The Swallow and the Boars

Witcher sideblog for poetikat - fic updates, art, screenshots,occasional meta, asks, and Ciri and von Everec related reblogs. header by @hobgobblinz and icon by @schoute

[lohse]

Ciri & Geralt in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (2015)

[poetikat]

This gorgeous commission from @goblinpoof was done for my Witcher time travel fic, At Another Time. I’m absolutely in love with everything about it, from the colors to the poses to the cheeky expression on Vlod’s face <3. Thank you so much!! You were a delight to work with, and you’re so talented.

Fic is here, for anyone interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31628969

[fulsvamp]

ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴜʀʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ

[lohse]

Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (2015)

[teaboot]

Why so many wolf attacks in fantasy. Where are the Boars. The immortal and humongous Boar

[melis-writes]

THE WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT dev. CD Projekt RED.

[itspapillonnoir]

THE WITCHER 3 : WILD HUNT • SCENERY

[thesadtadpole]

Me when the obviously doomed character doesn't get a happy ending

[dunmertitty]

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Character who doesn't get to die & character who doesn't get to live. Is that anything.

[doomdos]

[magnetic-deflection]

reblog to PAT the PIG

[northernolddragon]

[teaboot]

Why so many wolf attacks in fantasy. Where are the Boars. The immortal and humongous Boar

[calyxestra]

The Faded Glory of the House of Everec

[calyxestra]

I was digging around in my folders and found the near-final draft of this piece with the Everec family crest! You can see the weathering on the wall in the shape of the absent crest behind Olgierd’s head in the final piece.

[teaboot]

Why so many wolf attacks in fantasy. Where are the Boars. The immortal and humongous Boar

[jawanaka]

The House near the End of the World

There stands a house near the end of the world, on a rocky shore where the North Sea becomes the Gulf of Praxeda and the south wind somehow blows colder than the north, shielded as land is by the Dragon Mountains. [...] The door is thrown open and the rider comes out of the darkness, snow blowing in before the door is jammed shut. The Witcher unwinds the face-covering scarf with a customary lack of care, dragging the fur cape down to reveal pale skin scared along the cheek, eyes green as emerald and white hair sticking out rebelliously from a thick braid broken by wind. ”I should have started earlier,” says Ciri as she shakes the snow out of clothes and hair. Morvran says nothing. He closes his book carefully, stands up from his armchair and walks the five steps across the floor with the ceremony of a man walking up a temple nave beneath the eyes of the gods. He makes obeisance, one knee sinking into the rugs as the Emperor of most of the known world bows to a Witcher vagabond from the hills. He’ll serve no master but her.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[const-bee]

[izzibeeb]