Chapter 61 - My SI Stash #61 - Signs of Destiny by MuffinMan69 (The Witcher) (2/2)

That was the idea at least.

I wasn't a big drinker back when I was pure human, but the Swallow tasted like the strongest liquor I ever had and it burned going down. At the same time I felt the various aches and pains around my body that remained quickly begin to pass and even my head wound was barely sore. Swallow was the basic healing potion that all Witchers likely knew how to make since hunting monsters was a dangerous business and they, we, needed to be able to get back on our feet quickly.

”Now what have you got there? Can't say I made anything like that before. Should have killed you if I'm being honest.” Hegla stated.

”It's a potion called Swallow, while it would be lethal to humans Witchers are able to quickly overcome it and we even heal from ingesting it. I should be one hundred percent soon.” I explained.

”And you need to be a Witcher to actually make use of it without dying?”

I nodded.

”Good, if something like that was common I'd be out of business!” Helga said in a relieved tone.

Not… quite the best reaction to what was basically a wonder medicine for only a select group of people in the world, but understandable. Pretty sure most doctors back home would hate having their profession and livelihoods so trivialized as well.

Also this proved my theory, I had purchased level 3 utilitarian alchemy for my CYOA character. Which meant that I knew alchemy and herbalism was an area of knowledge I was a master at. Looking closer at various plants, herbs, and other items in hunt I could actually identify them and their uses in a number of potions I could make.

It was knowledge that was there, but it didn't come naturally to me right away. I would have to take time to actually sit down and go through said knowledge I had now. Along with any possibly memories I no doubt had relating to the poor guy who's head I jumped into.

I do hope he was actually brain dead when I did and I didn't kill him by taking over.

Leaving aside that potentially disturbing thought… there was still the question of what the heck I did now. I was pretty healed up and for all that Helga can be nice under her tough outside I didn't want to stay longer than I had to. I do hope Markus, I now, still had more than the plain shirt, pants, and shoes I was wearing now.

”Helga, you know if I had any equipment on my before you treated me?”

”Oh yes, as a matter of fact you did. The ealdorman said he would keep it safe in his home till you woke up, if you woke up really. He's honorable to a fault so I doubt he would do anything with it until you were dead in the ground for good. Still though, you have been stuck in my home long enough and I won't be sorry to see you go. Try not to get yourself nearly killed again, it was too much work bringing you back the first time.”

”I'll happily keep that in mind. I imagine the ealdorman's house is the biggest one in the village baring maybe the local inn?” I said slightly sarcastically.

”Quite so, now shove off. But do remember ! saved your skin and maybe if there is a monster about in the future bugging old Helga you won't mind doing a job for free.”

”Yes, ma'am.” I nodded.

”Good lad, nice to see taking a hit to the head didn't take away your common sense and manners none,” were Helga's parting words as I made for the door and out in the wider Witcherverse.

Reminds me a lot of prologue of Fallout: New Vegas to be honest.

---

As I walked down the street with what was basically a towel around my head, other than the occasional odd look it seemed like the villagers were quite happy to ignore me. I'm not sure if that was because this lot was not as negatively predisposed to Witchers in general or because I wasn't showing my obvious nonhumaness in the form of my yellow cat eyes.

Nordlings in general could be quite a racist bunch at the drop of a hat, or they could be totally decent folk. It depended on a lot of factors.

Sadly when the pogroms started up lots of innocent nonhumans were slaughtered for little to no good reason, and Witchers were nonhuman enough to be equal targets. Geralt got taken out in one such situation with a random joe schmoe in an angry mob taking him out with a freaking pitchfork of all things.

Geralt, badass Witcher whose actions have caused the rise and fall of kingdoms, fought and killed some of the deadliest monsters and madmen in this world's history, taken out by a random peasant. I still don't see how that makes sense considering Witchers are supposed to have super fast reaction times to point they can deflect arrows out of the air and had access to powerful healing potions, but it still served as a subtle reminder that despite apparently being a Witcher now I was not invincible.

Certainly not at the moment with no equipment and my new super senses being so powerful I had to actively cut them off. Hopefully this ealdorman is as trustworthy as Helga says, she doesn't seem one to hold back on describing people, and I don't end up having nothing to my name or something worse.

This was the Witcherverse, there could always be something worse.

On the plus side Helga said it was 1268, two years before the game series start and things really start ramping up all over. I had time to work things out and how I go forward.

Before I continued that line of that I finally walked up to what was easily the largest hut in this village of about two and a half dozen of them. Wasn't saying much since it was likely two and a half rooms most likely, but still good bet someone important lived here.

'Hope this guy doesn't sleep in.' were my private thoughts as I knocked on the door at a reasonable volume.

A short time later the door was opened and a teenage boy opened it up.

”Yes, who are you?”

”I'm… the Witcher Markus, I just woke up.”

