Ad blocker interference detected!
Wikia is a free-to-use site that makes money from advertising. We have a modified experience for viewers using ad blockers
Wikia is not accessible if you’ve made further modifications. Remove the custom ad blocker rule(s) and the page will load as expected.
It's finally here! ( Apologies if it seems rushed )
Ssssssthk!! As the arrow whistled by his ear, the creature turned around to view his pursuer. He was gaining. With labored breath, Geralt pressed on, eager to outdistance the shadowy being taking aim at him once again. As he ran, he silently cursed the name of Unda’ak ar Kais, and managed somehow to run just a little faster. His pursuer soon gave up and trudged back to the settlement fuming over his failure to kill his quarry. Geralt ran for a bit more, then collapsed, wheezing and panting. His kind was not meant for extended jogging, but short and fast sprints. It took him a few minutes to gather himself, and when he was back to normal, he chanced a look to see if the greatrat was still following him. It wasn’t. He heaved a sigh of relief and continued in the direction he had been running, now walking. As he walked, he silently reflected on the events that had brought him to this situation…
Unda’ak ar Kais! The name struck fear into those who lived on the coast. It was considered madness to speak the name, let alone think it. Yet, as the years wore on, the name had stuck, and the poor families of the coast lived in utter terror of the shadow that was Unda’ak. Where the wolverine and his ilk had spawned from, nobody knew. It was believed Vulpulz himself had summoned the hellish beast to bring doom upon the land all those seasons ago. The monster, with a physique more impressive than a fully-grown male badger, had resided by the coast for many scores of seasons, and the gossip was that he had been granted immortality by his master. The only light shining in the darkness of his horde was the whelp he sired just a few years prior to the present. For an unknown reason, the stupid runt sought every way to undermine his father’s way of doing things, from freeing slaves to smuggling food to those he could not. It had culminated the evening of Midsummer, when Geralt, for that was the name he was given, goaded his father into a one-on-one fight between each other. The fight did not favor Geralt, as Unda’ak had the advantage of countless ages of experience upon him. In the end, Geralt fled with the horde on his heels from the settlement. Most had given up when Geralt, with a speed borne of desperation, ran as fast as he ever did. A few greatrats armed with longbows kept chase, but eventually gave up. This, is where we find him today.
Geralt was broken out of his reverie by searing pain brought on by a combination of his father’s formidable claws, the ebbing of his adrenaline, and the distance and speed at which he had run. He nearly blacked out, and he would have if a sudden noise had not refueled the benevolent anesthetic and sharpened his keen senses. It came from the north, and sounded loud, even from far away. He was sure it sounded like…… bells? What up here could possibly sound like bells? He wearily decided he needed to rest before investigating, so he gathered some poultices and healing unguent together to heal himself. After he applied the last bandage, he brushed out a spot on the ground and lay to rest. He would have to recover fully before he could safely travel again, as his frantic run had nearly killed him. He slipped into merciful unconsciousness as the birds and insects conducted their woodland songs…