Private Kiss of Death

[meben15]

As the great doors swung open, Jaygue and the others walked forward. Jaygue could see Geran standing in the doorway, flanked by his most veteran witchers. The group entered the courtyard and the gate was promptly shut behind them. The witchers never kept the great door open for long, to many people (and other things) disliked the guild. Jaygue stepped forward to adress his guild master, but the talkative girl beat him to it. She stepped forward and introduced herself as Lena, and formally asked Geran for shelter. Before Geran answered, Jaygue stepped forward to further explain why he came back to the hall with a group of ragged slaves.

The battlemage stepped forward, placing his fist across his chest in the traditional guild salute, and bowing his head respectfully to Geran. "Lord Geran," Jaygue began, addressing his superior with the appropriate title, albeit one he only used in front of strangers, "I encountered a slaver camp during my contract and couldn't resist attacking the bastards. These are the remains of the slaves that they had imprisoned. They required a place to recuperate from their mistreatment and I thought the guild may allow them to stay for a day or two." With a nod he moved over to the side, allowing Geran to convers directly with Lena, who seemed to have become the leader of them all.

Jaygue leaned up against the wall, and for the first time wondered why he was going out of his way to help these people. He had initially gone into the camp to kill the slavers, not free the slaves. While the Witcher certainly would have freed the slaves, he wondered to himself why he had gone out of his way to ensure their safety. It wasn't as if it mattered to him if they lived or died, they were no allies of his, yet he did care. For a moment he was lost in a flash to the past as he envisioned his own captivity at the hands of much more deadly and cruel creatures. Perhaps he was trying to give them the chance that he had never had. Trying to save them from what he was, what had befallen him. A fate worse than death. Or maybe he just hated slavers really really bad.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Dove walked into the fort with awe, she scanned the ramparts hoping to find a weak point. She couldn't find one so she walked up to the gate. She began collecting sticks which she laid in front of the sentry, who watcher her movements with interest. She spelled Dove, and smirked as the sentry sent word to confirm who she was.

 

[Mini Mongo]

The group of slaves and Geran entered, but before he even got to talk to his Senior Witcher a woman walked in front of them.
At first glance he thought she was rather rude, but nevertheless he would listen to what she had to say.
She put on a small smile, than began to say " I am Lena and we have been told by your comrade that we could stay here and you would look after us while we regain our strength. Is that true? Could you help us?"
Geran thought for a moment, at first he didn't know whether to let them in their fortress, but after 5 seconds of silence he replied.
''Of course, there are some guest beds in the hall, let me show you to your quarters, first I must speak with Jaygue, my comrade. My name is Lord Geran by the way, I lead the Brotherhood of Witchers. This is our fortress.'' Geran replied to the women, Lena.

Jaygue walked to him, addressing him as ''Lord Geran'' like he did whenever he was formally speaking to Geran.
"I encountered a slaver camp during my contract and couldn't resist attacking the bastards. These are the remains of the slaves that they had imprisoned. They required a place to recuperate from their mistreatment and I thought the guild may allow them to stay for a day or two." Jaygue carried on.
''I'm to show them to their quarters, meet me outside my room, we must speak.'' Geran said before going on to speak to the group of slavers ''Follow me'' Geran said to the group, leading them inside the fortress.
Geran wasn't sure what behavior to expect from them, but as he was not sure whether to trust them, so were they deciding whether to trust Geran.

Geran led them into the main hall and Dining Room, the long table leading all the way down to Geran's throne, so to say, with all the chairs surrounding the table, but no meal.
Some of the Slaves, or Ex Slaves, looked around the hall in total awe.
The pure size, the great architecture, and perhaps the general happiness of knowing they were safe surrounded them.
Geran was not one for handouts, but these women needed help and protection, and Geran could offer a warm meal, great protection and help with ease.
Geran led them down the hall and finally downstairs, one floor above the dungeon.

The area was lightly lit, but no windows as they were essentially in the mountain.
Two halls fed of, one leading directly ahead, and one left, with doors surrounding them.
''Take your pick, there is 50 rooms to choose from, a kitchen upstairs, you will be served in the morning.
Dinner is at 10pm, do not miss it, we are having whatever you desire, so please in at least a hour go to the kitchen and request your meals.'' a smile reached Gerans face as he talked.
He was happy to be helping these people.
Geran then returned upstairs and went down the hall to his bedroom, Jaygue was not there yet, and so he stood, arms crossed, feet even, and waited for the bulk of a man.

