to deal with him most curious am I.'

'Careful, Geralt,' chuckled Dandilion. 'You're starting to fall into their jargon. It's an infectious mannerism.'

The woman, controlling her shaking hands with difficulty, turned several pages. The witcher and the poet leaned over the table. The etching did, in effect, show the ball-thrower: horned, hairy, betailed and smiling maliciously.

'The deovel,' recited the woman. 'Also called "willower" or "sylvan". For livestock and domestic fowl, a tiresome and great pest is he. Be it your will to chase him from your hamlet, takest thou-'

'Well, well,' murmured Dandilion.

'-takest thou of nuts, one fistful,' continued the woman, running her finger along the parchment. 'Next, takest thou of iron balls a second fistful. Of honey an utricle, of birch tar a second. Of grey soap a firkin; of soft cheese another. There where the deovel dwelleth, goest thou when 'tis night. Commenceth then to eat the nuts. Anon, the deovel who hath great greed, will hasten and ask if they are tasty indeed. Givest to him then the balls of iron-'

'drat you,' murmured Dandilion. 'Pox take-'

'Quiet,' said Geralt. 'Well, Grandma. Go on.'

'. . . having broken his teeth he will be attentive as thou eatest the honey. Of said honey will he himself desire. Givest him of birch tar, then yourself eateth soft cheese. Soon, hearest thou, will the deovel grumbleth and tumbleth, but makest of it as naught. Yet if the deovel desireth soft cheese, givest him soap. For soap the deovel withstandeth not-'

'You got to the soap?' interrupted Geralt with a stony expression turning towards Dhun and Nettly.

'In no way,' groaned Nettly. 'We barely got to the balls. But he gave us the what for once he bit into one'

'And who told you to give him so many?' Dandilion was enraged. 'It stands written in the book, one fistful to take. Yet ye gaveth of balls a sackful! Ye furnished him with ammunition for two years, more the fools ye!'

'Careful,' smiled the witcher. 'You're starting to fall into their jargon. It's infectious.

In any case, the devil has been stealing more and more and demanding levies in grain. The old witch - or rather, Lille - has forbidden the villagers from organizing a mob or otherwise killing the devil. Despite never speaking, Lille is a Wise One - a village witch. The Wise Ones are often persecuted, so they'd rather not share this information with outsiders.

quote:
'Know ye, sir,' said Nettly, 'it be nae only a matter of the deovel. Lille does nae let us harm anything. Any creature.'

'Of course,' Dandilion butted in, 'country prophetesses grow from the same tree as druids. And a druid will go so far as to wish the gadfly sucking his blood to enjoy its meal.'

'Ye hits it on the head,' Nettly faintly smiled. 'Ye hits the nail right on the head. 'Twas the same with us and the wild boars that dug up our vegetable beds. Look out the window: beds as pretty as a picture. We have found a way, Lille doesnae even know. What the eyes do nay see, the heart will nae miss. Understand?'

'I understand,' muttered Geralt. 'And how. But we can't move forward. Lille or no Lille, your devil is a sylvan. An exceptionally rare but intelligent creature. I won't kill him, my code doesn't allow it.'

'If he be intelligent,' said Dhun, 'go speak reason to him.'
The devil is a bit too smug and belligerent to listen to reason at the moment, but Geralt has ways of dealing with failure to communicate.

Reusing the devil's own metal balls against him, Geralt manages to get close enough for a fisticuffs / wrestling match. Goat boy got the mule kicks, but he's not really much of a fighter, and soon tries to run. Geralt chases towards a mounted figure, assuming it to be Dandelion, only to get piled on and knocked the gently caress out.

When he comes to, it turns out they were captured by elves. As ever, they are there to defend the helpless creatures of the forest from Man's deprivations.

Well, not really. They're there to get the food and seeds Thorque (the devil) has been stealing for them. Having been forced to flee to the mountains, they are starving. Their leader has apparently forbidden them from killing anyone before he gets there, but now that Dandelion is awake and whining, Toruviel has the perfect excuse to saunter over and give the two a good kicking.

quote:
Toruviel turned to him with an angry grimace on her cracked lips. 'Musician!' she growled. 'A human, yet a musician! A luten-ist!'

Without a word, she pulled the instrument from the tall elf's hand, forcefully smashed the lute against the pine and threw the remains, tangled in the strings, on Dandilion's chest.

'Play on a cow's horn, you savage, not a lute.'

The poet turned as white as death, his lips quivered. Geralt, feeling cold fury rising up somewhere within him, drew Toruviel's eyes with his own.

'What are you staring at?' hissed the elf, leaning over. 'Filthy ape-man! Do you want me to gouge out those insect eyes of yours?'

Her necklace hung down just above him. The witcher tensed, lunged, and caught the necklace in his teeth, tugging powerfully, curling his legs in and turning on his side.

Toruviel lost her balance and fell on top of him.

Geralt wriggled in the ropes like a fish, crushed the elf beneath him, tossed his head back with such force that the vertebrae in his neck cracked and, with all his might, butted her in the face with his forehead. Toruviel howled and struggled.

