A week before the Re-Estize kingdom´s army attacked E-Rantel, something noteworthy happened in the steadily growing village Carne. Enri sighed. Ever since she became the village´s chief, she was faced with all kinds of troubles and tedious tasks. Her village was attacked several times, everyone came to her to ask for advice, she tried to integrate the new residents, mainly the goblins she summoned, into the village, manage the construction of the new houses and lastly she had to take care of her husband, Nfirea. If she didn´t look after him, he would be so absorbed in his work he would forget to eat and sleep. So she made him take breaks. Now she also had to make sure the dwarven craftsmen behaved properly. They weren´t bad people by any means, by they tended to get very excited over their work and occasionally ignored safety measures. At the moment, she was with them as well, but for a different reason than usual. She was taking care of an injury. That as well wasn´t that special, but the reason for the injury was.
"You should change the bandages after two or three days. Take it easy for a while."
The dwarf rumbled something unidentifiable. His right hand was covered in bandages, so much that he looked like he was wearing thick gloves.
"Better be grateful to her."
Gondo scolded the injured dwarf.
"If you ask me, you had it coming. You were warned not to touch it. That´s what you get for ignoring that warning."
The injured dwarf muttered under his breath.
"As if you didn´t want to take a closer look. I bet you deliberately didn´t stop me. You wanted to see what would happen."
"Trying to shift the blame to others?"
"Ooh, come on. Before all, I am a craftsman. How could I let this opportunity slip? I have never seen a blade like this before. And the magical writings are nothing like the runes we know. Maybe this blade holds the secret to some lost arts. I couldn´t help but be curious about it."
Another dwarf said in a mocking voice.
"Seems like the blade doesn´t want to be touched by your sticky fingers."
"Who are you accusing of having sticky fingers?"
They all laughed. The only reason they could do that was because he didn´t get seriously injured. For an experienced craftsman this wasn´t something to be upset about, but the situation was funny nonetheless. A couple of days ago a visitor came to the village, asking for the help of the alchemist Nfirea Baleare. He was a highly suspicious person, but he was sent here by the Sorcerer King, whom they all were indebted to. Enri had no choice but to allow it, under the condition that he left his weapons in their care. He agreed and took of his armor, sword and several concealed weapons they didn´t even knew of. Then he and Nfirea locked themselves up in his lab. For the last five days they have been in there almost non-stop. Before he went in there, he warned the dwarves not to touch his equipment. Especially the blade drew the dwarves' attention. After five days of staring at it, one of the them couldn´t hold back anymore. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and wanted to unsheathe it. In the next moment he flew across the room. Dumbfounded the others stared at him sitting with his back against the wall, his beard standing out like a hedgehog´s quills with some smoke rising from it. His hand got burned, like being struck by lightning. For a couple of seconds some electric sparks were still lingering around the sword.
"I have to admit, that is a really interesting sword. It doesn´t allow for anyone but its master to hold it. I have never seen anything like that before."
After Enri was finished, she decided to look after Nfirea. She was slightly worried about him. Whenever he came out to eat or sleep, he had that special expression. She knew him well enough by now. He was really fascinated by what they were doing. She slowly walked to his lab. Generally speaking, she didn´t like to interrupt him for no good reason. One of the things she loved about him was his passion for what he was doing. He always gave it his all. As she arrived at the door, she inhaled deeply. She knew that breathing could be hard once she was hit by the smell of the chemical solutions and herbs. But before she could knock, the door was rushed open. Nfirea half stumbled, half fell out of his lab, as if he was pushed, or better shoved out. Before she could process what happened, the door was shut again. The clicking of locks and bars could be heard from the other side. Nfirea, who had pulled himself up, slammed his fists against the door and screamed.
"Hey, stop that. It is totally untested. That could be very dangerous."
Perplexed, Enri looked at her husband and asked.
"What is going on here?"
Totally exhausted, Nfirea looked back at her and answered.
"We were working like usual. When I said that it was mostly done, he grabbed the potion and threw me out."
"I am getting one of the goblins to break down the door."
In the next moment, an ear-piercing scream echoed through the village. Nfirea whispered.
"We are too late."
After a short while a huge amount of people had gathered around the lab, the pain induced screams still emanating from inside. Enri put her hands on Nfirea´s shoulders and asked him with a very stern voice.
"Explain to me exactly what happened."
"We worked on one of the potions he showed me and now he wants to test it on himself."
"Is it that dangerous?"
"I have no idea. It´s no normal potion. When used, it will fundamentally change the person who used it. This effect is irreversible. It could potentially have lethal side-effects."
"But why would he use such a dangerous thing on himself?"
"He said he had no other choice."
"We have to go inside and do something about it."
"There is unfortunately nothing we can do. There is no way to stop the process."
"But why didn´t you resist harder, if you knew it was that dangerous?"
