Chapter Text
Geralt pulled on Roach’s reins gently as he coaxed her further down the path. He decided to give her a break from the constant riding, but all she wanted to do was graze from the burst of apple trees that lined the path.
The soft spot within him wanted to let her have a treat, but the more sensible part of him knew he needed to reach Dorian before dark.
He longed for a hot meal, bath, and a solid night's sleep in a real bed. For the last week he had been sleeping outdoors and he was ready for a change. His days travelling with Jaskier had, unfortunately, shown him the benefit of staying at an inn instead of sleeping on the hard ground outside.
Plus, Roach deserved a scrub down as well by the care of a stable attendant. He’d make sure to tip them well to ensure she got the utmost care and perhaps a few apples that he’d snagged from the trees as they walked.
An hour later, the sun just beginning to tinge the sky pink, Dorian finally came into view. Geralt didn’t have any official business here, but his coin was starting to run low and this had been the next bigger city on his route. He hoped to find some work and then continue on his way, coin bag fuller for his travels.
Locating the familiar White Orchard Inn, Geralt brought Roach to the stables where he made good on his promise. Handing the attendant a few extra coins, Geralt fed Roach the apples, and asked the stable boy to give her the best care.
Whether for the glare that had accompanied his words or the extra coin in his hand, Geralt would never know, but the boy nodded and dashed down the hall where a pile of horse grooming supplies was stacked.
Satisfied that Roach was being cared for, Geralt made his way inside the inn to take care of his own needs.
As soon as he opened the door, Geralt was assaulted with a wall of noise and smells. People were chatting loudly as they drank, slopping ale over tables and over their fronts. Along with this, the air was full of the sharp smell of garlic and sweat. But, underneath it all, there was a heavenly scent of whatever was being cooked in the kitchen and the beer looked cold and frothy.
Geralt paid for a room, grabbed a tankard of ale, a bowl of beef stew, and then made his way to the back of the room to find a quiet place to eat.
He had barely brought the spoon to his lips when a voice cried his name.
“Geralt, my white-haired friend! What are you doing here?” Jaskier exclaimed as he sat opposite of him.
Geralt chose to remain silent, pointedly shoving the spoon into his mouth.
“Right, right, a man of little words. Well, I’ll just tell you why I’m here then. As it turns out, this girl that I hooked up with needed someone to play at her sister’s wedding. Of course, I said yes. Jaskier the great troubadour would never say no to showing off his talents, for coin no less! She was also…persuasive. Tall, brunette, amazing legs… We didn’t talk as much as we-”
“Jaskier!” Geralt bit in, shooting the bard a deathly glare, “I’m here to eat, not hear about one of your escapades with some girl.”
Jaskier had the decency to look embarrassed, but Geralt knew he loved to boast about whatever girl he had roped into having sex.
“Right, apologies Geralt. I have some unfinished business with a group of ladies in the corner anyway. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow?”
Geralt took a sip of his ale, in no hurry to answer.
“Yes,” he said finally, “I’m looking for a job.”
“Then you, fellow Witcher, are in luck! I heard a few people talking about a monster plaguing the woods just outside of town. Something about local livestock and children going missing. Sounds right up your alley.”
Geralt fiddled with the spoon in his bowl as he took the information in.
“In these parts I’d say it’s a Venomous Arachas. I’ll talk to the alderman tomorrow about removing it for them. Thanks Jaskier.”
“You can repay me by letting me come along. If I don’t create a new ballad soon I’m going to be in trouble with my fans!”
Geralt moved to protest, but it didn’t matter because Jaskier had already bounded away, rejoining a small group of ladies on the other side of the inn.
Venomous Arachas were extremely deadly to a human. Even a small scratch could be lethal, so Geralt was going to make sure that Jaskier didn’t come close. Luckily, he had a full vial of Golden Oriole in his pouch hung on Roach’s saddle. With its ability to neutralize the effect of poisons, it should keep him protected as he hunted the monster.
Geralt finished his stew and drained the rest of his ale. He needed to bathe and get to bed if he was going to go hunting for the monster tomorrow. A slow Witcher was a dead one and he wasn’t planning on dying in Dorian of all places.
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Geralt woke early and made his way downstairs for a quick breakfast before he set out. The inn was nearly empty, most of its patrons sleeping off their drinks from the previous night.