They roughly pulled him off her and, tugging at his clothes and hair, lifted him. One of them struck him; he felt rings cut the skin over his cheekbone and the forest danced and swam in front of his eyes. He saw Toruviel lurch to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. The elf wrenched the dagger from its sheath but gave a sob, hunched over, grasped her face and dropped her head between her knees.

The tall elf in the jacket adorned with colourful feathers took the dagger from her hand and approached the witcher. He smiled as he raised the blade. Geralt saw him through a red haze; blood from his forehead, which he'd cut against Toruviel's teeth, poured into his eye-sockets.

'No!' bleated Torque, running up to the elf and hanging on to his arm. 'Don't kill him! No!'

'Voe'rle, Vanadain,' a sonorous voice suddenly commanded. 'Quess aen? Caelm, evellienn! Galarr!'
Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find a comprehensive translation of all the ~~elven~~ Elder Speech in the books. It's a rough blend of Gaelic, German, Italian and English. The elven leader arrives just in time to... transform a needlessly brutal execution into an orderly and civilized one. They really can't afford to leave any witnesses.

We finally get a really decent back and forth, with the fate of Geralt, Dandelion and (to an extent) the elven race at stake. Good combination of exposition, abstract arguments, and personal revelations.

The gist of it is fairly simple - the land used to gift the elven folk freely, with no need to tear it apart with plows and blades. Now, the world has changed - you can feel it in the water, the air, the sun. Even if they could learn how to reap and sow, the mountains are barren. But the free elves are unwilling to trade or beg or rob from the humans, to be cooped up in ghettos and butchered in pogroms. Geralt might swallow his pride and be willing to live as a despised half-human servant, but they won't. Coexistence is impossible. But isolation is impossible as well - Geralt predicts that once malnutrition and decease starts killing them, the elves will come down from the mountains one way or the other, to meet their end on a human blade. And being so nobly long-lived, they will have a long time to wait for that very inevitable end.

If so, Geralt won't be alive to see it. The bowmen line up. Torque, who wasn't terribly enthusiastic about beating unarmed prisoners, much less anything more lethal, is not very happy.

quote:
The sylvan shook his ears, bleated even louder, stared and bent his elbow in an abusive gesture popular among dwarves.

'You're not going to murder anybody here! Get on your horses and out into the mountains, beyond the passes! Otherwise you'll have to kill me too!'

'Be reasonable,' said the white-haired elf slowly. 'If we let them live, people are going to learn what you're doing. They'll catch you and torture you. You know what they're like, after all.'

'I do,' bleated the sylvan still sheltering Geralt and Dandilion. 'It turns out I know them better than you! And, verily, I don't know who to side with. I regret allying myself with you, Filavandrel!'

'You asked for this,' said the elf coldly, giving a signal to the archers. 'You asked for this, Torque. L'sparellean! Evellienn!'

The elves drew arrows from their quivers. 'Walk away, Torque,' said Geralt, gritting his teeth. 'It's senseless. Stand aside.' The sylvan, without budging from the spot, showed him the dwarves' gesture.

'I can hear . . . music . . .' Dandilion suddenly sobbed.

'It happens,' said the witcher, looking at the arrowheads. 'Don't worry. There's no shame in losing your mind to fear.'

Filavandrel's face changed, screwed up in a strange grimace. The white-haired Seidhe suddenly turned round and gave a shout to the archers. They lowered their weapons.

Lille entered the glade.

No longer a scrawny mute apprentice witch, she's now Dana Meabdh, the Harvest Queen. The elves drop to their knees, and though she still won't say a word, they know her wishes. They want her to follow them into the mountains, but she sends them away, back over the passes. Toruviel and Filavandrel wait long enough to replace Dandelion's lute with one of elven craft, and to extract a promise from Geralt - if they ever do come down from their mountains to seek their deaths, Geralt will be there to meet them.

Torque, Dandelion and Geralt spend an evening by the roadside to say their farewells and to look up Dana in the Great Booke Geralt asked as his reward.

quote:
'"Whence Lyfia treads the earth blossometh and bringeth forth, and abundantly doth each creature breed, such is her might. All nations to her offer sacrifice of harvest in vain hope their field not another's will by Lyfia visited be. Because it is also said that there cometh a day at end when Lyfia will come to settle among that tribe which above all others will rise, but these be mere womenfolk tales. Because, forsooth, the wise do say that Lyfia loveth but one land and that which groweth on it and liveth alike, with no difference, be it the smallest of common apple trees or the most wretched of insects, and all nations are no more to her than that thinnest of trees because, forsooth, they too will be gone and new, different tribes will follow. But Lyfia eternal is, was and ever shall be until the end of time.'"

The Valley of Flowers will be blessed as long as the inhabitants are willing to abide by the terms, and be peaceful.

Torque will find another place to cause mischief in - more calculated mischief, balanced with a helping hand. Dandelion will write a poem about the edge of the world - a pastoral that omits the role of the elves. No need to hasten what is already inevitable.

* Interesting facts about the Russian translations - Dandelion "makes monkey faces" at Nenneke instead of aping her, and Nan the hag steals fruit instead of performing abortions in the Russian translation. Rather seems like someone translated a few figures of speech overtly literally.