"He left me with no room to protest. The looked me in the eyes and asked me if I wouldn´t do whatever it takes to keep my loved ones save. That he had to become stronger, by any means necessary. Otherwise he couldn´t protect his family."
That left Enri with no other choice. They had to sit and wait. She did her best to calm the other villagers, but the longer the screaming continued, the more nervous she got. 1 hour. 2 hours. 5 hours. The screaming continued throughout the whole night. It was already almost noon when it suddenly got silent. She and Nfirea almost didn´t dare to approach the lab.
"Is he alright?"
"I don´t know."
"What do you mean?"
"He said when it gets silent, it was either a success, or he is dead."
After one of the goblins broke open the door, they entered. It was very silent. The person on the ground had an almost unhealthy pale face. It was impossible to say whether he was still alive. Around his eyes, nose and ears were traces of dried blood. Nfirea closed in on him and hesitantly touched his shoulder.
"H-hey, are you alright?"
Nothing. Then Enri closed in and forcefully shook him. He sharply inhaled air and coughed violently.
"What do you need?"
With a hoarse voice Geralt managed to say.
Nfirea grabbed a huge jar of water and wanted to pour some into a cup, but Geralt snatched the jar out of his hands. He poured the whole content over his head, drinking much of it in the process. After he was finished, he was trying to catch his breath for a couple of minutes. When he calmed down, he used the table to support him, in order to stand up. He was still a little shaky on his legs, but slowly got better. After a couple of deep and controlled breaths he said.
"It wasn´t that bad in my memory."
"You knew something like this would happen?"
Half concerned, half curious of the results, Nfirea asked him.
"Are you feeling fine? What happened?"
"Exactly what I hoped for. By the way, do you still have the letter I gave you?"
Nfirea reached in his pocket and produced a letter. Geralt took it from him and snapped his fingers.
He burned the letter until nothing was left. Surprised Enri said.
"What was that for?"
"I am still alive, so I don´t need this anymore."
"You wrote it in case you died?"
"Couldn´t rule it out."
Enri seemed to pout after that response, but Nfirea managed to calm her down.
"Do you notice a difference?"
"I am not entirely sure. I feel stronger, but that could be only my imagination. I will need time to figure that out."
Geralt slowly inspected his body. Closing his fists over and over again, rotating his shoulders, tilting his neck and flexing his muscles.
"What? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing to worry about. It´s just that my scars are gone. Seems like my body got totally rebuilt."
He bowed politely.
"I am very grateful for your help. I couldn´t have done it without you. I don´t want to appear ungrateful, but I have to leave now."
"That is not very wise. Your body has undergone some major changes. You should rest for at least a couple of days."
Not really paying attention to what Nfirea said, he silently left the lab and went to the workshop, where he left his weapons. He leisurely went past the dwarves and took his equipment. When he touched the hilt of his sword, he felt something different. It didn´t felt like a hostile reaction. Geralt couldn´t really describe it, but it felt like the sword was happy or eager to jump into action. Almost like it was excited and impatiently waiting for battle. It seems like not only Geralt got stronger.
Epithet: The White Wolf
Race: Human (Formerly)
Affiliation: Sorcerer Kingdom
Guild Master of the Witcher Guild (New branch of the Sorcerer Kingdom´s Adventurer Guild)
Family: Vesemir (Adoptive father, deceased)
Ziri (Adopted little sister)
Residence: Kaer Morhen
Birthday: Middle Fire Month (Day unknown)
Job Levels: Fighter 9
Sword master 9
Race Levels: Mutant 15
Siren´s Song: A small wooden box, containing a figurine of a mermaid. During a limited event this was a Quest Item, used to progress through a special quest-line. The quest "A Lonely Sailor" rewarded those who finished it with a large sum of gold, as well as the divine class item "Triton´s Trident". However, this small box possessed no in-game abilities or uses and was therefore only used as a trophy. Its flavor-text reads "In ancient times, the Sirens were extremely beautiful, sea-dwelling creatures, with the upper body of a young woman and a fishtail. It´s said their voices were so mesmerizing, they could lure every man to them by singing. They forgot all doubts and were eager to fulfill all the siren´s wishes. Once they got near them, they would reveal their true nature and kill them all to eat them. A long time ago a siren got tricked by a skilled and experienced sailor who got assistance from a magic caster. She was turned into a small statue of herself that was put into a wooden box with a cursed seal. This curse forced her to sing whenever the box was opened. It was her new duty to serve her new master and use her powers for his or her benefit."
Dragon Armor: This ancient armor was made from the skin of a dragon several thousand years of age. It reacts to ancient magic and greatly increases the user´s magical powers. It was processed with lost techniques and it is unable to be damaged with anything less than a weapon made of adamantite and even then the attacker must be very skilled to the point of being beyond the bounds of a human being. The Witcher that previously wore this armor acquired it by working with a genius armor smith several centuries ago. In honor of his great deeds, he was buried with this armor until Geralt borrowed it from him.