He had just emptied his bowl when the door swung open and a man walked in. Moving with haste, he walked right over to Geralt.
“Ah, so the rumours are true. The White Wolf himself is in Dorian. It seems Destiny has intervened once again.”
The man was short and stocky, his clothes dishevelled and worn, and looked like he hadn’t gotten a proper night’s rest in ages.
“You’re the alderman, I take it?” Geralt asked, although he knew the answer.
“Right you are, Witcher. Euric’s the name.”
Geralt took a sip of his ale as he leant against the bar. “I hear you have a monster that needs killing, alderman?”
Euric wiped sweat from his brow as he sat heavily in a chair next to him.
“You’d be correct. I don’t know what it is, though. The only person to come back alive only saw it in a quick flash as it devoured the group he was with. He barely made it out alive.”
Geralt nodded and placed his ale back on the counter. “Do you know how many there are?”
“Just one. But one’s enough. Our animals are being slaughtered. Every day we wake up to more and more gone. Soon we’ll have none left!” Euric placed a hand on his face, letting it rest there as he continued. “Not to mention the children. Oh, the poor children… Claimed five so far.”
He removed the hand and looked at the Witcher, desperation wild in his eyes. “You have to help us Wolf, I’ll pay you well. Just get rid of the bloody beast.”
“I will help you Euric,” Geralt moved to put a hand on the man’s shoulders, “I should be back before sunset.”
The alderman sprang up, shaking Geralt’s hand with reverence. “Many thanks, Witcher. You can be assured that your coin will be waiting for you when you get back.”
Geralt walked out of the inn and into the sunshine. The weather would make the hunt more tough, as the Arachas thrived in darkness. But if hungry enough, it would venture into the sunlight, and Geralt had a feeling this beast was plenty hungry.
The sound of horses grew louder as Geralt approached the stable, relieved to see that Roach looked to be very well taken care of. Her coat was shiny and lush and her mane was full and smooth.
“Hey girl,” he said as he stroked her muzzle gently. She prodded his chest with her face in reply and Geralt laughed. “I’m glad you enjoyed your stay. I’ll try and do it more often. But now, I need your help. It seems we have a monster that needs slaying.”
Roach whinnied softly as if telling him she was ready to go.
“That’s my girl. Just going to saddle you up and check to make sure I have everything and we’ll be on our way.”
Bag packed and Roach’s saddle in place, Geralt mounted her and set off down the road. He had barely cleared the inn when Jaskier came running out, hair dishevelled and only clad in pants.
“Geralt!” he called, running up beside Roach, “where do you think you’re going?”
“To kill the Arachas” he replied, continuing down the path.
Jaskier ran in front of Roach to make her stop. Lucky for him, she knew his presence, so instead of a kick to the face, all the bard got was a puff of hot air as she snorted angrily.
“I thought I was coming along with you, Geralt. I need to write my ballad!”
Geralt sighed, giving Roach a pat to soothe the mare. “Jaskier, I’m not about to risk your life for some stupid song. Arachas can kill a human with only a scratch. I promise I will tell you about this when I get back.”
Jaskier moved to protest, never one to back down so easily even in the face of danger, but Geralt wasn’t about to change his mind.
“Sorry, bard, maybe next time.”
Without waiting for Jaskeir’s response, Geralt grabbed Roach’s reins and pulled her to the side before sending her into a full gallop. He didn’t look back, but he was sure he could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him as he rode away.
A few hours later, Geralt reached the spot where he knew the Arachas liked to hide out. Thick with foliage, the dense forest made for easy cover that allowed the monster to sneak up on its prey. The area was also popular to gather herbs and other useful plants which set up a perfect trap for the beast’s victims. Like an insect in a web, it would wait for anyone to get close before it attacked, spraying its venom that immobilized whatever it touched.
Geralt hopped off Roach, finding a small stream and secluded area for her to graze while he was gone. It shouldn’t take him long to kill the beast when he found it, but his search could take hours.
He fed Roach a few of the leftover apples and then reached into his pack and pulled out the Golden Oriole potion. He drank the whole vial and placed the empty container back into his pouch. Since it was daytime, he had no need for Cat or any of his other potions. The Arachas wasn’t particularly hard to beat when it was found, but the Golden Oriole would make sure he wouldn’t be killed by any stray venom before he could get the job done.
He gave Roach one last pat, told her he would be back soon, and set off into the woods.