* I'm not too fond of this story. The comedy bits just... aren't terribly funny. Maybe because I actually actively looking for reasons to take offense - my general suspicion of "these people speak funny, unlike us who speak all proper" combined with my knowledge of Sapkowski's class issues makes the stupid dung-eating peasants scenes less funny and more cringeworthy (though I suspect they were pretty cringe-y to begin with).

* The transition to the serious / tragic elf portion of the story is actually well done, and avoids a mood whiplash. The story can't really be blamed for ~~Bioware~~ everyone and their grandmother ripping off the "elves in ghettos" shtick over the past three decades. It's a good take on "the time of elves has passed, now the age of man begins" in a way that's less about destiny or magic, and more about biology. I imagine it was quite the shock to anyone reading back in the 90's.

* The Deus Ex Machina is... deistic. I guess it's a better fit for the pastoral tone of the story than the small mound of corpses that show up at the end of "Question of Price" (on that note, THIS is the first witcher story that ends with no casualties. If you don't count Dandelion's poor lute). Wonder how Geralt still plays up his atheism after witnessing a living goddess?

* One way the story doesn't really fit into the witcher "canon" is Wise ones being persecuted even though we have an established cult of Melitele (the priestesses of which fill the same role of village healers / witches / wise women).

* I genuinely hate the whole "superstition in a world where magic and monsters are demonstrably real" trope. It's nearly impossible to get right, no matter which way you approach it - "oh, I arbitrarily believe this particular monster monster can't be realwhoopsitis" and "yeah, we feel the need to make up a lot of bullshit monsters despite real ones existing" are both equally terrible.

I mean, yeah, there are people who will believe in any "Science discovers a cure! [buy the product that sponsors this fluff piece]" headline, and also people who believe any "Western medicine is evil, eat these crystals" scam. But parodying either requires a sure hand, a subtle quill, and more talent than (the decently talented) Sapkowski possesses. (Mind, "people have no idea what mages can actually do, and gossip gets everything wrong" is actually a fairly decent and not-too-blunt metaphor for how the masses understand science. Shame it's relatively underused)

Witcher skills:

* Advanced literacy.

* Throwing his balls at peoples faces with unerring accuracy. (I guess Poland is on the "eggs" side of the eggs/balls divide, so that doesn't even work)

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 20:18 on Apr 22, 2018

# ¿ Feb 13, 2018 18:57

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Doc Morbid posted:

Good question. I used to work for the lawyerd Codringher and Fen.

Also, I do believe the professor "ambush" is both the first time Geralt just allows the bad guys to stroll away, and one of the many frustrating times when Geralt initiates a fight but doesn't actually draw his sword until the bad guys had time to surround him and start tearing out his kidneys.

# ¿ Mar 12, 2018 12:34

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Story 7 - The Last Wish

The Voice of Reason - part 6 posted:

Nenneke wants Geralt to stay a while. If he's hiding from Yennefer, then he should know she already visited the temple, and didn't bother asking about his whereabouts. Geralt would still rather leave before she returns, and asks Nenneke to give Yennefer the jewels he got as payment for slaying the Striga.

quote:
'I wouldn't do this if I were you. You'll make her even more furious, if that's possible, believe me. Leave everything as it is, because you're no longer in a position to mend anything or make anything better. Running away from her, you behaved . . . well, let's say, in a manner not particularly worthy of a mature man. By trying to wipe away your guilt with precious stones, you'll behave like a very, very over-mature man. I really don't know what sort of man I can stand less.'

'She was too possessive,' he muttered, turning away his face. 'I couldn't stand it. She treated me like-'

'Stop it,' she said sharply. 'Don't cry on my shoulder. I'm not your mother, and I won't be your confidante either. I don't give a poo poo how she treated you and I care even less how you treated her. And I don't intend to be a go-between or give these stupid jewels to her. If you want to be a fool, do it without using me as an intermediary.'

Geralt just means the jewels can help pay for a healer that will fix Yennefer's... "condition". Nenneke insists that's impossible - sorceress' pay for their magical power and bodily transformation with irreversible infertility. If anything, Geralt should worry about his own health - that trance session with Iola he keeps avoiding would really help sort him out.

Geralt would just as soon not engage in anything that could cause Iola to peer into the future. He's pretty sure the future doesn't hold anything of value for him. To change the subject, he asks about the greenhouse they're in.

quote:
Nenneke smiled. 'You see, Geralt, this bright sun of ours is still shining, but not quite the way it used to. Read the great books if you like. But if you don't want to waste time on it maybe you'll be happy with the explanation that the crystal roof acts like a filter. It eliminates the lethal rays which are increasingly found in sunlight. That's why plants which you can't see growing wild anywhere in the world grow here.'

'I understand,' nodded the witcher. And us, Nenneke? What about us? The sun shines on us, too. Shouldn't we shelter under a roof like that?'

'In principle, yes,' sighed the priestess. 'But . . ..'

'But what?'

'It's too late.'

