I keep thinking about a Witcher character, a survivor of the avalanche that took out the school of the Griffin.
He somehow survives the avalanche, is buried alive but has a pocket of air. Can't move. Is pinned. Can't cast signs. Thinks its the end. Gets unearthed by a dog- perhaps the local village was training dogs to unbury people, perhaps this witcher himself had unofficially adopted a stray.
He makes it out, head killing him. Medallion buzzing. A constant thrum against his chest. Slowly, disoriented and raising himself out of his would be tomb, reaching over to pet the dog blearily as he slowly comes to his senses.
So he tries to find them, using his vision, his sense of smell. His dog companion at his side. They dig together, growing more desperate with each corpse unearthed. He digs with his bare hands. It's cold, so cold. He's out there long enough to where his nose and ears and potentially his fingers start to get frostbitten. The constant thrumming of the medallion reveals the nature of this event to be magical.
It was a targeted attack.
He doesn't want to give away his position with aard if there are enemies patrolling around. He would most likely avoid signs altogether. The most he's willing to try is small fires with ignis, but he digs and digs seeking his brethren but finding corpses.
He eventually has to stop digging for the day.
He's exhausted, potentially wounded, soaking wet. Where does he go? There's no where to go.
I imagine he either retreats down the mountain somehow either to a village, or he just climbs into a cave/ underneath a crevice and uses the dog for warmth. That and again small ignis signs to help keep warm and dry his clothes.
Not sure what happens after and I probably would write a short with what I had in mind, but I wanted to put the concept out there.
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