Unfortunately, the Arachas were not easy to find. The sun had tipped well past noon by the time he spotted the signs of its hideout. They liked to bury themselves in the ground, creating a cave-like structure in the dirt that kept them hidden from the sun during the day.
Geralt peered into the hold and found it empty, meaning the monster was hidden in the foliage around him.
Holding still, Geralt focused his hearing as he searched for sounds of the beast. At first all he heard was the birds and squirrels in the trees, but then a sound made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in anticipation.
Turning toward it, he only had a second head start before the Arachas jumped out of the forest and right for Geralt’s throat.
As the monster leapt, Geralt rolled, and the monster crashed to the ground where he stood seconds before. Recovering quickly, the beast clambered on its six legs and shrieked, pointing its tusk-like pincers right at Geralt’s head.
Not only razor sharp, the pincers held the creature's venom. The last thing he wanted was to get cut by one of them.
He used Aard and the creature flew back only coming to a stop as it collided heavily with a massive oak, stunned.
Geralt used the opportunity to use his sword, slashing the beast with quick and precise movements. By the time it recovered, Geralt had managed to slice off one of its pincers and wound its side heavily where it oozed black blood sluggishly.
Enraged, the monster pounced and knocked Geralt to the hard ground, his sword skittering under a bush.
He gripped the Arachas by the throat, his head thrown to the side as venom started to drip from the monster’s frothy lips. Each drop seared his skin, sending a burning pain across his face.
Geralt used the pain as he channelled it into rage of his own. Kicking out, his foot collided with the monster’s middle. Momentarily pushed back, Geralt used the gap to roll away and grab his sword from a nearby bush. In one swift move, he pounced, swinging his sword down in an arc that easily cut through the soft flesh of the monster’s belly.
He used his momentum and dived behind the beast, narrowly missing its remaining pincer as it swung at him in a desperate attempt to immobilize the Witcher.
Without hesitation, Geralt sprung back to his feet and turned, driving his sword straight through the monster’s head. It twitched madly at first, a shriek escaped its dying body that sent the nearby birds scattering. But then, it went still and the glade fell silent.
Geralt wiped the remaining venom on his face away with his sleeve, a hiss escaping his lips as the burned skin protested.
Overall, the fight had gone well. His advanced healing would take care of the superficial burns and other than that, he had escaped unscathed.
He chopped off a piece of its pincer, carefully wrapping it in a thick cloth to show as proof to the alderman. He wanted to get back and continue his journey forward. The coin he would secure from this job would set him up for the next while.
Not a second after he had secured his prize, the peace was disturbed. He hadn’t seen it coming. There was no evidence to suggest as such.
One moment he was kneeling on the ground and the next he was airborne, white hot pain flaring in his back.
Geralt landed hard on the ground, air completely pushed out of his lungs from impact and the flames that crawled up his spine.
He knew, however, that if he didn’t move he would die. So, with extreme effort, he forced his body to move and stumbled to his feet.
The world tilted drunkenly and he almost crashed back to the ground, but the charging Arachas in front of him forced his body into fight mode.
His saving grace was the sword he had just strapped to his back.
He grabbed the hilt and the sword slid out of its sheath with a hiss. He brought it in front of him, but the world had taken on a colourful hue. He could barely see his surroundings, the landscape melting into a series of green and yellow swirls.
His heart sunk as his brain sluggishly worked out what had happened. A second Arachas, one much smaller but just as venomous, had attacked, spearing his back with one of its pincers.
While his Golden Oriole potion would protect him from immediate death, if he didn’t get back to the inn and get proper care, the venom would eventually kill him. He needed his other potions and the wound would need to be flushed with special herbs.
He didn’t have time to worry about that, however, as the Arachas, furious that Geralt had just killed its partner, was geared up for a second attack.
With the venom starting to take effect, Geralt knew he had little time. He threw an Aard symbol blindly, taking advantage of the size difference of this beast from the first, and launched his body forward.
With the Arachas knocked to the ground, Geralt pushed his weary body forward. Sword outstretched, he stumbled and practically fell on top of the beast, stabbing it through the head and pinning it to the ground.
Just like the first, it writhed in pain for a few seconds before it died.
It was right on time, as the buzzing in Geralt’s head had reached unbearable levels. With no time to even grab his sword, he saw the world slant dangerously as he felt his body hit the ground and his vision faded to black.