Huh. I forgot that some early foreshadowing of the White Frost in the very first book. Not quite where it ends up going, but close enough.

Letting the reader know that Geralt and Yennefer won't find a comfortable "happily ever after" before even telling the story of how they've met is a pretty bold move. Let's see if it pays off.

The Last Wish posted:

Geralt and Dandelion are fishing for their supper. Dandelion manages to lose his initial catch, but ends up hooking a tangle of branches and ooze with an amphora in the middle, a magic-looking seal upon it. Dandelion has read enough stories to know exactly what that is - a genie that will grant him three wishes! Geralt, on the other, knows enough about magic to assure him that: A) You don't find a Djinn just lying around, sealed in a pot B) Djinns are terribly dangerous, so don't mess with anything that might contain one. They tussle for control, break the drat thing open, and some smoke starts pouring out, coalescing into a monstrous, beaked head.

Dandelion is not the least bit taken aback:

quote:
'Run!' yelled the witcher. 'Run, Dandelion!'

'My wishes,' continued the poet, 'are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there's a count's daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses all advances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly-'

The Djinn is not amused.

Geralt strikes with his silver sword and the Aard. The Djinn tosses Dandelion aside, but otherwise seems undamaged, turning to attack the witcher.

quote:
Geralt, not having the least idea of what to do, squeezed the seal in his fist and, extending his hand towards the assailant, screamed out the words of an exorcism a priestess had once taught him. He had never used those words until now because, in principle, he didn't believe in superstitions.

The effect surpassed his expectations.

The seal hissed and grew hot, burning his hand. The gigantic head froze in the air, suspended, motionless above the river. It hung like that for a moment then, at last, it began to howl, roar, and dispersed into a pulsating bundle of smoke, into a huge, whirling cloud. The cloud whined shrilly and whisked upstream with incredible speed, leaving a trail of churned-up water on the surface. In a matter of seconds, it had disappeared into the distance; only a dwindling howl lingered across the water.

Dandelion is badly injured, beyond Geralt's healing abilities He takes him to the nearest town, but has to wait for dawn before being allowed to enter. They spend the night in the barbican (guardhouse outside the walls), alongside the city-elves Chireadan and Errdil, as well as the half-elven knight Vratimir. Thankfully, they're able to help take care of Dandelion, and can recommend a healer that will both save his life and leave him able to sing despite the damage to his throat - Yennefer of Vergerburg.

Wizards aren't particularly welcome in Redania, particularly powerful females who are notorious for giving absolutely no fucks about public opinion. She is forced to stay at the home of a trade ambassador from Novigrad to avoid persecution.

Geralt races there with the dawning sun. The guard won't let him through at this hour, so he knocks him out. The household is still experiencing the after-effects of yesterday's party, the ambassador wandering the kitchen in a naked alcoholic daze, looking for apple juice for his honored guest. Geralt fetches the juice upstairs:

quote:
A heavy smell of sour wine, candles and overripe fruit hung in the air. And something else, that brought to mind a mixture of the scents of lilac and gooseberries.

He looked around. The table in the middle of the chamber bore a battlefield of jugs, carafes, goblets, silver plates, dishes and ivory-handled cutlery. A creased tablecloth, which had been pushed aside, was soaked in wine, covered in purple stains and stiff with wax which had trickled down the candlesticks. Orange peel glowed like flowers among plum and peach stones, pear cores and grape stalks. A goblet had fallen over and smashed. The other was in one piece, half full, with a turkey bone sticking out of it. Next to the goblet stood a black, high-heeled slipper. It was made of basilisk skin. There wasn't a more expensive raw material which could be used in the making of shoes.

The other slipper lay under a chair on top of a carelessly discarded black dress with white frills and an embroidered flowery pattern.

For a moment Geralt stood undecided, struggling with embarrassment and the desire to turn on his heel and leave.
Maybe that would have been a better idea?

[url]https://i.imgur.com/RoOajUT.jpg[/url]

He manages to Heliotrop a defense, so that he's not knocked out on the spot, and explain that he's here to get help for his friend.

quote:
'May I?' She touched his cheek and looked him in the eyes. He clenched his jaw. 'Do your pupils automatically adapt to light or can you narrow and dilate them according to your will?'

'Yennefer,' he said calmly, 'I rode nonstop all day from Rinde. I waited all night for the gates to open. I gave your doorman, who didn't want to let me in, a blow to the head. I disturbed your sleep and peace, discourteously and importunately. All because my friend needs help which only you can give him. Give it to him, please, and then, if you like, we can talk about mutations and aberrations.'

...

'If it's all that complicated then wait. An aftertaste in my mouth, dishevelled hair, sticky eyes and other morning inconveniences strongly affect my perceptive faculties. Go downstairs to the bath-chamber in the cellar. I'll be there in a minute and then you'll tell me everything.'

'Yennefer, I don't want to be persistent but time is pressing. My friend-'

'Geralt,' she interrupted sharply, 'I climbed out of bed for you and I didn't intend to do that before the chime of midday. I'm prepared to do without breakfast. Do you know why? Because you brought me the apple juice. You were in a hurry, your head was troubled with your friend's suffering, you forced your way in here by breaking heads, and yet you thought of a thirsty woman. You won me over, so my help is not out of the question. But I won't do anything without hot water and soap. Go. Please.'