”Really? Prove it. You wouldn't be the first trying to steal the Witcher's things.” the boy demanded.

Of course people tried to loot me of my stuff before I was even dead. I removed the wrapping around my eyes and showed them to be boy, who breathed in sharply before nodding and gesturing me to come inside.

”Dad! The Witcher's alive, and he's awake!” the boy said loudly and out of the next room over an older man who shared clear facial features with the boy and with a bushy beard appeared.

”I'm right here son, no need to yell. Master Witcher, good to see that the gods haven't seen fit to take you into their embrace just yet. I feared the worst when you walked into town covered in ghastly wounds before passing out before my home with the cyclops's head in your head. It must have been a great battle.” he said in awe.

Huh, so that explained what happened to Markus before I got here. Cyclops were pretty scary foes to fight, especially up close. Still not sure why he didn't heal himself with potions or something beforehand, then again could be he didn't have any or wasn't particularly skilled in alchemy for all I know assuming he was from the school I think he was.

”Yes, thank you for paying Helga to heal me and not counting me dead too quickly.” I said honestly.

”Your killed the monster that has been making life hell for this village and might have eventually wiped us out if help hadn't come, it was the least I could do. You must be here for your belongings and your pay, I kept both in a secure trunk. Let me go get them.” he began to turn back into the room he came from.

”Wait! You already likely paid a lot to heal me, I can't ask for more.” I tried to say.

”Nonsense! Healing you out of my own pocket was my choice. Not to mention you agreed to hunt the beast for very little in the first place. A true man always pays back good deeds,” was the ealdorman's stern reply as he went to collect the trunk.

… Huh, a decent authority figure in Witcherverse. I best not get used to this for too long since likely only one out of ten out there, if not even less.

As I heard some shuffling in the next room the boy had come to stand before me with excitement in his eyes.

”What was the battle like?! Was it like in the stories?! You ever fight a griffin?! Maybe a troll?! How far have you traveled?! Have you ever met with princes and kings?! Have-” what came was a rapid fire series of questions that honestly took my back a bit. I had to raise my hands up to get kid to chill.

”Whoa, whoa. Settle down there. To be totally honest I couldn't answer any of those questions. You see… I kinda lost my memory, I can't recall anything before waking up in Helga's hut about being a Witcher.” I said the technical truth, the best kind of truth.

”What! That's horrible!” the boy said in both shock and likely a little disappointment.

”Here we are!” the ealdorman said as he dragged in a heavy looking trunk into the room and set it down before me. Dang, I should have offered to help since pretty sure I had at least peak human strength now rather than let the guy likely in his late forties carry it.

”Father! Master Witcher says he can't recall anything before waking up this morning!” the son said in worry.

”Truly? May the gods have mercy. Can you truly not recall anything?” the ealdorman turned to me.

”I know the basics… but anything relating to me personally is a huge blank. I only know about my equipment since Helga told me.” I admitted.

”That is unfortunate… do you recall your horse?”

”I have a horse?” I asked in surprise.

”But of course, traveling on foot would be quite challenging after all. Like your equipment we have tended to it and it is currently stabled at the inn for you. Just ask the innkeeper to point it out to you. Is there anything we can do to assist you?”

”You have already done a great deal, I'm sure my memory will come back in time and if not I can always seek professional help.” I reassured him.

”Alright then… but you should at least make sure all your things are here.” he gestured to the trunk.

I took him up on that, bending down and opening the trunk before me.

What immediately stood out were the two swords that were common for Witchers. One steel sword, commonly thought only for men, but in reality just for tougher enemies in general and one silver mostly used for various monsters. Both were sheathed and wrapped in a cloth buddle that I took out.

What came next was armor. It looked like a superior set from the Witcher 3 DLC at first glance which was good. It had no head protection though and recent events and common sense made me make a mental note to buy some later.

After that were various supplies: satchels carrying various herbs and monster parts, dried foodstuffs, a canteen, empty potion bottles, rope, knives, a journal that looked like it had a good half of the pages torn out, a coin pouch and basically everything you expected to have in a Witcher's toolkit.

The last thing I picked up was an amulet, one made to vibrate in the presence of monsters and magic. An amulet that marked myself as a Witcher of one of the various schools.

More specifically it as an amulet that was in the shape of a griffin's head, thus marking me as a Witcher of the Griffin school. Just as I had chosen in the CYOA.

A school noted to not have the best fighters, trackers, alchemists… but were known for their skill in Sign magic that Witchers made use of.

Which meant… I focused on the thought and knowledge came to me in a flash.

I quickly did the required had motions with my left hand and suddenly a small flame appeared on my palm as the amulet in my right reacted to magic in use.

Was it wrong that despite the situation I was in, I still found myself giggling in glee at the fact that I now had magic? I certainly think I disturbed the ealdorman and his son in the process.

'Look out world, I know magic and I plan to munchkin the shit of it!'

---