 

[Specter of Death]

Mairah admired the man called Geran. He was nice enough to let the ex-slaves take refuge in his fort. Even though she examined some hesitation from him, she understood why. He lead all of them into a great hall, and then to a hall of rooms. This wasn't Mairah's style. She walked back to the great hall, separating herself from the group. She looked up, high rafters. What she liked in any fort. Thought the climb was long, she decided to take to it. She ran up the wall, and planned out a path up to the rafter. She got up to them. A lot wider and sturdier than the ones in the slave camp. She layed out a cloth mat that she had kept in her pack. She layed down in comfort, with her bow and quivers next to her. This would be the first good night sleep she would have in weeks.

She decided at the last minute to have a look around. She jumped down to the floor, with ease. She walked to the hall of rooms, and looked into a handful of them, seeing happy ex-slaves. The happiest she had seen them at all. They sprawled on the beds, and washed there faces in the water-basins. She worked her way upstairs, where she saw Geran. She stopped, and slowed, as she could tell that he was waiting for someone. She turned, and returned to the main hall. She returned to her rafter, and pulled out a bottle of mead. She enjoyed a drink, and read a note from her brother:

Mairah,
I can't believe that you were chosen as a ranger! I've been practicing here, hoping that master Rein would teach me some new tricks of the sword. I made my sword recently. It isn't as good as yours, but I like it. I made the handle from a sabre cat tooth, and the blade of some void salts I collected from the depths of Songrite. Ms. Arabineldth helped me enchant it with frost. I call it Daevain The Glacial Blade. I've become a bit sweet on that girl I wrote you about last. Myala Tyrzae. She is just so beautiful. She has mastered her craft in magicka. I hope to see you soon, I want to hear of all your adventures, and the people you've saved. Maybe I can be a ranger too someday!
Your Brother, Azamil She had missed most of his life already, and she missed him. She almost wished that she wasn't a ranger,so she could see him more. She fell asleep to this. Bottle of mead in one hand, letter in the other.

 

[death raider]

Lena followed on after Geran the guilds so called leader. He seemed ok and decent enouigh so she did as he asked and went to find a room which would fit her needs to contact Greklith the assassin as they needed as much help as possible. Lena looked around atleast ten rooms looking for the perfect one, but not to any prevael. She needed to do a ritual, but not the usual one for the Dark Brotherhood, it was a bit different.

First she needed a dark room which at night would be completely pitch black with just the light from one candle.
Next was flask of blood and a pinch of vampire dust.
Then there was aa knife, a book which was called Bloods embrace and then to finsh off would have to be an animal body and a human body drenched over it.

The reason why none of the rooms would work was because the rooms were not large enough and also the rooms might not hhave the right atmostfear. The way Greklith made her ritual was when you read one line of the book Bloods Embrace (any line would do) her little minion Finwe would get a message on his hand and it first happend when Greklith used powerful magic so when the ritual was done he would get the message. Greklith apparently doesn't have magic anymore after that ritual as it took so much of her magic.

Lena looked around for a bit longer and finally found a room which was reasonably large and looked like it could be dark enough and she couldn't help a small smile coming over her face as if Greklith arrived, there would be a greater chance of them succeding her mission to bring down the slave trade.

 

[Bambi]

The further they get into the fort, the more Nallia's head is screaming at her to leave. It's not that she feels unsafe - it's quite the opposite, actually - but that, to her, the place feels like a prison. Sure it is beautiful, Nallia isn't going to argue about that, but it isn't the sort of beauty she values. The forest - tall trees swaying in the wind as far as the eye can see, the damp, light fog that covers the floor in the early hours of the morning, the trickling sound of a nearby creek that, if followed, leads to waterfall, thundering into a picturesque lake - that's what Nallia loves, that's where she feels safe and that's where she would prefer to be.

She paces, anxiously, feeling slightly claustrophobic despite the size and grandeur of the fort. She wonders how long they will stay here, how long it will be until they recover from all the injuries - psychological and physical - they have sustained as slaves and how long will it be before they are relatively safe, safe enough to leave. The thought of spending her whole life locked up in one place makes her head spin.