'Very well.'

'Geralt?'

'Yes?' he stopped on the threshold.

'Make use of the opportunity to have a bath yourself. I can not only guess the age and breed of your horse, but also its colour, by the smell.'

...

'Beautiful scar,' she smiled, looking at his chest. 'What was it? Did you fall under the blade in a saw-mill?'

He didn't answer. The sorceress continued to observe him, tilting her head coquettishly.

'The first witcher I can look at from close up, and completely naked at that. Aha!' She leant over, listening. 'I can hear your heart beat. It's very slow. Can you control how much adrenalin you secrete? Oh, forgive me my professional curiosity. Apparently, you're touchy about the qualities of your own body. You're wont to describe these qualities using words which I greatly dislike, lapsing into pompous sarcasm with it, something I dislike even more.'

Yennefer turns invisible so that they may continue their conversation while she bathes. Water and soap do mark contours, and Geralt stares, distracted, as she interrogates him about the nature of the Djinn in question. Dandelion is resting at Errdil's, supervised by Chireadan. Yennefer conjures a portal there - Geralt may hate portals, but she isn't going to set foot on the street.

quote:
'I can't walk the streets of this town,' she cut him short. 'They're not too crazy about me here. They might insult me and throw stones - or do something worse. Several people are effectively ruining my reputation here, thinking they can get away with it. Don't worry, my portals are safe.'

Geralt had once watched as only half a traveller using a safe portal flew through. The other half was never found. He knew of several cases where people had entered a portal and never been seen again.
Needs must though - Geralt hugs the sorceress and jumps through. They arrive in one piece, and Yennefer kicks everyone out of Dandelion's room, leaving Geralt and Chireadan to discuss why she might be offering her services:

quote:
'I didn't think you'd find it so easy, if I'm to be honest,' Chireadan went on. 'Yennefer isn't the most spontaneous of people when it comes to help. Others' troubles don't particularly bother her, and don't disturb her sleep. In a word, I've never heard of her helping anyone if there wasn't something in it for her. I wonder what's in it for her to help you and Dandilion.'

'Aren't you exaggerating?' The witcher smiled. 'I didn't have such a bad impression of her. She likes to demonstrate her superiority, it's true, but compared with other wizards, with that whole arrogant bunch, she's walking charm and kindliness personified.'

Chireadan also smiled. 'It's almost as though you thought a scorpion were prettier than a spider,' he said, 'because it's got such a lovely tail. Be careful, Geralt. You're not the first to have judged her like that without knowing she's turned her charm and beauty into weapons. Weapons she uses skillfully and without scruple. Which, of course, doesn't change the fact that she's a fascinating and good-looking woman. You wouldn't disagree, would you?'

Geralt glanced keenly at the elf. For a second time, he thought he saw traces of a blush on his face. It surprised him no less than Chireadan's words. Pure-blooded elves were not wont to admire human women, even the very beautiful ones, and Yennefer, although attractive in her own way, couldn't pass as a great beauty.

Each to their own taste but, in actual fact, not many would describe sorceresses as good-looking. Indeed, all of them came from social circles where the only Fate for daughters would be marriage. Who would have thought of condemning their daughter to years of tedious studies and the tortures of somatic mutations if she could be given away in marriage and advantageously allied? Who wished to have a sorceress in their family? Despite the respect enjoyed by magicians, a sorceress's family did not benefit from her in the least because by the time the girl had completed her education, nothing tied her to her family anymore - only brotherhood counted, to the exclusion of all else. So only daughters with no chance of finding a husband become sorceresses.

Unlike priestesses and druidesses, who only unwillingly took ugly or crippled girls, sorcerers took anyone who showed evidence of a predisposition. If the child passed the first years of training, magic entered into the equation - straightening and evening out legs, repairing bones which had badly knitted, patching hare-lips, removing scars, birthmarks and pox scars. The young sorceress would become attractive because the prestige of her profession demanded it. The result was pseudo-pretty women with the angry and cold eyes of ugly girls. Girls who couldn't forget their ugliness had been covered by the mask of magic only for the prestige of their profession.

No, Geralt couldn't understand Chireadan. His eyes, the eyes of a witcher, registered too many details.
Yennefer summons Geralt to Dandelion's room. The floor is covered in runes and pentagrams, Dandelion is having happy dreams of Virginia, and Yennefer asks Geralt for the seal on the Djinn's bottle, so that she may try to summon it. Geralt is willing to part with the seal, provided he's allowed to escort Dandelion to safety... but while they banter, the slow background magic woven about the room renders him helpless.

Yennefer need Dandelion to make a third wish, so that she is free to bind the Djinn to her will. Meanwhile, Geralt will run a few errands for her:

quote:
'Don't struggle, my little witcher.' She smiled spitefully. 'It's pointless. You've got a strong will and quite a bit of resistance to magic but you can't contend with me and my spell. And don't act out a farce for me, don't try to charm me with your hard and insolent masculinity. You are the only one to think you're insolent and hard. You'd do anything for me in order to save your friend, even without spells at that. You'd pay any price. You'd lick my boots. And maybe something else, too, if I suddenly wished to amuse myself.'

He remained silent. Yennefer was standing in front of him, smiling and fiddling with the obsidian star sparkling with diamonds pinned to her velvet ribbon.

'I already knew what you were like,' she continued, 'after exchanging a few words with you in Beau's bedroom. And I knew what form of payment I'd demand from you. My accounts in Rinde could be settled by anyone, including Chireadan. But you're the one who's going to do it because you have to pay me. For your insolence, for the cold way you look at me, for the eyes which fish for every detail, for your stony face and sarcastic tone of voice. For thinking that you could stand face to face with Yennefer of Vergerberg and believe her to be full of self-admiration and arrogance, a calculating witch, while staring at her soapy tits. Pay up, Geralt of Rivia!'

She grabbed his hair with both hands and kissed him violently on the lips, sinking her teeth into them like a vampire. The medallion on his neck quivered and it felt to Geralt as if the chain was shrinking and strangling him. Something blazed in his head while a terrible humming filled his ears. He stopped seeing the sorceress's violet eyes and fell into darkness.

Geralt wakes up in the city jail, accompanied by Chireadan. He went through the town, battering and humiliating various notables and councilmen who had besmirched Yennefer's honor. He also managed to take out a whole squad of the local guard, barehanded. Just before he assaulted the town temple and its guards, to get a priest Krepp, Geralt grasped his head and fell over. Chireadan is in jail because he stopped the guard from murdering the witcher on the spot.

The prison guards were asked to have a word with Geralt, on behalf of the notables he had insulted. In-between brief bursts of excitement, the guards want to know whether Geralt has anything to say. Eventually, he admits he has a minor complaint about the beating he's currently enduring - he dearly wishes the guard would go ahead and blow the gently caress up.

He does.

That causes enough of a ruckus for the mayor and Krepp the priest (the one who exorcised Yennefer's influence over Geralt) to summon Geralt and Chireadan for an interview. Reviewing the evidence, the matter is clear; Geralt is the one who first got his hands on the magic seal, and the one who gets the wishes. Blowing up the torturer was his second wish. Expelling the Djinn was his first - the incantation he was taught was "go gently caress yourself" in an ancient tongue. Needless to say, the Djinn is a bit upset.

Yennefer rouses Dandelion and tosses him into a portal which lands him at Geralt's feet.

quote:
I repeat, that the last thing I remember was an elegant woman dressed in tastefully co-ordinated black and white. She threw me into a shiny hole, a magic portal for sure. But first she gave me a clear and precise errand. As soon as I'd arrived I was immediately to say, I quote: "My wish is for you to believe the witcher is not guilty for what occurred. That, and no other, is my wish." Word for word. Indeed, I tried to ask what all this was, what it was all about, and why. The black-haired woman didn't let me get a word in edgeways. She scolded me most inelegantly, grasped me by the neck and threw me into the portal.

Yennefer assumes that Dandelion used up his wishes, and the Djinn can now be captured and controlled. At the moment, it has transformed into a hugely destructive cyclone, destroying the town around Erridil's home. Krepp is of the opinion that letting the Djinn have his vengeance on the witch before it flies away is the smartest course of action, but Geralt would rather reconstruct the portal and come to Yennefer's rescue.

quote:
'You must be mad. Even if a passage like that doesn't tear you to pieces, what do you expect to gain by it? Do you want to find yourself in the middle of a cyclone?'

'I asked if you can cast a spell which could stabilise the trace.'

'Spell?' the priest proudly raised his head. 'I'm not a godless sorcerer! I don't cast spells! My power comes from faith and prayer!'

'Can you or can't you?'

'I can.'

'Then get on with it, because time's pressing on.'

...

'I'll stay,' said Krepp, when the door had closed behind Dandelion and the elf. He waved his hands in the air, creating a pulsating aura around himself. 'I'll spread some protection, just in case. And if the portal does burst . . . I'll try and pull you out, witcher. What are eardrums to me? They grow back.'

Geralt looked at him more kindly.

The priest smiled. 'You're a brave man,' he said. 'You want to save her, don't you? But bravery isn't going to be of much use to you. Djinns are vengeful beings. The sorceress is lost. And if you go there, you'll be lost, too. Examine your conscience.'

The house is being battered by the Djinn, but the defenses hold - until it manages to create a portal inside to bypass them.

quote:
But the genie didn't attack. He hung in the air just below the ceiling, swelled to an impressive size, goggled at Geralt with his pale eyes and roared. There was something in that roar, something like a command, an order. He didn't understand what it was.

'This way!' shouted Yennefer, indicating the portal which she had conjured up on the wall by the stairs. In comparison to the one created by the genie, the sorceress's portal looked feeble, extremely inferior. 'This way, Geralt! Run for it!'

'Only with you!'

...

They flew out in a tight embrace, fell onto a marble floor and slid across it, knocking over an enormous candlestick and a table from which crystal goblets, platters of fruit and a huge bowl of crushed ice, seaweed and oysters showered down with a crash. Screams and squeals came from around the room.

They were lying in the very centre of a ballroom, bright with candelabra. Richly-clad gentlemen and ladies, sparkling with jewels, had stopped dancing and were watching them in stunned silence. The musicians in the gallery finished their piece in a cacophony which grated on the ears.

'You moron!' Yennefer yelled, trying to scratch out his eyes. You bloody idiot! You stopped me! I nearly had him!'

'You had poo poo-all!' he shouted back, furious. 'I saved your life, you stupid witch!'

She hissed like a furious cat, her palms showered sparks.

Geralt, turning his face away, caught her by both wrists and they rolled among the oysters, seaweed and crushed ice.

'Do you have an invitation?' A portly man with the golden chain of a chamberlain on his chest was looking at them with a haughty expression.

'Screw yourself!' screamed Yennefer, still trying to scratch Ger-alt's eyes out.

'It's a scandal,' the chamberlain said emphatically. 'Verily, you're exaggerating with this teleportation. I'm going to complain to the Council of Wizards. I'll demand-'

No one ever heard what the chamberlain would demand. Yennefer wrenched herself free, slapped the witcher in the ear with her open palm, kicked him forcefully in the shin and jumped into the fading portal in the wall.

Geralt is intent on getting Yennefer away. She is intent on controlling the Djinn and kicking Geralt in the balls. Eventually, she throws him around and magically binds him. He clues her in on the basic mistake she's making.

quote:
'You haven't got enough strength left, Yennefer.' '

You underestimate my strength. The wish,
Geralt!'

'No, Yennefer. I can't . . . The djinn might fulfil it, but it won't spare you. It'll kill you when it's free. It'll take its revenge on you . . . You won't manage to catch it and you won't manage to defend yourself against it. You're weakened, you can barely stand. You'll die, Yennefer.'

'That's my risk!' she shouted, enraged. 'What's it to you what happens to me? Think rather what the djinn can give you! You've still got one wish! You can ask what you like! Make use of it! Use it, witcher! You can have anything! Anything!'

...

Dandilion snatched the hat decorated with a heron's feather from his head, spat into it, threw it in the mud and trampled on it, spitting out words in various languages as he did.

'But he's . . . 'he groaned suddenly, 'still got one wish in reserve! He could save both her and himself! Mr Krepp!'

'It's not that simple,' the priest pondered. 'But if . . . If he expressed the right wish ... If he somehow tied his fate to the fate . . . No, I don't think it would occur to him. And it's probably better that it doesn't.'

...

But he suddenly knew the truth. He knew it. He knew what she used to be. What she remembered, what she couldn't forget, what she lived with. Who she really was before she had become a sorceress.

Her cold, penetrating, angry and wise eyes were those of a hunchback.

He was horrified. No, not of the truth. He was horrified that she would read his thoughts, find out what he had guessed. That she would never forgive him for it. He deadened that thought within himself, killed it, threw it from his memory forever, without trace, feeling, as he did so, enormous relief. Feeling that-

...

The djinn opened his mouth and stretched his paws towards her.

The witcher suddenly understood what it was he wanted.

And he made his wish.

...

'It's shattered the entire house! Nobody could survive that! Nobody, I tell you!'

'The witcher, Geralt of Rivia, has sacrificed himself for the town,' mayor Neville said ceremoniously. 'We won't forget him. We'll revere him. We'll think of a statue . . .'

Dandilion shook a piece of wicker matting bound with clay from his shoulder, brushed his jerkin free of lumps of rain-dampened plaster, looked at the mayor and, in a few well-chosen words, expressed his opinion about sacrifice, reverence, memory and all the statues in the world.

But of course, the two live.

quote:
'Your wish,' she whispered, her lips very near his ear. 'I don't know whether such a wish can ever be fulfilled. I don't know whether there's such a Force in Nature that could fulfil such a wish. But if there is, then you've condemned yourself. Condemned yourself to me.'

So there you have it - the main cast of the books is now all introduced. The magical connection between Yennefer and Geralt forms the basis for those parts of the overarching plot of the Witcher-verse that aren't concerned with his unexpected child.

They're both deeply broken people, full of pride that won't allow them to ask for the emotional support they desperately need. And, on a more superficial level, Yennefer is a control-freak (and a bitch) while Geralt is a freaking teenager, unable to handle his feelings to the point he pretends he doesn't have any. He flees responsibility despite outright wishing for it.

We'll have a chance to go over their relationship in the following books though. Besides establishing this relationship, there really isn't much to talk about. Krepp is possibly the most decent member of the clergy ever depicted in the witcher universe.

By the way, the story (as opposed to my summary) actually keeps the nature of Geralt's first wish secret up to a point, to act as a punchline - but then shows its cards way before the reveal, when Yennefer titters about the meaning of the "exorcism spell". Lame.

We've come to the end of the first book. Only took me a few months. There's still an epilogue left though, so stay tuned for that.

Witcher powers:

* Heliotrop proves to be a defensive charm against magical attacks as well as sonic damage.

* The witcher medallion more explicitly acts to resist magic.

* Geralt uses "a Sign" to strike at the Djinn, to no avail. Could be a specialized attack sign, could be another Aard.

# ¿ Apr 6, 2018 21:16

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Let's Read Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher

Book 1: The Last Wish

Epilogue - The Voice of Reason part 7

quote:

Falwick and Tailles, accompanied by a company of the duke's guards bar Geralt's way as he rides into town. Geralt is going to have to duel Tailles, like it or not.

The witcher sincerely doubts that. For one, he's perfectly capable of slaughtering every guard present. More to the point, the guards damned well know this, and will run the moment he draws steel, with Falwick and Tailles heading the retreat.

Dennis Cranmer, the dwarven captain of the guard, would beg to differ.

Whether or not anyone else present will run from an armed witcher, he's been given a task by the duke, and isn't in the habit of fleeing.

Fine. Geralt will face Tailles, armed with a borrowed, heavy blade. Oh, and if he dares lay a finger on a knight of the White Rose, he will be arrested and handed over to the order for punishment. Falwick advises the witcher to take his maiming and be glad if that's as far as matters go.

After a few dodges that make Tailles lose his rhythm, Geralt simply slams his blade against Tailles' just as the knight's sword is held against his own face.

(The story doesn't mention Geralt wearing a blindfold, but illustrators apparently think the Hexer series is actually a good source of inspiration).

Tailles is left with a scar across the entirety of his face.

Falwick orders the guards forward, but Cranmer stops them. After all, Geralt laid neither finger nor blade upon the esteemed knight. (Parenthetically, the White Rose knights might try being a bit less racist when they need the cooperation of a non-human).

quote:
'Cranmer!' roared Falwick, tearing his sword from the ground, 'you'll be sorry for this, I swear!'

The dwarf turned around, slowly pulled the axe from his belt, coughed and spat into his palm. 'Oh, Count, sir,' he rasped. 'Don't perjure yourself. I can't stand perjurers and Prince Hereward has given me the right to punish them. I'll turn a deaf ear to your stupid words. But don't repeat them, if you please.'

'Witcher,' Falwick, puffing with rage, turned to Geralt. 'Get yourself out of Ellander. Immediately. Without a moment's delay!'

'I rarely agree with him,' muttered Dennis, approaching the witcher and returning his sword, 'but in this case he's right. I'd ride out pretty quick.'

'We'll do as you advise.' Geralt slung the belt across his back. 'But before that I have words for the count. Falwick!'

The Knight of the White Rose blinked nervously and wiped his palms on his coat.

'Let's just go back to your Chapter's code for a minute,' continued the witcher, trying not to smile. 'One thing really interests me. If I, let us say, felt disgusted and insulted by your attitude in this whole affair, if I challenged you to a fight on this very spot, what would you do? Would you consider me sufficiently worthy to cross blades with? Or would you refuse, even though you knew that by doing so I would take you to be unworthy even to be spat on, punched in the face and kicked in the arse under the eyes of the foot soldiers? Count Falwick, be so gracious as to satisfy my curiosity.'

Falwick grew pale, took a step back, looked around. The soldiers avoided his eyes. Dennis Cranmer grimaced, stuck his tongue out and sent a jet of saliva a fair distance.

'Even though you're not saying anything,' continued Geralt, 'I can hear the voice of reason in your silence, Falwick, sir. You've satisfied my curiosity, now I'll satisfy yours. If the Order bothers Mother Nenneke or the priestesses in any way, or unduly intrudes upon Captain Cranmer, then may you know, Count, that I'll find you and, not caring about any code, will bleed you like a pig.'

Geralt and Dandelion say goodbye to Nenneke before leaving with some alacrity. Iola fetches his elixirs and healing supplies. As she hands them over, their hands briefly touch, and they get a shared vision of the future. A vision of Geralt's (?) death, in terrible agony.

He's seen it before. There's no point in looking over his shoulder as he rides away.

A plot thread that's really more relevant to the first game, where the knights of the ~~White~~ Flaming Rose play a greater part.

All things considered, it rather seems like most witchers meet an ugly and violent demise, so seers really should have learned that by now.

# ¿ Apr 7, 2018 14:45

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Stroth posted:

I mean, if that's how you want to interpret the rules, Geralt could have just kicked him in the balls and been done with it.

That's just me being fancy. The point is that Geralt didn't actually touch him.

# ¿ Apr 7, 2018 15:43

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

The curse strikes once more

Good luck.

# ¿ Apr 15, 2018 19:29

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Could you post your save file?

Oh, and a basic breakdown of how you get the images for the LP?

# ¿ May 22, 2018 13:57

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ¿ Apr 28, 2024 17:30

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Valiantman posted:

*getting excited*

I still have to finish my Aviary Attorney LP and figure out a bunch of stuff.

...

I should have done this via PMs.

# ¿ May 22, 2018 20:55

The Something Awful Forums > Discussion > Video Games > Let's Play! > This is the city (of Vizima), this is the White Wolf -- THE WITCHER [SSLP]